#Jason is a mama’s boy

[noxcheshire]

I go absolutely FERAL for this trope with Danny and Vlad.

It’s just so SCRUMPTIOUS, and then adding in Jason Todd as having once been Dan BUT NOT EVEN REALIZING IT?!

He’s a mama’s boy and he WILL get vengeance.

Danny himself had been looking for Dan for such a long time, furious at Vlad for his actions and the results that came from it. Dan was lost Ancients KNEW where, as a helpless baby! He kept the missing person’s report as active as he could because Dan was still out there, he was alive in some way for his soul and ghost had not returned to the Infinite Realms.

Dan was still alive.

He had to be.

And then Danny is visited by Jason Todd, a young boy so painfully familiar that Danny feels his core shake.

Dan, bound to a clone body and experiencing a relatively calm life with the Fentons, gets de-aged by a jealous Vlad and is held hostage by the man, who wants to be involved with family things. Vlad, somehow, loses the baby.

14 years later, Jason Todd is desperately looking for his mother, only for the DNA test to match him with a 30-year-old transman and a billionaire over 60.

Oh, and his own missing person's report.

[kittykatninja321]

People who write Jason calling Sheila a bitch in his internal monologue don’t understand him I’m sorryyy. I don’t think he’s ever actually said a word against her in canon at the is point. He spent his last moments trying to protect her from the blast even after her betrayal. He is insane in ways you can’t even begin to fathom

[narxcisse]

★ — Mama's boy Jason Todd headcanons

Jason Todd x Mother/Mother figure!Reader

CW: mention of Jason's death (+reader blames Bruce for his death), fluff, I did my best to keep it canon without romanticizing or fanonizing anything. 😭

English isn't my native language

Jason met you before his days as Robin, back when he was still living on the streets. You were one of the rare adults who didn’t look at him with pity or disdain but instead treated him with quiet respect. Maybe you ran a small diner, a shelter, or worked as a social worker with no patience for bureaucracy.

The first time Jason came into your life, he wasn’t looking for help. He was scrappy, full of fire, and incredibly proud, but you saw past the bravado to the hungry, clever kid beneath. You offered him food without strings attached, and from then on, he kept coming back.

When Bruce took him in, you were one of the few people he trusted enough to talk to. He didn’t tell you about being Robin outright, but you noticed he’d sometimes show up with bruises or a limp, his explanations half-hearted at best.

Jason sought your advice on everything—from school troubles to navigating the strange dynamics of the Wayne household. You often found yourself acting as a translator for his emotions when he struggled to articulate them.

He valued your opinion deeply. If you told him to apologize to Bruce for a fight or to take a break when he was pushing himself too hard, he’d grumble but almost always listen.

Even as Robin, Jason was fiercely protective of you. If he thought someone was giving you trouble or you were in any danger, his sharp instincts kicked in. “No one messes with my mom,” he’d mutter, even if you insisted you could handle yourself.

Jason’s growing disillusionment with Bruce often spilled into your conversations. You tried to mediate, understanding both sides but always prioritizing Jason’s feelings.

When he died, it broke you in a way you didn’t think was possible. You immediately blamed Bruce for letting him take on so much danger, not even letting him explain everything that happened. (Over time you apologized to him for what happened and understood that he was just as devastated as you were by Jason's death.)

When Jason came back as Red Hood, he avoided you for a long time. He didn’t think you’d accept him, not after everything he’d done. But when he finally worked up the courage to see you, he was stunned to find you opening your arms to him without hesitation.

“You’ve been through hell, Jason. I’m just glad you’re alive.” Those words stuck with him more than anything else anyone had said since his return.

You didn’t sugarcoat your disappointment in his methods, but you also didn’t try to control him. You understood that his pain and anger needed to run their course. Instead, you focused on reminding him that he still had someone who believed in him.

Jason acts tough, but around you, he’s a little softer. He loves the comfort of having someone who doesn’t expect him to be anything other than himself.

He calls you more than he calls anyone else. Sometimes it’s to rant, sometimes it’s just to check in. “You eat yet?” he’ll ask, even if he’s halfway across the world.

Whenever he’s in Gotham, he always makes time to visit you. He’ll bring little gifts—books he thinks you’ll like, a weird trinket from some mission, or your favorite snack.

