#also no shade to jason

[daydreamerwonderkid]

It's been 1 month since Jason's last international incident.

Obligatory click for better quality

You do NOT have permission to repost my art.

Per @cheer-me-up-scotty's request, I drew the Jason Momoa Aquaman this time around

Meme references under cut

And, of course:

[minnow-doodle-doo]

When Dick brings his friends over, Jason holds nothing back.

[stealingyourbones]

"That's one strange ass dog"

[greenglowinspooks]

And another idea I’ve been rotating in the microwave of my brain for a while

The Lazarus Pits being more akin whale fall than sewage

The Lazarus pits, within the comics, are said to be necessary to the earth’s continued survival. What if, instead of being waste from the infinite realms, they’re the decaying remains of the Ancients which came before ours?

Within nature, very few creatures can feed on natural waste, and those that can are usually specialized to do so. Humans did not evolve alongside the pits, they were “discovered” around 600-700 years ago. Instead, humans learned to supplement their own lifeforce with the powers of the Lazarus pits.

Whale falls are rare, but naturally occurring events which benefit every single creature that comes across them. Entire ecosystems form around them.

Maybe, when the earth was forming, an Ancient Ended. Maybe the earth formed around the residue left behind, creating a core mottled with veins of ancient ectoplasm. Maybe the ectoplasm absorbed all of the emotions felt by the Ancient during its existence, and cast it into the bodies of those affected by it.

Maybe the reason no ghosts bother the bats (nor anyone else who’s used a Lazarus pit) is because they smell like the End of a deity.

—

All this to say: more creepy little dead girl Jason

[groovyace]

JASON DESIGN NOTTESSS

There are some ramblings I missed, so I will put them in the caption 😈

I am absolutely enamored with the Arkham Knight helmet shape. The high nose point is just everything, so I figured I'd translate that to his helmet.

I still prefer a smooth/opaque metal look tho so I kept it simple

Didn't work with his newer design - it's impractical and flashy. Wanted to emphasize alteration/craftsmanship.

Decided to try trenchcoat cus trenchcoats are cool asf but also to mirror a cape. All jackets have his logo hand painted on the back.

Highly debated him having his logo on his chest but felt it was important to include as a fuck you to batman lmao. Though in hindsight, I wish I had made it look more hand-painted (similar to AK redhood).

[chiropteracupola]

what if they were an ultimate frisbee team

[punkeropercyjackson]

My personal fancasts for Jason,Duke and Nell(Aubrey Joseph,Issac Ryan Brown and Sanai Victoria)

[liminalhollow]

So I like the concept/headcanon of “shades.” Which if you don’t know, is the idea that’s there’s a type of ghost that’s kinda like a blob ghost and they’re weak little globs of ectoplasm that are formed from strong emotions and hang around the human world, usually harmlessly.

And I was thinking about that with Batman crossovers.

Bruce is traumatized. He’s definitely got a shade or two following him around. Wayne manor is probably a playground for them.

So what if there was one that formed back when he lost his parents. The trauma that’s at the core of all his other trauma.

And it stayed with him all these years, growing with him and being fed and shaped by his emotions.

The day Danny meets Bruce Wayne, he sees it immediately.

It’s one of the strongest shades he’s ever seen. It’s still weak compared to him of course, because it’s still just a shade. An entity that’s dependent on the emotions feeding it to exist, and mostly undetectable by ghost hunting equipment. But it’s still exceptionally strong for a shade.

It looks just like the Batman, except it’s glaringly not human. A big, black, looming shadow, its body a featureless silhouette with blank, glowing white eyes. Long tendrils curling up at the ends of the cape. Gliding about with fluid motions and able to twist and stretch its wispy form how it sees fit.

It's like the version of the Bat imagined in the stories told of him. Less of a real human being and more of a larger-than-life tale.

It likes to take the place of Bruce’s shadow. It moves with him wherever he goes, only sometimes peeling itself off the walls and floor to peer around its host’s shoulders. 

Danny can’t take his eyes off it.

Bruce wonders why this kid keeps staring at the empty space behind him.

The night Danny encounters Batman, he thinks Bruce’s shade wandered off on its own.

Then he gets a closer look. It’s not the shade, it’s a man enveloped by the shade, wearing it like a cloak. Or a suit.

As soon as Danny realizes that, Bruce’s secret identity is compromised.

(He doesn’t say a word to Bruce. Even the next time he meets Bruce in the daylight and the shade is back in its place, posing as his shadow.)

