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There is a specific thing that I love the most in Jason Todd centric fics — the slow build-up of the trust between him and his family members once things start fixing.

Not an instant "We talked once and hugged him, all good now", but the "Yeah, we just spoke, and things seem clearer, but I am still guarded and distrusting, so nothing special happens", because, honestly, with the amount of trauma it won't work otherwise.

Give me more Jason, who is not used to hugs and touches — who flinches if his family initiates it or just freezes awkwardly, not really responding back. Give me more Jason, who still carefully picks out what to say to his family — he bothers to filter his thoughts now, since they have a truce, but he still doesn't trust them with everything; especially his feelings. The Batfam, who is happy at changes at first, until they realise that they are not moving anywhere forward, they are just stuck on neutral point — they still don't know much about Jason, and he still feels tense around them. Jason, who is too afraid to move their relationship anywhere further, because he can't risk ruining a fragile peace now. So, he overthinks his actions and what to say (would Bruce be mad if he knew that I got involved with helping juvenile kids, does he still think that I am a bad influence? Will Dick get sad if he finds out I am hanging out with Roy and Kory again? Will Tim and Damian—) and chooses to stay silent. Too quiet. Almost shy.

It is an unfamiliar sight for the others, but Bruce stares at him, seeing the freshly adopted Jason again, too cautious and scared, afraid of being thrown back on the streets.

And he thinks it was easier to deal with it when he wasn't the one to cause these intrusive thoughts.

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Bruce, giving teen!Jason the shittiest car driving lesson ever: And remember, if you still hadn't figured out how to park, and a police officer tries to fine you for that, just tell your name backwards. The CGPD has too much job to actually search for you afterwards. They will just have a pile on your name in their department. And I didn't tell you that, but their system hadn't been updated well for ages. So, they won't be able to tell for sure if you are lying about your name or not. 16!Jason, nodding: Sounds cool. Bruce: ...It is not cool, but Alfred said it works, so we listen to Alfred.

(Years later, pre-reveal)

Batman, standing on the rooftop: So, Jim... anything new? Jim Gordon: Yeah, you know, nothing, actually. Except for an asshole, whose parking fines are filling my whole fucking cabinet. He keeps putting his bike anywhere he wants, especially next to our building - an audacity! - and then, disappears after receiving a fine. I can't find him anywhere. Batman, chuckling: That's smart. Jim Gordon: Yeah, fuck him. Tason Jodd, my ass. Who fucking names their kid like that? Batman, with his smile disappearing: ...What. Jim Gordon: What? Batman: ...Jim. I need you to call me the next time this guy appears. Jim Gordon, concerned: Hey, this is just a teenager. It is fine, no need to break his spine or something- Batman: Use Bat-signal next time you see him. I am serious. Jim Gordon: ...What the hell. Sure?

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Tim: Okay, we will just keep it in a secret for a while...

Dick: Oh, how hard it can be, anyway?

Damian: Right. No one wants to remember this.

Jason, spawning behind their backs: You suck at being secretive. What's up?

Dick, giggling nervously: A-ah, Little Wing, uh—

Jason: Well? Whatever it is, I am going to find it out one way or another.

Tim: Promise not to freak out? It is about Bruce.

Jason, crossing fingers behind his back: Promise.

Damian: Father had found himself a new love interest. And it is unbecoming.

Jason, confused: Uh, alright? Why would I care—

Tim, blurting out: It is Joe Chill's daughter.

Jason: Who tf—

Jason: ...Joe Chill, like Martha and Thomas Wayne's killer Joe Chill?

Dick: ...Yeah. That one guy.

Jason: ...

Jason: Yeah, honestly, the fuck I expected when I asked him to kill Joker... He can't even avenge his own ass. Not just that. HE DATES HIS DAUGHTER?

Damian: ...My mother is literally right here.

Dick: Or auntie Selina.

Tim: And Clark. Or even Oliver. Or even Hal—

Jason: I am so *not* joining family dinners anymore.

Dick: Yeah... Anyway, B asked to keep it away from Alfred for a while.

Alfred, ominously appearing in the dark corner of the room: It is a little bit late, gentlemen.