Jason craves your approval more than he’d ever admit. When you compliment his growth or tell him you’re proud of him, he practically glows, even if he rolls his eyes and pretends to brush it off.

He’s fiercely protective of you, more so than anyone else. If he even suspects someone’s giving you a hard time, he’ll show up unannounced, ready to “handle” it. You usually have to calm him down before he goes full Red Hood.

You’re one of the few people who can challenge Jason’s darker impulses without him lashing out. “You don’t have to agree with me, but at least think about it,” you’ll say, and he actually does.

When he’s struggling with his identity—whether he’s a hero, an anti-hero, an anti-villain or something else entirely (bro seriously thinks he's Barbie. 😭🙏)—you’re his anchor. You remind him that he’s more than his past, more than his mistakes.

Jason often credits you for keeping him grounded. He’ll never say it outright, but you’re one of the reasons he hasn’t spiraled further.

Jason fixing things around your home without being asked—tightening loose hinges, replacing lightbulbs, and even rebuilding your bookshelves because he “didn’t like the wobble.”

Late-night phone calls where he opens up about his fears and frustrations, his voice quieter and more vulnerable than usual.

Cooking together when he visits, even if he claims he’s “not great in the kitchen.” He loves hearing your stories as you work side by side.

The rare moments when he lets his guard down completely, resting his head on your shoulder or letting you ruffle his hair like he’s still the scrappy kid you first met.

Jason may be a complicated, broken man, but with you, he finds a sense of peace he doesn’t get anywhere else. To him, you’re not just a mother figure—you’re his family, his safe place, and the person who never gave up on him.

The first sign something was wrong was the way Jason entered your apartment—quiet, almost hesitant. He was usually a storm of energy when he visited, slamming the door behind him and announcing his arrival with some sarcastic quip. But today, he just slipped inside, set his helmet down carefully on the counter, and stood there, staring at nothing.

You didn’t need to ask if he was okay. You already knew he wasn’t.

“Jason?” you called softly from the couch, setting down the book you’d been reading.

He didn’t respond right away, just shrugged off his jacket and draped it over a chair. His movements were slower than usual, less precise. It was like the weight of the world was pressing down on his shoulders, and for once, even his stubbornness couldn’t hold it up.

You stood and approached him carefully, giving him space to come to you if he needed it. “Rough day?”

He let out a low chuckle, but there was no humor in it. “Something like that.”

You waited, not pressing him to elaborate. Jason had always been like this—he’d open up when he was ready, and not a second before.

For a moment, you thought he might brush you off entirely. But then, with a deep sigh, he turned to you, his expression a mixture of frustration and exhaustion. “I don’t know. I just…” He trailed off, raking a hand through his hair. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

That admission made your heart ache. Jason, who always acted like he didn’t need anyone, who carried his pain like armor, had come to you because he didn’t know what else to do.

Without a word, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him. He stiffened for half a second—old habits, you supposed—but then he melted into the embrace, burying his face in your shoulder.

“I’m just so tired,” he muttered, his voice muffled.

“I know, sweetheart,” you murmured, rubbing slow circles on his back. “I know.”

He held onto you like you were a lifeline, his broad shoulders shaking slightly. You didn’t push him to explain, didn’t try to fix it. You just held him, letting him unload the weight he’d been carrying for who-knows-how-long.

Minutes passed, or maybe hours. Time didn’t seem to matter. Eventually, Jason pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes red but a little clearer.

“Thanks,” he said gruffly, his voice thick with emotion.

“You don’t have to thank me,” you replied, brushing a stray strand of hair from his face. “That’s what I’m here for.”

He huffed out a small laugh, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Yeah, well, don’t go getting used to this. I’m not turning into a softie or anything.”

You smiled, tapping his chest lightly. “Don’t worry. You’re still the toughest guy I know.”

Jason rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, he leaned into your touch again, letting his head rest on your shoulder. For the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to just be—a son needing his mom. And you were more than happy to give him what he needed.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

AN: I wrote this for my bestie, I hope you liked it. 💗🤺

[hughmanbean]

New in Town

Jason is... worried. Somewhat. There's a new group in Gotham.

