#Red Hood Ficlet

[incorrectbatfamandfriends]

Headcanon that since Jason can’t go out with his family publicly, what he does instead is show up in random disguises.

Bruce is chatting up some socialites at a gala, talking about the joys of fatherhood and how rewarding it is. Meanwhile he made eye contact with Jason disguised as a waiter twenty minutes ago, and is currently trying to stop his eye from twitching.

Dick is speaking to a third grade class as a part of the Bludhaven Police department outreach program, except when he walks in Jason is sitting behind the teachers desk, playing the role of substitute.

Babs can’t help but stare when Jason hands her a coffee from behind the counter of her favorite coffee shop. (His name tag reads Peter, and for a second she thinks she’s actually lost it).

Tim walks into Wayne Towers one day and on his way in, he waves to his secretary- lo and behold Marjorie has been replaced by Jason. It takes him three hours to notice.

Cass walks into ballet class to discover her teacher had to take a sick day- his replacement is Jason in a beret who talks in a terrible French accent the entire class, only to drop it at the very end to talk in a thick New Jersey accent. Her entire class talks about it for weeks.

Stephanie hails a cab on her way home one night, only to find Jason driving. She’s not sure how he pulled it off or how he got a cab, but her mind is effectively blown.

Duke is on a school trip to the natural history museum, and when the tour guide introduces himself, Duke can’t help but role his eyes. Jason gives a surprisingly good tour, even throwing in some tidbits about a robbery that went down just last week that the Signal stopped.

Damian’s encounter happens when he’s with Jon in metropolis. He’s watching Jon play baseball, and when Jon steps up to bat, he can’t help but notice a the umpire looks a little familiar.

[cloakedsparrow]

Dick: Okay, I think we’re gonna have to do ‘Good Cop, Bad Cop’.

Jason: Yeah. It’s tropey but it works.

Dick: Exactly. Wanna flip for Bad Cop?

Jason: You’re kidding.

Dick: Or we could play Rock, Paper, Scissors, Lizard, Spock?

Jason: Dude, I can’t be Good Cop. I kill people, remember? You can’t kill people and be Good Cop.

Dick: Those were traffickers and mob lieutenants. These are Rogue goons.

Jason: What, like that matters?

Dick: Yes, that matters. They don’t care that you took out some mobsters. They care that you revived the Joker after beating him to death and then let him go.

Jason: I didn’t revive him, I just didn’t let him die yet! And I didn’t let him go either! That was Batman! I was gonna kill the psycho!

Dick: Yeah, well, you still kept him alive and the goons probably know it. Just like they know I was happy to leave him dead when I killed him.

Jason: What?

Dick: You heard me.

Jason: You…?

Dick: Killed the Joker? Yes. I thought he killed Timmy and then when I confronted him, he said your name and…I didn’t stop hitting him until he choked on his own blood.

Jason: Then…how is he still alive?

Dick: Batman revived him.

Jason Fucking what?

Dick: Yeah.

Jason: Well, now I definitely can’t be Good Cop. I’m way to pissed for that shit.

Dick: Well, so am I.

Jason: Fuck.

Dick: Fuck.

Jason: So now whadda we do? Try to beat it outta him?

Dick: No, he'll lock down. That's why I suggested "Good Cop, Bad Cop" to begin with.

Jason: So we need a Good Cop.

Dick: Okay, I’m gonna call Timmy and see if he can come play Good Cop.

Jason: Good plan.

Dick [talking into a secure (& Batman-proof) phone]: Hey, Robin, you busy?

Tim [on speakerphone]: Kinda, yeah. What’s going on? You sound weird.

Dick: Hood and I need to get some intel from a goon, and we’re thinking “Good Cop, Bad Cop” is the way to go but neither of us can pull off Good Cop right now.

Tim: Shit. I’m in Bangkok right now-

Jason: The fuck are you doing in Bangkok?

Tim: Speedy needed help with a thing.

Dick: In Bangkok?

Tim: No. She’s in Korea.

Jason: So, again, why the fuck are you in Bangkok?

Tim: Because Lady Shiva’s here and she’s perfect for what Speedy needs, so I’m calling in a favor she owes me.

Dick: You’re calling in a favor from Lady Shiva because Speedy needs help with a thing in Korea.

Tim: Yep. You got it.

Dick: No, that’s- You say that like it doesn’t require any further-

Tim: Can you hang on for a second? There’s an assassin tailing me.

Dick: Shit. Do you need us to send someone out there?

Jason; Starfire should be done with her thing by now. She's not on your shit list, right?

Tim: No, I like Kori. But I’m good now. My assassin got the other assassin.

Dick: You have an assassin?

Tim: Kinda? She defected from the League of Assassins and is up for hire but she always gives me priority since she feels like she owes me a life-debt.

Dick: Again, you sound like you think that statement doesn’t require any further explanation.

Jason: So you hired your assassin buddy to kill the other assassin?

Tim: What? No. Of course not. She didn’t kill him. We’ll question him later. She never kills on my jobs since she knows I don’t like it.

Dick: What about other jobs?

Tim: That’s her business. We aren’t all control freaks, you know.

Dick: That’s-

Jason: That’s good, Little Red. Good that you have healthy boundaries.

Dick: I have healthy boundaries.

Jason: Sure you do.

Tim: Okay, you’re gonna have to argue that on your own. I’m supposed to help my friends out with something after I get Shiva to help Speedy, but I have to handle this interrogation first. So how about I just send my friends the twenty-five plans I drew up and ask Bunker if he minds helping you out before he joins us? He should be able to get inside Gotham in less than ten minutes.

Jason: Oh, Bunker’s perfect for Good Cop.

Tim: Right? They’ll spill everything and probably give him their grandma’s secret family recipes on top of it.

Dick: Wait. Back it up. You have twenty-five plans drawn up? What are you guys up against?

Tim: Nothing we can’t handle. Young Justice figures, why even bother with a plan B if you aren’t gonna cover the whole alphabet?