Boys: (nervous gulping)

Alfred, surprisingly calm: Of course, we shall not blame children for sins of their parents. I believe this woman could be better than her father ever was.

Alfred: I am happy for master Bruce. Of course.

Alfred: By the way, do you, boys, prefer poison or bullet?

Dick, nervous: Hey, I am pretty sure the poor girl—

Alfred: Who said anything about the lady?

Tim, whistling: Well, Cass would be delighted to inherit a cowl so soon...

Jason: Okay, you all, let's all just do whatever we think Thomas and Martha would like us to do in this situation...

Dick: Yeah, they probably would be happy for—

Alfred: Thomas would choose a gun.

Boys: (nervous giggle)

Dick, whispering: I'll message B to leave the town.

Tim: Ask him to hide at Kent's. Maybe he can still be saved.

Jason: I'll message Mama Cat. Someone needs to fuck his brain back.

Damian: ...I rather not bother mother. Either way, she will kill Father faster than Alfred will.

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Jason genuinely thanks people who tell him they love him. it catches people off guard bc he doesn't say "love you too" he says "thank you" and at first it sounds kind of cocky until they look at his face he has the most sincere and heartbreaking expression on planet earth, like the words really aren't something he's used to hearing, and to be the object of someone's love is like an immense occasion for gratitude. he says thank you like he's acknowledging that he's not easy to love, and that it's WORK, that it's some troublesome chore. Meanwhile, the person who said I love you is like: "bby NO--"

Jason seeing himself as high maintenance bc so many people make him feel like a burden. But the friends who genuinely love and accept him are like "could you be a bit more needy? we want to take care of you. can you need us? can you ask us for help? can you bother us? burden us please." (bc jason's version of being high maintenance is asking for the bare minimum of care)

I can just picture it so clearly. Roy or someone just being like "no I care because I love you." and Jason's like "that's a shit ton of work. are you sure?" and after seven consecutive months of self sabotage in the friendship, Roy says it again, "I care bc I love you" and Jason is finally like 'well he hasn't left yet... so something about this must be true and if it is... God Roy doesn't deserve the headache I am' and all he can say back is "thank you" like it comes from the depths of his heart.

and Roy is like, on the verge of tears: "WHY ARE YOU THANKING ME LIKE IM FULFILLING SOME TASK??" and Jason's like "??? are you not???"

@prlssprfctn <- this was cooked up in the chat between us lol

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Continuing my agenda about Bruce and Jason becoming the most annoying and dramatic people after fixing their relationship, and making others roll their eyes, because, come on, we all need that. And because Bruce is as dramatic as others; he kinda technically was inspired by Zorro when becoming Batman, alright? That tells a lot.

Anyway, no thoughts, just Bruce and Jason annoying everyone with being the most melodramatic duo ever.

Jason, appearing in the Batcave out of the sudden, swaying a little: Hey Dick, worried: Hey. Are you okay? You rarely drop by like this... Jason, stopping by Bruce's armchair, dramatically slumping over: I... I came here today, because I lost my last battle... Bruce, who senses his bullshit, but plays along: Oh no, champ, what's wrong? Dick, activating mother-hen: SHOULD WE CALL ALFRED? ARE YOU- Jason, sniffling: Battle... Battle with... Loneliness. Bruce, with a short smile on his face: (theatrically puts Britney's Baby One More Time exactly on "My loneliness is killing me" line) Dick, groaning: YOU BOTH-

Jason, spawning in the middle of the day in WE, behind Bruce's back: Old man, protocol 222. Asap. You have five minutes. Bruce, standing up abruptly: Oh, okay. Bruce, with his stern father voice on: Jason, you are disowned. Jason: Fuck you!!! Tim, who was sitting in the same cabinet, watching as Jason storms off: Excuse me? Bruce: He is either watching some movie or reads a book about daddy issues, so he needs to get into a mood. Please, continue your analysis. Tim: ...What the fuck.

