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Jason - Blog Posts
There is no escape, now you are in a deadly prison.
a killer sitting near a campfire, finishing with his food entirely..
-"uuuuuh-uhp....~"
This audio was made by combining other audios, credits to their respective creators.
Aquaman edit cause I loved the movie, did you enjoy the movie?
Every Jason dies
life is so good when i pretend that jason never died
Title: The Fawn Instinct.
Pairing: Yandere!BatFam x Reader (DC).
Word Count: 5.0k.
TW: Implied Non/Con, Implied Dub/Con, Kidnapping, Prolonged Captivity, Social Isolation, Stalking, Obsessive Behavior, and No Actual Incest, But Boy If Those Freaks Aren't Trying. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.
If it’d only been Bruce, you might’ve been able to live with it.
You didn’t love him, but you could imagine a world where you tried to. Most of it was circumstance; as upset as you were about the whole kidnapping thing, it wasn’t exactly a Herculean feat to endear yourself to the idea of being a handsome vigilante millionaire’s stay-at-home captive-spouse. You had no room in your heart for the stoic, reclusive, untouchable Bruce Wayne, but you could remember the adoration you’d once held for your masked hometown hero, the pride that’d once given you the force of will to all-but carry a half-conscious man in a torn cowl and a familiar suit into your apartment and lie to the cops when they came knocking. If the conditions had been different, if he’d spent a little more time as something more intimate than a stranger and a little less damning than a captor, then maybe, you could convince yourself to love him. Or, convince yourself to try, at least.
But, the conditions weren’t different, and you’d never quite had the time you would’ve needed to align Bruce Wayne with his more heroic alter ego. It’d been doomed from the start – Icarus jumping from his tower, already knowing his wings were destined to fall apart.
That aside, though, there was the more glaring issue: all his fucking kids.
Calling them kids might’ve been too generous, actually. Only Damian and Duke were younger than eighteen, and as far as you were concerned, they were your saving graces – Duke for meeting the bare minimum requirements for human decency and Damian for adamantly denying you were anything but an unwanted burden on his father. The rest were more-or-less adults, as little as you wanted to acknowledge the nonexistent age-gap between you and your gaggle of stepchildren. They were grown. They should’ve known better.
Tim, for example. He had to be… what? Nineteen? It wasn’t the pinnacle of maturity, sure, but he should’ve known you’d be able to hear your own sheets rustling through the bedroom door, should’ve assumed that you’d know he’d know Bruce would be out on patrol until sunrise. He should’ve known to wait until you were in another wing of the sprawling Wayne estate, somewhere far away from the master bedroom, or better yet, skipped rummaging through your things entirely. You knew better than to dream, though.
The door was still shut, but what was happening behind it and who was responsible were both foregone conclusions. It was Tim, because of course it was Tim, and he going through your meager possessions, because what else would he wait until Bruce was gone to do? Cringing, you rested your shoulder against the steady wood and knocked gingerly. “…Drake? Are you in there?”
Immediately, the rustling stopped. You went on. “I think Bruce is out, if you need him. Is there something you’re trying to find?”
It was a good out. An easy out. Thankfully, he was smart enough to take the bait. A few seconds later, the door cracked, a disheveled Tim emerging with a dark blush spread over his pale cheeks and his hands shoved conspicuously deep into the pockets of his hoodie. It was a struggle not to roll your eyes. He couldn’t have been more obvious if he’d come out with his dick still in his hand.
Your cheeks ached as you put on your dozenth unstrained, unworried, everything’s-fine-because-why-wouldn’t-it-be smile of the day and moved aside to let him out. “I’ll let him know you were looking for him when he gets home,” you assured, like you couldn’t see the way his bright eyes were fixed to the carpeting. “I’m sorry I can’t be more help. You all are just so heroic – it’s still a little hard to believe I’m a part of this at all.”
“You’re perfect,” he muttered, and you pretended not to hear him, cocking your head to the side. When he corrected himself, his voice was a bit louder, a bit clearer. “Don’t worry, I… I found what I was looking for. You don’t have to bother Bruce.”
