#father figure jason todd

[as-is-above-so-below]

Always

Stemmed from that one Young Justice scene (and the plethora of fanart from it) with Jason and Baby Damian :)

warnings: violence, mentions of death

summary: Damian is injured while the team rescues Bruce from the League

“Nngh…Baba…”

“I’m here, Damian. I’m here.”

Jason isn’t entirely sure what went wrong or when. 

Well, that’s not entirely true. He had some idea, not that it mattered now. 

It was fucking idiotic to think they could just walk into the League of Assassins to rescue Bruce, and he said as much beforehand. But nobody ever listened to Jason, especially if Damian contradicted his opinions (which he obviously did, in this case). 

Dick, Tim, Luke, Kate, and Jason all sustained a handful of injuries during their rescue attempt, wrapped in gauze with various creams and ointments on cuts, bullet wounds, and burns. Bruce had gone through quite the ordeal with Talia attempting to reprogram him, but Jason could share dozens of first-hand experiences where Batman had endured worse wounds.

The clusterfuck of battered and bruised vigilantes hovering around the Batcave’s infirmary, waiting for Damian to wake up, was evidence of the hypothesis Jason had kept to himself the day before. They all knew Damian so well, yet not at all.

“We cannot wait. Who knows how much time Father has left in Mother’s hands? We do not know her agenda.”

“Listen, demon brat, I know you’re worried, but you know just as well as I do that we’d be walking into a death trap without a plan. He could be dead already, for all we know.”

“Exactly, which is why this discussion is a waste of resources. And I am not worried; the plan is to get in, and out. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Their siblings never seemed to recall that Damian – in addition to being a trained assassin with a body count in the high hundreds (if not thousands) and having the intellects of an al Ghul and a Wayne ingrained in a DNA – was also a child; a scared one, at that.

They wouldn’t recognize that in the kid’s stoic, controlled features. A mask, another layer underneath his Robin and Damian Wayne personas.

That’s what they were, after all. Personas. 

Damian caught the brunt of it when his mother expressed her displeasure at his ‘regression’. In her opinion, he had grown soft, too attached to his father and siblings. He vividly remembered Damian’s extensive training and education, starting before he could even walk. 

He was dropped into the Lazarus Pit shortly after Damian’s birth and regained his memories. From then on, Jason had made it his mission to do everything in his power to keep the small, green-eyed creature (who looked so much like their father) safe for as long as time would allow. He took many an arrow and blade during his time at the League, training and ‘helping’ Talia raise his newborn brother.

When they weren’t training, Jason told him fairytales he had read as a kid. Ra’s caught them once and punished Jason severely for introducing such ‘childish stories’ to the heir of the demon’s head. His adventures as Robin were a common topic – anything that would help preserve any innocence Damian had. He bandaged his wounds the same way Dick had after patrol; cross-legged, their knees touching as he dabbed antiseptic on his wounds and told him how well he had done, despite Ra’s comments about his weak technique. 

After a particularly rough day, when five-year-old Damian finished yanking pointed arrows from his back and shoulders, he wrapped a thin strip of leather around Jason’s dominant wrist.

“It’s the same leather from my necklace,” he had said, his chubby face lacking the wide smile a child that age should have. “So we match.”

Jason wore it to this day, only removing it for showers and patrol.

While Jason may not have been as touchy as Dick, with his kisses, snuggles, and constant fussing (also known as being a mother hen), he was no stranger to a gentle, guiding touch, a comforting hug, a reassuring hand to the top of Damian’s head. He couldn’t bring himself to replicate the love his older brother had instilled in him, but he tried his best.

Still, the affectionate little boy was slowly, painfully whittled away, until only a tiny piece of him was left, buried deep within.

The day Jason watched Damian execute his favorite teacher, the tutor that had been with him since birth, without blinking an eye, was the day he swore that he would get him out.

Even if it meant losing his life. Again.

Then they returned to that very place and Jason’s worst fear came true.

