prlssprfctn

[prlssprfctn]

Jason and Tim need to collaborate and to create their secret Burn Book, I am so serious. Their middle child spectrum needs to be put in the nastiest entries in a big, pink book. Physically need them to lock up in one room with the most serious expressions on their face, confusing their family, only to end up laying on the floor, doing the whole ass scrap book with cutouts from Gazette before writing the hate pages on whoever wronged them today.

Jason, fuming: Code 456. Tim, instantly throwing away whatever he was doing: Are we doing a 20th page for B? Jason: Yes. And I have more bullying material from his youth for this one. Tim, rubbing his hands together: Great. I have new photos and cut-outs.

Tim: Hey, do you think I am Regina George? Jason: Hmmm, yeah. Rich, prissy. Plus, your parent is obnoxious. Tim: Hey! We have the same one. And you are the one who got hit by a car, by the way Jason: Well, give me a few minutes, and I can run you over with a bus- Tim: Bitch Tim: Oh, God, you are so Janis Ian coded- Jason: That must be the nicest things that came out of your mouth Damian, who is patrolling with them, with his eye twitching: Can you two WORK Tim and Jason, in the unison: Shut it, Cady Damian: ?????? Dick, back in the Cave, turning to Bruce: Did he just say that Jason got hit by a car?.. Bruce: *frantically pulls out hospital records*

[prlssprfctn]

GUYS YOU REMEMBER THAT ONE POST??? SOMEONE WROTE A FIC

Chef Beef part 1 of 2

inspired by this post.

Part 2

Jason squinted at his laptop screen. It turned into a confused scowl. “What,” he said, “the hell are they saying?”

Perturbed, he slammed the thing shut. Whatever! He didn’t need validation from viewers. He turned to finish cleaning up his kitchen. He had scrubbed everything down on camera, but the dishes still needed to be put away and he had to shut his kitchen for the night.

His nighttime phone pinged. It wasn’t the Bat business one, at least. He hesitated. 

Fuck. It probably wasn’t important. But what if it was, though?

Jason heaved a massive, dramatic sigh. He put the mixing bowl back and then dug the phone out to check. It was just the stupid intergenerational Titans group chat. The first message flicked away before he could read it, replaced by a series of fire emojis and a…drooling face? Yuck. Superboy was a lot. 

Jason screwed his face up in disgust and dismissed the notification without reading. Tim’s grungy little friends continued to be off-putting gremlins.

Kori chimed in with a series of hearts and flexing arm emojis. 

Yeah, okay, the topic definitely wasn’t important. Goddamn social media. He just didn’t get it.

He didn’t check the video comments again until the next day, curled up in an armchair stolen from Wayne Manor. It was vigilante morning, also known as noon. He tucked his feet into the seam where the cushion met the back of the chair and took a long sip of steaming tea. Thus fortified, he typed in his password and loaded up the video he had done yesterday.

“...Huh.” He opened up his phone to do a quick search on what it meant to go live. Jason ran a hand through his hair and thought it over.

The top comments were begging him to livestream, not post after he was done. That seemed… Well, it seemed social. He pursed his lips and stalled for thinking time with more tea. Part of the reason he was doing this was to motivate himself to cook more, but putting it online, he had to admit, could only stem from a desire for some sort of attention and connection.

Ew. Jason put that bit of self reflection somewhere far away where it couldn’t hurt him, and started thinking about how to change his setup. 

“One week,” he told himself. “I’ll do that for a week and see how I feel about it.” 

Monday

12:07PM

Jason set up a laptop on the counter so he could see any comments while he streamed. 

“Not that I’ll get comments.” He wasn’t doing anything that special. Embarrassed even alone, Jason got busy setting up. Ingredients in place and oven preheated, he started the livestream. 

He waited. 

Then he felt stupid. Probably no one was going to come. So he pulled over his cutting board and held up his first ingredient. “I,” he said to no one, “am going to make the best quiche you sorry motherfuckers have ever seen.” He pointedly twirled the cutting board and glanced back at the screen just in time to see notifications that people were joining. 

“I’m making a quiche now,” Jason reiterated. “Best goddamn thing you’ll see all day, so make a note.” 

He blinked. “Can I crush the onion in my hand?” He repeated, brow furrowing at the screen. “It would be unusable, Caitlin15.” He hefted the onion. “This beautiful motherfucker needs to be diced into perfect pieces.” 

Perplexingly, that didn’t stop it. More viewers chimed in. “Uhh,” Jason said. Was this some kind of streaming social norm? “…I only have one onion. I can crush this instead?” He reached over and pulled out a carrot from the basket on the far end of the counter. 

The screen erupted in all caps. He squinted. Did it have meaning? It looked like gibberish.

“Seems like a yes.” Well. Whatever. Jason crushed the carrot to a mush in his hand, catching the end that fell. He let the mush fall into the bowl he had meant for the onion. Thoughtlessly, he snapped off a bit of the carrot with his teeth and braced a forearm on the counter in front of the camera. “You gonna behave now?” He asked the stream, making sure to level an unimpressed expression to his viewers. “Sit the fuck down and listen.”

The screen erupted with ear emojis and weird dramatic shit like, “I am seated, King. 👑” Someone purchased a … sticker? What the hell? What was the point of that?