Jason: There’s twenty-six letters in the alphabet, Little Red.

Tim: Yeah, but plan Z is always the same, so we don’t bother listing it anymore.

Dick: Is it ‘get an adult’?

Tim: Of course not.

Jason: When you were a Teen Titan, how often did you call in an adult when you probably should have?

Dick: Okay, that’s fair.

Jason: So what’s plan Z?

Tim: ‘Fuck it, we ball’.

Dick: That’s not a pl-

Jason: That’s perfect. I love it.

Dick: No. Don’t encourage him.

Tim: Thanks, Red. So do you want me to ask Bunker about helping you? I’m kinda on a time crunch now.

Jason: Yes, please.

Tim: Okay. He’s on the way. Is there anything else?

Dick: Whe-

Jason: No, we’re good. Have fun storming the castle!

Tim: ‘Kay, bye!

Jason: Bye!

Dick: The fuck-

Jason: Bunker and I can handle the interrogation here and Timmy and his assassin friend are gonna be busy with an interrogation there for a bit. If you take off now, you can probably catch up with him and go all big brother like you’re dying to.

Dick: You sure?

Jason: Yeah, I’m sure me and Bunker can handle this asshole.

Dick: Thank you.

Jason: Yeah, well, you did kill the Joker. That’s gotta count for something, right?

Dick: I’ll tell you all about it after I make sure Timmy doesn’t get himself killed or lose another organ.

Jason: I’ll hold you to- Timmy lost an organ?

Dick [already calling Kori to get him to Tim]: Later. I’m on a time crunch now!

Jason: I’m holding you to that!

Jason: *sighs* No one in this family knows how to share.

[catgrandpa]

Gotham has always been weird, so when the groundskeeper at the cemetery noticed the Wayne kid’s plot was disturbed, he just chalked it up to more of the same ol’. Alright, so ‘disturbed’ may be a tad too light of a word, but what’s an empty grave in the grand scheme of Gotham? God knows in a city like this one, they could use all the burial room they could get. He figured he’d just jot it down on the website and hope nobody noticed for a while.

Too bad he didn’t account for the 13 year old boy in Bristol who periodically checks the cemetery’s website when he’s feeling particularly lonely.

Plot Removed.

Tim Drake stared at the two words under the heading for Jason Todd’s plot number. Removed? What do they mean ‘removed’? They can’t just remove a plot? That’s a person down there! That’s Robin down there! You can’t Remove Robin!

Calm down. Deep breaths. Assess the situation.

Robin has been dead for 5 months and 14 days. There is no reason for a grave to be removed that early, especially one of a member of such an affluential family. Chances are likely it’s a simple clerical issue. He can call first thing in the morning and make them aware of the mistake. He can have it all fixed in 5 hours.

Just a phone call.

In 5 hours.

…

Tim hates talking on the phone almost as much as he hates waiting.

Well it won’t be the first time he’s snuck out to head to Gotham proper at 1am. It can’t even really be considered sneaking out if there’s no one home to catch you.

Buses stop running at 2, so he layers a couple sweaters under his coat and grabs his best running sneakers so he can comfortably make the trek back.

Just a quick trip to settle his nerves. Maybe get a few shots in if he spots Batman, but really he just wants to see with his own two eyes that things are okay and Jason can rest.

It’s 1:37 by the time he gets to the headstone reading ‘Here Lies Jason Todd’ and the gaping, muddy pit in front of it.

This- This doesn’t make any sense. This is not removal. This is destruction. Desecration. Somebody did this. Somebody-

Assess the situation.

A hole in the ground, approximately 1.5 feet in diameter.

Mud and grass flung outward but with little force.

Large chunks of earth turned over and shoved away.

No signs of tool marks or clean lines of entry into the dirt.

Dragging claw marks.

Staggering, shuffled pairs of foot prints in the mud.

A trail of dirt.

Something… Something large clawed its way out of the ground here. Something large and bipedal and- and humanoid.

Tim refuses to jump to any conclusions he can see all the facts laid in front of him. He’s going to cautiously follow the trail and simply hope to any god listening that he isn’t the world’s first line of defense against the zombie apocalypse.

He’s been walking for 23 minutes and there’s good news and undecided news. Good news: he’s closing in on the target and the trail isn’t taking him out of the way so his trip home won’t be prolonged. Undecided news: The potential Zombie Robin is heading directly for Wayne Manor.

As zombie apocalypse news, this is very bad. From Tim’s collected observational evidence, his not-so-professional opinion is that Batman, faced with a horror movie level zombie of his dead son, would not respond well, and would likely not fight back.

In Batman and Robin news? Tim’s unsure. If Jason is simply back? What could that mean for them? Batman can have his Robin. He wouldn’t have to continue nearly killing others and himself every night in his grief. Jason could-

No. Stop. Do not jump to conclusions.

Hope only brings heartbreak.

What would Batman do? Get close and see if the target is a threat.

Target is male. Mid-teens. Dark hair. Pale skin. Leaning against surfaces as he walks. Appears injured and disoriented.

Minimal risk assessed. Approaching and attempting contact.

Target identity confirmed: Jason Todd.

“J-Jason?” It comes out as a croaked whisper. Jason shows no sign of acknowledgment.

Tim clears his throat, steps right in front of his path, and tries again.

“Jason. Jason, stop I want to help you.” Still nothing.

“Please, Jason. I can help, I promise I can help!”

Why isn’t this working?! Why can’t he just do something right for once?! He wants this to work, he wants to help Bruce, he wants to fix Batman, he wants to not be alone, he wants-

“Robin!”

Robin jerks to a stop.

Tim reached out his hand.

“Robin. Robin please, I’m sorry you’re going through this, it’s really scary, I’m really scared. But I just want to help you. Help you find Batman. Help you get home.”

Jason just stares at him. Of course he does. Of course it’s not going to work. Why did he even bother hoping he could help?

