Ehehe thank you granny! :D I will see if I can get to your second emoji set, but I was immediately GRIPPED with an idea for your first suggestion and it ate up my whole day OwO;;; I can't keep coming up with new werewolf AUs you guys, at this rate I'll have enough to fill a small library lmao
(For the emoji prompt game! Feel free to send me an emoji combo :D)
Please enjoy~
🐺🗡️🎭:
Jason keeps his nose clean.
It’s the only way to do business when you’re a wolf in Gotham, and Jason likes his hole-in-the-wall dive bar, thanks. If you don’t play by the rules, you’re likely to bite it on the wrong end of a silver bolt. This is hunter territory.
Jason is uniquely positioned to understand this, having lived on both sides of that particular line.
Of course, a clean nose and can-do attitude only get you so far. Sometimes trouble finds you no matter what. No matter how long ago you swore off that shit.
It had been a slow night. Wednesdays are like that.
Only the regulars and the occasional drifter tend to show in the middle of the week around here, which is too bad. Kori finally convinced him to put in new lights, including a chandelier for a centerpiece, and that thing didn’t come cheap. He could use more business to make up the cost.
Henry kept trying to tell anyone who would listen that he’d get the house back from his harpy of an ex-wife; like he’s been saying the whole time Jason’s known him. Piotr was ducked behind his usual paper and smoking his usual cig. The headline was the usual fear-mongering shit, ‘MAN OR MONSTER: PARK MURDERS LINKED TO—‘ and Jason had stopped reading before his blood pressure could get any higher. He’s been working on his zen, and that shit tends to rupture it bigtime.
Jason had been getting some inventory done, and keeping an eye on the shifty stranger in the corner who kept stealing glances at Lauren like he didn’t know if he wanted to chat her up or eat her. He’d walked in off the street about ten minutes ago and was already doing himself no favors. Jason would honestly have loved to see him try either one; Lauren teaches MMA at the local community center. But she’s been having a rough week and Jason doesn’t tolerate that shit.
You get that type sometimes. Wolves who don’t know what to do with themselves and their new instincts after they’ve turned. It can seriously make or break a person. A real trial by fire moment.
Jason used to hunt wolves for a reason. It’s an ugly stereotype, but he likes to think he can spot the difference. Creeps are creeps whether they’ve got skin or fur hiding under their sheep’s clothing. Fangs just make them bolder.
Right as he was gearing up to confront the guy, to chat him up with his open-ears brand of bartender charm (Roy always sniggers at him, but even he can’t deny that Jason’s got a sort of rugged je ne sai quoi)— right as he was gearing up to confirm his creepy vibe, Jason’s bar explodes. Go figure.
The big, street-side window shatters. What looks like a fucking bomb bounces through it before an acrid, herbal smoke fills the air, a trail of fire erupting across the floor in its wake.
“Motherfucker,” Jason hisses, snatching the fire extinguisher out from under the bar before leaping the counter, coughing as the shit in the air burns his eyes and nose.
Fur ripples reflexively over his skin and his teeth suddenly get sharper as the wolfsbane smokebomb does its nasty work. He can feel the fabric of his shirt tearing as his body bulges, and his claws skitter over the metal pin before he pulls the plunger on the extinguisher.
“Motherfucker.”
He fucking hates hunters.
Henry’s already bolted for the door with his tail between his legs, and Lauren’s choked scream is the only warning Jason gets before a searing pain stabs through his upper thigh. She really ought to run too; no sense in getting tangled up in hunter business.
He grunts, hitting the floor on one knee and dropping the extinguisher, groping at the silver crossbow bolt that’s sunk into his flesh. Whipping his head around, he gets his first look at the fucker who just got himself on Jason’s shitlist for life.
The hunter is dressed for utility. Long coat, bulky belt, lots of little compartments; lots of places to hide weapons and other goodies for making wolves dead. He steps carefully through the scattered remains of the front window, attention clearly locked on Jason. Black hair, glaring blue eyes; he’s sporting a very dramatic half-mask that covers his nose and mouth, protecting him from the smoke. He looks young and dumb and like he’s about to shoot Jason again. Not a good combination.