The first indication of this when he'd encountered a towering man in armor, his face shrouded in shadows. The man had introduced himself as Fright Knight, proudly declaring to be the Royal Knight of the High Queen.

A group of royals? He asks.

The most powerful! The Knight replies.

A girl is seen flitting around Gotham, mischievous grin on her face. She calls Jason stinky.

A man lurks behind her, grumbling to himself. He calls Jason unimpressive.

A couple zoom the streets on a motorbike, followed by an unnaturally dark shadow.

A new soup kitchen opens up. The moving truck with it donates lunch boxes to the less fortunate.

---

Fright Knight strolls the streets, humming to himself about a job well done. The High Queen had been muttering about how the Prince and Princess may have been getting bored, so he'd taken the initiative to find something interesting for both of them.

His Queen would be pleased. Now to tell her.

[lionwitch]

Hear me out. Secret magic user Jason Todd, except it's a secret to him too. Like, Nature Witch potential.

When he was little, out on the streets, people died from the elements, left and right. In Gotham, it always rained. It was hard to light a fire when the things you were trying to light were wet. So during the colder months, the homeless population tended to go down— hypothermia's a bitch.

But Jason somehow always managed to light a fire. He gathered newspapers, even if they were wet, rolled them up and made a little campfire, just like other homeless people. Except they took care to gather the dry ones, and Jason just... Didn't care. While others struggled to get it to light, he always got it on the first try.

And see, he should probably notice something's odd there, but this started when he was little and lacked the common sense that, you know, wet things shouldn't light up. It had started when his apartment didn't have heating and it was cold, so he made a makeshift campfire in the sink so he could extinguish the flame later, and somehow his parents didn't bother to question it. And then, well, if it had worked before, it should work now, right? He never realized that it wasn't exactly normal.

And he didn't realize that rain should put it out. Sure, he tried to do it on a covered spot because he didn't particularly enjoy being soaked, but he didn't realize that fire doesn't enjoy being soaked, either, and when he is unable to find a cover, he seeks warmth from his fire. Under the rain, no matter how heavy.

And it's not like he's using gasoline or oil. Nothing special. He's just using newspaper and a cool lighter he found that should've run out ages ago. He's been using the same lighter for years (it did run out— it never lights up for anyone else, but he attributes it to the pressure he's mastered. Not that he lends it much). He jokes that his trusty lighter is picky and loyal. He loves his cool-as-fuck dragon lighter as much as it loves him. It's red, black and gold and he loves it. He keeps it in an inside pocket of his jacket, right above his heart, and on cold nights it seems to heat up wonderfully.

Sometimes when it's snowing, he finds he's not all that bothered by it. Then again, he has no point of reference. Maybe that's how everyone feels? Or maybe he has a damn good jacket, plus his lighter is warm.

He also finds snowballs are too easy to form. He doesn't even need to form them, really, he grabs a fistful and when he throws it, instead of, you know, a fistful of snow, it's a perfectly round snowball. Also, if he intends it as a weapon (say, to escape the police or a criminal), it seems to do far more damage than friendly throws. He attributes it to the strength of the throw (it's not)

This little shit can walk through a storm, or a blizzard, or strong-ass winds from a hurricane, and he's fine. He can walk easily through weather where even Batman stays in for.

There's an apple tree in a park, it's very tall and very hard/impossible to climb. The lower apples may be collected if you have a ladder, but the upper ones are usually just bird food until they fall, hardly ever in one piece. And yet, if Jason is hungry and passes under it, any apple the tree has to offer falls near him, enough to be caught, perfectly ripe and whole.

There's a raven that always steals his lettuce. If he gets a sandwich, the raven comes down and bothers him until he gives her the lettuce. If he gets a salad, she comes down and settles with him and steals the lettuce from his fork, but lets him eat anything else in it. It works, because lettuce makes him itchy (is it supposed to be spicy?) and while he can eat small quantities, he prefers to give them to Lettuce (not very original, but it works) unless he's really starving.