…Alright. He picked up the carrot mash bowl and considered it. “Might be making a carrot cake or bread later,” he said. “I can’t stand waste.” He shifted it out of the way and stretched up to get a new bowl from the storage up high. When he looked back down he saw there was a flurry of “six pack alert” messages and more notifications of people buying ‘stickers.’

He wheeled around to see what they must have– behind him was a collection of bottles. They were not alcohol.

“I don’t drink!” Jason snarled. “My body is a goddamn temple. No fuckin beer here.” He leveled a finger at the screen. 

That first stream went alright. He got a lot of subscriptions off of it, which probably at least meant that some people liked it. Jason closed his laptop with the vague impression that things were going to be alright. 

He was washing up when someone knocked on the door. Jason shook his hands twice to flick off water and then dried them with the hand towel. He threw it over his shoulder on the way to open the door. “Dick.” He opened the door, one eyebrow raised. “Everything alright?”

Dick pushed his way in, wearing his beat cop uniform. He had his pretty boy smile on, but Jason saw right through that. That fucker wanted money. “Hey, Jay!” He sniffed his way to the kitchen. “I, uh, heard you have a cooking thing going on, how’s that going?” 

Hm. Alright, maybe he wanted free food, the goddamn hyena.

“How do you know this shit?” He wondered fondly. “Creep.” 

Dick grimaced and put a hand to his head. “Roy showed me.” Dick sounded like he was in pain. Fair enough. That was a reasonable reaction to Roy Harper.

Jason closed the door and watched his sort-of-brother scavenge around the apartment. “Want some quiche?” He cast his thoughts back. “Oh, I have carrot bread.”

Dick gave him a slightly harried smile. “Oh, I heard about that. Crushing the carrot made an impression.” 

Jason blinked.

They looked at each other. 

“Are you watching my streams?” Jason asked slowly. “Hey, I’ve been getting a lot of slang in the comments I don’t know.” He pulled out his phone and scrolled to the list he had compiled. “People keep commenting ATE, in all caps. But I’m not eating.”

Dick stared off into the air mournfully. “It… It means you’re doing a great job. It’s not about food.”

Jason nodded. “Noted,” he murmured to himself. “Uh, raw?” He tried to make eye contact. “People send me that, also in all caps. But obviously I am cooking my goddamn food, that is the whole premise.”

Dick screwed up his face in pain and stuffed half a roll into his mouth to avoid answering. “Buddy,” he said through a mouthful of food, “I don’t want to tell you the details. But your watchers think you’re hot. That’s the gist of it.”

Jason stared at him. “...They think I’m hot,” he echoed slowly. “I am hanging out in my pajamas and cooking. I am being sloppy and rude. I call them names,” he pointed out.

Dick’s face twitched. “Yeah, some of them are into that. But also your whole…” He gestured vaguely up and down Jason’s body. “The t-shirt and sweats work for you.” He looked like he wanted to be somewhere else. “I just wanted to check in on you, make sure you’re comfortable and safe. Having fans is kinda a lot sometimes.”

Jason snorted. “It’s not like I’m modeling like you or Kori did,” he pointed out. 

“It’s not that dissimilar.” Dick rolled his neck. “Lemme see your account?”

Jason hesitated. “Why?”

“I bet you’ve gotten sponsor messages.” 

He snorted. “Yeah right.” He handed the phone over and watched over Dick’s shoulder. “…Didn’t know there were messages on this app.” His eyebrows crawled upward. “These people want to give me money?” 

“You need a manager,” Dick said promptly. “And a moderator to crack down on the horny comments.”

Jason physically recoiled. 

“That’s what I thought,” Dick said wryly. “I can get you a mod for free. I’ll manage your account for a modest 50% of your profit.” 

“Bullshit,” said Jason, despite thinking he’d make no money. “That can’t be the going rate for a manager. Fuck you. I’m going to ask Kory what she pays her manager.” He snatched back his phone and DMd her his question. “And why would anyone mod for free?” 

“A loser would do it,” said Dick. “And I know just the motivated loser. Anyway, how would you feel about doing a separate livestream where you eat?” He stuffed quiche in his mouth and talked around it. “Lonely people like that, they pretend they’re having a meal together. It’s a public service, Jaybird.” 

“Who on this goddamn earth would want to pretend they were eating with me?” Jason wondered. 

Dick eyed him. “Who indeed.” He sniffed. “I’ll do it for 30%, if you are gonna be so cold about it. I’m not in it for the money, I’m your brother,” he wheedled. 

“Your shitty cop job doesn’t pay for your lunches,” Jason said flatly. “Go get money from Bruce.” 

“Never.” Dick shoved the last of the quiche in his mouth so violently he actually choked. “Gotta go. I have your passwords now, I’ll set up sponsorships and pay out your stickers.” 

“Pay out what?” Jason asked, bemused. 

“My break is 30 minutes,” Dick hollered over his shoulder. “Gotta get back to 3rd in the next 4 seconds.”

“…You are a mess.” Jason watched Dick whirlwind out of his apartment less than five minutes after entering to steal his food and money he didn’t even know he had. “You’re gonna be at least ten minutes late.” 

“It’s fine, I’m ungovernable.” His footsteps thumped rapidly down the apartment stairs. A car tire screeched outside. A police siren started up and rapidly faded. 

