Once I had a dream that, after so much thought, I recognized it was an amazing combination of REC, The Mask of the Red Death and heavy religious themes. Still surprised, proud and terrified of my imagination.
All happened inside an underground shelter in a steampunk distopian world, taken by the Red Plague.
The thing is that the infected bleed out from everywhere.
Eyes, mouth, nose, ears and every single hole too.
They had many symptoms that varied on stages: hallucinations, fever, hysteria/paranoid thoughts, temporary amnesia, sudden change of personality (going as far as developing bipolarity and multiple personalities), and so on.
The shelter were the remains of a mine that was recovered (in majority, but still had many halls with only rock as walls, or cracks and so) to be used as a last resort to create a cure. So they put everyone that could help: medics, nurses, nuns, priestess, natural healers and so...
The idea was to put everyone down there (with only a couple of patients to work on) to force them to work on a cure. It was relatively safe, as the only access to the mine was a big lift that once it went down with the last people, blocked the way down. So it only could go up... Hoping that one day they could do it with a cure.
I was a nun.
And everything was so somber and so... Silent. So claustrophobic and nauseating, with many "closed" paths that were parts of the mine they hadn't/couldn't renovate.
That was way more terrifying than the Red Plague.
So everything started to go to shit quite slowly down there, until one specific moment.
I was with another nun, cleaning a patient's blood of them. The room was bad lighted, with around a dozen of beds, the walls were pure bedrock.
Then... The lights flicker. Then they go off.
In the darkness, it takes us time to find a lamp, but the worst of it was the silence.
With the nature of the symptoms, every patient was quite loud. If not voluntarily, you could always hear the squelch of wetness from the blood slowly pouring out.
But in that moment? Nothing but a small scratch.
After some dreadful moments, I finally light a lamp. I move the light slowly through the beds, barely illuminating each of them, as the darkness seemed to suck any light that I held.
Everyone was "fine", tho the scratching persevered.
That's when I notice a small crack from behind a bed, from one of youngest and worst patients...
The crack started right behind the headrest, then it started to grow, and grown, and then... It was wide enough.
It was wide enough for me to see something moving inside the dark crack.
It was wide enough for that thing, to start reaching out to the outside. First a finger. Then the others.
Then a whole hand reached out from the crack... And fucking grabbed the cross over the bed and broke it.
We were sent down there to try and find a cure. We should had suspected, that this plague was to powerful for us, too easy to spread, too mortal for our raze...
Too evil to be nothing more than the Devil's creation.
And we were sent down, so far from the sky, God and any hope.
We were sent so far down, that we were at to Hell's doors.
Guys...give me your blog recommendations. I feel like I'm always cycling through the same stuff, and everyone's been slowly stopping uploading ߹𖥦߹ !! You know the vibe. Here's who I already follow:
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@/fanon-canon-idfk - So many fun blurbs !! A fellow Tim Drake enthusiast for all my Red Robin friends. (Top male reader focused/DC)
@/acid-ixx - If you're into neglected Batfamily, this is your stop! But there's lots else to see here too. You can always find something good here. (Depends/DC)
@/l0s3rd0wnt0wn - My cutesy moot ꨄ︎ !! Loads of fandom crossovers. She thinks of the most unique scenarios; I'm jealous it didn't come to mind first! (Depends/Multi)
@/aquasprings- There was a good month where all I had on my feed was a flood of her work. Loads of fun college AU JJK stuff. (Sub female reader focused/JJK)
@/burgojo - Look, I don't even care if you don't like JJK; you need to read what the Shakespeare of this era is writing on this blog. Dark Necessities and especially Blood in the Wine are a must. (Top male reader focused/JJK)
@/moonjellyagain - I've never been as obsessed with someone else's characters as I am with Jelly's. Calem, Adara, and Ipomea have a place in my heart (and my crotch). (Top male reader focused/OC)
@/yougavememyopia - Literally obsessed with their Popular! Yandere series; it's such a fun twist on the dynamic. Very cute. (Gn! Reader focused/OC)
@/i-love-torturing-boys - I don't know if they still intend to post, but I do know what's there is very good !! Kenji and Virgil are my favorite. (Top male reader focused/OC)
@/rawme-price - If you're into COD or really into hybrid fics and you don't know him? YOU'VE BEEN LIVING UNDER A ROCK. It's blurb city up in here. (Male reader/COD)
@/nickgoesinsane - Obsessed with their fledgling Lestat series. Especially since I'm rereading The Vampire Lestat before I watch the new IWTV season. (Top reader focused/Multi)
@/rhiannonsknife - Miss Knife...she is very legendary to me!! Her summer series and Jackie Taylor stuff are my favorite. (Sub female reader focused/Yellowjackets/Sweetpea)
@/blahblahblah-yapyap - I snort their Twisted Wonderland stuff like crack. It is so hard to find good stuff for that fandom !! (Top reader focused/Multi)
@/tocka-irbis - I can never get enough of Sam Winchester 🙏. Please !! Whenever I find someone who writes for Supernatural, they only ever care about Dean 💔. (Top male reader/Multi).