Hope only brings heartbreak.

His sight blurs as his eyes fill with tears and he starts to lower his outstretched hand.

His arm is slowed as a cold hand weakly grasps his own.

“Don’t… scared… Bat… help… Dad… help.”

A relieved sob tears out from Tim’s chest and he gathers himself together. He yanks his extra sweater off and gently pulls it over Jason’s cold shoulders. Jason lets Tim drag his arm over his shoulders to try and carry some of his weight.

“Okay, Robin. Yeah. Your dad will help us.”

Batman will solve everything once Tim gets Robin home.

[phantobats]

For the BatFam prompt/plot:

AU where the BatSiblings/BatKids are complete strangers stuck sitting next to each other on a 16-hour long flight ✈️

High Altitude Hijinks: (longer version available on AO3.)

The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, buzzing like a swarm of angry bees as flight attendants zipped down the aisle, securing the last of the carry-ons. Jason slouched in his cramped seat, casting a disdainful glance at the kid beside him, who looked like he might wage war against the next flight attendant to offer him complimentary peanuts. Seriously, how could a child wield a pencil with such intent while drawing?

“Hey, little man,” Jason muttered, trying to muster a smile that came off more like a grimace. “You know we’re all in the same boat here, right? Might as well talk.”

“Why would I engage in small talk? It serves me no purpose,” the boy shot back, his nose wrinkling in disdain as he turned away. Jason rolled his eyes so hard he thought he might strain something. Great. This was shaping up to be a long, torturous flight.

“Talk about spoiled,” he grumbled under his breath, leaning back and shutting his eyes. Maybe if he pretended hard enough, he could will himself into a better scenario—like being anywhere else.

Suddenly, an arm shot out from behind him, intercepting the pencil that had been aimed straight for Jason’s leg. “Damian,” a voice hissed, and Jason whipped around, wide-eyed at the scowling kid now being restrained by some well-meaning adult.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Jason snapped, sitting up straighter and turning to face the savior of his potential death by stationery. “What the hell is wrong with him?” he repeated, pointing at the miniature menace beside him.

The man with black hair and bright blue eyes smiled wearily, as if he was used to dealing with this chaos. “He’s had a tough upbringing, is all.” Familiar, but Jason couldn’t quite place him. Or wait-

“Hey, aren’t you—?” Jason started, but was interrupted by the kid next to the man, who was struggling with a massive tome titled Advanced Tactics for the Elite.

“What, is he pissed off he has to share a plane with lowly peasants?” the teen quipped, glancing at Jason with an eyebrow raised before diving back into his book like it was a lifeboat.

A snarl erupted from Damian, and Jason decided it was best not to poke the bear.

“Tim, don’t be condescending,” the older guy sighed, turning back to Jason. “Sorry about that, man. Damian promised me he’d behave.”

“You’re Dick Grayson-Wayne, aren’t you?” Jason asked, finally connecting the dots. “And that’s Damian Wayne, no?”

Dick’s cheeks flushed as he scratched the back of his neck like a kid caught sneaking cookies. “Uh, yeah. Guilty as charged.”

“Why in the ever-loving hell are you both on a commercial airplane?” Jason asked incredulously, genuinely baffled by the sight of two Gotham elite among the commoners.

“Listen—” Dick began, only to be interrupted.

“Because Father has already taken the private jet to Rome. We would have flown with the second one if it weren’t for Drake convincing Grayson to reduce our carbon footprint,” Damian hissed, brandishing another pencil menacingly at Tim - where did he even pull this one out from? - who had finally looked up from his book.

Tim shrugged, unfazed. “It’s important to suppress our need for convenience for the greater good, especially when it means that less greenhouse gas is destroying the ozone layer. You know, the thing literally keeping us alive.”

As the two continued their fighting, Dick turned to Jason. “So, you’re from Park Row, aren’t you?”

Across the aisle, a blonde girl was animatedly chatting with a red-haired woman, while a black-haired girl quietly observed, her expression calm and curious.

“How’d you know?” Jason asked, feigning surprise.

“You’ve got a thick accent, my friend. I’m assuming Cooke Avenue?” Dick replied with a teasing grin.

Jason groaned and slid down in his seat, feeling all too exposed. “Don’t even mention it.”

Just then, the blonde girl perked up, her eyes sparkling like she’d just discovered a hidden treasure. “Wait, did someone say Cooke Avenue?” She turned to Jason, her finger pointing dramatically. “I’m from there too! And I recognize you—you're Jason, right? The mechanic who fixed Barbara’s wheelchair!”

Jason’s eyes widened in recognition. “Barbara? The librarian from the Gotham Public Library?”

“That's me!” Barbara smiled, waving from behind the blonde girl, her bright demeanor matching her auburn hair. “You did a fantastic job. It’s still running like a dream.”

“Really? That’s awesome!” Jason said, his earlier gloom lifting like the cabin altitude. “I remember fixing it so you could get around easily. How’s it been treating you?”

“Great! I’ve been able to keep it in perfect shape, thanks to you,” Barbara replied, her smile radiating warmth.

“I’m glad I was able to help. If it starts giving you trouble again, you know where to find me.” Jason returned her smile, feeling a rare sense of accomplishment.

Meanwhile, the blonde girl seemed to have lost interest in him, her eyes now glued to Dick, who had the charming smile of a guy who knew exactly how to work a crowd.

“Holy shit, that’s Dick Grayson!” she whisper-screamed, practically vibrating with excitement. Dick burst into laughter while Damian and Tim groaned in perfect synchrony.

“Yes, that’s me. What are your names, ladies?” Dick asked, flashing a smile that could probably launch a thousand ships.

The blonde girl jolted at being addressed, clearly still reeling from the realization that Dick Grayson was talking to her. “I’m Stephanie!” she exclaimed, pointing dramatically at the girl beside her. “That’s Cassandra. The three of us are on a girl’s trip to Rome!”