Jason sighed. “Dinner with lonely people, huh?” He eyed his apartment. “I guess I could set up the table there…”

Tuesday 

12:51PM

“Good morning,” Jason greeted the camera. “Yeah,  yeah, it’s one pm. I just got up, so sue me.” He took a pointed sip of his morning drink. It was coffee this time. “I,” he said pointedly, “had a long night. And I need some comfort. So we are starting the day with cinnamon rolls.” He gestured to his oven. “I already have the first batch cooked and cooled, so you can see me ice it and eat.” He rolled his shoulders. “First, this bowl is going to be for my wet ingredients-” He blinked. “I don’t need a new bowl. I- why do you hate this bowl?” He tilted it, perplexed. “Do you all— okay, look, I’ll show you all my bowls and you will acknowledge the superiority of this particular bowl for this task.” Shaking his head, he extended up as far as he could reach to get the rest of the bowls down.

“...I still do not drink,” Jason scowled. He felt confused and vaguely uncomfortable. “Stop saying that, I don’t like it.” 

The chat listened, so whatever. He whipped up this batch of cinnamon rolls, set it to proof, and then got out his finished rolls to show the screen. “We need to make the frosting for these, but I am excited.” He let his voice rasp. “It’s gonna be way more than I can eat, but…” He shrugged. “Hey, meat? Why are you sending meat emojis– I can do you a good meaty dish tomorrow. Roast?” He brainstormed. “Steak, maybe, oh hell yeah, HawaiiHunk,  I could use some meat in me too,” he agreed. “Tomorrow, yup, you and me.” 

He cleared his throat and set out his supplies. “But first, let’s get that frosting.”

20 minutes later, once he had licked the frosting off his spoon, Jason showed a single perfect roll to the camera. “I’m going to sign off and have my breakfast now,” he said. Someone called GOATman said, “good job, it looks delicious.” He flashed them a smile.

“And then I guess I gotta find someone to shovel off my spare rolls to. Wish me luck.” He turned the stream off without checking what they were actually saying.

Wednesday

5:00 am

“Jason.” 

He stifled a shriek. “You’re an asshole.” Jason swore. He threw the shower curtain aside violently to glare at Tim. “I’m getting ready for bed, you little shit. You still follow my patrols?”

Tim stared at him with big, resentful eyes. There were bruises under both of them. “I heard you made cinnamon rolls. Heard a lot about that. Something about a carrot, too.”

“...Yeah.” Jason frowned at him. What a weird thing to say. “Did you get a concussion?”

“Put your clothes on,” Tim groused. He pushed himself off the counter and sauntered out of the room, as if he wasn’t the weirdo who had snuck into Jason’s home after patrol, followed him into the bathroom, and waited there.

Jason pulled on a t-shirt and shorts and made his way out to see Tim’s baleful stare. “What,” he said gently, “the fuck?” He made a shoo gesture. “I didn’t say I was open to strays.”

“Should I tell Kon that he isn’t getting any of your cinnamon rolls or quiche?” Tim said waspishly.

Jason reeled a bit. Kon? Leather jacket Superboy? The hell did he have to do with anything?

There was a more salient point to address.

‘Why does he know what I’ve been cooking?’

Jason pointed at him. “You’re creeping on me again. Do you have an alert set for anytime I send a text?” He sneered. “And yeah, I am not cooking for you or your friends. Besides, the quiche is gone.”

Tim let out a violent huff. “I wish I heard less about you.” He waved a hand. “But, yeah, Kon can give up any hope?”

“What,” said Jason, “the Hell are you talking about?” He frowned. “Hope for what? Does he wanna learn to cook or something?” 

He momentarily considered that. Kon was a C list celebrity. That was exactly the type of guy you might invite as a guest to your livestream.

Tim eyed him. Jason stared back. “Nothing.” Tim rolled his eyes. “To be very clear, you would never for a moment consider Kon as-”

“I never think about the guy,” Jason cut him off. “He’s a nice guy, does good work. But you’re being so fuckin weird. Take the plate of cinnamon rolls over there and get the fuck out of my house.”

Once Tim had been shoved out the door, Jason went to bed. He woke up again at 1 in the afternoon and started to set up for his next live stream.

That was a lie.

He intended to wake up at 1. Instead, he sat up from a dead sleep at 10:32 am when Dick banged on his door, dragging along his dumb cop partner and an armful of shitty coffees.

“I hate you,” Jason croaked. He wiped the protein from his eyes and snatched a drink.

“Everyone does,” commented the other cop.

Dick snorted a laugh, but both of them looked at her. “Why are you here, pig?” Jason asked pointedly.

She sniffled. “Oink, oink,” she said pointedly, and stole a cinnamon roll off the counter. “Because prettyboy is taking a break from ending the corruption of the Bludhaven cops in order to benefit from the corruption of the Bludhaven cops by selling access to his shitty little brother online.” She peeled the cinnamon roll open.

Dick pointed at her. “Amy, you said you’d be nice to me.”

She took a very large bite of her cinnamon roll and flipped him off with a smile.

“...Fair enough,” Jason said, and turned his tired glare at his shitty elder brother. “Why are you even up this early, I swear you were up as late as I was.” 

Dick hefted his ass onto Jason’s clean countertop and ignored the strangled sound he made. “I have an intricate system of micro naps at traffic stops and unimportant meetings. I can get by on as little as two hours of sleep at night.”

“What happens if you miss one?” Jason asked, darkly curious.