@/privitivium - Oh, you think you write enough? Wrong! Be blown away at the sheer catalogue over here. It's just beautiful. (Top male reader focused/Multi)
Yandere that enjoys having a willing darling, but their darling is absolutely a feral beast that they’re kind of scared of.
They attempt to go check on you where you’ve been locked up in the basement, but you’re standing by the stairs in the dark, wide eyes bloodshot and nails digging into the wall.
Absolutely not, yandere slams the door and almost pisses their pants.
You kind of haunt the house. Yandere still loves you but you’ve somehow become more unhinged than them. Too many times they’ve tried to intimidate you but you’ve started growling like a rabid dog. How are they supposed to deal with that?
Yandere that enjoys having a willing darling, but their darling is absolutely a feral beast that they’re kind of scared of.
They attempt to go check on you where you’ve been locked up in the basement, but you’re standing by the stairs in the dark, wide eyes bloodshot and nails digging into the wall.
Absolutely not, yandere slams the door and almost pisses their pants.
You kind of haunt the house. Yandere still loves you but you’ve somehow become more unhinged than them. Too many times they’ve tried to intimidate you but you’ve started growling like a rabid dog. How are they supposed to deal with that?
Maladaptive daydreaming as a child was like "what if I was in the digimon universe" and now it's like "what if someone genuinely loved me even though I'm flawed"
Month seven and your husband arrives without warning. His letters had ceased for a short while and the loneliness of it all almost made you miss them. His writing had improved greatly in the short time, but his spelling is still shamefully horrendous. Or, as he wrote once, whoreandous. You do not appreciate that he knows how to spell whore and not his own name.
Men. All the same.
You meet him at the door, house cloak pulled over your shoulders. The best part of his absence is how you get to relax. Your gown is baggy and wrinkled, your hair is undone: you have no one to impress.
Until, of course, your husband and another man arrive.
"I was not aware of your return," you explain, nearly panicked as you wrap your cloak tighter. Your husband does not acknowledge your shame.
"This is my second," he says curtly. The man beside him is obviously highborn, handsome in the ways girls often whisper about. He bends at the waist in the proper manner, holding a palm out in your direction.
"My lady."
You grant him your hand and the second presses his lips to your knuckles.
"You flatter me," you say. "I am simply a merchant's daughter."
"Modesty. Your family name is well known in The Golden City and the Black Coast. The tales of your beauty were not exaggerated."
Your husband frowns, but that doesnt ruin your joy.
"Are you both staying the evening?"
"A fortnight, if the lady permits," the second says. Your husband looks at him, brow knitted with confusion, but he repeats.
"If you permit."
"I will have them prepare a hearty dinner," you say. "I apologize for my appearance. Allow me to get dressed."
"Are you not already dressed?"
The second laughs too hardily at your husband's question.
By the time the food is prepared, you have dressed yourself in your finest. Jewelry and gems, rich purple cloth your father had saved especially for you, hair twisted into a beautiful updo-
"What happened?" Your husband rises from his seat the moment you enter the hall, nearly knocking over his chair. Both he and his compatriot are freshly bathed, clothing clean and nicely pressed. You take a step back, unsure whether to brace yourself against the hulking form or not, but he does not reach to strike. Instead, your husband's hands find the space above your hips. "Have they not been feeding you? Has the crown not been sending gold?"
"My lord, I don't know what you mean." This is the first time he's ever touched you. His hands are calloused and catch the fibers on your gown. "If anything I have been fed too well, I'm afraid."
"Your waist!" He squeezes his hands towards each other as if to prove a point. "It's half the size!"
Both times he has come home have been by surprise; you hadn't been in a real gown for either.
"I-" you shift uncomfortably. "Forgive me, I... The maid helped properly..."
His second has a fox-like smile as he downs his ale.
"Have you been refusing to eat?"
"No, it's the fashion..."
"The fashion is to waste?"
"Have you never seen a lady undressed?" you ask, suddenly furious.
Your husband goes red.
Not out of anger, but out of a painful embarrassment. His back goes straight and his eyes go wide.
"I--" he stammers.
