danae

hi i'm Danae! I'm 20, i love comics and film. I try to write something. I've been reading on tumblr for years, but I'm just starting now to post!

[danaens]

Depraved and lustful, a morality not for those who are merely human, but for those who are sensitive to beauty and passion. I have left memories inside these pages, as though I had lived through hell and still carried the memory of paradise. The book is too much, sometimes too much is pointless, yet I miss Desdemona.

I've never seen anything about this book, this is how i seen it.

V.M 18 - ISABELLA SANTACROCE

[bongjoonhoe]

Nights of Cabiria (1957) dir. Federico Fellini

[jorolle]

HAPPY PRIDE MONTH! DICK GRAYSON │ GOTHAM KNIGHTS (2022)

[highonoverthinking]

everything fascinates me but nothing is ever really excites me.

[danaens]

Atom Eve

[danaens]

Her fav film is definetely taxi driver 😔

[snoopyoftheday]

snoopy of the day

[danaens]

my sims💖

[s33th1ngg-deactivated20260125]

[fireyletters]

some pictures of the parade yesterday!! I went to rome with my girlfriend and my friends. it was so fun, it was the my first ever pride and I loved it so much, I was so happy to be there.

happy pride everyone!

[danaens]

IF DC CHARACTERS HAD LETTERBOXD

I love cinema and I study it at uni, so I had fun imagining what kinds of films the characters would like ! !

Jason is someone who enjoys going to the movies and watching films. He likes action movies, but not mindless ones, he prefers those with a romantic core. Films like Die Hard and The Crow, where everything is done for a woman.

˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Dick enjoys spectacle, when there’s music and choreography, but not in a superficial way. He likes ’80s movies, the ones with a sense of friendship and connection. He loves to feel moved and have fun when watching films. He’s not a fan of overly violent movies because he thinks they represent a misuse of media.

˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Tim is definitely a nerd. He loves sagas and is a big fan of Sergio Leone’s entire trilogy. He’s someone who enjoys talking about cinema with others, especially when they share common interests.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚

Bruce Wayne is an old-timer! He likes classic films and has a bourgeois cinema culture, not really into blockbusters (Blade Runner is the exception). When he watches movies, he doesn’t want to see himself reflected; he definitely wants to escape reality but stay within the world of investigation and revenge. I think he’s a fan of Alain Delon for his elegance. I also think he likes Metropolis because an old comic referenced it!

˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Damian is a big fake! Of course, he loves the movies he lists, but I’m sure he would also like films like How to Train Your Dragon, he just wouldn’t admit it so he doesn’t seem like a kid. He loves movies to draw inspiration from, where the protagonist is determined and has a clear goal. Like his father, he tries to act elitist, even though he mostly pretends he doesn’t like certain types of films. The ones he definitely hates are those with goofy heroes like Deadpool.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚

Oh, Barbara Gordon is a strong and intellectual woman, someone who appreciates complex emotions. She likes difficult love stories, not just the ones that make you cry. But she also enjoys seeing strong female characters, each different from the other. I’m sure she watches every genre and doesn’t draw a line between “important” films and ones made just for fun. She loves to see it all.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚

Roy likes to have fun,he enjoys goofing around and seeing himself in the characters. He’s not into dumb comedies, but he’s not a fan of overly serious films either. He loves the overall experience and prefers not to overthink what he’s just watched.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚

Jon is the real deal. It doesn’t matter how much he grows up, he loves the movies that remind him of his childhood, the ones he watched with his family. He also loves sagas, but not in a nerdy way, more from the perspective of bonds and lots of characters fighting together for a common goal.

Hope you enjoyed it!! Feel free to correct me if I made any mistakes. Of course, these are all just my personal opinions as someone who loves these characters and movies. I have fun doing this, so if you liked it, I might do it with other characters too! ♡ ☆

[danaens]

What should I write my next article about? Weddings, threesomes... sex in Gotham is weird

[danaens]

SEX AND GOTHAM CITY

EPISODE 2

SILK DRESSES, OLD SCARS… and casual sex

I stumble back from another disorienting Saturday night, the kind where you wake up genuinely grateful you did. The evening was a blur of too many Cosmos and one charming guy named Henry, whose skin smelled like Dior Sauvage and who gave off strong I want to sleep with you energy.