“Oh, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. He’s so proud of you and your siblings, after all – it’s practically all he talks about.” A lie, but a fair one to tell. There was no reason Tim should have to know Bruce spent the majority of your time alone with his teeth buried somewhere in your neck, muttering paranoid fantasies about how many different ways you could be killed, mutilated, or otherwise indisposed by the members of his rouges gallery. “Honestly, sometimes, it’s hard not to feel like I’ve been here for years, rather than just a couple of months.”
You only realized your mistake when those bright eyes shot to you, suddenly wide and blown out with desperation. A hand darted towards you, and you stumbled out of the way, but not quickly enough to avoid Tim’s vice-grip on your forearm, to spare yourself the feeling of something cold and wet sinking into your sleeve. “You’re leaving?” The words seemed to slur together, spilling out too quickly to be restrained or refined. “You can’t leave. Bruce won’t be able to handle it, and Steph, she’ll—I mean, security-wise, we won’t be able to make sure you’re—”
Internally, you were keeping up a steady mantra of ‘Thisissogrossthisissogrossthisissogross.’
Externally, by some miracle, your smile never wavered, only growing sweeter as you cut him off with a chirping laugh. “I’m not going anywhere,” you promised, and then, after a slight lapse, “Would you mind letting go of me? It’s—uh, it’s kind of starting to hurt.”
As if on a switch, he let go of you entirely, pulling away as abruptly as he lashed out. There was a mumbled ‘I’m sorry’, and he made a swift retreat, disappearing around the next corner before you could so much as think about bringing up Bruce, again. You watched him go, only letting your expression fall once you were sure he was out of sight.
Without further caution, you slipped into your bedroom, glazing over the mess of pulled-out drawers, overturned clothes and scattered dirty laundry in favor of falling into bed, rolling onto your chest, and screaming into your pillow as loudly and for as long as your lungs would allow.
~
You tried your best never to be alone. It was a little draining, to be honest – having to keep a running chart in the back of your mind of who you could trust and who you couldn’t, constantly trying to guess whether it’d be safer to be alone with someone or if you were better off taking your chances on your own – but you’d learned your lesson the first time you’d fallen asleep in the Wayne’s at-home movie theater and woken up to Cassandra spread over you like a human weighted blanket, staring unblinkingly at your face and playing half-consciously with your hair. You tried not to leave yourself unguarded, after that.
Alfred was your first choice, Barbra your second, with Bruce as a distant third. Sometimes, you could get away with loitering near Damian (something you hated nearly as much as he did – you could only stand to be addressed as his father’s “jezebel lover” so many times), but Bruce was at one of Damian’s school events, leaving them both conveniently unavailable, and Alfred would be locked inside of his underground shooting range for another hour and a half, an activity you knew better than to interrupt. Meaning, you were on your own.
Meaning, you’d picked a very bad time to need something to drink.
The kitchen was deathly quiet, but you still made an effort to keep your head on a swivel as you made your way carefully to a corner cabinet, like stepping on the wrong tile would trigger a pit trap, or a flurry of arrows, or one of another million terrible things you hadn’t thought were possible before Bruce dedicated himself so entirely to proving you wrong. Mentally, you reviewed your haphazardly assembled schedule as you fumbled with the wood paneling and reached for a mug from the highest shelf. Tim was definitely out, touring local colleges on Bruce’s behest, Step was supposed to be in class, and Dick—
Your fingertips made contact with cool ceramic half a second before another, larger palm wrapped around yours, a broad chest pressing into your back as your mug was stolen out of your hand. You didn’t have to look to know who it was.
And Dick was on bed rest with three broken ribs. Right. Of course.
You really shouldn’t have bothered leaving your room at all. Suddenly, dehydration didn’t sound like such a bad way to go.
“Let me get that, baby bird.” You cringed at the petname, but nodded, letting Dick confiscate your mug and with it, your ability to make a swift exit from a conversation you’d rather not have. “Green tea, right? I know it’s your favorite.”