“You need to leave,” Jason snarls past the sting of silver in his thigh, already out of patience, but needing to honestly say that he tried when they question him later for manslaughter.
“I’m done messing around, killer,” hisses the punk with too much firepower and an attitude problem, completely talking past him. Rude. “You’ve got nowhere left to run.”
It’s hyped up hunter nonsense, and he already had the gall to set Jason’s floor on fire when he made his grand entrance. This is why Jason is insured.
It’s no use calling the cops. As far as they’re concerned, hunters are doing the city a fucking service. Hell, half the cops are hunters. They’d pin a medal on this guy, glad to have an excuse to finally shut down Jason’s ‘wolf den’ for good.
Jason ducks as the hunter pulls the trigger again, another bolt flying over his head and shattering something no-doubt expensive on the top shelf. Still, Jason relishes his bitten-off curse and lunges to close the distance between them before he can reload.
This clever ploy is nearly ruined by the second crossbow the hunter pulls out of his stupid coat. Jesus Christ.
“You got a permit for those?” Jason asks, tearing the repeater crossbow out of the hunter’s hands before he can get off his shot, then immediately snatches his wrist when he goes for a silver-edged knife. “Hey, watch it. You’ll put someone’s eye out with that thing.”
Jason doesn’t know why that sets him off, but the hunter suddenly twists out of his grip. He takes a swipe at Jason, snarling with enough teeth to put a real wolf to shame.
“Oh, that’s rich. I saw you slink in here!” he barks. “You’re not going to hurt these people—!”
“What the everloving shit are you talking about,” Jason snaps as the hunter presses him back. He ducks between tables, kicking chairs in the hunter’s path and dodging his knife. When he lunges, the hunter barely spins out of the way, giving Jason an opening to kick him hard into a corner booth. “The only one hurting people here is you, asshole!”
The hunter only glares as he picks himself up, resettling his grip on his knife before throwing himself at Jason again.
Smoke is still thick in the air. The vapor from the hunter’s bomb dissipates through the broken window, only to be replenished by the fire still burning through the floor. If it had been one of Jason’s busy nights, a lot of people would have gotten seriously hurt.
“You fucking hunters— you think just because I’m a wolf, that means I hurt people?” Jason says, twisting out the way of a low sweep.
“I think gouging out eyes and leaving people to bleed out means you hurt people,” the hunter snaps back, and fucking what.
“You’re fucking crazy,” Jason informs him, and catches him by the back of his long coat, hurling the madman with an arsenal through the air with a crash.
“You’re one to talk,” is all the hunter says, groaning as he sheds his coat and leaps back to his feet.
They chase each other around the room, taking turns drawing blood, and Jason despairingly tallies up the property damage as they go. Toppled dishcart (those had been clean), snapped wooden latticework between the booths, torn upholstery, and— are you fucking kidding.
He just put in that stupid thing.
Jason had the hunter cornered on a table against the wall. Then he pulled some parkour bullshit, kicking off the back of a booth to jump up and over Jason’s head, avoiding Jason’s grab and swinging off the bars of the new light fixture Kori had insisted on to make a quick escape.
Only it was never meant to carry the weight of a grown man dangling off of it like a kid on the monkey bars. It shuddered ominously before the screws gave way in a shower of drywall dust and popping sparks.
Jason is too pissed to do anything else. Glaring, he points angrily at the sadly flickering mess of wire and dangling bits that used to be his modern-style chandelier.
“You’re gonna pay for that!”
The hunter only bounces on the toes of his boots as he sticks the landing, falling back into a ready stance.
“You—” he starts, but Jason doesn’t give a shit anymore.
“Do you know how much those fucking cost?”
The hunter only stares in confusion. The prick.
“...what?”