Luckily, his second puts him out of his misery. "Friend, she has a corset on. Have you never noticed how all highborn ladies are shaped so erotically?"
Your husband's head snaps towards him.
"Clearly you need to spend more time undressing your wife and less time--"
"You will not say such things in front of my poor lamb."
warnings: reader’s wrist is accidentally sprained from being grabbed too 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.”
⭐️ your options are: (1) reblog fics or (2) be a little bitch ⭐️
I always start as "only shipping you with this character B because you are perfect for each other" until said character B fcks up on canon or too many angsty fics of them and I go like "You know what? He doesn't deserve you, love. Go and get community railed."
Jason Todd (DC Comics) vs Kim Dokja (Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint)
Jason Todd
Kim Dokja
Voting ended onApr 22
Propaganda under cut:
Jason Todd
Thighs. Chest. Momma bear Red Hood (protector of all kids in Crime Alley).
Kim Dokja
ON GOD HAVE YOU SEEN THAT MANS HIPS??? IT IS SCRUMPTILIOUS IN THE MANWHA, HAve you seen how he simps for his alpha Yoo Joonghyuk?? gang im not messing w/ you but holy moly dude his hips, his thighs they've got me mesmerized❤️
Physical appearance aside (body tea), he's extremely anime dead mom coded. He *is* a dead mom. He leaves three children and a whole pack behind grieving for him like a dead wife at the start of a film. He's the kind of person you put a photo of inside a heart locket. He's been surviving on his own his whole life, and now that he's found a pack to be a part of, he's very protective of them. He's a complex omega, he thinks how to give his pack the best life he could even if it means he's not there with them. The apocalypse would also free him of societal constrains that would come from being an omega, adding to his growth. Some people in canon are also (very) obsessed with him.
Ok, so, reading the comments made me think of some AU where Bernard didn't get possessed by Dionysus BUT instead got a taste of his influence on his core changing his own being (because which mortal wouldn't be changed by a god's touch?).
You know how people say "I'm devoted to my partner" and things like that? Or how their lover was their salvation?
Well, what if you can reinterpret that with the wild frenzy or specifically, religious ecstasy that Dionysus represents?
Ergo, Bernard getting more possessive, or strange in his showing of care and love (or devotion, get it?) for Tim
I JUST GOT MY TICKETS FOR IRON LUNG I CANT BELIEVE IIIIIIIT ✨😭
I'm from Argentina so I wasn't sure it would come here in my town, but my cousin wanted to go to the cinema to watch some other movie that I didn't want to go... But I checked the page anyway and IT WAS RIGHT THERE.
So yeah, she will go to her animated movie while I go to watch Iron Lung✨
One dies twice: when their body shuts down, then when their name is destroyed.
Seed of Flesh by Wisetypewriter
Sheila Heywood was a doctor, a self-made woman with the occasional fling and a sidegig at giving poorer women a much needed operation they would not receive anywhere else.
So, of course, when she accidentally got pregnant, she knew exactly what to do.
Yet, somehow, it did not work.
And it kept not working.
love, and be silent by nichromefire
Jason stares down at his script, feeling nothing.
“All I’m asking,” says TRAGEDY, “is for you to be yourself, Jason. Jason Todd has one job, and that’s playing Jason Todd.”
“Lucky for me, I’m a man of a thousand faces,” he grits out.
“And there’s nothing any of them can do to save him. Any story about you surviving is inevitably a story about Jason Todd’s death."
Sick Day by alexandria_library_of
[ Jason knew Bruce was getting sick.
He’d known since Wednesday, when Bruce had fallen into Gotham Harbor during one of the Riddler’s stupid games. It was October, and though the water wasn’t freezing, it was still cold. And even though Jason had managed to get him out and back to the Cave without any serious injuries, Bruce had woken up the next morning with a cough. A small one—barely a tadpole in the way of throat-frogs—but Jason had heard it. ]
Or, Bruce gets sick and a young Jason gets worried.
To Bear Lightning Twice by Wisetypewriter
John Constantine is brought in to the Batcave to fix a situation. Asking for miracles usually doesn't work.
I’m Gonna be Nobody’s Soldier by Madcat3918
Jason clicked the pen, and started to write on the envelope.
Dear Mr., “Gotham’s foster care is safe.”,
Thank you so much for dropping me off at Ma’s personal soldier camp.
I had a great time, truly a ten out of ten experience.
I loved the part where I got shot in the arm. A real highlight of my week.
Thank you for your genius-level, billionaire insight. You really nailed it. Incredible stuff. You could teach a class on how out of touch you rich twats are.