“On the mark as always, Dick.” There was just enough enthusiasm in your voice to overshadow the despair. You waited until you heard the muted click of an electric kettle before turning around and settling against the counter. “I wish you wouldn’t dote on me, though. I already feel useless enough as it is.”
“Don’t sweat it, I’ve been going stir-crazy all week.” He flashed you a quick smile – tooth and beaming – before pulling open the silverware drawer and rummaging through it, like Alfred would keep his teabags with his cutlery. He was topless, wearing the same pair of black sweatpants he must’ve slept in. He didn’t plan to go out, clearly, and it wasn’t like you had much of an alternative. “This is just the basics, too. For a while there, I had your breakfast, lunch, and midnight snack preferences memorized.”
You forced yourself to smile, albeit, not as brightly as him. “…did you, now?”
“Mhm. B had us running in-person surveillance before he finally bit the bullet and brought you home, and—” He cut himself off with a sudden laugh, shaking his head. “And, I wasn’t supposed to tell you that part. Oops.”
Mercifully, the kettle whistled before you could start to consider the implications, and you reached behind you, fishing two bags out of a teacup-shaped jar. It was easy enough to edge him out of the way, but not having to worry about pretending he’d ever made himself a cup of tea meant he could devote more of his energy to talking, so you still managed to lose, in the end. “He’s stingier with the surveillance footage, now. I’ve never seen him so jealous.”
“He can definitely be a little overprotective.”
You tried to keep your tone even, polite, but Dick was like his siblings – quick to action and slow to take a hint. A hand curled around the counter next to you, and you dumped an extra spoonful of sugar into the darkening water. “It’s just us in the manor, right?”
Another spoonful, just to be safe. “I think Alfred is—”
“Out for the day. Wayne Enterprise emergency – I let him know as soon as he finished down in the range.” In your peripheral, you watched his other hand come to rest on your opposite side, caging you in. “I wouldn’t mind the company, if you were starting to get lonely.”
Another spoonful. It’d be too sweet to drink, but anything not to have to look at him. “I’m afraid wouldn’t be a lot of fun, Grayson. Honestly, I was just planning on getting a little sle—”
“That’s perfect,” he cut in, too eager to wait his turn. “I’m a great cuddler.”
You curled your hand around your mug, hoping the warmth would be enough to ground you. Instead, it only burnt your palm, and for a second, you could imagine a world where your teeth weren’t buried in the plush of your cheek, where you didn’t have to remind yourself that turning around and splashing boiling-hot water on an all-but superhero’s face wasn’t a good idea. For a second, you genuinely considered it.
And then, a sound not totally dissimilar to thunder filled the kitchen; loud enough to leave your ears ringing and your adrenaline spiked. You flinched into yourself, but it only took a moment for fear to shift to relief as you noticed the bullet lodged into the wood less than an inch from your head. Your expression lit up just as Dick’s fell.
Without waiting for him to let you go, you slipped away – sprinting across the kitchen and throwing yourself into Jason’s – brave, bold, beautiful Jason – chest. He caught you one hand and finished re-holstering his handgun with the other, laughing as you hugged him as tightly as you could manage. Dick huffed, playful offense failing to mask real agitation, and you felt Jason brace against you. “Jerk off and shut the fuck up, Oedipus.”
Dick’s smile turned uneasy. “It’s good to see you too, man.”
“I didn’t come here for you,” he snapped, as short-tempered with his siblings as you wished you could be. He looked down, holding you that much tighter. “How’s my best girl holding up?”
“I’m just fine, Jason. I do think we have to have a talk about how you treat your brother, though.” You glanced over your shoulder to Dick. “A little privacy? You really ought to be staying off your feet, too.”
Reluctantly, Dick slinked out of the kitchen, hesitant to go but eager to nurse his wounds. You only went on once you were sure he was gone.
“It’s been awful. I found another hidden camera in my bedroom, and I think Tim’s tapping my—”
“I’ll do a sweep.”