“His whole life falls apart,” Amy said, talking with cinnamon roll in her mouth still. Jason gave her a disgusted look. 

Dick waved that off. “Anyway, did you see that Kory messaged you? She wants to do a collab.” His brilliant smile faltered for a millisecond. “That would get views.” He smiled winsomely.

“...This hurts you,” Jason observed, reluctantly fascinated. “Why are you doing this? You don’t want me to hang out with your ex-fiance.” He cocked his head to the side. “Have you considered telling her that you want her back?”

“I never look back,” Dick lied breezily. “How about Raven? She’s open to a cooking video. Or.” He looked pained. “Kon. He has been messaging. A lot. He’s watching your streams.” 

“...This does seem more Kon’s speed,” said Jason, thinking of all the times he had seen that motherfucker scarf down chilidogs or nachos on camera. “Kind of below Kory, honestly. Raven?” His voice tilted upward in disbelief. “She’s your friend, not mine. Why don’t you do some kind of stream with your friends?” Jason shrugged. “If you like it, I mean.”

“I’m done modeling,” Dick said. “The body shaming really got to me.” He ran a hand up his perfect body and gave a little shrug. 

“That also why you’re done with a career as a world-class athlete?” Amy asked wryly. “Your career trajectory is the garbage can. I know why I’m giving parking tickets for 12 dollars an hour, but it’s just insulting that you’re here. Take your shitty Dad’s money.”

“Never,” Dick vowed. “So, collab with Raven? Great! She’ll be here tomorrow at noon.”

“I will kill you!” Jason shouted, but it was no use. The fucker was already halfway out the door.

Amy toasted him with the remainder of the cinnamon roll. “I’ve been making him buy us all donuts with what he’s making from your streams,” she told him.

Jason thought that over. “I guess you’re alright for a pig.”

She saluted him on her way out.

He managed to get a little more sleep before his stream. “I might have a guest tomorrow,” he told his viewers idly as he set up. “Feel free to guess who. My shitty manager is setting it up.”

Some of the world’s worst guesses rolled down the screen– Amanda Waller, President Luthor, Nightwing. 

Jason accidentally laughed. “No, uh, none of them.” He snickered. “Think younger.” He blinked. “No, probably not you, HawaiiHunk, you goddamn flirt,” Jason shook his head. “You better watch your ass, I think I have a mod today.”

Someone sent the salute emoji. “That you?” Jason squinted. “GOATman– greatest of all time man?” He snickered. “Everyone is on notice.”

The guy was vicious. The first time HawaiiHunk commented “ur sooo sexi babe,” he got a warning. 

A while later the mod said, “This is your final warning.” Jason looked up to see what the poor thirsty idiot had said. He snorted involuntarily when he saw that HawaiiHunk apparently wanted to be the dough. He wanted to see where this was going. 

“Ignore himmmmm,” said Sparklefairy. She somehow sent an explosion of glitter over his stream. Dollar emojis scattered. 

Jason raised an eyebrow and put some muscle into the bread he was kneading. 

‘Are some of them trying to buy my attention?’ he wondered, bemused. ‘Should I tell them I’m an independently wealthy criminal? I feel like I’m tricking them.’

HawaiiHunk typed up, “I’m so wet.” 

Jason stuck his tongue out and then shuddered dramatically. “That’s not my business, I don’t need to know that.” 

“That’s it,” said GOATman, a fantastic mod. “Blocked.” The official notification appeared a moment later.

“Goodbye, HawaiiHunk.” Jason saluted with a laugh. “And let that be a warning to the rest of you.”

GOATman sent the salute emoji and was immediately copied by others in a flood. Jason had to laugh.

That night, before patrol, Jason sat with a frown, scrolling through his comment section. He barely noticed when Spoiler sat her ass down beside him and started doing her inventory check. He did notice when she leaned into his space to see what he was looking at. 

“Dude, what the hell?”

Jason shrugged. “I don’t know. Look at this weird shit people are saying.” He tilted his phone screen. “Raw,” he repeated, disbelievingly. “Raw. My meat is not raw.” 

Stephanie choked on air.  

“I cook all my meat– I cooked it to 65C.” Jason gestured pointedly. 

“What, uh… Are you streaming?” Stephanie looked at him with wild eyes. “So, uh, these are fans?”

He looked at her. “Does it mean something?”

“...Yeah,” she said, after a suspiciously long pause. “It’s slang. They like you.”

“So it’s not about my meat?” Jason clarified.

“It is kind of about your meat.” Stephanie swallowed, hard. “I, uh– I think that we should… We should go. On patrol.” She pushed herself off the ledge and did a flip. “Time to hit the streets.” She flashed him a pretty, toothy smile, and then was gone.

Jason was not an idiot. Stephanie was avoiding telling him something embarrassing. 

Whatever. There was something off about it. He had caught that on his own, even if he didn’t know what. Maybe they were mocking him. The concept sent a sick feeling through his gut. But– she wasn’t a liar. It was overall positive, whatever it was. 

“It’s gonna be some pop culture shit I missed.” He grimaced. He wasn’t that old, but he felt old as balls sometimes. “I don’t need to be cool.” 

That affirmation hanging in the air, he blew out his bangs and then scraped them back so they wouldn’t plaster to his forehead with sweat when he went on patrol. He zipped his jacket closed and swung a leg over his motorcycle. Time to go.