“Mother, don’t make me kill you!”

His attempt to dissuade her allowed Talia to lunge at him. Damian twisted to parry the attack, but she changed course at the last second–

And her Kitana ran him through.

���As if you could.”

Jason immediately abandoned Bruce’s code at Damian’s scream, ending his opponent with a bullet through their skull. He whipped around just in time to see Talia drag her sword from her son’s side, coated in his blood. Behind his mask, his eyes blue wide, and he almost lost his stomach right there.

“DAMIAN!”

Pressed into a corner with his own voice roaring in his ears, Jason snapped back to reality, his body rigid at the sound Damian made. The boy had whined when Bruce touched his hair, an “undignified” sound he would say if he were in the right state of mind. Damian shook his head with a sharp hiss, struggling to sit up, his skull pounding. He kept his sensitive eyes tightly shut, the burning light from the fluorescents of the medical bay making his headache worse.

Kate and Luke decided to return home but were replaced by Barbara, Stephanie, Cassandra, and Alfred. Bruce removed his hand but still looked down at his son, confused, thick brows knitted together. Damian was unwell and injured, yes, but he had no head injuries that would make him delusional. He quickly turned to Alfred, about to have him administer more tests–

Jason unglued himself from the wall, let his arms fall from his chest, then scratched the short hair at the nape of his neck. He approached the hospital bed, slipping by his siblings and moving to the opposite side as Bruce. Dick was especially confused, watching his first not-so-little brother with his head titled and questioning eyes. Bruce’s expression was unreadable, while Alfred’s was almost knowing.

Damian visibly softened when Jason grazed the back of his hand and gripped Jason’s for dear life, eyes still closed. “Baba…” he groaned and tugged with what little strength he had left. Their expressions quickly turned to shock, save for Bruce and Alfred.

“Sh-She tried to kill…me,” Damian croaked, still reverting to his native tongue. Jason threw a sharp look at all the surprised faces in the room, urging them to leave with a nasty glare. Damian would never let anyone, let alone the whole family see him so distraught, devastated – broken, if he were himself.

When people started to apprehensively file out, Jason finally allowed Damian to pull him into the bed. He carefully avoided the bandages, bruises, and plastic cast on his wrist as best he could. He looked to Alfred, who gave him the ‘all clear’ before moving his fragile body into his lap, shielding him with his arms as the stragglers continued to stare. Bruce included.

“Get. Out.” It came more as growl than speech, his voice low and gravely.

Finally, Dick gently guided Bruce out of the room.

Violent sobs wracked through Damian’s little body as Jason held him, rubbing small circles into his skin with his big, calloused hand. “I know, kid. I know.”

.

.

.

Copyright © 2023 as-is-above-so-below. All rights reserved.

[bruciemilf]

Something something violence has always been the primary love language for Waynes, something something.

It breaks me that Bruce loves Jason so deeply, and Jason is so completely unaware of it. He comes to the conclusion that love is religion. You have to see to believe.

I’m just thinking about Jason watching evidence of how wrecked Bruce is after his death. He stalks Batman, always, tracks down every movement and breath. He waits for the perfect moment to shoot.

Your father only dies once, after all.

That moment, mysteriously, doesn’t come.

Jason’s never been scared of Bruce. Fear, to him, is darkness and cold and a bleach white face laughing at him. Fear of Bruce not being there at all. That’s fear.

I need a scene where Jason, — Red Hood, — watches Batman pin down a mugger.

He doesn’t know what that man says. Something about getting on him for not being there when Wayne’s boy got killed.

He’s never been scared of Bruce.

But when he punches that man, over and over and over, when his throat makes those horrible sounds of gasping effort, animal and feral, he’s afraid. Afraid Bruce won’t stop.

He’s about to jump in when another, smaller pair of feet runs up to the scene and Jesus Christ that’s a kid — A kid wearing Jason’s old uniform. Wrapping his arms around Batman’s and clinging.

