#everyone is backing up jason while he reads bruce to filth

[undertheredhood]

unlike the rest of the bat/wayne family jason has no problem with communicating his feelings. which isn’t really a problem for bruce until he tries to tell jason what he can/can’t do and then jason brings up the fact that after damian died, bruce thought it was a good idea to trick jason into going to the place where he was brutally murdered to trigger him into remembering how he came back to life (which there is no possible explanation in the world that would make that okay), or how bruce threw a batarang at jason’s throat to save the joker.

if there’s one thing about jason it’s that while he’s willing to forgive someone wronging him, he will never forget.

(this is kinda a reference to my previous jason todd post)

[leonicscorpio]

How to care for your Jaybird: part 2: A series of domestic Headcanons about one Jason Peter Todd.

Hey y'all. Since everyone liked the first one so much (and I'm still experimenting with my writing) I decided I'd do a bullet-point take on some of my Headcanons for normal, domestic Jason Todd. Enjoy!

Jason is a stomach sleeper if he's fully comfortable and in a deep sleep. A lot of official art has him as a back sleeper but literally every fan art has him as a stomach sleeper.

Jason has a very strong stomach and can tolerate even the greasiest of foods. Having been on the streets eating out of dumpsters is something he's had to. However when he does get a stomach bug occasionally he's crippled for at least a week. Barely being able to walk.

Jason has Misophonia. He HATES the sounds of chewing and slurping. It just drives him crazy and makes his skin crawl. Damian discovered this and egged Jason on any way he could. Dick had to hold Jason back from throwing Damian out a window.

Everyone knows Jason likes to read but he'll read just about anything and everything. Any time he travels somewhere new he'll always thoroughly read the travel pamphlets, and if a sign has a long block of text you'll find him stopped at the sign absorbing the text.

While not religious (except in The Flashpoint timeline) Jason has read all of the major religious texts and does enjoy some of their stories, but takes them at face-value.

Jason is quite casual about sex and hookups, and while he can be alluring and flirtatious, when Jason breaks down his walls and he exposes his barest self to you, he will be like a lovesick puppy and will be as tender and dotting, but you have to break down MILES of walls.

Jason's MBTI personality is ESTP-A. While you wouldn't think of him as much an entrepreneur he leaps before he looks and he lets his emotions dominate him. He's very much a shoot first, question later if never person.

Jason likes the Harry Potter movies and you can fight me all you want. Jason is a Ravenclaw and I will die on this hill.

Jason's favorite girl scout cookies are Tagalongs. He just loves a good peanut butter cookie.

After having been homeless and going without showers for days on end. Jason needs to take at least 2 showers a day. He hates smelling bad, and while he'll go without on longer missions or hits, the first thing he does when he gets home is take a shower. A long, hot shower.

Want to find a secret way to melt his heart? Take him on a date to the animal shelter. Jason will turn from an abrasive, angry, and cynical man to a precious child if he can play with a dog.

Cooking is a side passion Jason has taken up. It's mentioned somewhere that his favorite meal is pot roast and I have so many thoughts on other things he likes to eat and cook.

EDITED: I added some more that have popped into my head. 

Jason’s go to order at Starbucks and most coffee places is a cold brew. It isn’t fussy, it’s fast, and it gets the job done. 

Jason’s birthday being August 16th makes him a Leo sun. However I just look at this character and he just oozes heavy Scorpio elements in his birth chart. Probably a Scorpio rising and Mars. (I’m a Leo sun, Scorpio Moon/Rising) 

After having abused venom for a bit (Red Hood and the Outlaws) Jason sometimes forgets that no, normal people don’t curl 80lb dumbells casually. And now everyone in the gym is staring at him... awkward.

On top of looking after the prostitutes and sex workers of Gotham, Jason also frequents a lot of LGBTQ+ bars and has quite a few connections within the gay scene. Funnily enough, Jason Todd being a 6′0 200-something pound tall, dark, handsome, mysterious man in a Gay bar garners him a LOT of attention. I headcanon that Jason is bisexual and quite enjoys the same as well as the fairer sex. 

After giving a Drag Queen a particularly large tip, Jason was dragged on stage to lip-sync with the drag queen. Jason, being a Leo Sun (bless our whore hearts...) proceeded to take his shirt off and out-perform the drag queen, and I mean hitting EVERY beat, mouthing every song perfectly, and he threw a split in at the end. house. down. boots. The crowd lost their mind, the drag queen proceeded to read him to filth and heckled him off stage. Jason loved every second of it. Oh and in case you’re wondering, here’s the song Jason killed. 

If you see Jason out during the days, he often can be found at either a gym, trying a new restaurant, at secondhand book stores, or just riding around on his bike. 

Jason has a deep respect for nature, but honestly he’s quite intimidated by it. Growing up in the streets of Gotham, his first experiences in a forest he was quite intimidated. 

When he found out Damian was vegan he at first didn’t give him a second thought. However the moment Damian said he could never cook. a good vegan meal was when Jason’s passion struck. You see you can tell Jason he can do something and there’s a 60/40 percent chance he won’t or will do it. But the second you tell him he can’t do something is the moment you ignite his spite and passion. Needless to say, Damian still asks Jason to make Eggplant in Garlic Sauce and vegan mac and cheese. 

I think Seattle would be a city Jason would really feel at home. However not for the traditional reasons, Seattle is a cold, unfriendly city with breathtaking nature. I’ll bet his jaw hit the floor when his plane flew by Mount Rainer, because THAT’S A BIG FREAKING ROCK. And he freaked out when he learned that’s aN ACTIVE VOLCANO. 

Jason has EXTREME seasonal allergies. It’s not bad because Gotham doesn’t have many trees but he goes outside Gotham and he’s red eyed and sniffly. The worst part is the only allergy medicine that works for him is Benadryl so he has to chose between being miserable or perpetually half-awake. 