Seeing red, Jason finally sinks his claws in him. Roughly grabbing the hunter by the waist, the throat, feeling fabric and skin tear as blood coats his hand— Jason lifts him off his feet and slams him down onto the bar. The hunter bites down on a guttural scream, and Jason just about howls as a line of fire opens up over his chest.
“Shit,” the hunter coughs behind his mask, his knife flashing red as his elbow knocks over an empty pitcher. “That all you got?”
Cocky thing to say, with Jason’s claws digging wet furrows around the base of his throat.
“Don’t try to be cute,” Jason snarls, letting him breathe just to pin his wrist, forcing him to drop the knife with a clatter. “It’s way too late for that.”
“Fuck you,” the hunter spits, failing to hide the shake in his voice. This stubborn piece of shit doesn’t know when he’s beaten. “Did you think it’d work? Thought you’d hide in some random bar until the heat died down—” and Jason snaps.
“I own the bar!” he roars.
The hunter freezes. Jason’s breath steams out of his nose, and he narrows his eyes as the hunter’s wide gaze flickers from Jason’s glare to—
“Oh, fuck me,” the hunter wheezes, and before Jason can react he’s already lurching up in Jason’s face and stabbing another fucking knife, when did he—
—directly over Jason’s shoulder, where it sinks with a meaty thunk and a howling scream into the chest of the mangy wolf sneaking up behind them. The mangy wolf who has Jason’s approximate height, build, and coloring. If it’s dark. And you squint.
…Eye gouging.
Huh.
Then: claws rake savagely down Jason’s back, and that’s enough for him. He doesn’t need more convincing to turn and sink his teeth into the creepy stranger’s throat and tear. The events of the night have already reorganized themselves in Jason’s head, and he doesn’t like the picture it paints at all.
Blood spouts as the likely-murderer’s snarling cuts off with a gargling whine. Jason spits the taste of silvered blood out of his mouth, watching him collapse and fade, claws and fur shrinking away to nothing as his human form dies on the ground in a growing pool of muddy red.
It’s gonna be a bitch cleaning that shit out of the boards. Jason should just bite the bullet and re-floor this place already.
If it doesn’t burn down first.
“Okay, who the fuck was that, and who the fuck are you— oh goddamnit.”
Jason turns to lay into the hunter who fucked up his place of business while chasing after a serial killer or whatever, only to see that he’s passed out. Probably from shock, Jason thinks, wincing as he sees just how deep he’d clawed him. Flat on his back on the bartop, legs slumped, arms akimbo; his head dangles limp over the edge, exposing the delicate line of his bleeding throat as the wet gash in his side darkens his torn shirt. And Jason’s countertop.
Son of a bitch. This is why Jason hates hunters. They wreak so much havoc, but they’re so fucking fragile.
“That’s going to need bleach,” Piotr comments helpfully from where he’s picked up the extinguisher and is putting out the rest of the fire. He ashes his cigarette on the floor, and not in the ashtray Jason set out specifically for him. Asshole.
Jason groans, and starts hunting for his first aid kit. He knows it’s around here somewhere.
For the WIP game! "What Time Could Never Heal" please? 🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾
ofccc darling here you are <3
Bruce didn’t have a favorite.
He’d been asked a million times and he’d given that answer a million times and it was true.
He didn’t have a favorite. Sure, he treated all his kids differently, but that was because they were all different people. If he started treating one like the other, one might start crying, and the other, shouting.
Bruce loved his children. He loved them more than life itself, but they reminded him so well of everything he tried to forget.
OR
His Robins were many things. Dick was his partner, Jason was his sidekick, Damian was his son, and Tim was an old wound that reopened every time he thought it had healed.
For the Director's Cut ask! ⭐- a section you’ve been dying to talk about!
sdfghjk i didn't mean to take so long to answer this, but i had problems picking a section to talk about hahaha
anyway, i decided to go with this section from my jaycest fic i look the best reflected in your eyes w/ fem jay.
Jason looks at her. His eyes are so green; it swirls within the blue like a maelstrom.
Her heart aches.