He let you go, but you caught his arm. “Please, I know it’s important, but—” You cut yourself off, swallowing. It was irrational – the way you let your guard down so quickly around Jason. The mask never slipped around anyone else, whether you were afraid of them or they were one of your rare, precious exceptions. Jason existed outside of the Wayne family, though, outside of Bruce’s corrupting influence. He wasn’t going to hurt you. More importantly, he wasn’t going to let anyone else hurt you, either.
“But I really don’t want to think about that, right now,” you finished. “Just… just for a little while, alright? I don’t want to constantly feel like I’m walking on eggshells, at least not while you’re here.”
Jason stood strong for all of three seconds. With the fourth, he sighed, buckled, and shook his head, his exasperation brimming with affection. “How long until Bruce gets home?”
“Six more hours. He’s not due to check-in for another three.”
“I’ve got my bike out front. How do you think he’d feel about a joy ride?”
And just like that, you lit up. “It’d give him a heart attack.”
Jason pulled you close, kissing the top of your head.
“Perfect.”
~
Unfortunately, Jason’s visits were few and far between. You had to find ways of fending for yourself, in the downtime.
“I miss the city.”
Bruce glanced over his shoulder, gaze flickering over you before returning to the buttons of his dress-shirt. You sunk that much deeper into the mess of sheets and pillows, taking some small amount of solace in the way the cool silk felt against your warm skin.
(Sex wasn’t something Bruce came to you for often, but when he did, you gave it to him willingly, albeit with no more enthusiasm than was absolutely necessary. You rarely enjoyed it and always regretted everything you did or said during the act, but it was better than the alternative. Part of you trusted him, trusted Batman, enough to believe that he’d take your refusal for what it was, that you wouldn’t have to say anything more than ‘no’. The remaining overwhelming majority was able to look around you, to remember the way he’d held you down as he forced a needle stocked with medical-grade sedatives into your throat, and recognize that your opinion probably didn’t mean very much to him. Still, you couldn’t let things get that bad. Even if you had to surrender every other facet of your being, you couldn’t let things get that bad.)
“You hated the city. You said your landlord was a tyrant and that even the criminals were living paycheck-to-paycheck.” And then, after a second of thought, “And that there were more rats in Gotham than people.”
“Well, he was, they are, and you know I love animals.” You pushed yourself up, keeping a sheet bunched against your chest as you slumped against the headboard. “I was tired and overworked – you could see that. But, things would be different if I was staying with, say, my wealthy trillionaire boyfriend in one of the penthouse apartments that I know he has because his youngest son got in trouble for bragging about them in school last week?”
Bringing up his kids was a dirty tactic – the fastest way to get Bruce’s undivided attention. This time, when his eyes shifted in your direction, they stayed there, and he made his way back to your side of the bed. He collapsed next to you and, with no resistance on your end, pulled you into his lap. He didn’t seem to care whether or not his immaculately tailored, freshly pressed suit was creased in the process, but you did your best not to squirm. “You want to leave the manor?”
The first half of a frown tugged at the corner of your lips. “That’s not what I—”
“Elevated pulse, avoidant eye-contact,” he muttered. “Something’s bothering you.”
It wasn’t a question. He wasn’t wrong, either, but still. You would’ve preferred to be asked.
“…it’s your family,” you admitted, feigning guilt. “They’re all—” Horny, depressed, creepy little orphans. “—great kids, but it’s just been so much so quickly, and I think it… I think it might’ve been too much too quickly. For them and for me.”
“They adore you, if that’s what you’re worried about. Dick was close to moving back in when I decided it was too dangerous to leave you to your own devices.”
You melted into his chest, sighing. Reflexively, he curled around you – a good thing, if a bit claustrophobic. Bruce liked feeling like a shield between you and harm, between you and the world he couldn’t control. Hopefully, eventually, he’d realize he had more to shield you from than greedy landlords and villains who always seemed to be just out of sight. “It’s not that easy. It’s just been such a rocky adjustment period, and…” You curled your hand around his wrist and squeezed, hoping the force would be enough to communicate what you couldn’t put a word to. “I’m really afraid something bad might happen, Bruce.”