[prlssprfctn]

Going off the post about jason reading and walking into things—

I saw something about the manor being rebuilt during his time away from Gotham so when he gets back he keeps running into walls cause the doors have moved and now combine that with him reading. As Jaybin he probably figured out where obstacles were so he could walk around them even while reading. RH jason on the other hand still operates on those same walking patterns and ends up face planting into walls.

he takes two seconds to look up from his book and recalibrate and then moves to where the door actually is

it is all fun and jokes until you think how much it frustrates and sends him to panic, the realisation that he doesn't seem to remember the layout of the rooms any more. had someone told him about the reconstruction? i don't think it ever came up in the conversation, and it already happened quite a time ago, so everyone forgot about it.

so, Jason puzzles himself if he forgot all of it. if he is so lost within it.

Bruce catches Jason spacing out when he bumps in the table that in his mind is supposed to be slightly more on the left than it usually is. Bruce thinks he just hurt himself somehow harshly, not realising that Jason is spiralling.

all of that until Tim remembers about the reconstruction once, in the midst of conversation, and Jason just freezes.

and sighs in relief.

or maybe it never comes up, actually. maybe Jason just frantically restudies the layout of the Manor over again, because he cannot allow himself to forget it.

[prlssprfctn]

love and grief anon here again, and i'm branching off of your last point of the JLA meeting Jason and being like "???? this is not what Batman said you were like" and it got me thinking about how much bruce's grief WARPED Jason's memory.

Like he knows that he's a cautionary tale, 'reckless, violent, angry, A Good Soldier.'

But thinking about older Jason wondering if anyone in the batfam remembers what his laugh sounded like, or how good he was at school, or how much he loved theatre and music or how he took his tea, and realizing that those parts of him didn't survive Bruce's grief and the character assassination of a kind too kind for his own good child who just wanted someone to love him enough to believe in him or trust him.

And older Jason revealing his identity to the JL and Diana and Clark just fighting the anger at Bruce keeping him from them and wanting to embrace Jason and never letting him go and then think about their interactions with Red Hood till then, and maybe Diana goes "ofc it was you. No one else quite had your flair for the theatrical. I missed you"

And Jason just sobs because someone remembers HIM. Who he was, and what he was like. And maybe for the first time in a long time he feels like a person, not like a corpse standing in the shadow of the memory of boy who didn't really exist.

And maybe the other Bats look on as Jason cries and mutters "thankyouthankyouthankyou" on repeat and have no idea what to think, and they're all slightly perturbed and awkward but they hear Jason's voice again.

"Aunty Di" and he's looking up pleadingly, and maybe kind of scared, beacuse the love he's experienced from Bruce not his father has been conditional on adherrence to his rules.

But Diana is a Warrior, and she understands so she just wipes his tears and says "Dear boy, to have endured so much and still be so kind. You've been so strong, and I'm sorry that you had to, but I'm glad you are alive and well."

Ksksoiwjwjso just Jason hearing that he's loved for who he IS currently, not just who or what he used to be, and all of that mounting grief of the family that wants the phantom of the boy they made him out to be in their minds, refusing to acknowledge the heartbroken, desperate boy that's right in front of them, who keeps getting hurt but keeps going back, and him finally letting go of it, only for them to finally understand, just a bit too late

the most insufferable person (me) just felt on her knees in a public place after reading this, btw.

something-something about Jason keeping strong after everything that happened to him, only ever offering snark when he is hurt, and then crumbling in the instant Diana takes his face in her hands, and smiles at him, saying — after everything, it is still you. it all that takes him to just let go all pain he cradled to his chest.

i feel like Diana really would see all the path Jason went through and be understanding. maybe even a little surprised because in her home, people like Jason are treated like heroes and legends, their return home is a celebration, so how come this boy came back to have no one wanting him back, to be so cruelly misunderstood?

and imagine Jason finally letting all of that go after being acknowledged and understood. just starting a new. people catch him here and there with Diana afterwards, too, discussing his journey, chatting about books, swords. imagine Bruce hearing a familiar laughter in the halls of the Watchtower, feeling haunted by the ghost of the boy he lost again. except, when he opens the door, he realises that it is Jason tagging along with Diana. his son, who is alive, had been for a while. he just never realised how similar he is to the boy he mourned.

[prlssprfctn]

Pit Maddness but instead of it being an excuse for all the wrong Jason does (which is nothing because he has done nothing wrong) it's instead just a guy in his head who is happy to have a new friend so he's here to hype Jason up with everything and anything.

The Lazarus Pit being used primarily by Ra's, it gets boring. He's an old man that likes to stay in his palace all day and the Pit needs *enrichment*. So when this kid who gets tossed into his waters, he is ready to become his ride or die, and that's what theater kid Jason needs. And being years and years old, he's got ideas of his own to help him out.

Jason: My perfectly mentally stable family seems to be hallucinating me since I've died. I'm going to haunt them.

Pit: You should recreate the buildup to your death by calling them from a random warehouse that is rigged to explode and each time they are too late to save you.

Jason adding that to his list of ways to psychologically torture his family plus the physical toll of them dealing with Red Hood while grinning happily.

It's Fathers' Day but Jason and Bruce got into an argument the night before.

Jason: He has plenty of children who will celebrate with him. I don't need to be there.

Pit: Find one of his exes and celebrate with them. I'd either go with Harvey or Minhkhoa. They'd love to rub it in his face.

