bleh today

9

Wholesome classmate interactions :’)

‘Where’s your helmet?’ 

anonymous asked:

Can I ask what's your favorite batfamily relationship to write about and why?

It’s a tough choice, but if we’re talking relationships overall, and not just in a romantic or sexual sense, I’d have to say it’s Bruce and Jason. They just mean so much to each other, and both had such an undeniably huge impact on each other’s lives, that (for me at least) no other relationship among the Batfamily is more interesting, complicated, and overall heartbreaking to write about. Their story is a tragedy, and I am absolutely a massive sucker for tragedy. Every time I sit down to think about them it’s like my heart is being ripped in two.

Bruce saved Jason. Both from the streets, and arguably a future life of crime. He adopted this lonely, sad, angry little kid and did his best (even if in the end it wasn’t quite good enough) to give him a home, family, and purpose in life better than the place he’d come from. And Jason loved Bruce wholeheartedly for it, as Bruce loved him. You can see that completely in Jason’s death, how it haunted and changed Bruce in all the years after, and then eventually in everything Jason did when he came back to life. Because for as much as Jason’s plan as the Red Hood was about proving a point to Bruce about the nature of crime, it was also about Jason wanting Bruce to prove that he loved him by Jason’s own standards (“Why? I’m not talking about killing Penguin or Scarecrow or Dent. I’m talking about him, just him. And doing it because… because he took me away from you.”)

And then once the UtRH arc is over, you’re  left with two characters who despite that love they have for each other, have been torn apart both by horrific circumstances and an almost reconcilable split in ideologies that only relatively recently, with the help of two reboots, has canon been able to take steps to fix. That is just a treasure trove of messy feelings and angst for any author to unpack, and why Bruce and Jason will always be my favourites to write. They hurt me, but in a good way.

[Catch me projecting my feelings onto Jack Kelly for the billionth time bc I feel so sick to my stomach rn with nerves heh]
[This is also inspired by a headcanon made by @gay-newsboys because Asper is a national treasure and said hc reminded me a lot of myself]

Jack wore his heart on his sleeve. Even when he thought he was doing a good job at masking his feelings, at least one peyrson could normally tell something was up.

9 times out of 10, that person was Crutchie.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’.”

“Jack-”

“I’m just tired.”

“Don’t-”

“Don’t you worry about-”

“You’re painting on yourself.”

Jack glanced up from the lines he was painting on his arm to look at Crutchie, whose freckled face was wrinkled with concern. “I like mixing up my canvases every now and again.”

Crutchie sighed and pulled a chair over to sit next to Jack. “Davey ain’t the only one who’s picked up on this little habit of yours.”

Jack bit his lip.

“It means something’s wrong,” Crutchie frowned. “You don’t gotta tell me about it if you don’t want to. But, is there anything I can do to help?”

Jack looked from his arm, which was cold with the wet paint, to Crutchie, whose eyes were warm. Jack shrugged, dragging the paintbrush across his skin. “I’m not sure.”

The pair sat in silence for a moment. Crutchie observed Jack as he painted. “Is there somethin’ in particular you paint on yourself? A special design?”

Jack shook his head. “Not really.”

“Have you ever painted on someone else?”

Jack responded without looking up this time. “I mean, not on someone else’s skin. I’ve painted Davey’s nails.”

“Can you paint something on me?” Crutchie asked, his mouth turning up in a small grin.

Jack glanced up, and the ghost of a smile appeared on his face at the sight of Crutchie’s. “I suppose. What do you want me to paint on you?”

“Surprise me.”

Jack smirked and turned his chair to face Crutchie. “Do you mind if I paint on your face?”

“Go for it.” Crutchie smiled wider and closed his eyes.

Jack began painting across Crutchie’s cheeks in silence for a while. It felt nice, Jack’s warm hand on his shoulder and the cold paint tickling his skin. Eventually, Jack spoke up.

“I had my art final today. It didn’t go so well. Snyder’s rubric said I ‘failed to show deep artistic knowledge’ and 'lacked focus and technique.’”

“Please,” Crutchie scoffed lightly. “You care so much.”

“Yeah, well, I can give every damn I’ve got,” Jack grumbled. “But, it ain’t enough to get me into art school.”

“You’re gonna get into art school,” Crutchie assured him. “You can prove him wrong.”

“I ain’t as good as the other kids, though,” Jack frowned. “I dunno technique or whatever; I just know that painting makes me happy.”

“Well, you’re gonna march right back into his class and show him that he’s judged you too soon,” Crutchie said. “You really are talented. That can’t mean much, coming from me, since I ain’t an artist, but you’re the best you’ve ever been right now, and you’re only gonna get better from here.”

Jack smirked sadly. “Thanks, Crutch. I’m all done.”

Crutchie opened his eyes and pulled out his phone to use as a mirror. He gasped at his reflection and grinned, his cheeks now covered in small orange and yellow stars. “Jack, this is so pretty.”

“Nah, you’re the pretty part,” Jack replied. “The painting is a mess.”

“I think it’s beautiful,” Crutchie said firmly before pressing a kiss to Jack’s cheek.

Jack snickered and felt his face go red. “Crutch, the paint ain’t dry yet.”

Crutchie pulled back and giggled at the orange and yellow splotches on Jack’s cheek. “Whoops. Guess that’s why you’re the artist.”