For a moment, he seemed to consider it. There was a kiss to your shoulder, solemn and lingering, then another to your cheek, more fleeting. “I’ll talk to them. They’ll give you space, if they’re told to.”
If he told them to. You doubted you held much authority, here. “And the apartment in the city? On the highest floor, tall enough to see from Gotham to New York?”
Bruce smiled, and your heart soared.
Then, he started talking, and it crashed back down, dying upon impact. “Once I know it’s safe for you, sweetheart.”
There was another kiss, this one to the nape of your neck, then another, lower down on your spine. A calloused hand slipped underneath the sheet still hugged against your chest, and you allowed it to.
Honestly, it would’ve been kinder if he’d cut you into pieces and fed you to the wolves himself.
~
You made a run for it as soon as the arguing started.
Arguing, not yelling – the distinction was minor, but significant. Yelling would’ve meant an injury, or a mission gone wrong, or something else that signaled a sudden complication that couldn’t be smoothed over with sugar-sweet sentimentality or orders issues with an ice-cold strictness. Yelling would’ve meant Bruce didn’t mind letting you overhear, which usually meant you didn’t need to be involved. Arguing, all hushed whispers and hissed explanations and vague warnings, was different. Arguing meant, more often than not, that they were arguing about you.
It was Tim’s fault, as far as you could tell. Barbara had been the one to find the conspicuously encrypted file on one of Dick’s civilian devices, the one to mention it to Stephanie as a point of concern who went to Tim within the hour, but it was still his fault. He’d gotten Bruce involved, let his need for approval tip the tenuously balanced scales that kept his family whole and you safe. He’d talked them all into waiting until Dick was close enough to confront in-person, stopping by for his weekly equipment pick-up and check-in. He was the reason you’d gotten close enough to hear something about ‘pictures’ and ‘inappropriate use of reconnaissance material’ before fleeing to the mansion’s foyer – the only part of the house you could be sure wasn’t occupied. If you were lucky, you’d only be there for half an hour or so, enough time for them to compromise on some non-solution and return to your carefully maintained status quo. If you weren’t, you’d spend the early hours of the morning—
Something small but forceful hit the nearest window, shortly followed by another projectile, then another. The glass was too thick and the world outside too dark to make anything out, but you didn’t need to see anything to know who’d come to your rescue.
Jason.
You rushed to the door, then hesitated. Jason would only get a slap on the wrist for luring you out of the estate, and Bruce could never bring himself to be that strict with you, but now might’ve been a bad time. Tensions were already running high. Your little disappearing act wouldn’t—
A sudden rush of footsteps clattering through the ceiling from the floor above you, hushed voices raised just to the point of audibility. None of it was entirely coherent, but Dick’s came the closest. You managed to make out a half-choked “If you’d just let me—” before someone cut him off.
With your better judgement reduced to buzzing static, you pried open the closer of a pair of huge, mahogany doors and slipped out of the estate entirely.
Of course, Jason was waiting outside, a small stock of pebbles still in his left hand and, of course, you threw yourself at him, letting him catch and spin you twice before setting you back onto your feet with an airy laugh. A pitch-black sports car was waiting at the end of the driveway, the engine purring loudly enough to drown the rest of the world out. “Rough night?”
“You have no fucking idea,” you muttered, breathless. “I don’t care where we go, just get me out of here.”
There was a reason Jason was your favorite. There was no argument, no prying, just his arm around your waist as he herded you into the passenger seat. Fifteen minutes and a little over fifty miles later, the mansion was little more than a dull glow on the horizon, and you could pretend you’d stopped thinking about Bruce entirely.
There was no effort to make conversation, as bad as you felt about pulling Jason into your prolonged tryst with self-pity. Instead, you sunk into the leather of his seat and fixed your gaze on the passing landscape, clinging to any detail you were able to latch onto as it flew by. It was possible, between the subways and boarded-over windows and perpetually overcast skies, to go days without seeing the sun in Gotham. Still, your life had felt brighter there than it ever did in Bruce’s estate.
Jason turned down a road you didn’t recognize, and you managed to find your voice. “Are we going into the city?”