People tell stories about Batman. How he melts into the shadows like he is one. How he moves more silently than a human should be able to. How his glare has a force behind it. How maybe he’s some kind of meta, or even a ghost.

The rumors have a shred of truth to them. But he isn’t a meta or a ghost, just a man wrapped in his own shadow.

Anyway just... Bruce unknowingly has a shade buddy as his sidekick and reflection of his mental state and it gives him subtle shadow manipulation and fear-inducing powers AU.

[alttheloco]

Day 5 - Age of Heroes

Got a bit carried away with this one, ngl. Had to stop myself from going further and fine tuning it more, cause I was pretty damn happy with the concept and the magazine cover overlay and I wanted it to be a Piece ykwim? Anyways, bam. Here it is, a day late, but here nonetheless!

[daydreamerwonderkid]

I think it's funny that when people try to depict Jason and Tim's version of a sibling relationship, they tend to make Jason the more unhinged one and Tim like his little mental health wrangler when it's really just not like that.

People keep forgetting that it's actually Tim who is the impulsive one. Jason's just an enabler.

[72stars]

continued coloring/shading/rendering adventures, now with RH: Prometheus (which I will eventually get around to posting something besides just Jason from) Jason

[apopcornkernel]

batman: track and field au

author's note: i just miss track and field varsity even though i wasnt even that good... and ive been thinking about batman track and field au for FOREVER. so today i wrote a bit 📝

things u need to know: bruce is not batman. he's a coach at a school where the rest of the justice league teaches. yes, they're still the justice league. and yes, his robins still end up as vigilantes. jason is 15 in this; the joker hasn't gotten to him yet. also i added some characters ahead of the timeline bc i love them :/

Jason stumbles over from the finish line, grinning and sweat-drenched. And then his face screws up in sudden distress, and he promptly wobbles and collapses onto the hot stadium mat.

A half-formed sound of alarm—

Bruce leaps over the bleacher railing and sprints.

A poor, well-meaning race official gets there first, but Bruce shoulders him roughly aside and crouches by Jason. Jason has turned on his side, holding his right knee tight to his chest and making little pained gasps.

It tears at his heart. “Jason,” Bruce says.

Jason’s eyes are screwed shut, and he says nothing, but one of his hands reach blindly in Bruce’s direction and Bruce grasps it tightly.

“You were terrific, chum.” He squeezes, and feels the tremor that goes through his son. “Stretch your leg out for me.”

Jason shakes his head. “Hurts—”

“I know. I know. Please, Jay.”

It’s slow, and excruciating, but between the two of them they manage to get Jason sitting up, his leg extended straight against the ground. One hand of Bruce’s presses down firmly on the knee, and the other pushes his foot to flex, the metal spikes of Jason’s shoes digging hard into the callused flesh of Bruce’s palm. Jason leans back on his hands, spread flat against the ground, head tilted up to open, cloudless sky, exhaling drawn-out, shaky breaths.

The speakers blare out the next events—second call for Male C’s 400-meter hurdles, and third call for Female B’s high jump. The left side of the crowd begins clapping on beat for their star javelin thrower as she rocks back on her feet, once, twice, and begins bounding forward. Bruce makes a displeased noise. He hopes his throwers remember to pay attention.

A mosquito buzzes by Bruce’s ear and he shakes his head sharply to drive it away. The sweat has been beading at his hairline all throughout, and now it rolls torturously slow down his face. As his hands are otherwise occupied, he makes no move to wipe it, and does his best to ignore the unpleasant sensation.

At last, Jason’s breathing evens out. He tugs his leg gingerly away from Bruce’s hold, cheeks flushed with exertion and, doubtless, embarrassment. “Thanks.”

Bruce sits back on his haunches and wipes the sweat off his face. “Ready to stand?”

Jason raises a hand, wincing as he tests the muscles of his leg. “One sec.”

Bruce nods shortly. Jason safe, his attention wanders over to the bleachers. Tim, thank God, is dragging Damian away from the high railing. Dick and Cass are eating lunch with much avidity—Dick’s best event, high jump, had just ended before Jason’s, and Cass seems to have just returned from shot put. Duke and Stephanie are nowhere in sight, and for a moment Bruce is alarmed, but then he spots them at the stage and relaxes. Duke must have won his high jump—he stands on the highest podium, and even from here Bruce can tell he’s grinning—and Stephanie is clicking away on the school camera next to the official photographer.