When he is at the Wayne his favorite activities are calling Bruce (insert expletive here), calling Dick any other expletive he didn’t use on Bruce. Bugging Tim by unplugging his computer and hiding his stuff across the manor and generally just annoying him with his presence by being the annoying older brother, tormenting Damian by taking his things and putting them in places he can’t reach. 

[jasontoddiefor]

Summary: Jason Todd was raised on the streets, in Gotham’s filth, but the blood that was running through his veins was everything but. Jason was the last of a line of gruesome, death stained mages, necromancers who dealt in souls and flickering images of immortality. Jason was a fifteen-year-old boy who crawled out of his grave, weeks after he died, reanimated by powers he couldn’t understand or control, and struggled to feel alive even when his father was holding onto him.

AN: I finally get to post my @batfam-big-bang fanfic! I My lovely beta readers for this wonderful project were @nycis and @queerbutstillhere while my amazing artists were @darkmagyk and @paperedking and @zannakai. Check out their stunning pieces!!!

Read on AO3

I had a night I had a day I did one million stupid things I said one billion foolish things I'm not okay

If there are two emotions Jason knows well, they are  fear and anger. Both had accompanied him since his earliest childhood memories. His father’s shouting had been a constant source of anger and fear. His loud voice had forced Jason to hide beneath the table, his bed, the closet, all spaces he had falsely assumed would be too small for his father to reach. With bated breath he had waited for the screeching to stop until only his mother’s soft sobs had echoed through the rooms. Those too had angered Jason. He didn’t know whether it was on her behalf, because he had hated his father so much for causing her any pain, or because that anger had been for himself, the poor child whose mother wasn’t strong enough to leave her piece of shit husband.

On the streets, anger had kept him warm at night and fear had ensured he stayed alive. He had marveled at the shiny tires of the Batmobile, but even then, deep down, he had been so incredibly angry. He was going hungry while another drove a car like that. He had ignored his fear then and stolen the tires regardless.

It had been the best decision of his life.

So now, when once again  he was stuck between fear and anger, he chose to dismiss his fear and lash out instead.

“You can’t be serious!” Jason hissed, throwing up his arms.

Rage boiled beneath his skin like an active volcano. It infected his voice, his stance. He rose to his full height, making him the tallest in the room, but none of his siblings even blinked at it. They were too used to such simpleminded intimidation tactics, employed similar ones in front of villains who thought they could get the better of them.

“This is the right way,” Dick said, his voice strained with finality, a kind of authority he had no right to evoke.

He was not their leader, and he sure as hell was not their father. Dick barely understood what Jason was capable of and when he did, was too scared of it. The others didn’t see it, but Jason knew a coward when he saw one. Dick always tip-toed around Jason’s room like he expected the undead to crawl right out of it and drag him into a bloody casket. Beyond that, he also always took the patrol routes far away from Jason’s apartment complex and city district. Jason didn’t mind, he preferred it when the others kept their noses out of the Narrows and Crime Alley. His people didn’t particularly enjoy it either when the other bats and birds came around to play there as they tended to mess with the wards and ask uncomfortable questions. Jason understood too well how unsettling his presence could be and therefore knew very well that Dick had no room to make such decisions or judge Jason for them.

“The right way,” Jason repeated. “Do you even hear yourself? If everything was right, Bruce would still be here!”

Tim and Steph both winced when Jason said his name and even Dick’s face fell. They all didn’t understand it. Death was so final to them instead of just another state of being, one that Jason could reverse.

“I can bring him back,” Jason continued, desperation seeping into his voice. “Everything will be alright again. It’s all in these books. I just need your help.”

Why couldn’t his siblings just understand that he would fix it and then everything would go back to being the way it was before Darkseid had torn their lives to shreds. The Cave had become messy since Bruce’s death. It had been barely a month ago but it already showed despite best efforts. Jason had dragged all his books here to study and take notes, the constant hum of the technology as much a motivational hymn as it was a lullaby. His notes now were spread out all across the table, proudly displaying the work Dick was disregarding so very easily.

Dick only stubbornly shook his head. “No, Bruce wouldn’t want that.”

This wasn’t about what Bruce wanted, he was dead. This was simply about deciding how they were going to fix it.

“You don’t know that,” Jason countered. “It’s not like he wrote it in his will.”

Dick let out a low breath and dragged his hands through his hair as if Jason were causing him a headache. They had attended the reading of the will just hours before. Alfred had made sure they had all dressed up in proper suits the way they had for the closed casket funeral because there hadn’t been a body to recover. It would make it all more difficult to bring Bruce back without his original body to tie his soul too, but Jason was confident that he would be able to pull it off. Jason had only listened half-heartedly to the reading of the will. He knew its contents by heart, they all did. Every hero had a will set up and about ten proxies who knew every word and could recite it in case their death had been unnatural.

Alfred had been given custody over Damian while Tim had been emancipated. The Wayne fortune had been split five ways between Dick, Jason, Tim, Cass, and Damian while Steph and Barbara both got a huge stipend. It was all for nothing, Bruce would be back. Cass knew it as well, or so Jason hoped. She hadn’t even bothered to show for the funeral but had left the city the night before. Jason wished she had stayed, she would support him.

Instead, Jason had to make everyone else listen to him.

Tim was still straight up in denial and didn’t believe that Bruce was dead. His parents had died around the same time, just two years earlier. Of course, he wouldn’t be able to handle it and escape into his delusions instead. Steph, for all that she was a part of the team and family, Jason’s closest confidant out of all of them, had chosen to stay neutral while Dick protested vehemently.

Damian, meanwhile, just thought that Jason wouldn’t be able to pull it off, but that could be blamed on his superiority complex. While the kid, a perfect mix of Talia and Bruce, could imitate Bruce’s accent and body language as well as he wanted to, he still reeked of al Ghul arrogance and the Lazarus pit’s side effects. It was a foul stench, poisonous, and foreign to this world. It had hurt Bruce when Jason had told him what exactly was keeping Damian’s heart beating, but there was nothing that could be done about it. It wasn’t like anybody else besides Jason actually noticed.