Duke: I was always a little curious... What was your father like? No pressure, you don't need to answer if you don't want to. Jason: Well- Bruce, popping out of nowhere: How come you don't know what kind of father I am? Duke: Oh, no, I meant Jason's biological fa- Bruce, frowning: I am his biological father. Jason, because he is no less shit: Yeah, damn, didn't want to tell others, especially to Damian, since he will freak out... But apparently Bruce had a one-night stand thing with my bio mama. It is kinda a secret. Bruce, very pleased: Yeah. It is a secret... but you can probably say that, considering how alike we look. Jason: (nods) Duke, absolutely believing this shit, because had you seen this fucking family: Oh. Ok. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. Jason, beaming: Thanks, dude. That's why you are my favourite.

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Contrary to the common belief, Alfred has a life outside the Wayne Manor. And some friends in the town.

Mostly, it is people his age that he met during his grocery shopping, of course, but then there is also an old, nursing home close to the Park Row that he visits occasionally to rest from his family and to get the understanding from people as wise as him. His visits are not entirely stable (he can disappear for months, and then start visiting again, depending on his family's schedule), but anytime he is back, others greet him with welcoming hugs and lists of gossips that he missed out.

So, once, Alfred disappears for a month, and when he comes back, his friends tell him that their nursing home got itself a new friend. He is naturally curious, but not much - it either would be some woman from their neighbourhood as usual, or, maybe, some mailman.

Expect, it is fucking Red Hood that they are talking about.

Alfred is in the middle of his chess game, when Red Hood appears on the doorstep with three bags of groceries, and others just... go to hug him.

Of course, Alfred heard of the new criminal lord; he was poisoning Bruce's life for months now. But did he expect to meet him here, from all places? No, not really. And according to how Red Hood froze as their eyes crossed, he didn't wait to find him here either. Bruce suspected that Red Hood knew their identities for a while now, and this reaction on a mere butler of Bruce Wayne, almost a physical recoil, only proved it.

Despite his best judgment, Alfred, however, pretends that nothing unusual happened. Red Hood, too, plays into that - he spends the rest of the evening talking with old ladies, helping to fix broken furniture, and just being very polite, without ever approaching Alfred.

Once he leaves, one of the elderly ladies that cooed on Red Hood the most, proudly shares with Alfred all details - yes, it is Red Hood, but he is a sweetheart. Yes, he buys them food, and fixes stuff. Yes, he also spends time with them, watching movies or reading to them, he is not scary at all! He is a sweetheart, really! How it started? Oh, well, hadn't you heard, if you are lacking money on products or feel like you can't handle something, you should draw a red bat on the door: Red Hood will always help out - they did that a month ago, when their authority had no money to support this nursing home, and Red Hood took all expenses on himself!

So, Alfred comes home that night, and doesn't say anything to Bruce. He decides that his boy is too reckless right now, and too judgmental to decide if Red Hood is truly that dangerous or not.

Instead, Alfred starts visiting his friends more often.

Red Hood mostly comes in the evenings, before his nighttime job. He is always in his armour and helmet, with the voice modulator on, but others speculate that he is most likely very young - that's why they baby him so much.

For next visits, Red Hood also chooses not to communicate with Alfred directly, but he eases up upon realising that Batman is not coming here anytime soon. So, Alfred watches him taking off his gloves to make a shoulder massage to one of the old ladies, and sinking on his knees before the armchair for her to pat his head (well, not head, just a top of the helmet, but the point stands), and then reading aloud her favourite, the most cliché romance book to exist, because her eyes are weak like that. He sees him cooking for others, the funnily floral-themed apron tied right above his intimidating armour. He hears him discussing with a few old men the old soap opera. He witnesses his voice, even through modulator, hitching when someone gifts him a handmade red scarf, causing the whole room to giggle.

And the more Alfred stares, the more he recognises a boy behind the helmet.

Because, god, Jason is not slick. He cooks for these people, using Alfred's recipes. He knows everything about soap operas they watched together. He has the same unhealthy passion to literature that makes him jump a little as he speaks of it, which looks funny on the double-fridged army man like Red Hood.

And, of course, it also explains everything else about Red Hood's knowledge of their family, identities and tactics.

'Are you planning to come home, my boy?'

Red Hood - Jason - flinches, when Alfred catches him watering plants in the backyard. His whole body goes stiff.

'Mister Pennyworth,' he feigns an indifference. 'I don't understand what are you talking about.'