Jason running to his car because that's a perfect idea. They can be a part of his growing cast of parental figures (-Bruce).

This is why Ra's said that Jason was a curse upon this world. A menace with an eternal supporter.

-🐳

I AM GIGGLING—

Jason reassures everyone that post Lazarus effects are annoying sometimes, and Bats just assume that it is about rage and pain, and whatever angsty stuff their paranoid brain come up with. except, Jason just means that Lazarus is always yapping. the worst part? Jason loves their ideas. it is his personal little enabler.

that being said, i remember someone on Twitter (i think) saying that Lady Bird car scene is Batman and Robins, thus:

Bruce: *criticizing Red Hood's ways to work while they are riding back home in the Batmobile*

Pit: open the front door and jump off the car. he would never recover and repeat the same mistake.

Jason: lol. yeah. thanks for idea!

Bruce: that's why we—

Jason: *jumps off the car, while it is on the high-speed*

Bruce: *high-pitched yell*

also, Pit encouraging Jason to spend time with Bruce's exes that haunt him for ages? absolutely. not to mention that it briefly witnessed Ghostbat's shenanigans while they were in the League, so—

Jason, sitting on the debrief, feeling particularly angsty because Bruce literally ignores his existence in the room, in his thoughts: god, i wish i found a way to ignore him back, you know

Pit: just call Ghost-maker.

Jason:

Jason: fuck, yeah

*on the other side of city*

Ghostmaker, staring at Jason's message with "wanna annoy B? come and pick me up from the cave":

Ghostmaker, wiping fake tears: Bruce was right. being a part of family means the world on good days.

[prlssprfctn]

When Jason first gets to sit down on the passenger seat of the car with Bruce, as a civilian, Bruce doesn't notice it instantly, but his son's legs don't quite reach the bottom of the car — they are a tad shorter. He is a tad shorter. Then, in the middle of their road, a police car pulls them up, and the officer stares at the pair of clueless father and son and bursts out in the laughter.

"Sir... Mister Wayne, your son can not sit there. He needs to be back and at a special seat for children."

Bruce blinks.

"Oh, he is not— Jason is too old for that."

"I am sorry. It is required by the height, not age."

Bruce turns around to face flustered, embarrassed Jason, who always insists that he is old enough for basically anything in this world, and he can't help it. He smiles, completely overwhelmed by this whole thing.

His baby son.

"Alright, thanks for warning. We will do just that."

As soon as the police are out of the picture, Jason bursts out in the string of complaints, whines, and genuinely distressed remarks about how he is not a child, never will be, and it is so stupid.

Bruce smiles all the ride back.

They still order him a child seat and he hates it.

The Batmobile from the other side doesn't have it, and they don't need it to.

Still, much later, when Bruce — Batman — opens the door, for the first time since Jason became Robin, he tries to settle his son on the backseat, not a passenger one. He cradles him to his chest before gently putting him on the leather couch. Jason's body is small and fragile, though this time his feet reach the bottom of the car. His head is lolling a little bit, and it takes two attempts from Bruce to prop it properly.

He ignores the blood that instantly spoils the car.

"My baby son," he murmurs softly, reaching to pat his curls. "My sweet baby."

This time, Jason holds no complaints. His bloodied lips with blooming bruises are pressed in a thin line, and Bruce closes his eyes, trying to ignore his cold, dead eyes.

He closes the door of the car and sniffles as his nostrils get scorched from the odour of the burning down warehouse on the background.

It is April 27th.

And his son is dead.

[prlssprfctn]

When I was a kid (and older I never learned), I’d read books while walking, even at dusk while walking home from lessons. This resulted such incidents as: slamming into a parked car, walking into a telephone, walking into a glass door, tripping down some stairs in my house, nearly knocking myself on a low hanging light fixture. Just imagining little Jason walking around the manor, nose in a book, and an ABSOLUTE HAZARD to himself, driving Bruce insane. Ugh, thinking of an older Jason reintegrating into the family and he’s right back at it again- he never learns his lesson!

totally can see Bruce thanking the God because he can finally stop worrying over his son (Dick was doing flips through roofs of Gotham, but Jason is tame like that), only for Jason to read while doing anything and everything and having zero of thoughts about his surroundings. his happiness never last long.

Bruce: hey, lad, can you come to the first floor?

Jason, humming: sure

*the loud crashing sound*

Bruce, anxious: lad?!

Bruce, staring at Jason, who seemingly fell from the stairs but continues absolutely indifferently laying on his back, reading Virgina Wolf: ...

Bruce, sighing: okay

and you would think this is something Jason would outgrow eventually... expect, it gets worse when he becomes Red Hood. at least Jaybin would sometimes register pain and get a wake-up call. Red Hood? no feel of any pain of whotsever. add him constantly getting dissociated and catching derealisations after his death, and it is an awful combo. Bruce is spiralling without a no end.

Tim, squinting: guys, is that Hood on his favourite gargoyle with a book?

Dick, focused on whoever they are hunting down: probably, no one but him gets to sit on that ugly thing anyway. why?

Tim: ...he is falling from the building as we speak

Bruce: *jumps off the building to catch him*

i also raise you this: Tim and Damian play a game throw paper ball in Jason, who reads and whoever is being caught by Jason on it, ends up losing. the second possibility to lose comes if Bruce catches them doing that. definitely will get you scolding and warning glance. Jason also won't notice Bruce rubbing softly his forehead afterwards.