“Had he wanted to, we would know,” Dick said.

“But-“

“Jason, stop.” Dick’s order, his tone couldn’t be mistaken for anything but a bark, was harsh. “Bruce is dead and he will stay dead. You will not experiment on his soul just because you think you can bring him back.”

“I don’t think so, I know so,” Jason argued. “You’re just incapable of trusting me! You still think I’m a foolish kid who is just playing around with powers he doesn’t understand!”

His voice rose with every shouted word. It had always been like this. Dick thinking that Jason was crossing too many lines, wasn’t good enough to be Robin or anything. Hell, he had accepted Tim more readily as Robin than he ever had Jason.

“Jason-“ Tim tried to speak up, but was harshly cut off by Dick.

Trust big brother to always know best.

“Because you are!” Dick shouted back. It hurt, cut into flesh like sharp knives, but at the same time it was liberating. Finally, Dick was actually speaking his mind. Honesty, so Jason had learned, was the only way to keep moving forward. They all lied, it was a part of their training, came as natural as breathing, but there was a line you had to be aware of.

“Bruce is dead and you can’t let go. Instead of helping me figure out how to keep Gotham running, you run off and bury your head in old books to find a solution to a problem that isn’t there! He’s gone. I needed you on patrol tonight and you didn’t show.”

Patrol had been just fine, Dick hadn’t needed him. Jason had kept an eye on the comms, they had done as good as they could with three men down. It hadn’t even been a busy night.

“You’re just giving up!”

“And you’re delusional!” Dick retorted.

He picked up one of the pages the closest to him. The originally white paper was covered by ink stains, diagrams smeared uncaringly all over it while Jason had been trying to figure out what exactly his ancestors had gotten up to when they tried to raise the dead.

“This is too much, Jason. You’re only setting yourself up for my failure. I let you keep researching because I thought it would help, but it’s only hurting you. You have to let go.”

“And leave?” Jason spat out. “Like you always do the moment something goes wrong with Bruce?”

Dick froze. His annoyance and misguided worry slowly twisted into dark anger. At that moment, it just felt right. Dick had ceased pretending that he was so much better than them, that he wasn’t struggling without Bruce around. Jason loathed how he sat at breakfast every day, acting as if it was all still alright and fine, smiling and lying continuously.

“I-“ Dick interrupted himself, reigning in his anger as everybody else watched him with keen eyes. “No, no, I’m not having this discussion with you. None of us are on board with your reckless endeavor, so you’re not doing it and that’s final.”

Jason turned to look at the rest of his family, but they were all averting their eyes. Of course, they would all side with Dick over him. He was older, more experienced, the first Robin out of all of them.

He wasn’t the resurrected boy who talked to ghosts and turned living beings to worthless decay with nothing more than a touch.

“I see,” Jason replied and grabbed his jacket from the chair.

Fine, it wasn’t like he needed any of them anyway. It would have been easier with more living anchors, but Batman had left his mark all over the city. Gotham was his, even the magic that buried itself so far underground that hardly anybody could see it knew who it belonged to. Jason had plenty of anchors he could use to bring Bruce back. What were five children compared to an entire city?

“Where are you going?” Tim spoke up. He had barely said a word since Jason and Dick had started fighting, but Jason supposed that it made sense given that Tim thought both of them were wrong.

“Away from here,” Jason replied. “Since Dick is so keen on running this show himself, he can do it. I’m out.”

“What?” Steph asked. “Wait! Jason, no, you have to stay!”

“What I need to do is fix this.”

Jason picked his backpack up from the ground and started stuffing his papers into it. He didn’t particularly care in which order he did it, he would have to sort through them all anyway once he was back in his apartment. He needed to toss those that were trash and copy the calculations and incantations that actually made sense and seemed like they were a good first step onto fresh sheets. Maybe he should get actual parchment. He didn’t usually work with dead writing materials, but with whatever he had on hand. His spells were powerful enough without, but he couldn’t afford any mistakes here.

Once he was finished, he threw his backpack over his shoulder and headed towards his bike, not sparing the group behind him another glance.

“Jason,” Dick started once more.

Jason just threw his hands up, dismissing him.

“Don’t worry, Richard,” he said. “It’s not like I can stay dead for long if something goes wrong. Don’t bother contacting me. I’ll come back once I’m finished.”

He couldn’t see his older brother’s reaction, but Jason would bet that he had flinched. They all hated to be reminded of Jason’s death, but it wasn’t like Jason could erase that part of him.

Jason put on his bright red helmet and turned on his bike. Then, without looking back, he drove off, disappearing into the dawn of a new day.

[watchtower-feed]

Death Do We Part (Part 15)

SSA Spin-off ✧ Jason Todd ✧ Physical Link ✧ 1 ✧ 2 ✧ 3 ✧ 4 ✧ 5 ✧ 6 ✧ 7 ✧ 8 ✧ 9 ✧ 10 ✧ 11 ✧ 12 ✧ 13 ✧ 14 ✧ 15 ✧ Words: 2,700+

     You rest your head on your knees as you look at Tim. Your lips tremble as you watch him struggle with his thoughts.

     He stares at his hands with narrowed eyes before you hear his broken voice.

     “... I don’t know if I want to be Robin anymore.”

     The morning dragged on agonizingly slow with Tim hiding in your room, Bruce nursing a drink in the kitchen, and Alfred sitting beside him. But when Bruce’s phone rang and the hospital told him that his son, Richard Grayson, was just admitted into Gotham General, everything sped past like a blur.

     The city traffic buzzing through the car’s window. The loud reporters hounding you at the entrance. The doctor’s mouth moving in silence as he reads from a chart, explaining Dick’s condition. You were only picking up words like critical and surgery.

     The first thing you became conscious of was Alfred’s hand on your shoulder. “Y/N. He’s going to be okay.” You didn’t even notice your tears until he was wiping them away.