And that’s when I start to wonder: is casual sex still a right… or, in Gotham, has it become a calculated risk, with a survival rate?

In a city where turning the corner might get you killed, the bed of a stranger becomes either a grave… or a cradle of protection from the world outside.

And let’s be honest: here, danger doesn’t discriminate. You could fall into the arms of a sex-addicted maniac, or a nymphomaniac with a taste for bondage and taxidermy.

In doubt, I sacrifice myself, for research purposes, obviously, and end up tangled in the sheets with Mister Henry. Sheets that, fittingly, smell of odd fantasies.

He’s a political activist. Forty something. A fellow journalist who fills columns ranting about how Batman is a fascist and the enemy of democracy. God… maybe being tied up and sodomized would’ve been more fun.

Between one moan and the next… between his gasps of "Justice belongs to the people, not just one tyrant!"…I survive. Unfortunately.

⭒⋆🍸⭒⋆

Henry Fontana, 43, Journalist and Activist, Gotham Gazette: "I don’t do casual sex that often. I don’t just go with anyone. I like interesting women... the ones who can hold a conversation."

(Which doesn’t matter, because he does all the talking)

Cecilia Burleigh, 23, Architecture Student, AUG: "Casual sex scares me. I mean, it excites me too, the idea of sleeping with someone who only wants you for that, but also terrifies me. My friends have all ended up in… weird situations."

Lydia Child, 23, Architecture Student, AUG (Cecilia’s friend): "I had a friend-with-benefits thing. Then he fell in love with me, and that was the end of it. With strangers though? One guy once took me to his basement and said he had a kidnapping fetish. He was supposed to be the one kidnapped..."

Dr. Ralph Farnham, 36, Physician at Blackgate: "I have sex every day... sometimes I don’t even pay attention to the face."

Silver St. Cloud: "For me, casual sex is the only kind I have with men. That’s how they should be taken, on top, or when you’re bent over. If there are feelings involved, taking it from behind stops being pleasure and starts being pain."

⭒⋆🍸⭒⋆

As I write this all down, I feel a strange sense of contradiction bubbling up.

I’ve spent years working the streets, met more men than I care to count, and now that it's not work but pleasure, I’m… afraid?

Tonight, the Wayne Foundation is hosting one of those classic “charity” events, where the only charity is the open bar. For my friends and me, it’s Christmas in heels: silk gowns, bad botox, and unlimited Pinot Grigio. Silver is, of course, front and center, clipboard in hand, like the prom queen she never stopped being.

But this year’s invite includes a chilling clause: "Guests are requested to attend with a companion.”

Translated from Gothamesque: if you're single, stay home.

Apparently, Gotham’s elite isn’t ready for “single empowerment.”

Sunday morning. The only mass I attend religiously is brunch at Vesper’s. Her apartment is peak minimalist-chic: cream-colored walls, nude female art, and black fig candles that scream expensive.

Silver dives into the scrambled eggs. "They only write that for show" she says between sips of mimosa, in that voice that sounds like she knows everything and judges nothing. "You don’t have to bring a man."

"Well, I’m tired of the formality" I reply. "Why assume I need a plus-one just to walk through the door? This isn’t a gala, it’s a secret society initiation."

Barbara, naturally sarcastic, chimes in with a smirk: "It’s all a ploy. They’re scouting who’s got the genes for fashionable heirs."

I burst out laughing. So hard I spill coffee on my new blouse. Goodbye, vintage Armani-from-a-street-market.

"Bianca!" Vesper gasps, like I’ve just cursed in church. "I actually think it’s cute" she continues, dreamy-eyed. "Assuming everyone has a ‘someone’... it’s kind of romantic."

Silver looks at her like she just suggested reviving the corset. "Honey, half the women those men bring are escorts picked up between Crime Alley and Park Row." She glances at me."And no offense to the escorts. But there’s nothing romantic going on here."

"I met a lawyer the other day" Vesper says, all conspiratorial. "His name is Harvey."

Barbara raises an eyebrow. "Harvey Dent? He’s fifteen years older than you and has double the personalities."

"So what?" Vesper replies. "He invited me to the gala. He’s sweet."

"Again with the dynasty concept..." I mutter, dabbing coffee off my blouse, wondering if baking soda can fix regret.

