#JASON MOTHERFUCKING TODD

[pacificwaternymph]

Did you guys know that Duke's tag on Ao3 only has 7,000 fics? Because I didn't.

[breadandblankets]

you, batfam blogger, do you know that duke thomas is his own hero and isn't just a prop that you can use to make your favorites look good

[crimsonfeatheredraven]

I can't help but to think that one of the major, core things about Jason Todd is that he loves people more than they love him, or at least he loves people that can't show him that they love him in specific ways.

Bruce: accused him of murder at the age of 15 and didn't believe him when he said he didn't do it, didn't notice that he left the country (I could be wrong, but I'm pretty sure that was the case), put up the case™ calling Jason a 'good soldier', shit talked Jason and blamed him for his death after Tim and the others came into the picture, threw a batarang at Jason's throat and left him to bleed out in the rubble, dragged Jason to the site of his murder instead of asking him how he got back like a normal human being, beat the shit out of Jason and kicked him out of his home city after Jay 'shot' Penguin instead of using his words and asking Jason why, didn't apologize but simply justified his actions as Jason needing to be smacked around once in a while, Gotham...War. He says that he loves Jason but still did these things and Jason still goes back to him after rocking his shit a little.

Alfred: apparently also shit talked Jason after mourning for a bit. Also, I'm pretty sure that I read somewhere that he's the one who came up with the 'A Good Soldier ' plaque. Jason would still do anything for him.

Sh*ila: saw this 5'3 kid who placed his complete trust in her and wanted to help her to the best of his ability and almost eagerly led him like a lamb to the slaughter to gain an advantage, smoked with watching him get beat with a crowbar, only gave a shit about her actions when it was her turn to find out. Jason tried to protect her from the blast.

I can't really blame Catherine for anything because she was sick and it is what it is. It sucks ass and it's shit but what could have anyone really done?

He looked up to Barbara and one of the first things that she said to him was that he'll never be Dick Grayson.

The point is that it seems like he gives too much of himself to people or hold them in high regard and they either leave him because of extenuating circumstances, die, or decide to go, "fuck you, specifically".

He's been failed by almost every single parent he's ever had and he keeps going back to them. Any other relationship turns to dust at his fingertips. He's like the opposite of King Midas. His story is a tragedy and I love him so much.

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

I’m thirstin

[gianteyedcrow]

I fucking hate Slade so much please trust me when I say the second I sit down into the studio to start writing my Batfamily comic I’m going to work BACKWARDS from the plot point “and then THEY FUCKING KILL SLADE”

[soupinaboot]

Do you think Batman ever just casually drops the most insane lore to people at random like it's nothing? Cause I do.

[deadsetobsessions]

I am waiting for my terrible decisions to come feast upon my corpse (I had four slices of mozzarella cheese and I am wildly lactose intolerant) so tall can have this thing I wrote while my bowels attempted to curdle up and wither.

——

Jason laid face down on the floor of his safe house, cheek miserably smushed to the carpet as his joints screamed in growing agony.

“Oh, shit, you good, little wing?”

Jason groaned, not even having enough energy to flip his face to the other side as a pair of boots came into view. Dick.

“Jason, are you okay? Where’s the wound?”

“C’mon Todd, even Timothy knows the importance of addressing open wounds.” Shit, the brat was here too.

“You coming down with something?” Tim’s voice asked from his other side.

Great, Jason grumbled, the whole idiot platoon is here.

A warm hand shook his shoulder, Dick’s concerned mug showing up in Jason’s- huh, when did it get this blurry?- sight. His face scrunched up in worry.

“You look stupid.” Jason said, though it sounded more like ‘yew loo stew pud’ with his face still smushed onto the ground. Reluctantly, he added, “No wound.”

“Tim, help me out.”

Jason groaned when the world spun as Tim and Dick hefted him up.

“What’s happening, Jason? Talk to us.” Tim said sharply, knowing that the tone would get Jason to respond.

“Growing pains.” Jason mumbled. “Laz pits side effects.”