     It’s past midnight in the hospital room. Tim is sleeping on the couch. Alfred is  in an extra bed. Bruce had just stepped out for coffee. And you’re still awake, curling up in the armchair closest to Dick. You’re holding his hand and looking at the fringes of his hair lying on his forehead. Slowly you loosen your grip to brush them back, but Dick’s fingers curl around yours.

     You’re too busy staring at his hand when he opens his eyes.

     “Hi…”

     You cover your mouth to trap the sob that’s lodged in your throat. “Dick--”

     He smiles. “H-hey hey. I’m okay.” He sounds exhausted but he still tries to laugh. “It’s just-- what? Like broken ribs again?”

     You frown at him, “One punctured your spleen, Dick. They had to stitch it up during surgery.”

     Dick chuckles, “Another one? Man. I swear I get one every other month. I probably passed out on Jason.”

     “You were with Jason?” your voice hitched a little but you lower it right away and check on Alfred and Tim.

     “Oh yeah… we had a nice little chat…” Dick’s looking at you now while frowning. “So… you’re leaving.”

     You pause and then look down when you answer, “I don’t know. I haven’t heard from Jason since yesterday morning.”

     Dick raises one eyebrow and teases you, “The morning after?”

     “Shut up,” you snap at him in a whisper, making him snicker quietly. You blush but you can’t help give a small laugh as well.

     Dick smiles at you.

     “He told me you were leaving and I was hoping to charm the two of you into staying.” He gives you a look, one that’s both sad and disappointed. “But I don’t really think that’s an option, huh.”

     Dick squeezes your hand and your voice is a lot softer when you answer, “He killed the Joker, Dick. In front of Bruce.”

     “Yeah. He told me.”

     “And you almost died, too.”

     Dick laughs, “Ye of little faith in me, Y/N. I had those guys--”

     “But the bomb. That one was real--”

     Dick shushes you. “Jason’s friends got me off the bridge before it went off. Guess you guys were too busy watching Jay and Bruce’s fight.”

     Dick slumps back against the pillows and stares at the point where the ceiling and the wall meet. “I hate to say it but Jason thought of everything.”

     Tim grumbles in his sleep and you both turn to him. Once the rise and fall of his chest becomes even, Dick speaks again.

     “This must be hard on Tim, huh?”

     Tim has been tossing and turning in his sleep. When he was in your room, he checked on his wound and was surprised to find that Jason had changed his bandages when he was unconscious.

     You watched Tim’s surprised look slowly morph into one of anguish. He didn’t know how to believe that Jason and the Red Hood were one and the same. Or is he just a persona Jason created to do what he can’t do. To protect the hard truths he wanted Bruce to realize.

     You close your eyes and slowly climb into the bed next to Dick. He makes room for you and you carefully curl up next to him.

     “He told me he didn’t want to be Robin anymore,” you whisper.

     Dick pats your head and hums to himself.

     “If I was Jason and Tim-- I was them. I was Robin and I always thought… I always saw Bruce as more than just Batman. He was my dad and my friend. He was my protector.”

     When Dick’s hand stops moving, you wrap your arms across his chest and hug him tightly. You can feel the even breaths he’s trying to maintain but failing.

     “But after what Jason did--” you can hear him clenching his teeth as he speaks, “After realizing that Bruce will always be Batman--to everyone-- more than anything else in the world… it shatters something in you, like you’re not special...”

     Before your life turned into this living tragedy, you always thought Batman was just a myth. You’ve seen him sure, leaping and gliding over rooftops from your window and from the streets, but you always knew he was just a man playing pretend. Maybe a police officer finally fed up with the red tapes and the joke that is the Gotham justice system.

     You always thought Batman was just another Gothamite who just got sick of being battered and bruised.

     “It doesn’t mean I agree with Jason, though.” Dick’s voice is a little lower. He’s giving you a long look with the same sad and disappointed expression. “His heart’s in the right place but Y/N, he’s the one who doesn’t understand.

     “When Bruce first brought me in, my parents were murdered by this guy-- Tony Zucco-- just a typical low life mobster in Gotham you know-- no one like the Joker. But when I became Robin, Bruce’s greatest concern was whether I would seek vengeance against that guy.”

     Dick’s gaze strays away from you. He’s looking somewhere past his feet, seeing something that’s not there.

     “I had him, Y/N. I tied him up and suspended him over a ten-story building, half hoping he would die, or break every bone in his body from that height and live out the rest of his days as a vegetable.

     “Then Batman came out of the shadows. He didn’t stop me. He didn’t talk to me-- he just put his hand on my shoulder the whole time, while I stood there and held this man’s lifeline in my hands.”

     Dick closes his eyes and takes a deep breath but he doesn’t open them again. The skin at the corner of his eyes crease and there are folds in his brows. When he speaks again, it’s rushed and he sounds exhausted.

     “In the end, I couldn’t do it. I dropped him from the third floor. He broke a few bones and that was it. It didn’t make me feel better. Killing him wouldn’t have brought my parents back-- it also wouldn’t prevent another family from ever being murdered…

     “Jason thinks he can get rid of evil in the world by killing criminals but he can’t. Because everyone is nursing evil inside of them-- I have something evil inside me.”

     Dick’s lips are quivering when he opens his eyes again.

     “Batman is the only one that doesn’t because all he wants to do is protect... everyone.”

     Bruce has heard enough. He’s been standing outside the hospital room with his hand on the handle when Dick started talking about avenging his parents. Desperately, he wants to go in there and join you and Dick. But the writing on your arm pushes him to visit the rooftop instead.

     He steps out to meet Gotham’s foggy air and reaches the end of the ledge when he calls out, “Worried about Dick?” He doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t hear Jason’s footsteps approaching him from the shadows, but he knows he’s there. “You should be. He’s here because of you.”

     Jason stops abruptly and clenches his fist. “Wrong. He’s hurt because of your self-righteous courtesy toward the psychotic filth of Gotham.”