The day I decide to write about casual sex, I realize that in Gotham, it’s not just a fear, it’s a taboo. At least for the upper crust, who still want you fake, married, and smiling.

⭒⋆🍸⭒⋆

For the gala, I choose a white satin dress and my trusty Afghan jacket. I feel like Penny Lane in a sea of fake James Bonds and bleached-blonde Vesper Lynds.

Cosmo number three. My girls are scattered across the social jungle, probably flirting with predators in tailored tuxedos. I look around. Silver’s right: the escorts are everywhere. And yes, I recognize a few. Gotham is a handkerchief, small, sparkly, and full of gunpowder.

"So drinking’s a vice now?" A voice behind me. Male, familiar..I turn around. It’s him, the guy I ran into the other day.

"I wasn’t drunk" I say, which isn’t a total lie. "I was... dazed. Nothing’s a vice if you do it with awareness."

He laughs. Dangerous smile. This time, in a black suit that looks guilty on purpose. "So you’re Bianca. The girl who writes about sex. Didn’t recognize you last time." He smirks. "Read your article. The one about vigilantes. It's funny."

"You think vigilantes are funny?"

"No. But you are."

"You should be complimenting my looks, not making me feel like a stand-up clown."

He laughs again. He has a cut on his lip, and that smile,it’s honest. Like it’s the first one in years. "Making someone laugh is a gift. Clowns don’t have it. They just piss me off."

I smile back. It’s somewhere between hard and soft. But only his eyes seem soft. The rest? It’s all armor. He doesn’t smell like Dior or Versace. He smells like tobacco and masculinity, heavy, gritty, real.

"I’m Jason, by the way. Jason Todd" he says, not warmly, but definitely with intent.

"And I’m Bianca Bradshaw. But you already knew that. You look out of place." (It’s the classic line we all say at these parties.)

"I’m family. But still out of place. You? You seem comfortable."

"Comfortable, but not family." I answer honestly. I’ve adapted here, but this world? It’s not like where i came from.

"What are you writing about now?" he asks, bold as ever.

"Casual sex. And how dangerous it is. You know, for a woman, the idea of wanting to sleep with someone but being terrified he’s a psycho..."

He sips his bourbon. "Gotham’s dangerous for everyone."

And there it is,the awkward pause. I’m probably being too shallow. I am charismatic, but I say stupid things. And for once, I don’t know why I’m second-guessing myself. Jason’s interesting. He could be another test subject for my article. But he’s not easy. Getting under his covers seems harder than getting in his head.

Another guy calls out to him, slightly shorter, friendlier, but with those same Gotham-tough eyes.

And just like that… Jason disappears.

⭒⋆🍸⭒⋆

Maybe unlike other women, I'm not afraid of casual sex, I'm afraid of feelings. Whether they are positive or not. I'm afraid of when I'm not the one putting the cards on the table, but there's someone else who mixes them.

So I ask myself

In Gotham is more dangerous casual sex or having feelings for someone?

I hope you like this episode, let me know <3 In the next ones I'll try to delve into the other girls too!! I really enjoy writing, I hope you also read.

[danaens]

SEX AND GOTHAM CITY

EPISODE 1

SEX , GOTHAM and... the vigilante fetish.

Gotham is a city where demons wear double-breasted suits, women carry pepper spray as an accessory, and love… is more dangerous than a dark alley at three in the morning.

In the shadows of the streets, danger and protection intertwine erotically, giving birth to the most secret yet common desire among us Gotham women: vigilantes.

We’ve all heard at least once from a friend or acquaintance about a passionate night with one of them, but how many have really experienced it? And how many, when night falls, wrapped in silk sheets and with the evening news broadcasting yet another robbery, wait for a masked man to knock at the window?

And I’m not just talking about adventurous twenty-somethings, but also sixteen-year-olds full of dreams and curiosity, and mature women who, beneath the armor of everyday life, hide secret passions.

So, as a journalist and a single woman, I decided to investigate the phenomenon that has been igniting the nighttime fantasies of many Gotham women: the vigilante fetish.

⭒⋆🍸⭒⋆

Businesswoman in a Wayne Tower skyscrape. "I know it’s crazy, but sometimes I dream that Robin bursts into my office… and cuffs me."