“I see,” Damian suddenly said, and suddenly Jason was so much more grateful for his presence. The demon brat understood. “Richard, Drake, get him to bed. I will retrieve the ice.”

It probably spoke levels of how bad he looked that Jason’s brothers didn’t bother to even comment on the brat’s orders. Jason was lugged to his bed and tucked in.

“Sorry,” he mumbled at Dick.

“For what?” Dick patted him on the head as Tim went to get a glass of water and the painkillers he stored in the bathroom mirror cabinet.

“I’m heavy. You have old man knees.”

Divk gasped, mock offended. “Excuse me?! I’m not old! You’re fine if you’re talking shit, Jay.”

“Feels like shit…” Jay paused. “Not as shit as your gray hairs.”

“Tim! Jason’s bullying me!”

“Gray is a good color on you, I think,” Tim said, walking back in with water and meds. They helped Jason drink the meds as Dick alternated between whining about not being old and indignantly sayin ‘respect your elders, you brats!’

“Here.” Damian walked in with both bags of peas and actual ice packs. “It should be better after you have rested, but if you don’t, mother knows an acupuncture treatment that would help.”

Jason shivered as they applied the ice packs.

“Ugh, fuck off.”

“Just sleep, you raging asshole.” Tim said, sweeping a blanket onto the crime lord. “Oracle’s got Steph covering your routes until you’re better.”

Somehow, surrounded by his brothers, Jason finally found the energy to fondly flip them the bird and fall asleep.

[arkangelo-7]

Okay, but, what types of water bottles do the Bats use?

Bruce uses a Yeti. It’s sturdy, reliable, and hasn’t dented once in the past 15 years, which is quite the accomplishment, given how many explosions that thing has been caught in. Back when Dick was like 10 and still Robin, he gifted Bruce the aforementioned Yeti with a sticker that had “#1 Boss!” printed on it. (It’s been nearly two decades and a day has yet to go by where Bruce doesn’t use it). Sometimes, he brings it to Justice League meetings just to throw people off guard.

If you think Dick Grayson doesn’t carry around a half-gallon jug of water, then you’re wrong. It’s bright blue and covered with stickers from all the places he’s traveled (including that one planet from that one mission the Titans refuse to speak about). Bruce has lectured him about the importance of hydration so many times over the years, that’s it’s ingrained in him to finish at least two refills before going on patrol. He also says “hydrate or die-drate” and quotes hydration statistics to anyone that tries to ask why he drinks so much water.

Jason is the type of person to have like five boxes of those plastic Ozarka water bottles stacked in his pantry. Damian berates him for his ostentatious use of plastic, but Jason grew up in a world where clean water was never a given. Now, it’s not something he needs to worry about—he’s got money, power, influence. But old habits die hard and he can’t go to sleep unless he knows he has a reliable source of water somewhere in his safe house.

Tim got a hydroflask back when they were popular in 2019 and just never bothered to upgrade. He doesn’t actually keep water in it, through; he’s got a rotating system of Diet Coke, black coffee, Celsius BCAA, and a synthetic energy drink he designed himself (one which Bruce would 100% forbid him from drinking if he knew about it).

Cass… drinks water. It’s just, no one has ever actually seen her with a water bottle, so to speak. They’ll be on a mission, or patrol, or a stakeout, and a full on plastic cup (usually with some sort of animated character or football team plastered on it) will just materialize out of nowhere. No one knows where she keeps them. No one knows where she even got them.

Steph (plus Barbra) uses a Stanley Cup. Although she first invested in it somewhat ironically, she’s grown to appreciate its functionality. It fits in her car’s cup holders, it’s easy to carry around when she’s at school, and she once used it to knock out the Riddler when he tried to abduct her principal at a pep rally. She and Babs both already pre-ordered the purple, LoveShackFancy special addition and guilt tripped Bruce into getting a matching one with them.

Damian uses some weird, eco-friendly water bottle brand that no one has ever heard of. (It’s expensive, but it comes with a complimentary metal straw, naturally). Dick thinks his seriousness about his carbon footprint is adorable; Jason thinks it’s fun to tease him, so he got him a Bubble Guppies sippy cup as a gag-gift for Earth Day back in 2020. He lost the tip of his left ring finger by the time Bruce and Dick were able to drag Damian off of him.