The Lazarus Pit didn’t make them angry, didn’t strip them of their control, didn’t turn either of them into some kind of monster, the way some might like to believe. Their actions, hers and Jason’s, were all their own.
But…
While madness wasn’t one of them, the Pit did come with side effects. Especially for them. Neither of them had been in full possession of their faculties when they took their swim—it was the Pit that seeped in and filled up the cracks like a twisted form of kintsugi. Uranium instead of gold; toxic, green, and more powerful than anyone really had the right to possess.
On the days when she felt the green more strongly, the gaps in her memory always felt wider, deeper. She could feel all the hollow spaces where once a life had been lived. It made her feel like an imposter. A ghost. Something that lived and shouldn’t.
And at the same time… the green would pulse and writhe, washing away the aches and pains of places her brief dip hadn’t been able to fully heal, of even new injures, and compelled her to move.
Those nights had once ended in fire and explosions—in bruised knuckles and blood dripping down her nose, coating her tongue—in the burn of alcohol on the back of her throat—in another body tangled with hers, blood welling under her nails as she raked them down their back.
Live, the Pit said, and she did. Destructively, dangerously. The only way someone—something—like her deserved to.
She knows that the only reason Jason isn’t out there doing the same is because she’s here.
--
this section is one of those things that just kind of happened as i was writing. it's not the first time i've had musings like this, though. i'm not like... the biggest fan of the concept of pit rage. i read a lot of fics about it, but at the end of the day i don't like the lack of agency, i guess, or the way that it cuts into jason's anger and the calculation involved in his return to gotham/takeover.
all of that said, though, i do like the idea that there's some kind of price or effect to using the lazarus pit that's more than just healing? even if that contradicts canon xD (for instance i'm a big fan of the glowing green eyes lmao) so this is one of the ways that my brain has spit out trying to reconcile that.
also, despite saying all that, i also like the idea that this is full unreliable narrator territory and these aren't side effects of the pit, but instead the way jay (& jason) is rationalizing her own coping mechanisms lmao
I read the most recent chapter and then did a complete reread and honestly, the amount of terrible things happening or told to Harry RIGHT BEFORE your latest chapter?
Harry deserves a little emotional explosion, as a treat~
Ajdjdkkfkf he's had absolutely no time to process ANYTHING and the hits keep coming! Super excited to see what Orion's little message will do to him 😭😅❤️🔥
Harry has had a rough two weeks in-story. He’s at the end of his rope 😅
Orion might end up setting off a landmine without even realising how bad the explosion will be!
HI, I've come fresh from reading your fic "kiss me kill me til i bleed" and would love to hear more about your headcanons for that universe! 💗😍
Also, what are Bruce, Dick and other characters (if anything?)
:D Welcome! Ask and ye shall receive >:) There were a lot of things that I couldn't get to in that fic because we were very close to Jason's POV, and also because I was impatient lol.
Spoilers for the fic ahead!
A list of headcanons set in my vampire!Jason verse from kiss me kill me til i bleed:
WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU:
There are more than just werewolves and vampires in this verse (it's a whole grab bag of what's fun in a 'dont look too hard at it' kind of way lol) but Bruce is human! As well as Alfred, Dick and Babs.
Do I have to say what Catwoman is lmao (cat-shifter)
The Joker is a demon uwu
Cass and the al Ghuls are vampires. More on this later.
Steph is a werewolf (when she and Tim first met it was a big ':O who's that dog' moment for them lol)
Duke is a demigod whose divine half recently started waking up OwO His bio dad sucks lol
Damian is... a dhampir (riff from phantom of the opera plays dramatically) Human father, vampire mother, it was a whole experimental thing Talia did and she was prepared for it to fail. :') She loves her squishy, half-living son. Damian was raised in The vampire cult to end all vampire cults, so he's going to have a lot of things to figure out lmao. Yes, Dick will be a regular blood donor for him, yes, it'll be terribly complicated and fucked UwU
Kryptonians are angels. Hence why a nephilim is cited to have punched the universe in that one bit - Kon is half human :3c
OKAY. VAMPIRES. In this verse, vampires are born when a human dies. Jason used to be someone else, but he doesn't remember that life at all. He was basically a walking, talking, blood-thirsty baby in the body of a (mumbledy) old young man (he's of age and that's as much as i'm willing to think about it. no claudia-esque child vampires here :X), and needing to be raised all over again. Sheila killed him, halfheartedly buried the body in Robinson Park, then booked it, not realizing that she'd sired him.