Psychology student at Gotham University. “It’s the dark hero syndrome. He saves us, yet remains untouchable. It’s the thrill of the untouchable. But also… the allure of danger.”

15 year old student from Gotham High. “I have their posters in my room. My mom says it’s weird. She tells me they’re here to save us, not to be models... but I caught her once cutting out their photo from the paper.”

Basketball player from Crime Alley. “I don’t need to see their faces to know they’re just rich guys saving other rich guys. If they ever stepped into this neighborhood, maybe they’d see the real problems. And no, I don’t sleep with rich boys.”

But let's talk with my friends

Barbara Gordon, 26, attorney, tech nerd, and perpetually single, though she says she's fine with that (despite constantly seeking company). "I don’t get why so many women have this primal urge to be protected by men, especially vigilantes. Sure, they’re important for the city... but would I fall for one? I don’t know. Maybe...if he had a solid retirement plan."

(Spoiler: she’s secretly one of them.)

Vesper Fairchild, 24, television and radio host, a lover of beauty and order. Single, but holding out for true love. "You can’t be serious. Batman? He’s so... gloomy. I need to see the face of the man I’m with. Anonymity is for criminals...and dating apps."

Silver St. Cloud, 27, elite event planner for Gotham’s high society. Also single and, not so secretly, into wealthy men. "Personally, I’ve always had a thing for Nightwing. That bodysuit? That butt? Oh my god. And with that grappling hook? Let’s just say we could pull off some stunts that would put Cirque du Soleil to shame."

And then there's me. Bianca, 25, from one of Gotham’s roughest neighborhoods. I dropped out of high school and started working the streets. My past? It's wilder than a Saturday night club guest list. But writing changed everything. And now, here I am, page three of the Gotham Globe.

So what happens when you stop being a survivor and start being a woman who’s actually living? Gotham doesn’t hand out second chances... but sometimes, it gives you a night worth writing about.

⭒⋆🍸⭒⋆

It’s two in the morning, and my little Prada heels have already walked far more than they were ever designed to.

I wake up in a friend’s bed, no panties on, by the way, on the complete opposite side of the city. And now I’m wandering through Gotham, phone dead, no money, no taxi, just me and the questionable decisions of the night before.

I’m deep in my thoughts (and blisters) when I slam right into what feels like a wall. Only, it’s not a wall. It’s a guy. A very solid, very large guy.

My purse spills everywhere. Great. Three condom packets, my lip stain, and my notebook with half-baked article notes hit the pavement like a mini explosion of chaos.

He crouches down to help me.

“Vigilante fetish?” he says, with a cocky little smirk. His eyes are sharp and ice-blue, and there are a couple of scars on his face. Just enough to make me wonder what kind of trouble he’s seen.

“I’m writing an article,” I say, laughing awkwardly as I push my hair out of my face.

God, he’s tall. Leather jacket, worn jeans, and he know i have three condom packets in my purse.

He laughs, like I’ve made a joke about him.

“So what do you think?” I ask, playing along. “Is it true Gotham women have a thing for vigilantes?”

“Some dream about the man in the mask,” he says. “But most don’t know the weight he carries.”

Smart guy, I think. Long legs, messy black hair, and honestly, I kind of wish he knew I’m not wearing underwear under this dress.

And hey, it’s been two minutes and he hasn’t tried to rob me or kill me. In Gotham, that’s practically romantic.

He gives me another smile as I say goodbye, wobbling away in my worn-out heels like a drunk flamingo.

“Need taxi money?” he calls after me, almost like he means it.

⭒⋆🍸⭒⋆

So... who is this mystery man? And will I ever see him again? What I do know is this: beyond the fantasy, beyond the sex appeal, there’s something else all Gotham women want: protection. In a city where strobe lights blur with Bat-Signals, maybe we don’t need a hero to save us. Maybe we just want to feel part of the danger, maybe even a little in control of it.

So I wonder:

Do we crave the vigilante to feel safe… or to feel powerful by standing beside the storm?

Hi! This is the first story I’ve ever written. I hope you enjoyed it, because I’d love to keep going and turn it into a series. Sex and the City is my all-time favorite show, and I’m obsessed with the Batman universe, so this felt like a fun way to blend both worlds.

The main character is original, I created her because I couldn’t find anyone in Gotham who quite had Carrie’s spirit.