     Bruce turns around. Jason doesn’t have his helmet or his mask. He’s wearing a black trench coat but Bruce can still see the Red Hood symbol peeking from his chest. Bruce lifts one corner of his lips. “How does it feel?”

     To Jason it looks like a smirk on its ways to becoming a snarl. Any semblance of a smile on Bruce is unsettling.

     Bruce faces him fully with his hands in his pants pockets. “Now that you’ve killed half of the inmates in Arkham, how does it make you feel?” He watches Jason and lowers his brows and his mouth turns into a straight line. “Like it’s not enough. Right? Like there’s still a few more loose ends-- and you just have to be sure.

     “I know you went after Penguin and Dent after the club last night. I also know you’re still after Harley.” Bruce eyes his clothes.

     Jason tips his head to the side and replies to Bruce with a small smile.

     Bruce tries to control the urge to arrest Jason then and there. He tries to stop being Batman for just one second before he loses his son for good. He takes in a breath and releases it like a sigh. He takes out his hands to gesture to Jason.

     “If I could give you one last piece of advice. As a father. As a friend. Ask yourself if this is the type of person you want Y/N’s soulmate to be. Do you want her to be with a murderer?”

     Jason didn’t expect that. He was ready to have another go at Bruce, maybe their last showdown before he leaves town, but now he just feels insulted.

     “Fuck you, Bruce. I just want her safe-- To do a better job than you did for me. Be better than you.”

     Bruce shakes his head. “You can do that without taking another person’s life, Jason. Killing people will only put your lives in more danger.” He points to Jason’s chest. “And you-- the Red Hood-- are a testament to that.”

     Jason looks down, the crimson symbol on his chest peeking at him from his loose coat. The Red Hood is supposed to be just a means to an end. A myth strong enough to withstand the Bat’s. A new player to hook in the Arkham villains. Not someone who’ll join their ranks.

     Jason looks back to glare at Bruce.

     “I didn’t come here for a lecture.”

     The pause Jason gave didn’t go unnoticed to Bruce.

     “I assume you’re here to see Y/N,” Bruce replies. “She’s talking to Dick. She hasn’t noticed your message yet.”

     Bruce walks up to Jason and sizes him up. Jason watches as his demeanor changes. Bruce stands taller, his shoulders seem to go wider. Jason doesn’t need to see the cape to know who’s standing in front of him now.

     “Leave Gotham before sunrise.” 

     Jason can see himself reflected in Batman’s eyes. He suddenly looks like a child. The kid sleeping on the streets of Gotham. Scavenging in the garbage just to get by. Stealing to survive. 

     Bruce sees his own reflection in Jason’s and it terrifies him. He relaxes his shoulders and leaves his eyes half-lidded. Slowly, he lifts his hand and places it on Jason’s shoulder.

     “Take care of each other, son.”

     Bruce takes back his hand and starts walking to the door but Jason slaps something against his chest. Bruce looks down and sees that it’s an envelope. He looks back at Jason but he’s looking away from him.

     “Give it to Alfred… please.”

     Bruce smiles. He gives Jason a small nod before he takes the letter and leaves the hospital rooftop.

     When Jason hears the doors close shut behind him, he lets the panic settle in. He first feels its claws scratching at his throat on its way up to his mouth, prying it open, making him gasp for air. Jason jumps when the door slams open.

     You see your soulmate standing on the rooftop.

     “Jason?” 

     You run to him and wrap your arms around his shoulder, as far as you can reach. He bends down and you hold him tighter. “You’re okay!” you exclaim against his coat. “I passed Bruce on the way here and I thought--”

     “Y/N.”

     Jason’s voice is shaky. You pull away to take a look at him but he holds you tight against him. You feel it now, the way his lungs are expanding rapidly and his heart is beating hard against his chest. He’s gripping your clothes as he pulls your body closer to him, afraid to let go. Afraid you’ll let go.

     “I want to stay…”

     The Joker had killed him and it killed you. The League had planned on using you against Jason. Scarecrow poisoned you. But now they’re gone. Dead. The Joker. Scarecrow. Black Mask. Bane. Croc. Clayface. Penguin and Dent.

     Jason killed them all.

     “You told me to find a better life. Away from all of this, remember? And I wanted that.” Jason hides his face on your shoulder and you can feel his tears seeping through your shirt. “I wanted that for both of us. But how could I do that if we have so many enemies? How could I do that if they can come after us at any second?”

     Battered and bruised.

     Dick’s wrong. Jason doesn’t have evil inside of him. None of them do. Everyone is just broken. Cracked under the pressure of the city’s heavy fog and manipulated into playing a never ending game of survival.

     You glare at the horizon of the drab cityscape. Yellow lights left on all night. Sirens blaring at every corner. Sewer stench wafting toward the roofs. If Gotham hasn’t broken you yet, it will tomorrow.

     You hold on to Jason tightly.

     “It’s okay, Jason. Everything’s going to be okay.”

     “It’s not, Y/N. We can’t stay-- I can’t stay.”

     “I know…”

     You rub Jason’s back to soothe him. 

     “It’s not just the Joker,” you whisper. “Gotham did this to us. It’s taken something beautiful from us-- our link-- and used it to abuse us. It tore us apart and made us forget who we are.

     “We can’t stay here. We need to leave Gotham not because we’re not welcome. But because we need to heal, Jason.”

     Slowly, you pull away from Jason to take off his coat. He watches as you unzip his kevlar vest and lets you take it off of him.

     You stare at the symbol in your hands and silently thank it. Then you drop it on the floor. Jason is too stunned to stop you when you reach for one of his guns inside his coat. You fire two shots into the vest.

     This is something you feel you need to do. Jason got to kill the Joker, the phantom menace that has haunted your dreams and waking moments. You only get this. The barrel is still smoking when you return it to him.

     You pick up the vest and walk to the ledge of the roof. You pull back to gather as much momentum as you can and throw the vest out and down into the busy streets. You watch the Red Hood fall to its death until you can’t see it anymore.