Since you were so kind to drop me off somewhere so safe and warm. I thought you might enjoy these documents.
-Jason Todd
AKA: Jason Todd gets permanently trapped in his twelve-year-old body after Bruce dropped him at Ma Gunns's School for Boys. This time, he isn't going to Batman for help; he will take on Crime Alley by himself.
ultimatum by froginthebog
Here’s the ugly truth: You want him to kill you.
closet skeleton striptease by many_faced_many_figured
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"I'm done."
Steph's head snaps toward him.
"Like you're going to kill yourself, you're going to quit, or…?"
question: what if there were no cigarettes? by sunlitlemonade
Jason plucks the cigarette out of his fingers. "It's bad manners to steal."
Lips part around a response before Dick stops. Then, he says, "As if you'd let me have it if you didn't want me to."
----
dick, jason & the numerous cigarettes that let them have an excuse to talk each other for just a bit longer.... until they figure out they can hang out without excuses
The Brand-New Experience of Being an Annoying-Ass Sibling by worldsmightiestflea (XYZwritesalright)
“Fuck.”
Dick looked up to where the new kid was standing over the remnants of a vase.
Man, this was gonna be funny.
Forgiveness should come after (but it can come before) by TheGreenInYellowJournalism
Jason-- doesn't look suprised. Or shocked. Or angry, and Bruce doesn't know what to do with that. Somewhere along the way, anger became a sign of love.
Jason exhales quietly, placing his small hand on Bruce's shoulder. "You tried," his son says quietly. Bruce almost thinks it's wistful.
The Bruce-mood by Desconhecida
The Bruce-mood. By far, the worst case of Bruce to deal with.
The previous victims suffering from Bruce-mood would all agree that they prefer lecturing over this chaotic version of the silent
treatment.
While in Bruce’s presence, the other bats would also ostracize the outcast in fear of also becoming part of the target of the mood until
Bruce’s approval to reintegrate them back in the fold.
There is no cure... unless you ask Jason.
Or, five times that Jason asked Bruce for a hug to help his family, and one time he asked for himself
Red Hood's Corporate Consulting by Desconhecida
He was three steps away when he heard it.
"—and how is that even POSSIBLE?" He recognized the voice immediately. Tim. And he sounded... not good.
Jason should have left. Should have just aborted the mission and come back another time when Tim wasn't around.
That was the smart play. The tactical play. But curiosity was a bitch, and Jason found himself moving toward the sound instead of away from it.
He peered around the doorframe and saw Tim in his office, pacing like a caged animal with at least five empty coffee cups scattered across his desk. The kid looked like he hadn't slept in a week. Maybe longer.
Oh, for fuck's sake.
Little Red Riding Hood by PantherInThePorridge
She is the hunter. She is the wolf. She is the little girl in the woods.
One-shots starring Faye Helen Todd.
My baby by NazgulWrites
Talia presses her wrist against the bridge of her nose, anguish and grief painted across her whole being. “You killed him,” she whispers, breathless. “You slit my son's throat and left him there.”
Dick stares at her. Bruce doesn't kill. She knows that. It's part of why they aren't together anymore. She couldn't get him to.
“...He's not your son,” Batman protests quietly.
Dick's eyes widen. It's not a denial.
White Dove Of Golden Wings by Milky_Almond
The small phoenix wrapped his wings closer to his body, and yet Jason still felt cold, feathers dripping with water from the sewers and trash from the alleys stuck between each one of them.
The original color of his plumage wasn't even visible, Jason looked like a mistreated pigeon and now Bruce Wayne wanted him to bathe.
Black Label by highlonesome
The difference between this Clark Kent and the Clark Kent is only really age. One in his 20s, the other his 40s. They look the same, freakishly so. But there is one thing, and it changes everything. You look at Superman and feel safe, there’s a warmth to him that just screams hope. You look at Prime and, well… There’s something colder about Superboy-Prime, something meaner. He tries to hide it but there’s a cruelty in his eyes that doesn’t exist in Superman’s. Maybe it’s only Jason that sees it, but he understands it all too well.
Unmasked by Wolfsbanesparks
After finding himself unexpectedly fighting alongside the infamous Red Hood of Gotham, Oliver isn't prepared for the earth shattering realization of just who is under that mask.
All he knows is that he won't rest until he brings Jason home.
Batman: Battle for the Cowl by GlitterStained
Chaos rattles Gotham City in the wake of Batman's death, and the heroes scramble to douse the flames of a city torn open.
Between the people's demands for protection and the slaughters carried in Batman's name, it might be time for the children of the caped crusader to find an heir to his cowl. But not everything is as it seems and loss, left untreated for too long, festers like a wound.
i can't wake up (save me) by tinyrobinperch
Jason doesn't believe in second chances.