Cassandra and Barbara nodded along, and Jason noticed Cassandra seemed to be signing something in sign language.

Dick lit up at the sight. “It’s nice to meet you too, Cass and Steph! I can call you that, right? Also, you’ll have to excuse me; my sign language is rusty.”

“Yeah, you totally can! And don’t worry, Cass doesn’t know all too much either. She usually writes down her responses, but right now, she’s too lazy to grab her notebook.” Jason could definitely relate to that level of chill.

“Oh, sorry if this is insensitive, but I thought most deaf people have a good understanding of sign language?” Dick asked, genuinely curious.

“Cass isn’t deaf; she’s mute. Selectively, might I add,” Barbara corrected gently, and Cassandra nodded along.

Tim raised an eyebrow, his expression turning puzzled. “Why?”

A moment of silence hung in the air as everyone processed the question. Then, both Dick and Damian exclaimed in unison.

“Tim, you can’t just ask people why they’re mute!” Dick said, a mixture of panic and amusement washing over his face.

“Drake, you imbecile! I cannot believe you told me I was terrible at social interactions!” Damian added, sounding more offended than Cassandra looked, who was regarding them with a bemused expression.

The girls erupted into laughter, their giggles filling the cabin. Jason sighed, shaking his head. This was definitely going to be a long flight, but at least it was shaping up to be an entertaining one.

[bruciemilf]

If jaime and jason were already dating pre Jason's death, how would jaime react to jason coming back

HOHO. I bring you; Arkham Knight! Ex boyfriend! Jason/superhero/honorary robin in training Jaime. :)

I’m asking on my hands and knees, the first time Jaime and jason meet (they’re fighting ^^^) Jaime having his thighs locked around Jason’s rib cage. Yes, he gets his back slammed into the ground and groans, but if Khaji’s let loose, they’ll never know who’s inside that hunk of metal.

AK Jason panting (so he IS human, then) “you may be tiny, but you’re tough”

“Tiny? I could break your spine!”

“Yeah, doll, and Batman’d break your neck. Face it. I got you right where I want you, pretty boy.”

The first thing Jason smells when rising from Lazarus’ gut is the sizzling of flesh. It’s acrid, stale meat turning back to spoiled remains. It clings to him for months.

Jaime? The little fuck still smells like mango and honey glazed blueberries, and something electric that defies the capacity of word.

And it’s everywhere. It sticks into his shirts, into his family, into his skin, piercing the material of everything. His hand curls grips Jaime’s cheeks, pouting up those pretty lips.

“Still stealing my soap, huh?”

Jason takes his time counting Jaime’s eyelashes, and burns the details into his mind. How they fluttered once, then twice.

Then, those cinnamon whiskey eyes widening in grief stricken disbelief. It’s like watching Jason die twice. The only thing he regrets is letting Jaime go too early.

[unbreakabledawn]

"Why the fuck do I have to go in?"

Somewhere between the dumpster and the sleeping homeless guy, a scrawny rat scurried forward and out the mouth of the alley before Tim or Jason could kick the undoubtedly pest-carrying vermin away.

Tim wrinkled his nose, and turned back to Jason, gesturing down at himself in response. "I'm dripping wet and there's blood on my gloves. It would be rude of me to go in and make the minimum-wage workers mop the floors after me at three am."

"And whose blood is that?" Jason crossed his arms and leaned against the dumpster. There was a faint scratching and rustling sound coming from inside it, and Tim heard the occasional squeak. Great. Hopefully those were normal Gotham rats and not some sort of mutated killer vermin. This night was tiring enough already without the added mutant monster outbreak.

Tim glanced at his hands. Sewer water trickled from his cape. "No idea. I think it's Killer Croc's, but I'm not entirely confident it wasn't from a person he might have mauled, or perhaps eaten."

"Awesome. Really got my appetite going."

Tim raised his hand and counted on his fingers. "Spoiler and Batgirl are stopping the robbery at Twenty-fifth Street, Nightwing is taking the Mad Hatter back to Arkham, the brat has no manners--"

"I heard that!" a shrill voice shouted in his comm.

"--and B is B. Can you just go and get the food." Tim was approximately six seconds away from gnawing on the brick wall of the alley.

“Give me a hundred. Christ," Jason hissed, flinching away from the dumpster as a loud squeal erupted from within. It sounded suspiciously like a rat eating another rat.

Tim sighed. “The food’s already paid for, including tips.”

“It’s not for the food, it’s for me. Pay up or you can spend the rest of the night fueling up on B’s cardboard nutrition blocks. I do think he puts actual cardboard in them, by the way. Also that guy’s not breathing, you should call an ambulance.”

Tim and Jason both looked over at the homeless guy slumped in the corner of the alley. “He’s fine, I took his pulse five minutes ago,” Tim said, not at all sure that it was still there.

A rumbling snore emerged from the man. Jason tilted his head, but Tim couldn't read his expression underneath his mask. After a moment, Tim sighed again and fished a hundred dollar bill from a pouch on his belt and handed it to Jason. He shrugged his shoulders, took the blood-flecked bill and brushed past Tim to head inside, fucking finally.

Tim stood at the corner and listened to Jason kick the door open with much more force and drama than a fast-food establishment required.

"Pick-up for six Bat-idiots," he heard Jason say in his mask-modulated growl. There was a piercing scream from inside and Tim resisted the urge to cover his eyes with his blood-sticky hand.

When Jason reappeared, Tim eyed the take-away bags with suspicion. He couldn't count the items without opening the bags, but Jason wasn't interested in handing them over and set a course for the fire escape without even looking at Tim.

“There’s supposed to be seven orders,” Tim said slowly, following him to the roof. He felt a pair of rat-sized eyes tracking their ascent and was very grateful rats couldn't climb ladders.

“I’m not an idiot. Where's B, anyway? He used to get burgers for me on patrol all the time, he should be the one running your errands, not me.”