The man on the ground is motionless. If he didn’t blink, Jason wouldn’t know there was a face anymore.

But that’s not the worst part.

The worst part is Bruce crying. Gasping, punched out noises, his hands drenched with red, squeezing the kid so close to him.

“My baby. Oh my baby.”

[daydreamerwonderkid]

I can't deny that there's a part of me that's absolutely delighted that each time Bruce unjustly went after Jason, the Batkids responded in kind.

This isn't my ideal version of the Batfam, but it does warm my heart seeing Jason's siblings stand up for him.

[spacespacespace]

Has anyone thought abt how Dicks kinda been there for all his brothers?

With jason he was his big brother, and the only other sibling there

With Tim Jason was thought dead and all that, so once again dick was the only one there

And with Damian, when Bruce was ‘dead’, Tim was off finding him, and Jason had js fucked off, so Dick was, again, the only one there for him

He’s always been the constant

[m3vl0vesu]

𝔸 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕥𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕗𝕝𝕒𝕞𝕖 𝕡𝕥𝟚

Tw: Violence, suggestions of abuse, suggestions of bullying

A/N: I finally made a part two you guys!!! It was short and simple, the real stuff comes later :)

Part one>>

Your thoughts

The anxiety bubbled in your throat-or maybe that was bile- as the stench of cigars hit your nose. You followed the light smoke into the kitchen, your father seated at the table. His eyes scanned over you, narrowing as he did a double take. “You're late.” His voice was rough and hoarse, maybe he didn’t notice.

You hated that that was a good thing. “The bus was late…” Your voice was barely a whisper, you were mumbling again. “Speak up.”

“The bus was late.” The stench of cigars was stronger as you saw a cloud of smoke surround your dad, it was a sight you’ve seen for as long as you can remember. “There's a door right there, can’t you do that outside?” Nothing in your tone indicated sass, it was a genuine question. You waved your hands, even if you were used to the smell you still didn’t like it. “You can deal with it.” “And you can deal with smoking outside.”

Rude. Just rude, he stunk up the kitchen and he didn’t even bother to use an ashtray. Just a mess for me to clean up. Why even bother? Shit. “Fix your tone.” “Right, s-sorry…sorry”

He turned around, giving you permission to leave the room. It was always a surprise to see him home, and if you were being honest? You wish he never came back.

Only thing you could see were the stairs, after every step they creaked. With your head down you made it to your bedroom, the familiar site making your shoulders feel heavier. You tried your best to close your door without a slam, and it was hard. Your fists needed to hit something, someone. And you hated it, but violence is just how your family does it. Violence

.

. Monday 4:59 Jason Todd (Third person)

.

Violent. Unstable.

Bruce's words echoed in his mind, sure the old man was probably just  trying to get him back ‘home’ ,but to Jason? It just seemed like another way to cage him. Jason was an adult now, he learnt how to do adult things. And he did that alone. He could take care of himself, sure he forgets to clean his wounds sometimes…and he might be getting evicted-but still!

With a grunt, he fell onto the worn-out couch he owned. The familiarity of it made the tenseness in his shoulders decrease a little. It was a bad day. One thing on his mind was that kid, why were they all busted up? A small chuckle left his lips when he remembered what they said ‘You’re not a wall??’ they sounded…funny.

Plus it was pretty dangerous for a kid to just be out and about in Gotham streets. The kid would be fine right? 

They didn’t seem weak but…but…

But why do I care?

With a sigh he fell asleep. If he can’t do it at night, he might as well sleep the day away.

.

.Tuesday 1:30 (Second Person)

.

It felt like the walls were closing in on you, the rush of people getting to class. You hated it, the overlapping sounds of their footsteps and their mindless chatter. You could feel their sides as they passed by you, a few hands here and there, your head still hurt. 

Two more hours of this bullshit. This wasn’t going to work, you needed to skip. But you couldn’t afford another detention, literally. 

They threatened to expel you, your wrist still hurts from that night.