As he watches Stephanie turn the camera backward and attempt to take a selfie with Duke, there’s a tap on his thigh. Bruce extends his hand without looking and grasps the hand that interlocks with his, pulling Jason up with ease.

Bruce glances at Jason, and notes how he squints against the glaring afternoon. “Remember to reapply your sunscreen when you get back.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Not everyone is ghost-white like you.”

“You do not have to be ghost-white to get skin cancer.”

Jason grumbles, but when Bruce raises an imperious eyebrow at him, he raises his hands in surrender. “Fine. Whatever you say, boss.”

“Good. And, Jay...” Bruce reaches out, tentative, and puts a hand on his shoulder. “I meant it. You did terrific.”

Jason beams, bright enough to outshine the day, and something in Bruce’s chest uncurls into warmth.

[a-lonely-tatertot]

wow theyre all trans and superheros

[rustycottoncandy]

Expect more scenes from Heathers

[goddess-of-graphite]

The Great Notes App Exodus: Half-Dead and Still Kicking

The thing is, Jason’s been a ghost for a while, okay? Six whole months, and it’s been a goddamn adjustment, being capable of floating through walls and falling through furniture if he’s not careful, if he’s not concentrating. He goes unseen and unheard in a manor too full of grieving to only be residence of two people - Alfred keeps his room tidy and untouched, as if it’s a shrine to keep care of, and Bruce is…

Jason is, was, Robin, so he can’t quite help himself from following in Batman’s shadow as the man patrols, more vicious, more brutal than Jason has ever seen him. He takes more risks, gets injured more often - and it’s terrifying, the way Batman grieves, as if trying to follow him into the grave. So Jason follows, unbeating heart in his throat, and only relaxes again when Bruce is safe in the manor, sleeping off whatever injuries he got during the night.

He can’t interact with the world, but he can watch the shades of past residents going about their lives, and he learns things from doing this even as he fears becoming them one day, mindlessly replaying a life long passed. He can snoop and explore without worry for being caught, and if he ever gets bored he can practice flying (so much harder than it seems - he’s careful never to go too high, too worried that he won’t be able to come back down again, even with the ceaseless curiosity in the back of his mind wondering - just how far can I go? Beyond the sky? Could he touch the stars, if he wanted?) and when everything is terrible, when the memories of his death, his last few hours of life, haunt him, when he is drowning in his own head, he finds distractions; the way the air currents sometimes seem to react to him, trying to move things like ghosts do in those terrible movies, chattering to whoever is around and pretending they can hear him, finding mysteries to solve (what’s up with that camera kid, anyway? He’d never noticed him before…) and trying to read books in the library through sheer force of will, usually ending up just reciting the parts he knows.

(Two months and a bit in to this whole “ghost” thing, he finds out the deal with the camera kid. Jason can only be relieved because, kid’s got a point - and Bruce seems to do better with someone to protect, to teach, to watch over.

He’s not practically tearing people apart with his bare hands anymore. He’s not taking hits he should have been able to avoid anymore. He’s not lurking at the edge of rooftops anymore, staring at the ground as if contemplating how far away it is.)

And Tim… he’s weird, but brilliant, and Jason feels a little protective of him. Follows him whenever he goes out, sharp eyes watching his back regardless of whether he can protect it or not (and maybe it’s his imagination, but the world seems more real when he’s watching over Tim, closer and present in a way he can almost feel, as if he could actually affect the world, if he just tried hard enough - if he just needed to desperately enough).

And then, six months after his-… after this ghost thing started, something… changes.

Something Happens, and he can almost taste the strange Knowing - something, somewhere, has gone wrong, or perhaps right, and the ripples extend beyond the event, slipping into each corner of the universe with the subtlety of a truck, and yet somehow unnoticed.

The ghosts notice. Pale shades lift their heads, existing outside of their own memories for the first time in an age - and Jason, who is new, who is Robin, who lived in Gotham where all things become possible, is hit by the wave of Something Happening Elsewhere Rippling Out and wakes up in a box.

In a coffin.

(But Jason has been a ghost for six months, and the pain of living again is enough to reach for the existence of being a ghost, and by the time he has sorted himself out and half-clawed, half-floated his way out of his grave (again), he doesn’t expect himself to be anything but what he has been for the past six months.)

(And then, of course, he discovers he can interact with the world if he concentrates, if he wants it enough, and he assumes that Whatever That Was made him a stronger ghost.

It’s not an unfair assessment. Incorrect, but not beyond reason.

Why would he think he came back to life, anyway? That’s a bit far-fetched, really.)