Alfred sighs fondly. They both know that if Jason didn't want to be found by him, he would do anything for their paths not to cross; he would choose those days to visit that Alfred wouldn't. But he did.

'Oh, my boy, don't you dare to call me mister. Not after I spent nights nursing your flu and reading you bedtimes stories.'

Jason's breath hitches. He looks like he wants to run away, but at the same time, he can't make himself move. Alfred's eyes soften.

'Had you— Does he—'

'If you wanted your father to know, you would tell him already, I believe.'

He puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and it all that takes for Jason to crumble in his hug, to try to bury himself in the welcoming arms. He cries, it seems, his voice modulator glitching from incoherent sounds leaving his throat.

Alfred doesn't let him go even for a second. Not any more. Never again.

Because it is his little boy, and he is back. And nothing else matters.

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Don't think about little Jason Todd, who was curling in his sleep around Catherine, who was passed out, when he could. Don't think about a freshly orphaned Jason Todd, who kept curling in a little ball, trying to warm himself. Definitely don't imagine him doing the same in the Wayne Manor, except this time he curled around pillow or a small Nightwing plush his brother gifted him. And definitely don't imagine Talia searching for little Damian frantically, only to find Jason, curling around a toddler in his restless dreams. And maybe don't imagine Jason continuing to do the same in the solitude of his apartment, despite being all strong and huge.

Just don't.

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Today I am thinking about Jason, who is fresh out of his coffin, catatonic and non-verbal. His mind is in a haze and in a constant terror most of the time, and when it isn't - when he manages to ground himself, to stop imagining Joker's laughter and the phantom screech of the crowbar - he can't bring himself to speak, because there is... smoke in his lungs. A fucking soot. Rare sounds and words that escape his mouth sound like a painful, inhuman shriek.

He vividly remembers screaming his lungs out in the coffin, though, as he woke up to realise that he was buried six feet under, locked away from the rest of the world. So, maybe it was the last drop - a last attempt to use his voice.

His next tries are too painful. And when his desperate cry for Bruce - for someone to call his dad - is getting ignored, pushed aside, Jason doesn't even want to try any more. What use it would be? No one listens to him anyway.

He is as good as dead.

Oh.

He is dead.

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Today I am thinking about Jason, who is fresh out of his coffin, catatonic and non-verbal. His mind is in a haze and in a constant terror most of the time, and when it isn't - when he manages to ground himself, to stop imagining Joker's laughter and the phantom screech of the crowbar - he can't bring himself to speak, because there is... smoke in his lungs. A fucking soot. Rare sounds and words that escape his mouth sound like a painful, inhuman shriek.

He vividly remembers screaming his lungs out in the coffin, though, as he woke up to realise that he was buried six feet under, locked away from the rest of the world. So, maybe it was the last drop - a last attempt to use his voice.

His next tries are too painful. And when his desperate cry for Bruce - for someone to call his dad - is getting ignored, pushed aside, Jason doesn't even want to try any more. What use it would be? No one listens to him anyway.

He is as good as dead.

Oh.

He is dead.

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Jason Todd, who tries to do his Red Hood reveal in front of the whole family, all at once, but they are so sleep-deprived that instead of accepting an obvious answer, they come up with the most insane theories.

Jason, spreading his arms wide: The answer is already here, and you know it. Come on, the world's great detective — look at me, and tell, why would the random criminal lord avenge for your son? Hm?

Dick, snapping his fingers: You are his childhood friend! Right?!

Jason: What—

Dick: You knew everything about us. You knew Jason better than we did. It is obvious. You are a kid that he must befriended during his days on the streets. You are avenging for him because we failed him!

Tim, shaking his head: Dick, come on—

Jason: Yeah, exactly, just—

Tim, with the insane glint in his eyes: They were clearly lovers, not friends.

Jason: ...What.

Tim: It is obvious. Just look at him at his desperation. That's more than friendship.

Jason: Come on, Bruce, you can't possibly allow them to be this stupid.

Bruce, sipping on his coffee: No, I won't.

Bruce, turning to Dick and Tim: It is Willis Todd.

Dick, Tim, and Jason in the unison: What—

(Hours later, Jason's safe house)

Jason: ...And then he goes! (clears up his throat to imitate Bruce's voice) "Willis Todd's grave was always empty, but I hadn't paid attention to this fact!" What an insane thing to fucking admit, by the way!