Your nerves were on fire, nothing could calm you down. Definitely not whatever useless subject you had next. Science was it? It was time to use the sick or injured card. 

You had enough bruises and it worked last time, but that meant entering the classroom, raising your hand, people having their eyes on you as you asked to go to the nurse.

Ah

They implied that new rule, the one where your parents would have to pick you up. Of-fucking-course! 

Your life was as shitty as ever, and that damned limp had barely gotten better. At least the swelling on your ankle stopped. It had been like that for a week, it was probably a good idea to go to the nurse for that but why bother, then she’d tell your parents. And no-one needs that. 

Even though something at the back of your mind desperately wanted them to notice. While deep in though someone bumped into y-

“Ah. Sorry about that.” The words held no real apology but at least he had the decency to apologise. “No it’s alrigh-” holy f-it was the Wayne kid. “...t. I-It’s fine”

You didn’t really know why but he always creeped you out, it was odd. I mean it was always odd seeing a proper Gotham elite not have some vendetta against you but that wasn’t it. He had a particular distance from everyone, and his guard was always up. All he did was sit and watch, he read people well. Just like you did…maybe that was it. The thought of someone knowing how you felt irked you, it just wasn’t what you're used to. He looked down at the floor, maybe your ankle, and walked off. Leaving you with a small chill down your spine. Guess you had to get to Science, he was in your class anyway. Couldn't risk it, he might be a snitch. He did look like one.

.

.3:19

.

School was closed early after a villain was spotted nearby, which was odd they never really came this close to the school during the day. If there was a villain spotted nearby that meant-

ShitThe buses weren’t coming. Even if you tried calling your Dad he would say he’s at ‘work’ or ‘too busy’ and Mom was too ill to drive, that asshole probably took the car as well.

Guess that meant walking, you dreaded any time you had to walk. It was usually long and unbearable, going from the relatively clean streets to the graffiti-filled alleyways near where you lived. 

The penthouses would turn into small apartment buildings, just further proof just how big the gap was from the privileged to the others.

When you had to walk you usually kept some sort of weapon on you. Everyone did. Didn’t mean it wasn’t going to suck.

.

The dozens of kids slowly turned into three or five going the same way you were. Some behind and some in front, your old headphones blasting whatever emotional music you were listening to. When you turned the corner you saw him, them. 

Instinctively your hands balled up into fists, they were laughing. A laugh that bounced around in your mind, you pray that they don’t fucking notice you-

…

Well never mind then.

“Look who we have here…” The boy had a mop of brown curly hair and a freckled face, he was a few inches shorter than you. It always made you chuckle, but today you just walked away, that's when you felt the collar of your shirt being pulled from behind. Do these dipshits get off on your torture or something? “Hey-” Your reflexes were fast, too fast. Your elbow hit his jaw, fuck you hit him too hard. When you turned around, almost falling he almost pounced on you. Almost. He was grabbed by his collar, like a small kitten would be grabbed by their mother. You stepped back, looking up at the mans face…he seemed familiar.

.

.

.

“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size? I saw a squirrel nearby, maybe that would do.”

[soulless-bex]

Nico di Angelo finds a recently revived Jason Todd, helps him recover from not being dead anymore and brings him to camp half blood when it becomes obvious he’s a demigod. and so begins the game of Who Is That Child’s Godly Parent?

some think it’s Athena because he’s clearly smart and well versed in strategy

some others think it’s Ares after seeing him fight

Hermes cabin is convinced he’s one of theirs because the guy is one hell of a thief

turns out it was Dionysus all along. Jason knew since day one of course. he just inherited the dramatics from his dad, amongst other things, and wanted to see what would happen

[honeycoveredstarlight]

Oh My God OK so I'm looking for a fanfic I literally can't find it anywhere and I need help PLeAsE