[prlssprfctn]

Okay saw a meme and now its rooted in my brain- If someone screamed "HEY NERD-" to the batfam members (or any dc characters you wish to include), who would turn? and if so why or why not? Like what's their internal reasoning of "Ah shit must be me-"

-@batfambrainrotbeloved

THIS IS HILARIOUS, SO HERE IS MY TAKE ON IT:

Jason: instantly turns around. no questions. he is too used to being bullied for this. turns around and starts screaming back;

Tim: see, there are two scenarios — he either turns around all by himself while rolling his eyes, or he tries to ignore it, and Stephanie ends up elbowing him and saying "well, they are calling you";

Barbara: the nerdest nerd to ever exist. won't turn around. will, however, nonchalantly start reading aloud your ip address without getting distracted from the task at the hand;

Bruce: nowadays, he is too old to anyone call him that, BUT his eye (and neck) twitch a little in a familiar crisp of memory of his youth. he remembers it all too well;

Damian: no one, but his family has guts to call him nerd, so he is not actively used to being addressed like this. will assume someone calls Tim or Jason, but he is also in the gang. will murmur "at least I have brain to be called that," though.

[prlssprfctn]

Do you know that fic— 'Jason and the Three Terrors', I think it was?

Well, back when I was reading it (a few years ago, before I lost the chapter I was in) I used to frequently have this dream where Jason finally arrived at Bruce with the kiddies, riding a sort of vehicle (one of those things you see they use in movies when they're in a studio, but this had truck wheels). No, I don't mean at Bruce's. He literally drove towards the man, turned barely in time, dropped the children at his feet, and sent the car right to the very obvious ninjas behind them. Then let himself fall to the floor and said he was going to sleep for the next year and not to wake him up.

Btw, that Bruce was in a very public event. He was lowkey having a breakdown about the guy who looks like his dead son when the little boy in front of him presented himself as his son.

Sometimes I remember this dream and think on finishing reading that fic, but always get distracted somehow.

This is dream anon btw.

dream anon. your brain is so interesting. /gen

i am going insane how many genius scenarios you have stocked here.

[prlssprfctn]

epilogue!!!!!!!!!!!!!! can you believe it? we are done! hope you enjoyed it as much as i did, and i promise the ending will soothe your soul.

your local writer is back with something. you can read it here, and i promise that it will have a happy ending, you just need to wait!

[prlssprfctn]

[prlssprfctn]

Hi. It's me again.

So, since there are so many 'Jaybin haunts people' and 'people hallucinate Jaybin' hcs and fics and AUs, what about— after Duke and Jason start getting close (close for Jason and batfamily, at least), Duke starts seeing Jason's core inner self at his side (Jason's).

Maybe as a combination of the long time he was dead, the time he was in coma + the time he was catatonic + all the supernatural/magic shenanigans he went through or has going on, part of Jason's soul/feelings/inner thoughts sometimes takes an astral form when he's feeling too much/thinking something strongly.

It's harmless and doesn't have any side effects. Even more, it would be completely unknown to everyone if Duke hadn't start seeing him.

Now Duke is like one of those chinese novels where a character suddenly can hear someone's monologue and has to fight hard to keep a normal face because the outside doesn't match at all what he's thinking.

In part because he's a super cheesy, squishy plushy pile of slime inside a lot of the time. In part because he doesn't just say the most ridiculous lines unprompted, he also says way more to himself. He's not even trying to be funny, he just thinks like the love child of a shitpost and Shakespeare.

And then there's the things he doesn't say because he thinks everyone already knows. Both as 'one of the things no one talks about' and as 'this is obviously common knowledge, right?'. Just, obscure random facts at the most unexpected time.

There's also the gap between Jaybin, who just hugs him when it's his turn and is over all a really fun kid, and younger Jay, who seems like he needs a hug but would bite you if you tried to touch him, and a teenage Jason, who is older than Jaybin but a few years younger than Jason-Jason and is full of snark and looks just tired. They all have different dispositions but are still very much the same person. Curiously, Duke has yet to see an older Jason that matches his outward looks.

At some point he could also just tell him about the Jay's. He'd be mortified but later he could try to make Duke laugh out loud at the worst moments just by thinking.

wow, this so heartbreaking to read in the early morning you cannot imagine.

the mixture of humour but angst in Jason's head, both unintentional, is killing me. i don't think either of these kids realise just how tiring it could be, to be them, to have their thoughts, to live like this. the can of worms constantly swarming in your thoughts, reminiscing of all things that hurt you, that despair you, and that beginning from the very early age—

imagine standing next to little pre-Robin Jason, and all you hear in his mind is constant questions like: will mom survive tonight? can i scrap us a little more money? will father ever return from the jail? will i die tonight? is there any food?

and then you have Jaybin, whose thoughts a tad lighter — at least, he thinks of books, school, or family — but it eventually spirals as well in: will Bruce kick me out once? am i a washed out Robin? why i am still hungry? why does everyone on galas hate me so much? i miss my mom.

but let me add this: catatonic Jason is there, too. like a ghost, sometimes, he disappears. sometimes, just stares before himself. but there are no much of thoughts. just a repetitive string of Bruce and dad, all over again. and the more you listen to him, the more you start understanding what each of it means in different times.

angst aside! the son of Shakespeare and shitpost is KILLING ME, and it is so incredible real, and i felt it so much. stealing it.