"Robbery on Morrison Street."

"At this rate, food's gonna be cold before anyone else makes it here," Jason said, sitting down on the roof's ledge and holding out one of seven burgers to Tim. He pulled off his sullied gloves before accepting it.

"Next time I'll issue a time-out notice to the criminals of Gotham while I'm putting in our food order."

"That's a great idea. You do that, and I'll eat B's fries."

"I heard that," growled a voice over their comm line.

-

based on a prompt by @unshatters-your-teacup! "the batfam stopping mid-patrol to get food somewhere" which i kind of mangled lol but i did have fun.

i'm trying out prompt fills to practice regular writing, because i'm having a lot of trouble with my actual wips. my inbox and my dms are open if you want to send me one (primarily batfam, superman, or batman, both ship and gen, but i can be flexible) though i can't promise i'll be able to write it <3

[timdrakegf]

chances ♟️ jason todd

jason todd x gn! reader

tw : none

wc : 294 // unedited

The rain came in sheets over Gotham City, a relentless torrent that seemed to melt away the night's misdeeds, leaving only echoes of muttered secrets in its wake. Beneath the darkness, the city took on a new identity, a foreboding labyrinth of shadows and steel.

You stood on a fire escape, your shadow blending with the dripping wrought iron, peering down on the gloomy streets below. His eyes focused on the horizon as the city skyline faded into a polluted haze.

His words, when they came, were carried away on the wind, swallowed by the relentless drumming of rain against metal. Yet, in the silence between them, there lingered a language all their own, spoken in the subtle gestures and shared glances that bridged the divide between them.

The faint glow of lamps in the distance created fragmented patterns on the smooth pavement below, highlighting the city's deeper corners where danger lurked like a predator at night. But on the fire escape, there was a sense of refuge, a little reprieve from the carnage that raged beyond their vantage point.

You turn towards Jason, a sad smile pulling at your lips as you shake your head. Tears go unshed in the corners of your eyes and his reflect the same kind of sadness. “That’s the thing Jason, you did once.”

He knew he did. He had to. Because you used to wait up for him every night, you used to bite your nails down to the skin when Red Hoos would swing into the scene and the news would joke through the punches he took and the blood he shed.

“Please.” He pleads, eyes droopy with sleep deprivation. “Let me fix this.”

“I can’t Jason.”

“Just-”

His voices sounds like blood soaked parchment whipping through the wind and rain.

“You can’t.”

[incorrectbatfamandfriends]

The absolute angst of Jason coming back and seeing Tim interacting with Dick and realizing just how close they are. They do stuff together, all the time, stuff Dick never did for Jason no matter how much he begged. He’s put off with it- doesn’t want anything to do with Dick. He died and Dick got a new perfect little brother he actually liked. Hell, he even comes to Sunday Dinner- something not even Alfred could convince him to do when Jason was still alive the first time.

It gets worse as the others show up- Dick showers them with affection. If they question whether they belong or not, it’ll never be because of Dick. No, Tim, Damian, Cass, and Duke will never know the Dick he knew.

But he doesn’t know that the reason Dick tries so hard is because of him. He felt he’d failed Jason- and when he died he left this gaping hole in Dick’s life. So yeah, he shows up to Damian’s Art Shows, and takes Tim skateboarding, never misses Cass’s ballet performances, and drives Duke four hours to see his favorite band. And yeah he’s at every single Sunday dinner, even if him and Bruce are at each others throats- he shows up and he sits down, and he listens to his siblings as they tell him what’s going on in their lives. Because of Jason.

[cloakedsparrow]

Red Hood climbs up onto a roof with the intention of watching some drug smugglers below, only to find Robin, crouched in the perfect hiding space Jason had noticed. The boy is eating fries from a curled down Batburgers bag and sipping a Riddler Shake.

Jason: What are you doing here, Boy Wonder?

Tim: Probably the same thing you are. Spying on criminals.

Jason: ...

Tim: Want some fries? They're Jokerized, just to warn you.

Jason: Why?

Tim: Kon-El got some to try the last time he sneaked into Gotham and it turns out they're really good.

Jason: No, why would you offer me fries?

Tim: I have enough to share and I can always buy more?

Jason: Why are you being nice to me?

Tim: I'm offering fries, not a kidney. Why wouldn't I?

Jason: Because of the knife to the throat or, you know, that time I beat you within an inch of your life?

Tim: ...

Jason: ...

Tim: What the fuck was your time as Robin like?

Jason: The fuck?

Tim: A mentally unstable individual violently attacked me because he was scared or mad at Batman. That's like a bi-monthly occurrence for me, minimum. At least you were really insane and want to get better now-

Jason: I never said I wanted to stop killing.

Tim: I said get better. You want to be in control of yourself instead of being all Lazarus crazy, right?

Jason: Yes. But that doesn't mean I won't kill.

Tim: That's still wanting to get better. You think half the rouges who rotate through Arkham are actually trying to get better by even that much?

Jason: No.

Tim: Me, either. So that makes you an improvement over the usual. Plus, you know, the trauma from being murdered and all.

Jason: That's not an excuse to attack a kid.

Tim: No, but it's an explanation, which, again, is better than the usual. And you're showing signs of genuine remorse. That's huge around here. How often do we get that?

Jason: Anyone ever tell you your standards are kinda fucked up?

Tim: They'd have to pay closer attention for that.

Jason: Fucking what?

Tim: Doesn't matter. It's not like you're going to talk to anyone and even if you did, who'd believe you?

Jason: ...

Tim: So, you want some fries?

Jason: Yeah, sure.

Jason: These are good.

Tim: Right?

Jason: Is this nori?

Tim: Uh-huh; with paprika, kosher salt, and msg. I think there might be something else in there, but I haven't been able to place it.

Jason: Potato starch.

Tim: Oh, that makes sense.

Jason: I am definitely Jokerizing my fries from now on.