And then there’s Alfred. No one’s actually sure if he needs water in the first place, because no one’s actually seen him drink anything other than tea. Dick claims that he saw Alfred using one of those green, squeezey Gatorade bottles back when he was still Robin, but no one believes him.

[ceo-of-jennette-de-alger-obelia]

Congratulations boys🥺

[onnahu]

Tim Drake is sad, hurt and needs a hug-

NO HE DOESN'T. He's a crazy motherfucker that would rather kill you and then himself than get a hug! That bitch does the most unhinged shit because even if someone stopped him it wouldn't work because he's a goddamn madman!

Fanon Tim Drake begone!

Btw I mean in the 'I'm looking for good Jason Todd ff' way. Sometimes Tim do need a hug. But like. Almost never when fanon makes it a thing.

[spidernuggets]

Head empty. Just thinking about riding Jason Todd while on his motorcycle.

Uncomfortable? Probably. Hot asf? 💯%

[dceuheadcanons]

Jason Todd is the Alexander Hamilton to Tim Drake's Aaron Burr. Drops the mic. Doesn't elaborate. Leaves.

[ms-nesbit]

why the batfamily likes fall

they don't (summer/spring stans): duke thomas, cassandra cain

leaves are pretty when they change colors: dick grayson, bruce wayne

everything dies (also halloween): barbara gordon, tim drake, kate kane

"i hate fall" (has a countdown on their phone starting august 1st): damian wayne

pumpkin spice LYFE: jason todd, steph brown

[arrowmaker15]

(Spoiler looking at Talia Al Ghil)

Spoiler:

Talia:

Spoiler: We gonna talk or...?

Talia: If you hurt my son, I shall find you, and you will regret ever harming him.

Spoiler:...why would I hurt Damian?

Talia: Not that one.

Spoiler, confused: What?

Also Spoiler, realizing: OH! You mean Jason? A little late for that, aren't we? It's been six months.

Talia: *glares*

Spoiler: Got it, loud and clear, miss ma'am. I won't hurt your son.

Talia: Good.

[lukkydukky]

HPPY PRIDE PPL <3

[lambsouvlaki]

For the Hell of it - a Visitor

Character: Jason Todd x civilian! Fem!oc

Rating and Warnings: T, violence, swearing.

Word Count: 1968

Summary: A Jason from a different timeline appears in Andy's house. He has the letter 'J' branded on his face.

Masterlist

------

Sometimes it hit Andy that her best friend was an on-again off-again crime lord and an unrepentant killer.

She had a tumultuous relationship with crime herself. She was a felon after all, even if she contested her guilt, it wasn’t a label that came off. Any neat little ideas she was raised with about good people and bad people had been blasted off by the pressure washer of life. 

Sometimes when Jason did something particularly adorable, which was alarmingly frequent, she remembered the new cellmate she got halfway through her sentence. She was in on nonviolent charges but nobody was fooled, she had turned herself in just to get off the streets. That new Red Hood guy had a bone to pick with her. 

The woman stared up at the guard towers in the yard on her first day and asked why there weren’t any spotlights facing outside the prison. She would wake up with a start and stare at through the bars in terror. Every shadow was suspicious. And she wasn’t the only one. Andy, a bookish nineteen year old afraid of making prolonged eye contact, found herself one of few inmates not afraid of the dark.

Really, only the sex workers weren’t afraid of Gotham’s latest nightmare. And wasn’t that bizarre?

Andy once saw Jason cut a radish into a perfect tiny little teddy bear to place atop a bowl of tonkatsu curry, purely because the recipe’s photo included a radish teddy bear and like hell was he going to miss out. This was the man her remorseless murderer cellmate cowered from. Gave up her freedom to escape.

There was that one rumour about a duffel bag of heads. Her cellmate never shut up about it. Andy dismissed it as the invention of terrified thugs with nothing to do on long stints of guard duty.

Having met Jason’s dramatic side, she was pretty sure she owed Cheesewire Wendy an apology.