Jason's thoughts jumping from one to another, which results Duke hearing this:

"what a one ends up becoming if his roots are deep in rotten ground and— omg, lmao, babies camels are so funny. wait, they are called calfs. anyway—"

(probably, Jaybin's thoughts during a fight)

[prlssprfctn]

https://www.tumblr.com/prlssprfctn/779665893874679808/hi-i-dont-know-what-the-art-style-is-called?source=share

Maybe collage? Idk when I was in art class a girl did that and our teacher called it collage?

Idk but loved it? Collage is such a great way to combine things!

yess, sounds similiar! hehe

[prlssprfctn]

I recently read a couple of fics where Jason is chosen by the Lantern corps, specifically the Star Sapphires, because he's so full of love, but that love is also grief, and loss and betrayal and he struggles to use his ring because for all the love he has he struggles to love himself. And the Green Laterns see this young man so full of love but so sad and just think "what the fuck batman i thought you said he was reckless and dangerous?!"

I love the idea that Zamoroans look at Jason and go, "how is there so much love and loss in one human?". I think there is infinite potential.

so, if you love thinking about Jason and grief, you would love my last fanfic— (gunshots)

jokes aside, THIS. i think this is a thing about Jason that the most people fail to understand — just how full of love and grief he is above everything. all his emotions come from it, not the other way around. he truly did it all for love. he protects because he loves people, especially family members, so deeply. he sacrifices himself for it. he yearns love. he fights for it. and in the end, he dies because he loves so naively, so overwhelmingly, too. and that is his tragedy.

even Garzonas case is ultimately about Jason loving his people, loving Crime Alley, loving these, who deserve to get avenged.

his rage spills not from hatred but from love.

and i adore fics where League members first team up with Red Hood, and their whole perception shatters a little because that is not exactly what they imagined him to be at all. and considering how most of them are metas, aliens, etc, there is always a special layer to their acknowledgement.

[prlssprfctn]

hello! may i have some of your thoughts on ghostmaker pretty please thank you <3 (read: i am giving you an excuse to ramble so PLS do)

i am no better than Bruce Wayne because I went absolutely feral over Ghostmaker's name in my inbox. MINHKHOA KHAN, THE MAN YOU ARE—

you know, i genuinely think that he is one of the best characters out of there, and it happened absolutely accidentally on DC's part. there was a discourse regarding his character once, and how lowkey racistic it was on DC's part, because while he is the first Singaporean character out of there, his name (from what I read, please, tell me more if you have some information on it) lowkey sounds nothing like Singaporean and gives off a mockery vibe to some people. and atop of that, they added him ASPD, which they often condemn in comics. but if they truly tried to demonise him, then they FAILED. because he is great. he is really great.

(almost as that one time when they tried to demonise Jason by talking about he protects prostitutes and wants to see awful pedos dead, lmaooo—)

but anyway, i think Khoa is one of the most fascinating characters out of there. and i love seeing ASPD characters if they are written nicely and bring more to the table than cliche maniacs stories.

i wish they gave him more screen-time and more arc to his duo with Bao Pham because there could be a place for some interesting duo if they ever decided to return the whole Ghost-maker wants sidekick, too, thing—

also, honestly, any other ship w Bruce stopped working with me after I found out about Ghostbat, and to this day, I am a firm believer that it is the best ship with Bruce along with Batcat. nothing else works for me, and I might be biased, but nothing else would work for Bruce in a realistic setting, too.

[prlssprfctn]

say all hi to fifth chapter, we are getting closer to the finishing line of this journey. bats trying in communication and simultaneously failing and succeeding--

your local writer is back with something. you can read it here, and i promise that it will have a happy ending, you just need to wait!

[prlssprfctn]

I know we love discussing Jason being hater in Internet (which is very true, and I think he simultaneously does it from both his own name and Red Hood, depending on who/what he hates at the given moment), but I suggest you this: Jason has an anonymous account to defend his favs on internet. Specifically, vigilantes and superheroes. Specifically, his family members or friends.

And no one needs to know that.

Jason, from his fake account: I think Batman fumbled the case, tbh. But we gotta give some respect to Robin, he did great.

Someone replying to him: Right??? Batman is getting old and predictable, lmao

Jason, in the instant: Lol, what would YOU know about Batman. Watch your goddamn mouth. Idiots like you are alive because Batman is in this town.

Random on internet: Uhh, Arsenal? Lol. Isn't that one Arrow's boy that became a junkie, lolol.

Jason, appearing out of nowhere: *five thousand word essay about Arsenal, his merits, and how insensitive society that ends up with passive-agressive "hope it helps!" sentence*

Random hater: Red Robin is easily the most useless bird in Bats, idc.

Jason, spawning in comments: Say that again

Of course, if you try to question Jason about that matter, he will never admit it. In fact, he often switches accounts if he feels like any of Bats are close to finding out who is writing these furious reddit posts, but. But Barbara knows. And every time Jason tries to bully someone in the family in real life, she can't help but tease him subtly.

Jason: Urgh, man, you suck. How could you miss these idiots?

Tim, frustruated: Fuck off

Barbara, in comms: User "WonderSon" would drag your ass for bullying Red, btw.

Tim: Yes, he fucking wouldddd

Jason: ...

Jason: *tired sigh*