     Jason holds your hand and you turn to face him. He watches the look on your face, determined and unmoving. As if you hold all the cards and you know exactly where to go. He’s never seen such an expression on you.

     He squeezes your hand

     “I’ll go anywhere with you, Y/N.”

     Just before the sun rises over, you’re already on a bus heading West, far enough away that even Wayne tower’s shadow can’t reach you. You pat the bag on your lap that has some clothes and your new identities.

     As the bus crosses the bridge, Jason is watching the subtle pink and orange light peeking over the ocean that meets Gotham harbor. It’s a rare sight and one you’ll both miss. He turns to you.

     “Hey,” Jason calls. “Look at your arm.” He takes out a pen. You watch as Jason writes on his arm and finally finishes his last words to you.

     I love you.

END.

✧ Watchtower Masterlist ✧

[meaninglessblah-writes]

For the made up title prompts: Flowers for the moon. 😊

201120

Thank you very much for the inspiration, lovely ♥ It definitely ran away from me. For you, what is perhaps a JayTim Reverse Robin AU, even if I didn’t get to cement it as such. Just know the intention was buried somewhere in there. 

I had some vague idea about Bruce being a Moon God, and the other Robins being iterations of his form - Damian as the devastating tidal Perigean/Super Moon, Tim as the rare Blood Moon/Lunar Eclipse, Dick as the young Blue Moon. Jason is chosen as their tribute, though I haven’t nailed down exactly what happens to him after the ritual. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy the concept! 

"Flowers for the Moon” 

The cuffs are heavy on Jason’s wrists, glinting polished silver in the light of the setting sun. They weigh his arms down at his sides, though the only chains he wears are the ones the acolytes had draped over his collarbones and around his palms, kissing the skin of his knuckles between murmured hymns. 

Their gentle touches are still as surreal now as they had been when they’d first scooped him up and through the temple’s mahogany doors. A day ago, he had been a street rat scavenging through the slums of Gotham. Today, he was the chosen tribute of the Moon God. 

Jason’s not sure how long the adjustment period is supposed to last. He knows these things happen rather quickly. It’s not every day the Moon God demands a tribute from the masses, chooses a charge. It’s not like he’s had cause to prepare for this sort of thing. It’s not like he ever dreamed it would happen to him. 

Everything is moving so suddenly; he feels tugged in every direction, swept - quite literally - off his feet. He hasn’t even had time to work out how he feels about this, how he’s expected to feel. Grateful? Angry? Upset? Overjoyed? 

The whiplash is enough to have him feeling nauseous, perched on his seat at the centre of the procession of acolytes and holymen, bustled through the crowds gathering on the cusp of dusk. 

The same men who had chased him from their doorsteps in the winter months are now gathering to shower him with silver coins as the wagon climbs through the streets, icons of favour and tithing clattering on the wood between his bare feet. Jason tries not to flinch with every ring of metal, the chorus competing above the bleat of his own unsettled heart. 

Their small procession makes its way up rough cobbled streets that shift to smooth marble, and then they’re easing to a standstill. Jason’s head is bowed towards his lap, as he’s been instructed. Unable to tear his gaze away from his trembling hands long enough to look up at the temple he knows they’d arrived at. The one that is visible from every corner of the city, no matter how far into the gutter you’ve crawled. The shadow of their allegiance to the Moon God swinging over the streets like a looming sword. 

“Come on, boy,” the acolyte says, and then strong hands are tucking beneath his underarms to hoist him out of the wagon. He’s deposited on his own two unsteady feet a moment later, in the shadow of the altar. When Jason’s bare toes touch the white marble, a chill laces up his spine like ice cracking over a spring lake. 

The acolyte pauses, shifting fingers through the ethereal streak of white hair at Jason’s crown. A kiss from the Moon God, they had called it. Jason’s not so sure yet that it’s the blessing everyone’s proclaiming it to be.  

He’s nudged forward, across the gleaming, glowing tiles that sear the soles of his feet with their cold. When he reaches the base of the obelisk, he draws to a halt, neck craning back to drink it all in, from its sturdy, engraved base all the way to its towering peak where it splits the night’s clouds. It’s made of the same white marble as the floors, and Jason feels horrifically unclean juxtaposed against all these blemishless surfaces. 

He’s never been cleaner, he knows. The acolytes of the temple had bathed him in milk and honey, scrubbed the streets’ filth from his skin until it burned, and then left him to soak in their baths. They’d washed his hair too, combed it out until it was soft to the touch - even the new white streak that painted his forehead like a lightning strike across a black storm’s sky. 

He’d been painted too; his lips, and his lids, and his cheeks. Brushes trailed down his collarbones and chest to paint white lilies - the effigy of the Moon God - on his warm skin. The paint had been chilled, and whenever he passed beneath the glint of the rising moon, they would shimmer with a translucent light, refractions dancing over every expectant face. 

The robe he’d been fitted with is barely decent, nearly sheer enough to bear him to every transfixed gaze as he crosses tentatively over the threshold towards the obelisk. Bouquet of flowers clutched tight to his chest. The petals waver with every tremulous breath that wheezes past his lips. 

The acolyte follows him up the steps, an incentivising hand between his shoulder blades that only falls away when his toes touch the dias - and only then to lift to his shoulder to push him down to his knees. The picture of terrified reverence beneath the last rays of the setting sun. 

The gold bleeds from the stone as it fades below the line of the horizon, leeching all colour and warmth from their surroundings as Jason kneels and waits. His breath hitches in the ensuing cold, heart thundering in his narrow chest, knuckles as white as the lilies in his palms. 

It’s quiet, for a while. There’s an expectancy layered over them all, like a shroud of snow. Unbroken and pure as they await the moon’s rising. 

The moment when the Moon God will climb down from his vaporous throne to claim his gift. 