I hope my English isn’t too off... it’s not my first language.

[mostly-imagines]

Careless Accidents

jason todd x fem!reader

aka you get hurt and jason’s pissed

warnings: reader’s wrist is accidentally sprained from being grabbed to hard

You could hear scuttling from somewhere else in the garden, an estate more than sizable enough than the game afoot.

You were under the distinct impression though that the bats and birds are playing with you similar to how they would a child. Slower, weaker, and less experienced than the big kids. You weren't complaining though. Because, frankly, it was stressful. They tend to operate more like they’re in a warzone than a game, you felt like you were about to be sniped out at any second.

Rightfully so, apparently, seeing how silently Stephanie had crept up on you.

“Hey,” Stephanie hissed, ignoring the way you jumped. “We’re doing alright for ourselves,” she said smugly. 

“Yeah,” you’d nodded, like you agreed with her more than you probably did. 

“Okay listen, I think the flag—” what flag? “—is by the fountain so, I think because there’s three of us and two of them, we should bait-and-switch.”

“We’re on teams?” you asked, no longer completely sure you know what you’re playing. 

“We are now!” she smiled, starting to run. “I’ll bait!”

She stopped briefly in her tracks and turned back to you hissing, “Don’t trust Cass,” before scurrying away.

Rather than sit around and wait there for…something?...to happen, you jumped up darting in the opposite direction with little to no indication whether this is a good move.

What you didn’t see is Cass rapidly approaching from your rear. 

What you also didn’t see was Dick crouched down in a row of shrubbery, which gave him the perfect opportunity to snatch your arm up and yank you down with him. You’d mewled a bit as your wrist made contact harshly with the grass, immediately buckling under you.

Cass was keen to your pain immediately, slowing her sprint to a stroll as she observed you.

“Are you okay?” she signs.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good.” 

The response was instinctual and you didn’t actually have time to register whether or not you were okay by the time you gave it. 

You pushed up on your elbows, trying to figure out whether Dick is even on your team, but the way the others approached had you halting consideration. They’re savvy to the situation at a speed in which you can only attribute to their vigilantism, looking at you with concern. 

“You good?” Tim asked, approaching languidly.

“That looked like it hurt,” Cass commented, crouching down next to you to see your wrist better.

Dick shook his head, “No, she’s okay.” He turned to you, prodding, “You’re okay.”

“Yeah, I’m, um…” you winced, looking at your wrist. “It hurts a little.”

Cass examined it closely, tilting it gently to the side. “It might be sprained.”

Dick paled. 

“No.”

Tim pointed a thumb back towards the manor, “We can get it wrapped upstairs.”

“No.”

You were only then able to clock the barely contained grin on Stephanie’s face, begging to break.  

“Ooooh. He’s gonna kill you.”

Cass had then kindly offered to take you inside and wrap it up for you, which you accepted, unexpecting of the plus-one of Dick trailing behind you like a guilty puppy all the while.

“You know I didn’t mean to grab you that hard right? I—” 

Cass laughs quietly as she wraps the bandage around your wrist, amused by Dick’s now-third explanation/apology for the incident. 

“I know, Dick,” you say, trying to appease him. 

“I’m sorry,” he tells you genuinely, but you can tell there’s more there that he isn’t verbalizing.

You nod, “I know, Dick. It’s okay. It was just an accident.”

Cass pins the wrapping in place securely and with a smile, signs to you that she’s all done. 

You rotate your arm a bit, testing your movement under the wrap. As Cass leaves with the first aid kit, Dick remains sat at your side, leg thumping up and down.

He takes a deep breath, “What if…what if you avoid him until it heals?”

“Dick.”

He takes your uninjured hand in his with urgency in his eyes, 

He looks down at your jointed hands before loosening his already mild grip significantly.

“Are you going to tell him?” he asks, looking like he’s bracing for bad news.

You shake your head sympathetically, “No. I can’t guarantee you that he won’t find out, but I won’t tell him.”

Dick takes a deep breath, looking at the ground with intense focus. “Okay. Okay.” He stands, “I need to go.”

You watch in amused bewilderment as he staggers out the door, looking around frantically. 

Within the next few minutes, he creates and enacts his plan A. He walks into the living room, sitting down next to a very disinterested Tim, eyes forward and serious.