Lettuce wakes him up at dawn every day. No matter where he hides away for the night, she finds him in the morning, and comes and goes throughout the day. They each do their own thing, but she sticks relatively close, and if he's in danger, she protects him. With patience and a lot of boredom, and lots of time together, Jason and Lettuce have developed a call between them, a birdcall they both can mimic and respond to. And if Jason is in danger, he'll call for Lettuce loudly, and it takes no time before she flies in, attacking whoever is threatening him. This is of course more effective during the day, because Ravens are diurnal. However, if she happens to be sleeping close enough to hear him at night, she'll wake up and call back, and Jason will repeat the call and she'll find him. She has blinded many people, including but not limited to cops (it's always creepy afterwards, watching her eat the eyes of his attackers, but he's grown numb to it)

Lettuce is his best friend, his partner in crime. She helps him steal, be it food, money or objects. It's mutually beneficial, see. He couldn't be more unafraid of bugs and rodents. He calls her over and they're being eaten the next moment. And he shares a lot of space with bugs and rodents. It's only at night that he needs to worry about them, once Lettuce goes to sleep. It's much easier to take care of yourself only at night than it is 24/7. Besides, while Lettuce wakes him up early, she lets him take a nap later on if he needs it, while she keeps guard. They're family.

When he got adopted, he worried he'd miss his feathered friend, being unable to spend as much time together. He underestimated her.

He woke up at dawn, habit unbroken, but went right back to sleep, feeling the absence of his loyal friend. And a few hours later, he was woken up again by a pounding on his window and angry croaking. He looked over to find his big-as-fuck bird repeatedly slamming against the window, talons first so she wouldn't get hurt. He rushed to open the window for her immediately, a grin on his face.

"Lettie!" he greeted happily. She greeted him angrily, instead, pecking his shoulder, however careful, and tugging on his hair. She'd been so worried when she couldn't find him! "I know, I know, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to dissappear on you, girl. But hey, I'm safe, promise!"

Now, listen, Ravens can reach a length of up to 66 cm (26 inches) and have a wingspan of more than 1.3 metres (4 feet). These are big birds, ok? So imagine Alfred's surprise when he saw Jason walking down the hallway, all good there, but with a massive raven flying above him.

Naturally, he assumed that the bird got in, at first. He was amazed by the sheer size of the bird, not having seen one so big from this distance. And then the raven descended towards Jason, talons out, and he was about to tell the boy to duck, because he though the bird was about to attack his head, and then the bird just landed on his shoulder.

"Ow! Bitch, mind your talons, they do hurt, you know?" he complained playfully, and the bird croaked back. Even to Alfred's ears it sounded amused. She clicked her beak, Jason clicked his teeth, and they seemed to argue playfully like that, as Alfred watched from behind them, unnoticed. Evidently, the bird won the argument, because Jason looked away and huffed "Ass", and she let out what sounded very much like a laugh.

"No, I hate you. So much" Jason scoffed, a blatant lie, his lips twitching into a smile. She cawed, fondly, like saying "no, you don't", and tugged gently on a strand of Jason's hair.

"No, I really do. Bossy bitch" he said, his voice lacking any bite. He leaned in, resting his head against her body carefully. She started preening his hair lovingly, almost motherly, and he let his eyes flutter closed as she pulled him closer with a wing. "Fine, maybe I love you. Just a little bit. Big dumb bird."

When he walked into the dining room, Bruce and Dick stared at him. Or rather, at her, perched on his shoulder, preening his hair and leaving it a mess, a wing around the back of his head. She paused, analyzing them too, but took note of Jason's relaxed demeanor around them. Not a threat, then.

"Jason... That's a big crow." Dick breathed out.

"A raven. Same family, different birds." Jason corrected, and the bird croaked, agreeing.

"Raven or crow, both are wild birds, Jason. That's not a parrot you can keep as a pet." Bruce intervened, eying the bird wearily "it's a predatory bird, that can and will turn on you in the blink of an eye if it wants. It's a dangerous bird. Not to mention it's illegal to keep them as pets"

"Well, good thing she is not a pet, then. She's a friend that chooses to stay by my side because she loves me and it's a beneficial agreement. And I'm aware of her potential. I've watched her eat human eyes—"

"You've what?"

"—but to be fair, they deserved it. She won't hurt you unless you hurt me."

"Hold on, circle back to that about eating human eyes"

"If you see people without eyes near Park Row, or blind former cops, that's us. They tried to attack me, she attacked them. I gave them plenty of warning, mind you."