“Even better.” He flashed you a smile, the engine purring as he accelerated. “You’ll like it, I promise. Just sit tight.”
As if you had much of a choice.
Road gave way to forest, forest to empty plains, and empty plains to the dilapidated remains of what you could only label as a long-abandoned amusement park – like Disney World if there’d been some terrible, possibly nuclear accident followed by twenty or so years of absolute neglect. Jason’s car glided past the rusted remains of an iron gate, past the corpses of rides buckled under their own weight, and came to a stop in front of a paint-stripped merry-go-round almost entirely sheeted be vines and weeds and overgrowth. You let out a low whistle as he threw the gear shift into park and, for the first time in any vehicle you’d ever shared with him, pulled his keys out of the ignition. He’d always left the engine running while visiting the mansion, but then again, you’d always been pretty eager to make a hasty escape, too.
“I love it, Jason. I’ve always wanted to get tetanus from a broken down carnival.”
“A fair, actually,” he corrected, slipping his keys into his jacket pocket. Like he expected you to try and steal them while his back was turned, or something. “My parents used to take me here, before I met B. There weren’t a lot of Ferris wheels after that.”
There was a short lapse, the sound of lips moving against teeth. You made the mistake of humming, of glancing over to him, of leaving yourself open for another question, and Jason, as nice as he was, was more than happy to take advantage of you. “So, when did you and B start…”
He trailed off, drumming his fingers against the wheel. You filled in the rest with a breathy chuckle. “When did I start sleeping with your dad?”
He jabbed an elbow into your side. “First of all, you can admit you’re fucking him or call him my dad, but you’ve gotta pick one.” You opened your mouth, already ready to spit out some dumb joke about what Bruce would’ve preferred to be called, but Jason cut in, sniping your stupid joke out of the air. “Secondly, answer the question. I get enough of your diversions back at home.”
“Being a buzzkill must run in family,” you sighed, but gave in quickly enough. “It happened once before the whole kidnapping thing, when he was staying at my apartment and sleeping off a broken leg. I hadn’t even seen him without his mask on at that point, but I figured it was a sign – destiny, or something.” You did your best to smile, slumping against the door. “It was dumb. He gave me a couple weeks after bringing me to the estate, mostly because of the crying and stuff, but things started up again pretty quickly.”
“Do you… like it?”
“Do you like asking about your dad’s sex life?” He flinched back, and laughing, you went on. “I guess I don’t care. There’s not a lot else to do.” You swallowed. “Would it matter if I didn’t?”
For someone with so many questions, he didn’t leave a lot of time for yours, the hypocrite. Moving on swiftly, he asked, “And the others, have they…?”
“No.” And then, after a beat, “Not yet.”
He seemed to relax, at that. His back was still straight, his shoulders still squared, but his grip on the wheel loosened, his jaw unclenching ever so slightly. You tried the handle – locked. Obviously. As if you’d ever get that lucky.
His voice was soft, sweet. The kind of tone you’d use on a child, or an animal, or a doll. “This would probably be easier in the backseat, right?”
“Let me out.”
“So you can go where,baby? It’s just us out here.” He laughed, resting a hand on your thigh. You slammed your shoulder into the door. It didn’t budge. “Hey, hey, this doesn’t need to get rough. I’m not going to be like Dick. The others – they’ll do it wrong, treat you like a cut of meat they have to get to before anybody else. I just need to make sure you get out of this in one piece.”
Nails embedded in leather, body crammed as far from him as you could force it be. You weren’t hyperventilating, but only because you’d stopped breathing entirely. “Let me out, Jason.”
“I love the way you say my name. It’s pretty, and delicate – just like you.” He sighed, shook his head. “I know you don’t get it, but I’m just trying to take care of you, like you’ve been taking care of me for the past few—”
“Stop acting like I’m your mom.” A sob fractured the final syllable, another bubbling up from deep in your chest a moment later. Your body was beyond the point of rationality, but the soft, preservational part of your mind wasn’t so beyond the point of seeking refuge. There was a way out of this, as ghoulish as it seemed. You couldn’t stop it from happening, but you could make it better. You’d regret it in an hour, when it came time to explain yourself to Bruce, but what happened in an hour didn’t matter, not if you couldn’t survive the next few minutes.