Jason realises, suddenly, dizzyingly, that he’s never heard what becomes of the Moon God’s tributes. They’re always spoken of so highly, so reverently. Of how they were chosen. Of how they ascended. 

To where, Jason doesn’t know. Hasn’t the slightest idea what becomes of the favoured tributes once the Moon God takes what’s owed to him. Do they even survive the ritual? Does anyone even care? Or do the acolytes simply sweep the lifeless bodies out of the way, dispose of the husks once their deity has had his fill? A sombre sacrifice for the promise of a season’s bountiful crops, a city’s steadfast protection, a council’s yearlong prosperity? A short but necessary candle snuffed to appease a greater shadow. 

The petals shred between his fingers when his grip constricts, every muscle braced in terror as he stares directly at the rune carvings he can’t read, kneecaps aching from the unyielding stone. He’s shivering, he knows. Shaking in the darkness as the moon slowly rises into the newborn night. 

Jason feels the spectre moreso than sees him. He leaves no shadow on the tile, materialising from the yawning eye of the moon to approach the altar. He feels him in the rise of the hairs on the back of his neck and the stiffness that takes his spine. Feels him in the chill that ruptures through him, dosing him in numbing cold. 

Jason gasps, the sound more a choke of air than a breath, willing himself to turn, to look, to run. 

He hears footfalls, the sweep of smoke over marble, intangible. The altar blurs before him, smeared across his vision with his tears as terror takes him. 

A ghost’s fingers slip across his throat, tilting Jason’s jaw upward to revel in the sight of the Moon God where he stands before him. 

The flowers slip between his fingers and splatter to the tile between Jason’s knees.

[awkwardbluefish]

Under The Broken Boy

—

Summary: Alfred confronts Jason the night he tries to kill the Joker. Bruce won’t be happy but when is he ever.

Warning: Death angst

A/n - saw this on a tumblr post by @batkidsaremadkids and I had to write! Also I’m tagging @geminibabyhere cause I know they wanted someone to read it. Also I haven’t seen this in a while so somethings may be eh

—

Bruce Wayne was nothing more than an utter fool in Alfreds eyes.

His son, Jason, was alive and yet Bruce was nothing more than disappointed and disturbed mixed with a desperate happiness attacking his heart.

Alfred couldn’t blame him for the happiness and shock. His heart had stopped in his chest as the silverware slipped past his gloves as he saw the recording and heard that achingly familiar voice. That was Jason Todd, helmet or no helmet. That was his grandson.

And yet, after their confrontation, Bruce was no longer happy. Disturbed and disappointed. Jason has killed people, a lot of people. Maybe Alfred wasn’t exactly please with that but he was a man born and bred in a war. He knew sometimes you had to take a life. And those people? They truly where scum.

“Alfred, do you have the locations?” Batman’s voice is low, lower than normal. More tired then normal.

Bruce will be mad but he doesn’t understand. Jason woke up in a world where the Joker was still alive. A man who was crazed and killed millions for fun. Alfred wasn’t one to take pleasure in killing, and anyone who did was sick. But he understood this time more than any of the others.

“At the warehouse on 28th Patrick Avenue, sir.” Alfred replies simply and Batman’s lips go that bit tighter.

The cape ripples in the air as he turns, boots silent on the stone as he heads to the platform holding that death machine of a vehicle.

“Just like them,” Alfred resists throwing a batarang at the mans head and scowls as the engine roars and the wheels squeal as the car speeds out of the cave.

He lets out a sigh and heads up the stairs. It’s quiet without Master Richard and Timothy. Timothy was with the Titans and Alfred knew the boy would just be so excited to meet his hero, his older brother. He was going to make sure that happened.

“Would you look at you?” He murmurs and the reflection of the case showed his wrinkles. “I never thought I’d be using you again.”

Putting the bullet into the gun is nostalgic and oh so familiar. He checks the safety before walking to the car. He’ll use one of Bruce’s undercover ones for these. A limo would be too eye catching after all.

It doesn’t take long to get there. A few minutes really. The worn down apartment is made of brick and he easily shoved the rusted door open. He may be old but that doesn’t mean he isn’t strong.

The hallway is nothing but filth and dust and he shakes his head as he makes the way up the stairs. Jokers muffled giggles are followed by a pained Yelp and Alfred decides to let Jason go for making him go to this filth of a place.

The door is an old wooden one and Alfred raises a brow. No wonder why this old complex is a warehouse now, no security what so ever. That won’t do in a place like Gotham.

He doesn’t bother to knock and the door creaks as he opens it. A bullet shatters some stone from the brick near his head and he raises a brow at the boy who had grown quite taller since he had last saw him.

Jason is shaking ever so slightly. His shoulders tense and fingers tightening around the gun as he takes Alfred in.

Now Alfred knows Jason could’ve easily killed him. But he didn’t. That shot was a warning, a warning that this man knew how to use it and wouldn’t hesitate if needed. The boy was too young to be acting like a soldier.

“Jason,” Alfred greets, tilting his head. He wanted nothing more than to wrap the boy in his arms and refuse to let go but he wouldn’t. Not yet at least. And especially not when that clown was giggling at him with wide eyes.

“Oh~ is that your name Red? Or should I say you stinking little their?! Jason? How cute- can!” The barrel slams into the side of his head and Alfred nods appreciating the second of silence.

“Why are you here?” His grandson snaps, voice low and robotic. Alfred isn’t even offended. “To talk me out of it?!”

He shakes his head, eyeing Joker with distaste as he steps forward. Glass crunches under his feet as he takes another one, he knows Jason won’t hurt him.

“Not at all,” he says simply and Jason’s shoulders freeze before a scowl covers his lips.

“Of course you are! You work for him!” He spots and Alfred let’s him have his well deserved tantrum. “After everything this freak has done, after everyone he’s killed he’s still alive! He didn’t do anything, not when he even killed me, his own son!”

Alfred watches as he huffs, cheeks flush red in anger and from his small speech. “I know, it isn’t right. I’m a man from war, if anyone knows that it’s me.”