"Wait, didn't Officer Johnson lose his eyes recently, Bruce? Commissioner Gordon was losing his mind because Johnson took lots of shifts."

"Johnson, Johnson..." Jason ran the most recent officers through his mind, trying to see if he remembered a name, but he didn't exactly stop to chat.

"Blond hair, 5'9, short beard, nasty scar on his—"

"—Right arm! Yes, I remember that one. He beat up another kid and then chased me, I told him to get lost and even decked him, but he wouldn't stop. Nearly crushed my wrist, that bitch. Then Lette flew in and—" Lettuce snapped her beak and puffed her feathers proudly "Yeah, that was us, but I did give him plenty of chances."

That did not make Bruce feel better about having this bird in his house, near his boys. There had been plenty of cops though the years that lost their eyes, it was driving Gordon mad. True, none of them were good cops, but still.

However, he could recognize as he watched his newest son and the bird communicate with various sounds, working as one, with evident years of teamwork, that sending the bird away to a sanctuary was not an option, and nothing short of the death of either of them would separate them, so he compromised. The bird would stay, as long as she proved healthy and didn't attack anyone.

Now on another note, Jason proved undefeatable in a snow fight

Somehow, no matter how good their aim was, or how hard they threw it, the snowballs either missed him, falling a few feet short of reaching him, or they hit him very softly. He never made any noise, like the snow didn't crush under his feet, and he always stayed on top instead of his feet sinking into it. And his snowballs always hit damn hard and accurate— unless he was only intending to get your attention, in which case it barely brushed you.

Patrolling on snowy days also proved easy. Bruce and Dick were in no way noisy, but the snow did slow them down and crushed under their feet, and they left footprints that left them easy to follow.

Jason didn't.

He somehow walked on top of the snow without leaving prints. The snow didn't crush, didn't make any noise at all, and he didn't slip on it either. It was as easy, maybe more so, for him to patrol on heavy snow than normal nights. Same with storms. Batman and Nightwing had to be careful to not slip when it was raining, and extra mindful of their movements so the splashing didn't give them away, while Jason could run or jump without making a sound or slipping even once.

"Practice" he said, "I've lived in the streets, I grew used to it, I guess."

He was a strange Robin.

The first time he met Poison Ivy, she had been particularly aggressive. And then she caught sight of the new Bird. And she stopped. She'd had the upper hand, Batman unconscious and trapped, Nightwing in Blüdhaven. She could've won. And Jason knew that, but he'd be dammed if he went down without a fight.

"Who are you?" she whispered, awe in her voice.

"I'm Robin." he answered simply, standing with a confidence he didn't feel.

"I see that. It's not what I meant. Who are you?"

"What, you think I'll give you my identity so easily? No way!"

"I didn't mean that, either. Who are you?"

"Listen, lady, I don't know what you want. Are you hard of hearing? Do you need me to use ASL? I mean, sure, if you want. I ain't ableist." Jason shrugged and actually started signing his words "I'm gonna need you to let Batman go."

"I am not hard of hearing, but I appreciate the inclusion anyway." Ivy smiled, and carefully laid Batman on the ground, much to Jason's surprise.

"Huh. That was easy."

"Listen, kid. If you ever need a mentor..."

"I'm with the Bat."

"Not what I meant. I can help you in ways he can't."

"I'll pass."

"Very well. The offer is on the table, if you ever change your mind, you can find me. Tomorrow or in twenty years, I don't care. I can guide you. I can help you."

And surprisingly, she handed herself in, giving the new Robin a smile. He kept her words a secret, confused. Weird woman, he thought.

And then, a few months later, he found his mother wasn't who he thought. And he looked for his mother. And he found her and was sold out by her. Bruce searched for him desperately, with Lettuce on his shoulder ("A promise", he'd said as he instructed Lettuce to stay with Bruce, "so you know I'll come back to you. So you know you're my family, even if I still have a mother. I'll be back, Dad"). But Joker had him.

But see, magic tends to wake up when the user is in danger.

So as Joker beat the boy, as fear beat in his heart, so did his magic. Barely conscious, beaten, bruised, but alive, the little Bird was underestimated.

"I'll say hi to your daddy for you." Joker said, planting the bomb.