Cass was someone else before her father sired her, but unlike Jason, he stuck around to raise her. Unfortunately for her and similar to canon, he didn't want an immortal companion or daughter or whatever; he wanted to craft the perfect weapon. She's killed and drained a lot of people. Nowadays, Cass lives on animal blood (winks in Steph's general direction)
WEREWOLVES. Tim has been a werewolf his whole life, and made to feel shame about it. He has rigid control, always wears silver to suppress the wolf (family heirlooms, passed down mother to child uwu) to the point that he can resist his transformation even on full moons. He pays for doing that in Other Ways; the more he clenches down the more restless he gets, and it's fine and he's fine and he's always been fine, so don't worry about it, he can patrol tonight just fine--
Jason has always smelled very, very good to Tim. Even the faded, lingering remnants of him in the Cave were enticing. When Jason came back, holding a knife to Tim's throat, it was like. It was.
It was very annoying is what it was. Jason is an asshole. Tim is just checking on him. Every other week, not just the full moons, can't be following a pattern. Just in case. Yeah.
Catherine Todd was a werewolf.
Because I love my werewolf x vampire stories to be miles deep in the metaphorical sauce, the secret ingredient in werewolf blood is love, and I'm not even joking lmao. The reason werewolves aren't used as bloodbags en masse by, say, ancient vampire cults is because they really do taste Bad most of the time, esp if coerced (in a non-sexy and non-consenting way). And werewolves are difficult to coerce.
When Tim tells Jason that he doesn't think he'll like how Tim tastes, it's partly a self-deprecating dig because he's into Jason, but he doesn't think Jason is into him. They won't be compatible :') Jason will think Tim tastes icky :') Jokes on him tho, i was leaning hard into some animal magnetism, true mates bullshit behind the scenes for this one fr fr
(fun fact: at Titan's Tower, Jason would have thought Tim tasted Bad when he first broke in. But not after U_U)
Tim is not the first werewolf Jason has fed from. Catherine used to make him pack lunches U_U (the bags in their fridge)
...and that's everything I can think of right now lolol THAT GOT LONG
Thank you for reading, I'm glad you enjoyed my goofy fic uwu
I'll go for Dicktim aob NEW! Anything you can share for that one?🙏🏾💕
wip game
dicktim aob new!! (have a shitty edit of what immediately popped into my head when i saw the wip titles right next to each other like that lmao)
ANYWAY NEW DICKTIM AOB
here is a lil snippet
Tim has grown since coming back, but it seems to be a normal growth spurt- nothing to indicate the same kind of rapid muscle growth Dick or Jason went through. It’s a little hard to tell- Dick rarely sees Tim outside of his suit and when he does Tim’s generally swallowed up by over-sized hoodies- but Dick thinks he’s probably hiding the way newly presented omegas tend to pudge up a little in preparation for carrying pups.
Dick’s tried to subtly alpha command Tim once or twice, to test his theory, but he’s not subtle enough- Tim always just scowls at him and tells him to knock it off. That’s to be expected though, from someone with Tim’s training. It would probably take a lot to drop him into that submissive omega headspace- between his training with Bruce and his own headstrong nature, Tim has never been all that submissive.
so originally i was asked to write secret omega tim and alpha dick
but one day @pinkcowzz and i were talking about how i kept scrapping and rewriting that and we ended up with an idea with secret alpha tim with alpha dick finding out and bitching him, sooooooo, this is part of that lmao
dick thinks that tim is hiding an omega designation, finds out the opposite is true and i wont give away any more than that just yet lol