You might’ve done it, too – or, you might’ve tried, at least. You wanted to. You planned to. And yet, when you opened your mouth, there was only one thing you could seem to say. “I don’t want to do this, Jason.”
His nails bit into your thigh, his smile easing at the corners. For a second, you almost thought he’d pull away. For a second, you almost thought he’d sigh, straighten back up, and admit this was all part of some cruel, unfunny joke that the two of you would remember fondly, later on.
Then, he laughed and leaned forward, lips brushing against the top of your head. You felt him speak before you heard his voice, but the cloying reverberation alone was enough to tell you that you would’ve been better off never saying anything at all.
“Welcome to the family, sweetheart.”
POV: You come home after selling drugs to kids only to find a visitor waiting for you. He doesn’t seem happy.
POV: Some rando hit your brother on patrol and you have five seconds to come up with an excuse as to why you reacted with extreme violence.
The birds dont sing, no they dont make a sound,
When you’re six feet under the ground.
I got a new brush and I went a lil wild lmaooooo
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Peter is gotham, fine and dandy, all the tropes you could ever want BUT
Into the spiderverse right. With The Canon explanation
So picture Peter falls into DC, and his canon ties to his own universe are cut because his canon was essentially erased, comic book logic and all that
So DC (or sentient Gotham!) Basically adopts Peter into their universe, and also his canon.
What does that mean, you ask?
PICTURE THIS.
Peter now has to live through everything considered a canon even for a Spider-Man, including but not limited to Uncle Ben's death. This works beautifully when paired with Jason being Ben's equivalent, like a fine wine and cheese
See the issue with being a multi shipper for ur fave is
Dick x Roy yes
Dick x Wally yes
Dick x Garth yes
Dick x Kori yes
Dick x Joey yes
Dick x Red X (TT reference but I fear? Sure)
Dick x Harley formerly no but someone recommended me a fic and you know what fuck it
Dick x Babs sure
Dick x midniter yes
Dick x tiger yes
Dick x huntress yes
Dick x Donna no
Dick x zatanna yes
Dick x Constantine yes
Dick x Slade for ship no for fucked up trauma inducing plot yes (I’m sorry that TT Apprentice arc was too good I will never get over it)
Dick x Kara sure
Dick x various other characters that I’m sure folks will leave in the reblogs. Honestly yeah why the fuck not
However at the same time, Dick doesn’t sleep around in my head like AT ALL. Like I firmly think this man is demisexual and has had like 3 important relationships in his life. But also he has dated every single one of these people?
These two things are canon and can exist at the same place and time without being a contradiction shut up.
Hoo good swap ,ya había escrito algo de esto, pero tengo más ideas, a si que vayamos
Percy: hijo de Afrodita, mucho de su físico no cambia,solo que sus cambian de color, es más seguro con su físico, además de que su arma preferido son el arco y la flecha, se vuelve más protector con annabeth, ya que es ella la niña de la profecía aquí, cuando su novia desaparece esta dispuesta a ir por cielo, mar y tierra por ella, no sería raro ver a Afrodita metiéndose en la relación de sally con paul, y no sabe porque el hijo de zeus , sigue jodiendo con que no se pinte las uñas
Annabeth : hija de hades , su vida familiar es complicada,siendo que su padre y madrastra siempre la menospreciaron, y criticaron , preguntándose , porque no puedes ser normal y feliz como tus hermanos?, lo que la lleva a alejarse , ella es la niña de la profecía, aunque zeus no la ve como una amenaza al principio ,pasa todo el año en el campamento,eventualmente es escogida por hera para cambiarla por otra semidiosa en nueva roma, lo que le provoca un miedo irracional a los fantasmas , de físico, solo cambia que su piel es más pálida y sus ojos son negros , además de que tiene a la señorita o,leary en lugar de blackjack