Jason freezes at that and the Joker lets out a laugh, shattering the silence. “A man of war you say?! What an interesting story?! Do tell me, how many of your friends did you fail and watch die?”

“Too many,” Alfred says simply as Jason knees him in the stomach. Joker wheezes out a laugh as blood smears his mouth. “But I don’t dwell on the past when there’s nothing to be done.”

Eyes snap up to his and Alfred sends him a strong look. Telling him that this message was for him, not the piece of filth grinning ear from ear. “I believed it was my fault for a long time, I still do. But going around and hunting down the people who did it won’t bring anything back.”

Jason blinks rapidly and Alfred smiles softly at the broken man. The gun drags down Jokers cheek, smearing the blood before it drops numbly to his side.

“He didn’t- he- why didn’t he do anything?” It’s croaked and mumbles out but Alfred hears every broken word.

He shakes his head. “You can ask him that yourself.” He says softly, pushing gently with his words.

Jason doesn’t move for a second, staring blankly at the cracked floor before nodding slowly. The gun clatters against stone as he lets it slip from his fingertips.

That’s when Joker looses it. “HAHA you can’t even do it! I took away your like and you can’t take out measly old me?! You’re missing an opportunity here!”

Jason freezes just by Alfred side. Alfred pats his shoulder, un-clicks the safety of the gun and fires.

“If you had used those bloody ears to listen, you would’ve understood. I said when there’s nothing to be done. This was something that was overdue to be done.” Alfred tells the corpse, huffing and pocketing the gun.

Jason stares at him wide eyed as he leads the shocked boy down to the vehicle. “Y-you? Why?”

“There’s one thing you got wrong in your speech,” Alfred tells him simply. “I am under orders of no one. I do what I want. Now come along, there’s two brothers and three sisters just dying to see you again.”

Jason laughs then, quiet and shocked as he’s man handled into the front seat. “Bad choice of words Alfie- wait brothers and sisters?! As in plural?!”

Alfred just smiles and shuts the door in his face. It was good to have him back.

[gentle-edge]

[DC] JayDick: PWP

under the cut

PWP

Belong With You by batboybondage

1k. abo, alpha jason/omega dick

It's more of a role reversal thing, surprisingly packed for a fic less than 2k. So much potential

Control by October_rust

1k. Jason and Dick infiltrates a sex slave ring

It's says pwp but reads angst (I love it)

Don't Threaten Me with a Good Time by crackpairingprincess

2k. Pure pwp

i'm thinking about (whatever you're thinking about) by heroics (figure8)

1k. Gunplay, daddy kink.

The smut is excellent, but the feels, damn the feels is killing me

Love Is a Pain in the Ass by scandalsavage

2k. Officer Grayson/'criminal' Jason.

I'm a sucker for office grayson in pwp. This is a pretty sweet one too.

Procedural by MissNaya

2k. Officer Grayson/Red Hood Jason

Yessssssss officer Grayson is my jam

It'll Be Alright by cadkitten

2k. Watersport

Ok I'm like vaguely embarrassed I like it so much but then Jason is really really sweet and supportive in this, I totally treat this fic as fluff.

Red Wine Drip Filth by vaxildxn

3k. Nightwing is a lap dancer/stripper

Enhanced Benefits by scandalsavage

3k. Slade/Jason/Dick. Kidnapping & Rape

An uneventful patrol of Officer Grayson by Chiaki_ver_2porn0

3k. Officer Grayson has a rape kink, Fortunately Red Hood is just in the area

if you'll let me (here's what I'll do) by naheka

3k. Dick is overworked. Jason helps him relax

It says pwp but it's so much fluff that it warmed my cold dead heart

Dick's Dick by MissNaya

4k. Jason gives Dick a gag gift

There's some plot there AND really good smut AND some really good snarks thrown in AND featuring Nightwing dildo. What more can u ask for really

Everyone Has Something by MissNaya

4k. watersports

Erh yeah it's watersports, I have no excuses, but it's really good?

Play Date by scandalsavage

4k. Dick & Jason have some fun in the cave while Bruce is away

Costume related shenanigans. Also unexpected feels hit me like a brick at the end.

The Red Thong Incident by Rawrbin

4k.  Pretty self explanatory pwp

The Night Stares Back by cadkitten

6k. Dick is cursed to hurt when he is not close to the thing he desired once a year. Knotting.

Porn with feelings, a lot of feelings, some very angsty feelings. Loves how this premise holds a unique spin for jaydick.

Cluster Suck by join_the_conga

6k. Supernatural element AU. Vampire!Dick, Jason is able to talk to ghosts (+witch!Tim and Demon!Damian) feat. Deadman being a wingman

I would read the hell of a full novel set in this universe, because supernatural batboys???!!!! damn sign me up. The porn wise is top notch as well, the perfect vampire smut if u get me.

You Gotta Chase Me, Baby by join_the_conga

7k. Stray!Jason, ABO. Alpha!Dick and Omega!Jason.

Ah shit this is a emotional rollercoaster to read. I was simultaneously tearing up, laughing and horny. Even taking away the amazing smut, the dynamics between Dick and Jason is probably still one of my favourite of all time.

Seasons by Adventine

16k. ABO with animal traits. Wolf Alpha!Dick and Ocelot Omega!Jason

It's pwp? ish? With some plots? I mean I like it a lot because it hits the right smut kink for me, you just don't see alot of animal traits ABO in the English fandom

Control(led) Issues by strikeyourcolors

75k. Dick and post!utrh Jason tries to work out their issue through sex

God it has all the tropes, sick fic, kidnapping and I'm crying because this is so beautiful, the dynamics is so on point, Jason's characterisation feels so right. Its insanely emotional ride, the ending is really bittersweet, but it's something I find fitting for jaydick relationship in general

Others

【jaydick】无法驯服的 by SanDouhan

2k. Western AU

This is not fluff???? But better than fluff, some violent sex involved