“I’ll give you two grand right now if you tell him it was you.”

Tim barks out, “Absolutely not.” He looks at his brother, still laughing. “No fucking way.”

Dick breaks the serious facade immediately, looking at him. “Five.”

A deadpan from Tim. 

“You don’t have five thousand dollars.”

Dick throws his head back, back thudding against the couch. “Dude, please! He’ll kill me!”

Tim scoffs, “He’d kill me!”

Dick huffs, “No, it’s different for me! Do you have any idea how many times he told me not to do that?” 

“Well then it sounds like you fucked up,” Tim sneers.

“Oh my God.”

He takes off again, combing through different rooms in the house with hope of finding a quick but effective hiding place for, say, the next twenty years?

He bursts through the study, unwittingly interrupting Bruce and Alfred having a discussion over tea.

The latter sits up with a tense brow, “Master Dick?”

The former turns around in his seat, “What’s the matter?”

Dick struggles for a second before confessing, “I accidentally sprained someone's wrist.” 

Bruce scans his face slowly, nodding. “Alright…you’ll have to take responsibility for their patrol duties—”

Dick cuts him off with a sharp breath, “Said person doesn’t have any patrol duties to be affected...”

Bruce processes for a moment before shaking his head.

“I can’t help you.”

Dick’s panic takes over again, prompting him to continue his scurry through the room, towards the other door.

Alfred interrupts his process with a very logical argument, “You don’t think running away will make this worse, Master Dick?”

“I—I don’t know!” Dick whines, stopping in his tracks. “I don’t know what to do!”

Bruce purses his lips, gesturing, “Dick, when you make a mistake…you have to submit to the consequences, you know that.”

Dick gapes, “This is not a normal consequence!”

Meanwhile, you’ve busied yourself with fiddling with the knick knacks and mementos lining the shelves of Jason’s childhood bedroom. 

You’re admiring a picture of him and Alfred from when he was young as the door creaks open behind you. 

“Sweetheart?” Your boyfriend calls out, head barely poked in through the crack.

“Hey, Jay,” you smile, setting the picture frame back on the shelf.

He enters fully, covered in motor oil and grease, and smiles his sweet, easy smile when he sees you. 

Moving onto the next trinket on the shelf, you pick up a stuffed animal placed intentionally at the front. Your gaze finds the mirror, watching his reflection as he pulls the stained shirt off his back. 

You smile to yourself, noticing the way his back muscles flex as he adjusts. “How’s the bike?”

“Better than it was this morning,” he sighs. “Where’ve you been?”

He turns around to look at you, taking easy steps towards you. 

You return the toy elephant to its place, moving to face him. “Uh, we were outside, playing…at least three separate games at once.”

The second you’re in proximity, your hands join like it’s second nature. 

He nods, all too familiar with the family’s unique methods of gamefair.

“Did th—” He looks down at your intertwined hands, brow furrowing as soon as he spots the bandage wrapped around your wrist. “What happened?”

You glance down, shrugging. “Overexerted myself playing tag.”

He looks at you skeptically, but says nothing about it.

He turns your hand over gently, asking, “Is it sprained?”

You nod, relaxed. “Yeah. Cass said it’s mild.”

“Does it still hurt?”

“No,” you say, sweeping his hair back with your other hand. “Barely hurt then.”

He nods, but he doesn’t look satisfied with the conversation.

Regardless, he turns away again, shuffling through a drawer for a clean shirt. 

“You, uh, you wanna stay for dinner tonight?” he asks, pulling his arms through, his head following. 

“Yeah,” you say gaily. “Alfred said he’s making his ‘special spaghetti’, apparently it’s a household favorite?”

He wavers, halfway to between decisions. “Yeah…”

He huffs quietly, turning back to face you fully. “Can I see it?”

You nod, happy to ease his mind. 

You start to unwrap the bandaging, him doing half the work for you. The work is done silently until your wrist is exposed, revealing your bruised skin.

You both see it at the same time—the hand-shaped bruise wrapped around your wrist.

You’re both quiet for a second—him putting pieces together and you waiting for the shoe to drop.

He takes off suddenly, clearly having come to a likely very accurate conclusion about what had happened.

“Fucking idiot—”

You try for his hand but he’s out of reach before you can grab it.