And Jason realized he wouldn't be coming home. He realized Lettuce would never wake him up at dawn again. He realized Dick would never hug him again. He realized Bruce would never ruffle his hair again. He realized he'd never play with them in the snow again. He realized he'd break his promise.

And he screamed.

The warehouse went up in flames before Joker could leave. Far before the bomb went off. All-consuming flames that rose around him like the depths of hell, but caressed him like the touch of a loving mother, like Sheila never would. He heard the screams of Joker, just like his before. The flames enveloped Jason's broken body and pain overwhelmed him as his most broken bones snapped into place. He sobbed.

And then came the water. As his tear hit the flames, red turned into blue in a flood that put the fire out. Jason saw his blood seep into the water, red dissolving into the clear liquid. His wounds, the most severe at least, closing into scars. Jason saw the body of Joker floating on the water, charred and barely recognizable.

And then he saw hers. Sheila's body, still restrained, at the bottom of the water, skin melted by the fire. And she may have sold him off to Joker, he may never be able to forgive her, but still, he sinked to her, praying for her to be alive.

But Magic protects Her loved ones, and Magic doesn't forgive all that easy. She deemed Sheila unworthy of her favor. She was the reason Her Child was in such a situation, and as such, she earned Her wrath.

Jason reached for his mother, but as he touched her, the water evaporated. He carried her body out of the warehouse, no pulse to be found. He stared, a third parent dead. But was she really ever a mother? He reached down and closed her eyes. And vines sprouted from the ground, covering her body like a coffin. Jason knew this was her burial. His fingers traced over her covered body as he said his goodbyes, and then watched as she sinked down, down, down, into the earth, disappearing six feet under.

Jason looked down at himself, still wounded but not nearly as much. He took off his gloves as he felt his right hand burn, and he watched as the mark of a vine engraved itself into his skin, spiraling from his palm, the back of his hand, his wrist, all the way to his elbow. The mark shone green for a second before it settled with an bright silver color.

He heard a familiar caw and panicked. Because Lettuce meant Bruce, and Bruce meant Batman, and Batman didn't like metas in Gotham. And apparently he was a meta, right? Just like Poison Ivy.

He put his glove back on and searched his utility belt for a bandage, which he wrapped around his forearm, hiding his mark.

And then he called to Lettuce. And he heard her respond, louder, happy, worried, hopeful. He called again, and soon she was flying to him, Bruce running right behind her.

Bruce didn't understand what had happened, what happened to the warehouse, to Joker. To his son. But he didn't care. He was there, he was safe.

He checked his son for injuries, and he was quite hurt, but not as much as he could've been. Broken bones, bleeding wounds. Bruised, broken, scared. But safe.

And Jason let him assume that was as badly as he was hurt, let him believe Joker didn't beat him to death's doorstep. Because if he told him, he'd have to tell him how he healed.

The rest of his injuries healed normally at home, but Jason didn't let them see his right arm.

Dick, Bruce and Jason assumed maybe Joker had marked him. It wasn't uncommon to mark victims in some way. They wanted to help, but if they pressed about it, Jason would run out for an hour or two. So they let him. Jason always wore long sleeves and gloves, or a bandage on his arm, even when he slept. It became part of his style, just like the white stripe on his hair from where his head was split open.

But see, once awakened, his magic refused to lie dormant again. It buzzed and ached for release. And it seeped out of him with his every breath.

And it terrified him.

He lived with the world's greatest detectives. They were bound to notice the flames flaring when he walked into the room, be it candles or the fireplace. They were bound to notice the wind picking up unnaturally indoors. They were bound to notice his glass of water moving with unnatural waves.

So he ran out when he felt the call more active and let it explode. The plants deep into the Wayne Estate wildest part had never been greener. Plants that shouldn't bloom in there were growing. It was as easy as breathing, letting it flow. The problem was controlling it.

Jason felt like a baby learning to use the restroom. Doing it was instinctual, natural. A reflex. But holding it in was a challenge. The thing is, there were no diapers for magic. And he couldn't let anyone find out.