Talia, on the Facetime, doing her nails: Perhaps it is a family trait - to leave the coffins empty... Anyway, what happened after?

Jason: They come up with another theory. Now, they think that Red Hood is "Jason's" reincarnation. Souls switched and stuff. Dunno. They planned to call Constantine, but I left.

Talia: I feel like a nap would resolve this issue.

Jason: Yeah, definitely. But that's not my problem.

Talia: Naturally. But you look happy.

Jason, smirking: I got to annoy the hell of this family without even getting revealed and dealing with the aftermath. Of course, I am happy. Also, Alfred clocked me, but just packed me a lemon pie and invited for a tea ceremony later this week.

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Big brother, little brother

A jason and dami drawing trying to capture a few of the many feelings I have towards them in my soul

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Some dick Grayson’s + his littlest brother ever

Nightwing has been so inconsistent in how he looks over the years so I’m just kind of mixing and mashing the things I like about him lol

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I’m figuring out how I imagine Jason and he doesn’t really look too much like most of the “canon” Jason’s I’ve seen but he’s also just like. So Jason to me. So Jason much red hood.

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Saw your post mentioning Jason and little damian just as I was coming to say this- do you have any particular thoughts and feelings about Jason and Damian’s relationship and the complexities of it? They’re my favourite babies and I feel so many things about them and how they feel towards each other and the true pain of them being brothers who are so similar but so different and how in some ways damian is so much more sheltered than Jason had ever been and Jason’s deep down refusal to admit how much he loves and cares about that boy, his little brother who he helped raise who looks so much like the father that abandoned him to die and I’m just. I need to read about them forever Ty

I love, love the implication that Jason and Damian knew each other from the League of Assasins. It is my favourite and best case scenario. They are so alike in one way, and yet completely different, you pointed out it just right — the distorted reflection, the two sides of the same coin. Jason, being Damian's only connection to the outside world in the League of Assasins, while Damian is his little thread of sanity, whose safety and happiness grounds him among all other negative feelings and experiences In some way, none of them want to admit it, but they love each other and care for each other so much. Both of them look at each other, seeing (calling, mentally) "Bruce's son", and that's interesting too, isn't it?

'You are his son,' said almost bitterly, and then the same phrase repeated, but with awe and so much reverence. Expect, you can't guess who is who. Maybe them both, at different times, after all.

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On Jason's last birthday, he quietly confesses to his family that he is the happiest that he could ever been. That he had never expected to live for so long, to go this far, and that finally, after so many years of death hanging above his head, following him everywhere, he feels free of it. Like he has so much time ahead. Like he can plan the future now - think of college, make friends. Do something more than surviving. It is a bittersweet confession, and neither Bruce nor Alfred don't know how to answer on this, but they smile at him and reassure that he will have a long, happy life.

He dies in 254 days after that. Bruce burns down all lists with written down colleges that Jason made, while trying to figure out which one will be the best for him, and Alfred hides the Polaroid photo from that birthday inside his wallet. They never discuss it, but none of them forgets it.

They buried a boy, whose grandest wish was to live.

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Jason, who grips a crowbar in his hand as tight as he can, as if his life depends on it — because once it did. Jason, who frowns at every sound of the crowbar hitting an enemy because all he can hear is his own screams, his own bones cracking. Jason, who drags the crowbar against the concrete floor, taunting whoever he fights, but all he can hear is "A or B?" in the back of his mind. Jason, who cleans up the crowbar from blood later that day, his fingertips trembling a little at that, but thinking:

See? I am not weak, I had survived, and no one could break me again — not like this, anyway. I am strong, and I am safe, I am more than my death, do you see that‐

Expect others just glance at him questioningly, thinking if anything, it is slightly disturbing. Expect when Jason returns home, he is not that sure of being all strong anymore because... fear? It never left.

jason using crowbars as a weapon but not in an edgy bad boy way...

more like... in a super fucked up, self imposed exposure therapy kind of way

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Who's that character in your pfp it looks familiar.

This is Wei Wuxian from Modao, one of his official illustrations from English books!!!