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no thoughts just jason doodles

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Icb this stupid thing I drew for fun is popping off on twt

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Babian but he's a kitty and full of soup

I was already doing this, so I hope it's enough?

His greed sickens me.

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opinions on jaydick? (not as a ship necessarily)

I dont like it as a ship because even though they arent blood related I believe that they see eachother as brothers. Especially since Dick did try to take care of Jason when he was a kid and helped him adjust at being robin and under Bruce’s wing. I think their bond as siblings is interesting since they do care for one another even if they sometimes butt heads, but I just see them as that, brothers.

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I forgot which day fingers in his ass happens on. Pls dont throw rocks at me if Im wrong

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do you ever tell people you’ll be going to sleep but then you don’t and you have to not do anything noticable online for the sake of it seeming as if you didn’t lie to them

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A loved past / a haunting future

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Nuisance🦇🦋

I whole heartedly believe that Jason watches kitty and pup videos whenever he gets the chance to chill (which is rare)

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No little jaybin! Dont go into the Ethiopian warehouse!

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family tradition

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Maybe I was better off dead.

There was a mini trend going on in TikTok and I had to perfect victim to participate with ❤️

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Super non-chalant caption, I am so chill about posting this comic that took me ages.

Anyway I am so proud of how this came out- definite skill upgrade. Also I love making comics!!!

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Heatwave

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fixation (part 1)

Jason, your roommate, is a little obsessed with you. He crashes through your window and watches Hamlet with you while you stitch him back together.

Reader is gn but I may write them as fem by accident—this is my first time writing x reader and my first time publishing on tumblr, so please lmk if I mess anything up.

- —=★

Jason came crashing through the window like an angel coming back down to earth. Again. You always told him not to, he always agreed, but you left the same window open every night for a reason. He groaned, clutching his bloodied ribs. You tossed off your blankets, rising from your bad movie-induced stupor to make sure your roommate was all right. 

Jason could afford not to have a roommate. Bruce was more than ready to pay the rent. So obviously that wasn’t the issue. Actually, it was that he had a penchant for getting hurt. It had gotten to enough of a level that Bruce had leveled an ultimatum: get a roommate to make sure he was all right, or he’d send Damian in to check on him every night. Jason had found you.

So, as your roommate crashed onto the floor, you weren’t even particularly surprised. He offered a weak chuckle, trying and failing to lift himself to his feet.

“Hey, sweetheart. Normally you’re not sort of fuzzily glowing, so I’m guessing I’m a little more sedated than I thought. Infiltration went bad.” He removed his helmet, grinning half-heartedly. “Mind puttin’ me back together?”

You nodded tiredly. “Sure, Jay. Hamlet again?” You hefted him onto the couch—god, this veritable pool of blood would be a pain to wash off the blankets—and begun your semi-daily routine of stitching up your vigilante roommate.

“Kenneth Branagh was the best Hamlet and you know it. I know you secretly look forward to this,” he slurred. A quick glance at his pupils revealed he had definitely not been lying about being dosed.

You peeled off his leather jacket—god, how did that thing stay in one piece with all the abuse he took on the daily? Once you’d removed the clothing from his upper body, you could see the extent of the damage—two clean slashes, one across his ribs and the other cutting into his shoulder. Why did Jason have to fight swordsmen? Why couldn’t he just get shot like everyone else in Gotham? Besides that, his night-pale skin was dipped in bruises like a war-forged Achilles without invulnerability. He sure charged into battle like he was invincible, you thought dryly as you pressed play on Hamlet. 

“Is it bad?” he mumbled dazedly, already slumping against you. You just sighed. “Not the worst state you’ve come to me in. But I’d bet good money you get beat up just to make me fix you. You can wield the All-Blades and you still get cut up every night by some mugger.” The teasing was lighthearted, and you both knew it. Still, there was some truth in it—if coming home a little bloodier than he normally would meant repeating this comforting routine, Jason could tank a few hits… or stabs… or bullet wounds. You exhaled, suturing his wounds with deft, careful hands. He slumped heavily against your side, blinking slowly and sleepily.

“If I pass out now, that’s bad.” His eyes were half-lidded with sleep hanging heavily already, so it seemed like a bit of an inevitability. “Like six different flavors of bad, Jay. You’re drugged and bleeding profusely, both of which are… well, suboptimal conditions to fall asleep in, to say the least. Besides, we’re not even halfway through Hamlet. You always make it at least until intermission.” He hummed in acknowledgment, but the room quickly lapsed into a pleasant silence. Only the slow way he toyed with the blankets draped over his lap told you he was still awake.

You liked these moments. He treasured them. Rare moments of peace, when his mind was clear and quiet, when he could just be… he was rapidly coming to care for your presence in his life more than he’d care to admit. The way you bit your lip when you were concentrating on patching him up, the fond way you gazed at him when you thought he was asleep… it was endearing, but he wanted more than that sort of closeness. In the quiet moments like this, he knew that the darkness within him, the anger, the misery, it couldn’t touch you. You were something free of taint—and he wanted, selfishly, to keep you for himself, to keep you close.

Those musings came to an end as the screen panned over the great mountains of Denmark—Hamlet alone, Act 4, Scene 4. “My thoughts be bloody or be nothing worth,” Hamlet yelled into the white emptiness. He’d always identified with Hamlet. Intermission. You smiled at him.

“Well, bloody prince, you’re all fixed up. Wanna finish the movie, or are you too worn out?” you asked gently, fixing his hair. He sighed. This fragile, quiet bliss could extend a little longer, at the price of a crick in his neck when he woke up leaning awkwardly into your side in the morning. But the responsible thing to do was to let you go to bed.

“…we can finish tomorrow. I’m tired.” Time to settle in for the night and hope whatever mild sedative those assassins had given him didn’t give him bad dreams.

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Jason doesn’t have light in his eyes anymore btw