Protege Problems by ANNE18_9
“I’m a ghost we’re all pretending is still alive.”
Jason Todd is done with the performance. After a brutal breaking point with the Bats, he flees to Russia with Deathstroke for a "rest" that doesn't exist. One explosion and a broadcasted revelation later, Jason Todd is no longer a ghost; The Red Hood is probably one of the most wanted men again, at least in Gotham.
But Jason isn’t the only one running.
Talia and Jason have been a lot of things to each other—They understand each other too well for words, which is exactly why they can't seem to reach one another.
And so one question remains: can Talia fix what’s broken between them, or are they destined for mutual destruction?
I WENT to WALMART with the RED HOOD at 2AM (what happens next WILL SHOCK YOU) by MagicAsh85
Unfortunately, the Super guy hears her. He tugs on the other’s jacket, frowning. “Hey, we need to pay.”
The helmet turned around to somehow look incredulous at him despite the blank expression. “No we don’t.”
“Yes we do! Come on, heroes wouldn’t shoplift.”
Helmet pulls his arm away to gesture. “One, that is entirely false. Two, you have killed,” he pauses for emphasis, “so many people.”
Glock 17 by FallingstarsSs
Jason sighed as he started unclasping his combat boots, losing himself in the familiar post-patrol routine that had been ingrained in him since he was twelve. Over the years, a lot had changed but, in essence, it was still the same procedure.
Left in his undershirt and sweatpants he had found abandoned on the floor of his living room, his eyes drifted back to the table and more specifically to the object laying on it. He didn’t even have time to close the distance and grab it before he heard a knock on his window.
Jason dragged a hand down his face and crossed the room. He scowled at the familiar floating figure and the latter just stuck his tongue out as a response. Unbelievable. He yanked the window open with more force than necessary.
“Hi, Jason!”
“Prime.”
——————
Or: Jason Todd has a bad time, then Superboy Prime comes knocking at his window.
Assigned supernatural maintenance man by God. by orphan_account
Another pause. "And you-" Dick coughed. "And you've dealt with this kind of stuff before?"
"Who. The fuck. Else. Is going to." He gritted, glaring across at him. Dick went quiet, and the basement's darkness seemed to flatten the air around them as they stood in each other's company, slightly awkward.
Dick swallowed, making an aborted gesture over at him. "So what are you a ghostbuster or something?"
"Oh my god," Jason groaned to himself, instantly turning and walking over to the hole leading out, preparing his grapple so he could leave. He did not have time for this.
-
Having use of the All-Blades means Jason's pretty used to being the most qualified person in Gotham to deal with supernatural issues. Why Dick's randomly started trying to help he has no fucking clue.
how lonely to be something that nothing wants to kill by sunlitlemonade
There were blood drops dripping down his fingers to the ground. The puddle was big enough for it to have spread around more than half the tub. His breaths shuddered, they were shallow and waning. But he was breathing and Dick’s world centered around that.
The Deadline by MCUsic_to_my_ears
Jason discovers an assassin has been breaking into Wayne Manor. He doesn't understand why Bruce won't protect them.
Stars through the Smog by Wisetypewriter
Hope has the power to create the greatest fears. Once upon a time, the world broke and Roy lost the light of his life.
He stumbled and sabotaged himself all the way to the bottom. He likes to think he has improved since. He has met another man in the darkest, ill-reputed corners of the world, one he would do anything for. Even if he was the only one. In many ways, that was enough.
However, nothing could have prepared him for the chance to find his daughter again.
A Song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thrones
The Prancing Stag (ASOIAF SI) by Knight_Vigilant_Koren
A Renly Baratheon SI that tries to be truly realistic. As Lord Paramount of the Stormlands can I keep my head attached? Is going for the throne a good idea? And WTF am I going to do about the White Walkers?
Burning Snow and Purple Dawn by wyanmai
Childbirth is dangerous. When Catelyn dies after Robb Stark's birth, Ned is left free to marry Ashara Dayne, the woman he fell in love with at Harrenhal. A different lady for Winterfell leads to a different fate for the realm. Main timeline AU with extensive Robert's Rebellion prologue chapters and plenty of Dorne. See second fic in series for Character Glossary
I have so much love for this person. The amount of empathy it takes to have these considerations about a person you will never meet, the eloquence and conviction with which they speak, the contempt for landlords. Sometimes I see something someone writes or creates and I wish with everything in me that I could meet and talk to that person for hours about what caused them to be this kind of light in the universe. This is one of those times.