Tim: Try them with the Riddler Shake, too. The mint really compliments them.

Jason: I'll do that.

Tim: Wait. Doesn't that guy work for Black Mask?

Jason: Yes, he does.

Tim: So...want to pull a World's Finest?

Jason: A what?

Tim: You know, a team-up?

Jason: You-? Fucking- You know what? Sure. Let's pull a World's Finest. *under his breath* Little freak.

[shinobufied]

just a silly little thought I had:

one day Bruce falls asleep on the couch, this isn't a too rare occurence, but this time it was a huge relief to Alfred, since he hadn't properly slept for days.

So boom, knocked out on the couch while watching TV and time freezes, Alfred sees it and does not even dare to breath. Complete lockdown of the wayne household, everyone going into "cat-fell-asleep-on-my-lap-mode" .

Dick enters the room, rambling about something but being immediately interrupted by Alfreds energetic "ssh." At first he looks offended but then he sees his father knocked out on the couch and his expression turns into a conflicted one, because his favourite trashy show is about to come on and he really needs to see it because last patrol was really shitty and his ribs are bruised and hurt and-

Then his phone vibrates in his pocket and he sees a message from Alfred. "If you wish to watch your show, you can do it here, just put subtitles on and be quiet."

Dick sends him a thumbs up in response and when he looks up Alfred is long gone.

About 5 minutes later Jason comes in, complaining about something and just like his brother before were silenced with a " pssch." His eye twitched slightly because how dare they, but then he sees Bruce and immediately understands. Dick, seeing that his brother apparently had a shitty day as well, pulls out his phone and a moment later Jasons phone vibrates.

"Wanna watch with me? It's pretty lame and we only have subtitles but Sharon just found out she got cheated on and is now plotting revenge."

Jason does not know who Sharon is, but oddly enough he's intrigued so he joins Dick on the couch and they watch, occasionally trash talking via the phone.

Then Tim comes in, then Damian, Cassandra, Steph and eventually Duke, all being visibly stressed out and for some odd reason agreeing to watch Dicks shitty comfort show. At some point they're messaging each other more than watching the show, at some point one of them impulsively opened a new gc specifically for trash talking that show and the room is filled with the occasional giggle which is silenced with the glares from the others.

This now developes into a habit of theirs, regardless whether theyre all in the manor or scattered across the globe, they all sit down and watch the newest episode, discussing it in their stupid gc.

Bruce on the other hand wakes up after his nap completely disoriented and confused, but he see's all his children sitting on the couch, seeing them careless and happy for the first time in a long while so he decides the reason doesn't really matter.

[sonneambedo]

let me be cringe for a moment let me let m

"They say tears are holy. That there is a certain sacredness to them, that there are much more tears shed to answered than unanswered prayers.

Bullshit.

I cried a sea enough for Noah's Arc, I bled when I couldn't cry anymore, I sweated my life out as I choked to death in the smoke. Do you know what blood, sweat, and tears brought me? A merciless death. Slow, painful, merciless death. As if that wasn't enough, I woke up, once again, almost out of oxygen; stale air choking me, again, again - and despite all that I clawed my way out. I managed to leave the hellhole. Literal..."

A ghost of a laugh escapes his lips.

"You do not deserve my mercy; you left me to die, and despite your grief, you let him live. I thought I was going to be the last one.

I will make sure I am the last one.

You will not stop me."

The words are not a plea, nor a command. They are a simply stated fact, nothing more, nothing less. 

Joker will die, innocents will live.

He will have his revenge.

girliepops and boyopops and theythempops im so normal and so sane and i am not cryign about smth i made real quick i am not

[smittywing]

Headcanons

JayTim sleeping head canons

Jason sleeps like the dead. On his back, stiff as a board, his hands fisted at his sides or sometimes clasped over his stomach. He figures it's what happens to a guy when a league of assassins teaches him to sleep on the crests of mountains. Assholes. 

Timmy, on the other hand, sleeps like he's clawing his way back to life, flailing arms and legs and tousled blankets and the fitted sheet dragged off the corner near his head. Maybe he is, Jason ponders, as Tim makes a noise halfway between a growl and a hiss. Maybe Replacement has a few shitty dreams of his own. 

The third time Jason catches Tim’s wrist before he accidentally backhands Jason in the face, he doesn't let go. Instead he presses Tim’s hand to his chest and tangles their fingers together. “Hey,” he murmurs without opening his eyes. “I got you, baby bird.” He doesn't think Tim actually hears but he settles a little, his slim fingers folding around Jason’s instinctively. 

No way the kid has stayed alive this long with this level of unconscious activity. Jason mulls on it for a bit and decides that unlike himself, who suffers from a near-constant hyper vigilance, Tim subconsciously knows that he's safe here and this is his actual, unfiltered sleep pattern. 

Jason questions his own conclusions because he did make an effort at killing Tim - twice - and Tim never lets him forget it. But Tim seems to have calmed with his hand wrapped in Jason’s and Jason’s other hand on his elbow. 

Maybe they're good, now, Jason and Tim. Maybe Tim feels safe with Jason, feels like even the spiteful forty percent effort Jason put into terminating Tim is ancient history. (If Jason had wanted the Replacement dead, he'd be dead. And he's currently not, hence the assertion Jason hadn't routed even half his energy into it.)

Jason’s almost asleep when the last piece slots into place. Replacement touching him in the bar, the way he’d leaned into Jason’s every touch, the octopus routine in his sleep. Replacement is as touch-starved as Jason himself. It seems unlikely, Tim having a normal childhood, a good relationship with Bruce and Dick, friendships with Blondie, Black Bat, the Young Justice crowd. But maybe….

When he opens his eyes and turns his face into the late morning sun, Jason is alone in the apartment.

[moonllshadow]

HAPPY NEW YEAR 2023 !!!

Based on this post

Long story short...

It was Jason’s second New Year’s Eve at the manor when it happened. Every Wayne was present to celebrate in spite of their problems, let’s call it their attempt to get along. 