She still struggled to picture it though. She understood Jason was capable of incredible violence. Intellectually, it was very scary. In practice… in practice she never felt safer than when he was around. Even in the helmet, he flustered her, but she wasn’t afraid of him.

Then she met the Arkham Knight. 

She was on her way home in broad daylight, walking down the corridor of her apartment complex, when she saw a bright strobing light under her own front door. A bizarre sound that made her ears pop rang out and then died at the same time as the light. She frowned, balancing her groceries to rifle through her handbag for her keys, and unlocked the door. 

“Jason, what are you-” She froze. 

She didn’t recognise the man standing in her living room. No, she did recognise him, right down to the way he pointed his gun at her face. He had a ‘J’ branded onto his cheek. In his other hand he loosely held the white and black civilian leather jacket Jason had left here last weekend. 

Andy put her hands up and didn’t move. Her groceries fell to the floor and loose tomatoes and a tin of coconut cream rolled across the hard wood. 

“Shut the door.”

She did as she was told then put her hands back up again. 

He looked at her through cold blue eyes, assessing. He was in military style armour, to her inexperienced eyes, with hard metal plates all over the upper body. A blue and black high tech looking helmet sat high up on his head. He had more weapons on him than she could count.

He had Jason’s face, but not his build, he was shorter, slighter, with pinched features, and there was something hunched about the way he held his upper body.  There was no bat on his chest. 

“You know me.” His voice was unmistakable. 

“I… I don’t know if I do.” 

His lips pursed and he lowered the gun. She didn’t think that was permission to lower her hands. 

“You know the me from this world.” He dropped the jacket on the back of her wheelie chair and cast his eyes over her apartment. Jason’s presence in her life had changed it, sure, but only in small ways. Surely that wasn’t enough to tell him anything? 

What he meant about ‘this world’ was too mad to be true. She stared into blue eyes that had been green for as long as she had known them. He didn’t recognise her. He recognised Jason’s coat. He had a fucking ‘J’ branded onto his face. It was too weird to question when there was a strange man with a gun in her house. 

“Don’t try to deny it. Did he retire from being the perfect and loyal little soldier?” He stalked towards her. “Pretend Gotham is fixed, that he can relax? That he’s safe?” 

“I- I don’t-” she shook her head desperately. “Jason isn’t a soldier. I don’t know what you’re talking about!” 

Maybe he was Jason Todd from another world. But he wasn’t the Red Hood. She had only ever made Jason one promise, and that was to never tell anyone his secret, not even people who already seemed to know. 

He stopped about a foot away from her and glared. Being smaller than her Jason didn’t make him any less terrifying. She blinked frantically, trying to clear the unshed tears of terror from her eyes. She couldn’t go to pieces now, she couldn’t.

After a long moment he scoffed. He stepped back. IF anything he looked kind of put out. She let her hands fall. They were shaking. 

“Can I pick up my things?” she asked.

He grunted. She took it as a yes and crouched down to start rounding up fruit and vegetables. He moved to go look out the windows. She snuck her phone from her pocket, lowered the volume to nothing, and quick-dialled Jason. She put it in the paper grocery bag and put the whole thing on the dining table. 

She cleared her throat and gathered her courage. “What do you want from Jason?” 

He looked at her sidelong. His hands rested lightly on the guns in his thigh holsters. 

“What do you want from me?” she asked. It came out as a rasping whisper. 

“What’s your name?” 

“Andrea.”

“What could I possibly want from you, Andrea?”

“I don’t know. You’re in my apartment. I assumed… for a reason?”

“I can tell you what you should have assumed: that the rest of your life is directly tied to whether or not you piss me off. By, say, calling someone.”

She froze. 

He crossed the room, leisurely, like some prowling creature, and reached over her to grab her phone out of the bag. 

She glimpsed the glowing screen. The green phone symbol for an active call floated over the contact name: ‘Still Has my Casserole Dish’, then the call duration of four minutes and counting. 

The intruder glanced at it, unimpressed. “You can keep the casserole dish,” he said, and ended the call. 

He unclipped one of his guns. 

The windows exploded in a blast of blinding light. 

She didn’t know what happened next, only the sounds of a scuffle, a gun fired twice, and she caught sight of yellow light armour blurring in her compromised vision, before she was standing behind the Signal. 

“Who the hell are you?” the intruder growled, as his helmet snapped down over his face. It’s face lit up with LEDs. 

Signal cocked his head and the LEDs immediately died again half a second before darkness flooded the whole room. The Signal grabbed her and hauled her out the window. 

They were swinging through the air before she fully processed what happened. 

A couple of gunshots followed them, and then silence. 

She looked back, as they stumbled onto a roof.

“Keep going,” Signal said, and pulled her forwards to swing across to a building not in line of sight of her apartment. 

They landed on the bare roof of an abandoned motel. There was no sound of pursuit. It set dread in her stomach. 

What kind of Jason Todd let his target go so easily? Signal looked around, not letting her get too far from him.  

“I don’t know who you’re supposed to be,” an all too familiar voice drawled from above. “Out in the daylight with your meta abilities, but all bats are the same at the end of the day. Predictable.” 

They spun and looked up. Standing perched on the edge of the neighbouring office building was their pursuer. He had a rifle slung over his shoulder. 

Signal stepped in front of Andy and spread his arms. 

A shot rang out, and the foreign Jason staggered forward with a burst of blood. He was hauled backwards before he could fall. Red Hood hit him in the gut.

“Time to get out of here,” Signal said. 

She couldn’t tear her eyes from the sight of the two fighting, what little she could see from this angle at last. 

“We are not hanging around to see the show, lady, they are both shooting live rounds.”

That shook her enough to let him pull her away and swing down to an empty alleyway several blocks away. Andy was beside herself with worry, but Signal wouldn’t let her panic. There were other allies closing in on their location apparently. 

Signal checked her for injuries and made her drink half a bottle of water. A Narrows accent was sneaking its way through the gaps in his suspiciously generic Gotham accent. It was calming. 

“What’s your name?” he asked. 

“Andy. Um. Andrea. But call me Andy.”

“Ha, take that Nightwing.” 

She blinked a couple of times. “What?”

“Hood talks about you all the time. Never says your name though.” He shrugged. “We were curious.” 

“Curious about what?” She asked, both her eyebrows rising. She had to be the least interesting person any of them knew. 

Signal just smiled and shrugged again. She got the feeling she was on the outskirts of some in-joke. 

Before she could chase it up, Red Hood landed heavily on the pavement at the alley’s opening. He was alone.

He stalked towards her, radiating fury and danger. The shaking, panicky thing inside of her chest calmed. He didn’t stop advancing until he was looming over her. 

“Are you hurt?” he asked. The voice modulator did a bad job disguising how upset he was. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she said, her eyes narrowed in on the cracks over the front of his helmet. Blood was smeared over his side. “Are you-”

“It’s not mine.” 

“And the other guy?” Signal asked. 

“Back to his own universe, I think. He disappeared mid-fight. O’s keeping an eye out in case we have any more visitors.”

Signal nodded. “That’s my cue then. Nice meeting you, Andy!” 

He shot his grapple gun and disappeared into the blinding afternoon light. 

Red Hood let out a shaky breath. He took off his helmet to reveal a domino mask underneath. He ran a hand through his loose curls. 

“You have to be more careful,” he said. “He was going to kill you.”

“He was just in my house, I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Calling me was the right thing, but if Signal wasn’t in the area… I wouldn’t have made it in time.”

She sucked in a shaky breath and let it out again. She grabbed his arm just to steady herself.

He pulled her closer and hugged her tight. He leaned his forehead against hers. 

“Alternate you is a real asshole.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

She scoffed. “You called in the cavalry, you saved the day, you don’t get to be sorry.”

“Maybe.” He cupped the back of her head. She felt safe. “I’m going to teach you how to handle yourself in a situation.”

“I don’t want to be in any situations,” she groused, hiding her head in his jacket. Oh, it was sticky. Gross.

“You’re always getting into a situation.”

She sighed.

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