This is part one, I'll come back another day with how Tim comes into the picture, because duh, Jason didn't die

[goryhorroor]

good (and maybe questionable) boys & girls of horror cinema

[razberry-cookie]

love a mama's boy

[noassamoas]

when theyre all mamas boys but none of them have mothers

[99pm-e]

I'm so down bad for Thomas Hewitt these past days it's not funny anymore :)

his actor beings hunky as fuck?? him being HUNKY & CHUBBY??? DAD BOD???? mamma's boy??? im 7 feet underground rn

[psychokatrixxxy]

...so, I keep thinking about the Mama's boy song with Jason Todd... and it's honestly so fucking sad... because who he grew up with as his mother is the reason he started stealing tires, to look after her, and she died from an overdose, and then his bio mom, who he runs away from Bruce to find, sells him out to Joker and then dies in the warehouse explosion with him, Jay even tried to save her despite what she did... so in a really sad and fucked up way, Jason is a Mama's boy... doing so much, giving up so much for his moms....

And then there's Talia, who could be interpreted as a sort of mother figure to Jason... Jason saw Talia as a mother, and she used that to manipulate him, fueling his anger against B, Dick, and Tim....

Jason just wants a mom 😭💔

(This is all my interpretation. Don't take it too seriously)

[shit-talker]

What really breaks me about Jason's death is that it was his own mother who sold him out.

The very woman Jason had spent weeks tracking down, the last person he had left of his family. Jason, who was so loving and caring and just needed that mother figure in his life. And obviously, after she served her "purpose" to the Joker, he tried to kill her, and Jason - half dead already, beaten to a bloody pulp - still tried to save her! He still tried to save this woman, who sold him out for cash, who fully knew he was hoing to die at fifteen years of age, who only began to regret it when her own life was at risk.

He still tried to save her. Because he was a hero. He was Robin, and he'd be damned if someone died on his watch. He didn't spend his last moments waiting for Batman to show up - he was desperately trying to get his mother out, get her to safety, to do the good right thing.

And he still died.

He did everything right, and it still wasn't good enough.

[jstoddwrites]

i have nothing to say other than i need brujay to fuck nasty and that in this particular fantasy i have, bruce 100% calls jason mama/mommy and yes bruce so much as uttering syllable of it has jason on such a power trip his blood sings and he soaks his panties

[kittykatninja321]

The utrh movie and lost days give us the image of Jason watching the bomb’s timer tick down to zero, but in the original death in the family comic, Sheila tells us that Jason tried to protect her from the blast at the last minute, so in my envisioning of his last moments, Jason wouldn’t have actually seen the clock hit zero, because he’d be too busy throwing himself over Sheila beforehand. In fact Sheila was probably the last thing he saw

Last few seconds of the clock show them turned away going towards the door

Sheila says he took the main brunt of the blast. In my mind I imagine he threw himself over her with his back too the bomb, facing the door

[forbiddensonoftheseagod]

Percy, my love, how are you these days? Better not be getting into trouble. I made a batch of fresh blue cookies, would you like to come over and take a few?

@that-one-sally-jackson

“Mom! Hi! Ive been… doing average I guess? But I’m glad you’re here now! How’s Estelle, and how’s Paul?”

“I would also like the cookies thank you mother.”

[lavenderauthor]

Title: Pretty Boy in Red by LavenderAuthor (9.9k)

Rating: Teen

Fandom: Batman

Relationship: Crime Alley | Park Row Residents & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Original Female Character(s), Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Roy Harper & Jason Todd, Batfamily Members & Jason Todd

Summary:  While helping a pair of teenage girls with a creep, Jason is convinced into a makeover after letting it slip that he had (forced) dinner with his family and let himself be all dolled up.

The teens had free-reign of what he will look like which meant he got a new outfit, some makeup(apparently he has a good bone structure for it), and nail polish, even going as far as doing his makeup for him(their aunt does it), painting his nails red, and made sure he couldn't change into something else. He felt…pretty.

He just hoped his siblings wouldn't make fun of him.

(aka Jason is convinced to pull a trademarked Robin move by two teenage girls ie Distract The Enemy with Your Wardrobe)

(There's art at the end of the fic that I made! <3)

(One of the few NOT nsfw gifs for plaid skirts. Why are there so many?)

[wecanstart-fresh2day]

I beg someone to teach me how to title a fic because I am running out of hozier lyrics