Jay, already more trusting and open about his past, had mentioned to Bruce that he had never lit an sparkler up for NYE, since all of his past celebrations were usually ruled by trying to survive winter, even with his late parents. That was when Bruce decided he would make this celebration the most unforgettable of all. 

On NYE, just a few minutes before midnight, Alfred gave Master Dick the sparklers he had bought since he had heard of Master Jason’s first time lightning it. He didn’t see the lad nor Bruce on the viccinity, but he paid no attention since he knew the would eventually come to the garden to receive the New Year together. 

Much to everyone’s surprise, Jason ran out holding what they could only describe as the brightest flare on Batman’s arsenal, a big and proud smile on his face. The preteen ran past Dick, showing off the prize he had received from somebody, as he put himself “Look Dickface!! Somebody gave me fire!!!!”

“What the... Bruce!” Dick glared to the man at the distance, who was already regretting giving Jason the flare.

But how could he not when the boy called him ‘dad’ and used the puppy eyes that Dick taught him to gain his favor? 

Meanwhile, Alfred was already glaring in disappointment to his ward. How could the mighty Batman not tell appart a flare from a sparkler. It was beyond him. If anyone got hurt or if anything happened to his garden, Alfred would definitely make Bruce accountable. 

Hence, it was at this moment that Bruce knew he fucked up.

Fast forward a few years, Red Hood loves to commit arson and blames Bruce for it.

[cashmire-writes]

The last time Jason hugged Bruce was quite a while before he died. Before he'd been having issues with his birth mom and not telling Bruce. Then he'd run away and died all alone in a warehouse.

The last time Bruce hugged Jason was in a warehouse. But Jason wasn't there. Not really. It was Jason's body but there wasn't anything else of his son left. Jason didn't know how tightly Bruce had held him, how much he'd cried, how desperately he'd clung to the dead body of his son. Jason didn't know and Bruce never told him or anyone else.

When Jason came back, they didn't hug. Jason wasn't the same. He'd come back wrong. He was angry, more so than he'd ever been before, and violent. He nearly killed Tim and Damian. He would lash out seemingly at random. He killed. He killed so much.

And they fought.

Bruce didn't want Jason to kill. Jason knew that. But Bruce didn't understand. Not everyone deserved to live. Joker killed Jason and he was still there. He should be dead. Bruce should have killed him and put him in the ground. Every day Joker lived was another day that bastard could kill again. Another night that Jason had nightmares of his laughter and crowbars and bombs.

Bruce didn't want Jason to kill. He didn't want any of his kids to kill. Not just for some arbitrary moral reasons, but because once someone was dead, that was it. People didn't get a second chance, not usually. If someone died, that was it. Anything they knew was gone. Any chance at redemption or rehabilitation was gone. Killing someone lost any information they might have that could help solve a case.

Killing someone was giving up on them. Even if they were a criminal.

Bruce had lost Jason once already, and he hadn't quite gotten his son back. Not with the giant rift that had formed between them that Bruce couldn't seem to fix, no matter how hard he tried.

Bruce didn't want to give up on his son.

Bruce was scared to lose him again.

[saintmachina]

Would a Red Riding Hood and the Wolf romance be alright to ask for?

He quit society years ago, sequestering himself away in a farm house that had seen better days. The brick walls were choked with ivy and the floorboards creaked terribly, but it was home and, most importantly, it kept the world safe from him.

Every night, he would have his supper of brown bread and tea and slabs of salted meat, sometimes with an egg if the chickens he kept cooperated. The salt burned his tongue, and the meat was tough and joyless in his mouth, but it was safer than anything fresh. No sense in tempting himself with what he could no longer have.

He hadn't scented blood on the air in years, hadn't felt the crunch of bone and snap of sinew in his mouth for even longer. Those days were past.

She arrived during a September downpour, her cries for sanctuary almost drowned out by the torrential the rain on his roof. When he opened the door he found himself staring into the dark eyes of a woman, her brown hair flattened against her forehead, the ties of her blood red cloak trailing down between her pale, slick breasts.

An hour of rest in front of your fire is all I ask, she said, wiping the water from her rosebud lips. Please?

Who was he to deny a woman in need, especially one that smelled as sweetly of lilywater and crushed grass as her?

She draped her cloak on the loveseat and sat down on the wolfskin rug in front of the fireplace, wringing out her impossibly long hair. He watched her from a safe distance, his hands tucked tightly into his pockets.

Every bit of him ached to devour her.

What's your business so far from town, and in weather as miserable as this? He asked stiffly.

I'm going to visit my grandmother, she said, staring into the fire. The flames danced in her eyes. She's very ill.

There's no other houses around for miles.

She looked over her shoulder at him, her smile salacious.

Then perhaps it's you I've come to seek, sir wolf.

His hands turned to fists. She knew him. Had she heard the stories whispered by the townspeople? Or had she been one of those poor serving girls who had discovered the bodies he left behind? So many cows and sheep, and bigger mammals besides, sacrificed to his bottomless bloodlust.

You should leave, he said.

The woman reclined a little further, a delicate ankle peeking out from under her dress as she slipped off her shoes.

And you should draw closer to me. I won't bite.

Against his better judgement, he gave into the hungers that had hounded his kind for millennia. He sank down next to her on the rug, and he let her toy with the shirt button at his throat.

Would you kiss me, if I asked you to? She said quietly. If I told you I had run for miles in the rain for one kiss from the wolf who wears the skin of a man?

If I kiss you, that's not all it will be, he said, his voice very near a growl.

The woman in scarlet made her choice. She kissed him, hot and wet and open mouthed, and so terribly hungry.

The hunger within him replied.

He threaded his fingers through her hair, capturing the base her skull, and kissed her until her lips were bitten red. He kissed her until their bodies were pressed together, until she was unfastening his trousers and he was clawing at the buttons on her bodice, until she was wearing nothing beneath him but her mud-splatted skirt hiked up around her waist.