Jason: hijo de marte , su madre era amante de varios dioses, siendo aquí thalia la que toma el lugar de luke, nunca conoció a su hermana, a diferencia de muchos de sus parientes, es más estratégico y frío, lo que le gana el lugar de pretor,cuando su prometida es secuestrada, y está regresa , solo para decirle que lo olvido, y que se enamoró de una hija de hermes ,no puede evitar estar enojado
Reyna : hija de Neptuno, con control sobre el agua, no fue siempre bien recibida en nueva roma, pero eventualmente logra ganarse su lugar, solo para terminar siendo presionada a casarse con su compañero, que el no parece tener problema,pero ella no lo ama, es solo su mejor amigo, aunque marte lo sigua intentando , cuando se despierta en un autobús escolar, con una chica adorable en su regazo, rápidamente sabe que lo de jason ya no puede ser , lo único que cambia de físico es que tiene ojos verdes
Piper : hija de hermes, mucho de su historia no cambia , solo que tristan si sabe que es una semidiosa, no tiene poderes, a si que solo depende de su astucia,se lleba mal con percy , más porque el trata de darle consejos de Bellesa ,cuando despierta con recuerdos de tener una novia, solo para descubrir que todo fue una mentira, realmente no sabe que hacer, pero eventualmente decide intentar "el mundo se va al carajo, mínimo puedo besar a una chica atractiva ", de físico no cambia mucho, somos que tiene ojos cafes
Leo : hijo de atenea, sigue siendo un gran inventor, a diferencia de la historia original, atenea ayuda a esperanza, a si que el tenía una vida mejor que buena cuando niño, pero cuando muere, es muy fácil para su tía robar su herencia, y dejarlo en internados , de los más baratos, o a donde sea, pero leo logra hacerse como ingeniero, y aquí se queda con eco, se que muchos prefieren a leo con alguien más, y no es canon, pero ame a eco, a si que eco se une a los 7
Hazel : hija de Júpiter, igual resucita , pero es más un favor de hades para nico, que sigue enamorado de percy, pero decide que tiene que salvar a su novia para no verlo triste, sigue siendo la adorable niña que todos amamos, nico tiene una relación complicada con zeus, y como hazel no se parece, es fácil para el quererla , su maldición ya no es del metal, es más un control del clima, y como era muy común que otros murieran cuando ella se sentía mal
Frank : hijo de apolo, igual no cambia mucho, solo que se vuelve el médico del argo ll, y es el "ordenes del doctro", para todos estos , esta en el espectro autista,lo que provoca que también le cueste relacionarse con otros, pero logra hacerse amigo de annabeth y hazel,la primera por estar en la enfermería a cada rato,y la última por ser nuestra preciosa niña adorable
Nico : hijo de zeus , enamorado de percy desde hace mucho tiempo, eso y por todas razones no le cae bien annabeth, pero cuando lo de cronos apoya a annabeth, incluso le ayuda con la maldición de aquiles, a si que hades le debe un favor, que cobra para sacar a hazel del hades, hades no quería, pero eventualmente persefone lo convence, ya que son sus hermanos ,mucho no cambia, solo que tiene ojos azules, y que una ves que sale del clóset, es zeus el primero que le da consejos para ligar
Will: hijo de demeter, siempre amo las flores, pero en el verano le da pereza regarlas, pero llega el chico rayito,nico, y le pide ayuda, pasan tanto tiempo juntos con las plantas, que eventualmente se enamoran
Entering my girl blog / killer queen / lana del slay / good girl / villain era.
Wesker mains choke me out
PLEASE MORI ME DADDY
Tim: I’ve been told to fuck myself numerous times. Isn’t this what they wanted?
Random HC
One time Tim, after a long night's patrol and a morning of dealing with his siblings, was confronted by the press while he was going into work - which isn't a rare occurence.
Now, its public knowledge that the Waynes fund the Bats, and that they have likely met once or twice
One of the reporters asks Tim:
have you ever met Red Robin?
And Tim, confidently on live television, tells them:
yeah, we're fuck buddies. I'm late for work, bye