It's a tim-centric batfam fic where Tim's known for a while now that the batfam don't really care for him, he's estranged basically and then somehow he gets sent to another timeline/dimension where Bruce is still 8 and it's set just after his parents died. Tim is like in his 20s in this I think okay so he befriends Bruce and Alfred and becomes a sort of father figure to Bruce and a grandfather figure to the rest of the batfam when they come along. Only trouble is, tim doesn't age because his timeline progresses slower than this one so all the while tim is perpetually 20-something cause it's only been a week in his home dimension but it's been a few decades in the one he got sent to

Please I NEED this fic, if anyone can help I'll be eternally grateful. I've like scoured ao3 so at this point I'm not certain it's there, it could be a prompt on Tumblr but my memory is not the best so idk

[awhoreintheory]

I a hundred percent get what you're saying. Like, Tony was already an idol for Peter, but after losing Ben and picking up the vigilante thing, how could Tony not morph into a figure he could look up to in a more familiar way? And after Tony shows up to bring him along to Germany, well, how's the kid not going to get a hell of an attachment given his lack of paternal figures in his life?? Impossible. Can't with them. Rotating them in my mind nonstoppppp.

EXACTLYYY

This is my Big one tho. Because Tony was extremely distraught about losing Peter on Titan. He came back, and he didn't say he lost, he didn't say everyone's gone, he said "i lost the kid." Like!!

The then, when they're trying to convince Tony to make a time machine to get the stones, he's initially unconvinced. But later, when a picture of him and Peter falls, he's suddenly on board and figures out time travel?

Tony figured out time travel to get Peter back. Sure, he saved the lives of trillions of others, but he was convinced because of Peter. Like!!

And then when he sees Peter during the fight, he full on stops just to hug him?? Dad shaped.

Peter def says stuff like "Oh yeah Mr. Stark taught me how to do that" and other such similar things, but about a lot of stuff, and Jason and Dick are downright envious. The kid talks about this "Mr. Stark" guy like he hung the moon! They both think they're way cooler and try to show off, but always end up embarrassing themselves fs. Barbara has years worth of blackmail now.

[yuripira4e]

I love the trope of “kid without a mother/father figure discovers magical world and gains 4 of them”

[dukeofthomas]

calling bruce jason's 'father figure' should be illegal. jason is his son. he was literally even legally adopted. "father figure" my ass that's his dad ???

[agent371]

Me watching the batfamily fans completely mischaracterise my favourites on the rare occasion they remembered that other characters existed: 😞

[magnetothemagnificent]

Death in the Family and the death of Douglas Ramsey happening at the same time is so funny to me. Really was a "fuck them kids" moment in comics history.

[reineydraws]

he's murdered, resurrected, live! ✨️✨️ catch six seven batkids as a sparkly tudor-style pop idol group in my six the musical au for the @batfam-au-zine

PRE-ORDERS open 'till May 19! get your copy here!!! ➡️➡️ https://batfamauzine.bigcartel.com/

[ghurab-alzilal]

Dadn't

Jason: I'm not a father figure. I just wasn't born for that.

Dick: Of course... And what are you doing?

Jason: Peeling an apple for Damian because he is hungry and that little spoiled man don't like the fucking peel.

Dick: *staring at Jason with a eyebrow raised *

Jason: What?

Dick: Nothing, J.

Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

[nobledragonflying]

Damian: Based on what I have researched, it is clear to me that I’m the one who has upheld the ideals of Robin the best-

Jason: Bullshit you have! You threaten everyone with a sword!

Damian: Like you’re any better Todd. What with your use of guns-

Jason: Not as Robin you little shi-

Tim: As the better detective out of the both of you, I think-

Jason: Did you or did you not blow up a base full of people. 

Tim: As Red Robin.

Damian: I seem to recall that there is still Robin in the name-

Steph, there to cause problems on purpose: Actually I was the best Robin-

More screaming, cat yowls and an almost shattered vase later   

Bruce: This is your fault you know.

Dick “parents killed by mobster at age 9, made a costume to murder a man about it” Grayson: I have no idea what you’re talking about

[kierancaz]

Me when a girl and her dad in media: