jo's in the capital

joanne | 20+ | she/they | twst, arr, prri, batfam

[silenced-shore]

tag list so i dont get lost (will add if needed)

i try to talk refined - ramblings

is this the real life - rl stuff

ref o ref - reference (its cause it means fridge or reference for me)

psa - important stuff (usually political, its the soc sci jumping out)

spicy - 18+ content (cw’s not tagged)

take note!! - save in particular

[barusoons]

A long day in the liminal pool space

[totallynotashieldagent]

ummm sooooo-

childhood best friend jason todd who makes promises like when i grow up, i'll marry you and then we'll be happy forever- but then he gets adopted by bruce and becomes robin and between all that, loses touch with you and then dies.

he comes back, becomes red hood and its not until he sees you again when he remembers his promises.

you run a small bookstore thats also a safe haven for kids to just loiter around and read-

he goes home and looks up everything about you, everything he's missed out on and what you're upto now- he finds out that you got married and then divorced, something about an abusive husband and sealed police and hospital records- a restraining order as well so he does what he what he thinks is right. he kills your ex for you and then starts to leave little trinkets for you at your shop- giving the kids gifts to bring to you from red hood-

this goes on for weeks and weeks until you stand outside your little shop, hands on your hips, looking up, trying to find him-

he lands right infront of you and takes off his helmet, you still dont recognize him. he's older now, scarred, his eyes aren't even blue anymore-

its not until he says im all grown up and i still wanna marry you that you realize who he is- and all he can do is hope and pray that you still want him the way he wished you did when you were kids.

send post <333

[possumtion]

New mascot

[broh3m3]

Twst portraits pt3!

[agnustar]

jason todd x f. reader | puppy love

contents :: fluff, just fluff. established relationship. wc. ~1.3k

The apartment was warm when Jason got back home. Real warm, home warm.

Goldish lamp light spilled across the living room, the dishwasher hummed softly from the kitchen, the line of shoes by the front door was crooked – it always was, no matter how hard you tried to keep it neat – a mug half filled with cold, forgotten tea was left on the coffee table.

It was home.

Jason stood by the front door a little longer than necessary, his helmet tucked in his arm, between his side and the crook of his elbow, and he just listened.

Until he heard it, the sound of running water from the bathroom. His entire face changed in a second. It should have been embarrassing how immediate it was. How one moment he looks like Red Hood, all tough edges, bruised knuckles, spit and anger and Gotham grime to last for days, and the very next he’s just … a boy.

A very happy one.

“Oh, thank fuck,” He whispered to himself, dropping his helmet on the couch as he passed. He was grinning before he even turned into the hall.

He appeared in the bathroom mirror behind you moments later, when you were half bent over the sink, toothbrush still in your mouth.

There he was. Hair messed up from his helmet, eyes exhausted, leather jacket half unzipped. You could tell it had been a rough night, and somewhere under his clothes bruises were already blooming. But he was looking at you like he had just walked through Heaven’s gates instead of into your slightly cluttered, too small, too expensive apartment at 1am.

“There’s my girl”

It comes out of him soft, and delighted, and terribly fond.

You barely have time to spit the toothpaste and rinse your mouth before he’s on you. Jason does not enter spaces normally when he’s this happy. He arrives in them entirely, every piece of him committing to it at once.

“Hi, baby” You laughed as his arms came around you from behind, picking you up and bringing you to the bedroom. He practically dropped you onto the bed, before plopping himself down on top of you. Heavy, warm, large. All dramatic deadweight, burying his face into your shoulder with a deep groan.

“There she is,” He mumbled, “I missed you”

“You were gone not even five hours” You replied, trying to shift yourself into a position more comfortable. But it was no use.

“It was five hours. And fourty-six minutes. And it was the worst five hours and fourty-six minutes of my life”

“You know you say that every patrol is the worst time of your life ?” You asked him

“Yeah. I do. And I mean it every time.”

He shifted, pulling his weight off you and wrapping his arms tighter around you as he spoke, like he all of a sudden developed a deep fear of somebody prying you off of him if he let go even for a second. He smelled like the city. Like smoke, and chilly air, rain damp leather, gunpowder, sweat and the faintest trace of blood.

But underneath it all, he still smelled like Jason. Jason who was home, and safe.

He pressed a kiss to the side of your jaw, then another, and another right after because he’s decided that taking a break was optional for him tonight.

You laughed, trying to push at his shoulder. He didn’t budge. “Jay”

“Nope”

“Jay.”

“Nope,” he repeated, grinning against your skin as he kissed you again, pressing a new one on every inch of skin he could reach. “Can’t hear you. I’m busy”

“Busy doing what exactly ?” You asked

“Kissin’ my girl.” He answered, as if it was obviously the most important thing in the world for him to be doing right now. The sheer amount of joy put into a single phrase made something ache sweet in your chest. Because he means it every single time he says it. My girl. Not in the sharp possessive type of way. He said it with reverence, in a Look-What-I-Get-To-Have-Way.

He pulled back just enough to look at you properly, hands coming up to cup your face, making sure your eyes stayed on him and nothing else. And there it was, that smile of his. The real one, the one where his eyes crinkled and his nose scrunched up. The smile that was too big to hide, and too bright to try and play cool. But Jason had never been able to even think about acting normal when it came to loving you.

“You stayed up for me,” He said proudly

“I always stay up for you”

“I know” His grin somehow got even brighter “That’s the best part”

It was immediately followed by: “Do we have any snacks”

You laughed so hard you snorted. “You are unbelievable”

“Hey. I deserve them. I got stabbed a little”

“You did not” You gave a playful smack to his arm. You would have known the second he walked through the door if he got stabbed.

“Emotionally. Because I had to be away from you”

“That does not count as being stabbed, Jason”

“It should” He grumbled, flopping sideways again until nearly his entire body was draped over yours. Clingy in that absurd post-patrol way he allows himself to have when he makes it home. He propped himself half up on his elbow, and just stared at you. You stared back.

He started laughing first, warm, loud laughter. The kind that shook his shoulder and made him duck his head into your neck when he was catching his breath afterwards, still grinning helplessly because he had lost all control over it.

He couldn’t contain it. Not here, not with you. Outside of this apartment he could keep himself locked up so tight sometimes he feels like he might crack under all of it. But here ? With you curled up under him, the sheets freshly washed, the lights dimmed and warm, everything overflows. Affection, relief, want, joy so pure and earnest it becomes boyish.

He steals kisses between sentences, and smiles for no reason, and touches you over and over, every place he can reach.

When you brush his hair back from his forehead he melts. Eyes closing, face going soft, leaning into your hand with a little sigh that makes you laugh again.

“There he is,” You teased, softer this time “Big scary crime lord.”

“Don’t ruin my reputation” He teased back. But his reputation was clearly not as important as having his face pressed into the palm of your hand.

“You are laying across me like a large dog”

“Yes. A guard dog.”

“A lap dog” You corrected

Jason let out a dramatic gasp, head popping up from your hand before he grabbed your face and kissed you three times in rapid succession.

“That is defamation,” "A kiss “Slander,” another kiss “Character assassination” A third kiss.

You were breathless, still laughing, when he finally settled again, heavy with contentment, head tucked against your chest to listen to the sound of your heart beating.

Neither of you said anything for a while, instead Jason just listened. Breathing slowly, rubbing his thumb in slow circles against your side, still smiling.

He never really thought he’d get to this part of things. He got the dramatic parts of life, the life-or-death parts, the yearning so deep it ached.

But he didn’t think he’d get this. The coming home part. The being loved openly and dearly part. The getting to collapses into the arms of the girl he loves and hearing her laugh while the city spins outside and he is untouched and unbothered for a few hours.

His head tilted up again suddenly, eyes bright.

“You know what ?” He asked

“What ?”

“I think that I am devastatingly in love with you”

You smiled at him, fingers brushing through the white streak of hair above the center of his forehead.

“Oh yeah ?”

“Yeah.” He beams, “It’s awesome.”

[alengza2]

"I'm hungry"

"Right now??"

"Barbecue."

"Alright, alright!"

[waibyd0smth]

A story for Yuu

[bm-0435]

Grim and Grim and MORE GRIM!!!

[dirixxarsn]

on that note can these characters stop acting like jaybin and jason are drastically different people who can not and should not ever be considered the same man. like guys i hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the outcome of someone dying and coming back to life and avenging their own death and being talked down on by 97% of the superhero community (key word: superhero, bc they reaaalllyyy dont act like it in these moments) is gonna be an emotionally closed off and defensive individual. no, jason wont act like the kid you used to know, probably because hes uhmmmmmmm traumatized? and that doesnt make him an entirely different person? he still likes the same books and makes the same jokes and has the same favorite foods and gets angry at the same things. because its the same person?? thats responding to trauma??

[brujayuous]

babygirl

[ninicure]

I consider these my magnum opus

[ninicure]

M’boys

[noodles-and-tea]

The thing about kids is that they’re so little

[movene]

talia with babian

[egophiliac]

the squeakquel

(no worries, this is the last one) (...for now)

[ieatratsyummy]

They could never make me hate you, complex female character whose reaction to trauma was not pretty and digestible like how people think it should be.