His mouth watered when he entered her, his lips pressed against the rabbit-beat of her jugular, and she raked her fingers down his back like she meant to mark him for all to see.

It would be so easy to bite down, to disappear into her viscera, but somehow he resisted. She cried out like an arrow-struck animal when she climaxed, and he followed her shortly thereafter, burying his face in her bosom and letting out a groan.

She wasted no time in fastening her blouse and pulling on her cloak.

Come out with me, she said.

He looked up at her from the rug, still half-delirious with pleasure.

Where? He asked.

She took him by the hand, not bothering to tug on his shirt.

Into the world. Into the wild. Where you belong.

As though in a dream, she lead him to the door, and she stepped barefoot onto the flooded earth. With a trumpet of laughter, she slipped off her girl-skin and transformed before his eyes into a lovely russet wolf.

The she-wolf trotted towards the garden gate and looked back at him, waiting for him to make his choice.

He took a deep breath of the early autumn air and closed the door on the domestic scene behind him.

Then, with a howl that had been caged inside him for years, he adorned his claws and teeth and fur and chased after her into the night.

[jaydicpics]

Jaydick- CEO

(CEO Dick, Intern Jason, Age Difference, TransMan Jason)

The space under the desk is tiny.

Jason is tucked into it anyways, feet tucked underneath his legs, the same legs he’s resting his hands on.

In front of him is the lower half of another man, an older man. A pair of dark grey slacks wrap tightly around the mans thick thighs, though the pants strain further up at the dick bulging against the fabric.

His belt is undone, some luxury brand Jason thinks the man would laugh at him over if he’d tried to pronounce the name of it, the slight Crime Alley still peaking through his accent, and the zipper on his jeans is tugged down to reveal just a sliver of his boxers in the space underneath.

Bright blue with some black design on top.

A hand drops down from above the desk, long, nimble fingers flexing to tug the tops of his jeans further down, followed by his boxers, allowing his cock to escape the confines and rest along his pant leg.

The urge to lean forward, to nuzzle down against the cock, takes over Jason momentarily, before he snaps out of it by the sound of the door creaking open.

CEO of a company and the man refuses to buy a bigger desk or oil the doors hinges.

The hand pauses its movements, through the haze of…however Jason feels right now, he can hear a conversation happening above his head, but his focus is still focused in on the precum formed at the head of the man’s cock.

The hand reaches out for Jason and he doesn’t hesitate to lean into it, allowing the mans fingers to trace up his throat, his jaw, until finally slipping his middle and ring finger into his mouth.

Jason closes his eyes as he leans into the fingers, tongue tracing around the golden band wrapped around the ring finger, the ruby ring sat at the base of his middle finger. The fingers pet against his tongue in response, switching between pushing as far back into his mouth as they can and laving gentle touches over his tongue.

When they withdraw they go back to the dick, thick and veiny, the bush of hair around the base is recently trimmed down, but still enough length that Jason wants to press his face into it until he has beard burn across his cheeks.

The conversation lulls for a minute as the man above him uses his free hand to type something on his computer. The hand still under the desk beckons the younger male closer.

He leans forward, licking over the tip of the mans cock, finally getting to taste the precum he’d been staring at for the last three minutes. The mans hand comes to rest on his head, grabbing a handful of hair to hold him back, but Jason dives forward anyway. His hands move from where he’s kept them to wrap their way around the older mans hips.

The older man tries tugging him back, once, twice, before he lets out a low laugh and switches to shoving the boy forward. A mouthful of cock hardly a punishment.

The other person in the room says a goodbye and exits, followed by the damn door hinges squeaking again. The moment the door slams the older man is scooting his chair back. As much as he’d hate to be compared to his adoptive father, there really is a resemblance in the steely glare being given to Jason.

The boy smiles up at him instead, lips still pulled taught over his cockhead, he begins to pull off, no doubt to start spouting off, but Dick cuts him off. Hand gripping onto the boys hair again and forcing him down. Shoving until the boys throat has opened up to accept his cock. And even then Dick just holds him there. Moaning as his cock throbs in the boys throat.

Jason stares up at him blearily, to be dominated so quickly, forcing him into place. It all has him staring dumbly back up at Dick, just like Dick loves.

As much as Dick adores the interns snarky behavior, what he loves most is kicking him down till all he can do is rely on Dick for instruction.

“Come on baby, stand up”

Jason stumbles up the best he can, his legs numb from being under the desk, and a disinterest in pulling away from Dick long enough to stand on his own. He stands on his toe so he can wrap his arms around the mans neck, leaving sloppy kisses across his neck until he caves and ducks his head to finally kiss Jason.

Dick wastes no time in stretching his hands down to run over the boys ass, grabbing under his thighs to lift him up onto the edge of the desk.

He moves his mouth away from Jason’s letting the younger boy mouth sloppily over the mans neck. Scattered kissing and biting mixed in.

Dick focuses on tugging down his interns pants, he barely needs a glimpse to know the boy ignored his usual boxers in favor of some blue panties.

Lacey, just the way Dick prefers.

He groans loudly as his fingers finally dip into Jason’s pants, stroking up and down the slicked up mess, below him Jason also adjusts under his weight, struggling to unbutton his shirt.

His fingers grip on each side of Jason’s panties so he can tear them in the middle, too impatient to even consider pulling away long enough to tug them down properly. Jason’s whine of protest gets ignored as Dick zeroes in on getting inside as quickly as he can.

Jason drops fully down onto the desk, shirt finally unbuttoned and splayed out on either side of him. He wraps his thighs around Dicks back, trying to pull him closer. Dick gives him a smug smile instead when he finally bullies his way into the younger mans cunt.

Their twin cut off moans ring out before Dick drapes himself forward, folding himself over Jasons chest and beginning to nip at it. Jason gives him a cut off laugh before the older man begins to thrust.