“I’ll be right back,” he grumbles behind him.

“Jason—” you sigh, “At least help me wrap it back up first.”

He hesitates, halfway to the door, ultimately returning to you in defeat. He takes your forearm gently, scanning it over again before beginning to wrap it.

You watch his face closely, noting the clear vexation. “It was just an accident,” you tell him. 

He scoffs, “It better have been.”

You drop your shoulders and lull your head to the side. “Jason. I’m not made of glass, you can’t expect other people to act like it.”

“I don’t. I expect him to mind his own strength, and if he can’t do that, he needs to keep his fucking hands to himself.”

You sigh, “Just don’t do anything harsh. Please. I think he’s worried you’re gonna punch him.”

“He should be,” he says shortly. He finishes off the wrapping, pinning it in place firmly. 

You grab onto his forearm before he can pull away, “You’re not going to. Right?”

He doesn’t answer so you try to make his gaze meet yours, “Right?”

His eyes roll, “Yeah, fine.”

You smile, holding his face. “I love you.”

He huffs as though he’s inconvenienced, but confesses the obvious truth nonetheless. “I love you.”

He looks you in the eye, face serious. “You promise me it doesn’t hurt?”

“I promise,” you nod, brushing your fingers against his palm.

“Dick!”

The angry voice bellows through the tall halls of the manor, heavy footsteps thudding.

He stomps into the living room, Tim, Cass, and Stephanie watching the entryway with wide eyes. 

“Where is he?”

Unwitting shoulders shrug and heads shake. Truthfully, at that. Dick, smartly, did not tell anyone where he was hiding. 

Jason scans the trios faces, looking for any sign of apprehension.

He clocks the grin shamelessly plastered across his sister's face quickly. “Stephanie?”

“I don’t know,” she says honestly. “But let me know when you find him, I wanna see—”

But Jason’s moving onto the next room before she can get the last words out.

He enters the dining room, looking right to left before finding his target, halfway to stuffing himself behind the fine china cabinet in the corner.

There’s a brief, tense moment in between where the pair realize what they’re seeing and when Dick sets off in a sprint towards the kitchen, Jason quick on his tail. 

“Really? Really?” Jason shouts. 

“It was an accident! It was a fucking—” 

He narrowly dodges a swipe from Jason, then ducking before a ladle could make contact with his head.

“Are you stupid? Are you the dumbest motherf—”

Dick rounds the kitchen island as fast as possible, Jason testing him on the other side.

Dick takes a breath, “Dude, it’s fine now, it’s not that big of a—”

Jason recoils, “‘It’s not a big deal’? Come here. Let me sprain your wrist, asshole!”

He circles the counter quicker than the elder boy can think to move away and lunges at him. 

Dick throws his hands up in front of him, “Wait, wait, wait! Truce! Truce! Truce?”

Jason drops his shoulders, leveling his older brother with a look. “You can’t call a truce if you’re the only one who did anything wrong.”

“I…” It doesn’t take him long to piece together that his defense makes no sense, so he resorts to his last option. 

“Please?” Dick asks, nothing short of imploring. 

Jason relents—slightly—upon hearing his brother's tone, but still finds it in him to shove him, though not nearly as hard as he’d been planning to. 

“I told you a hundred fucking times not to grab her so hard—” 

Dick nods heavily, waving a hand. “I know, I know—”

“Clearly you fucking don’t!” Jason shouts. He huffs, running a hand over his face. “You sprained her wrist. You’ve been doing this vigilante shit for fifteen years, how do you still not fucking know how to control your own strength?”

Dick grimaces, “I do! I do, I just screwed up, I’m sorry!”

“Don’t—” Jason narrowly holds back a scowl, “Did you apologize to her?”

 “Yeah, of course I did!”

For a split second, Jason looks ready to keep arguing before purposefully dropping the anger from his body. 

The resulting relief almost drowns Dick.

It only lasts a moment though, before Jason looks at him again, sneering, “Idiot,” before pushing him once more. 

“Jason.”

Your voice has Jason dropping all turbulence in an instant. He and Dick both whip their heads towards the door, equally unexpecting of the interruption. 

You tilt your head at your boyfriend with a knowing but disappointed stare.

He looks back at you like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, lips parted.

“I didn’t hit him.”

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