#i just have a lot of thoughts about jason todd

[julymusings]

you're good to me, baby

with the roar of the fire my heart rose to its feet, like the ashes of ash i saw rise in the heat. settle soft and as pure as snow, i fell in love with the fire long ago.

or; because the red hood bleeding onto your living room carpet is exactly what you need right now [3.6k]

Jason Todd x fem!reader; based on this lovely ask; ngl this turned into a personal vent jason doesn't show up until 1k words in LMAO; warning there’s blood (duh) and reader is type A and suggested to have heavy anxiety; pre-established relationship where reader doesn’t know his identity + muzzle red hood bc HOT

Compartmentalize. Create baskets in your mind. Analyze the situation, and drop the corresponding emotion in the appropriate basket.

One: You had a fight with your best friend. She called you selfish because you weren’t enthusiastic about her new relationship. She just can’t seem to understand that no matter how happy you want to be for her, it’s painful to see everyone find safety in another person when you can’t. Every attempt at romance is squashed by something or the other that you keep doing wrong. I thought you were hot, your latest dating attempt had said when you ran into him and asked why he never texted back. But you’re kind of a lot. Not something I have the space for right now, you know?

Two: There’s an important presentation today, one that could determine the fate of your position in the company. Your coworker, the one who’s convinced you stole his promotion (he just flirted with the higher-ups while you actually completed the requirements), refuses to let you forget how much is at stake. All it takes is one misstep, one stutter, one hesitation, and he will take it as an excuse to demand your demotion— or worse, termination. You’ve been preparing for this presentation for three weeks. If after all that effort it’s still not good enough, maybe you should be fired.

The emotions here? Frustration. Anger. Exhaustion. Jealousy. Just to name a few. But there’s no time to dwell on anxieties right now, so you shove those thoughts aside. Drop them in their compartments and move on because, after all, if you can strip them down to their bones and find where they stem, you can yank those anxieties from the ground before they have the chance to root. And then there’s no need for unnecessary heartache, right?

(Who cares if the baskets are overflowing, crumpled fragments spilling over the sides like garbage in a landfill? Who cares if the room of your mind is so packed that you’re pressed against the wall and breathing becomes painful.)

The digital clock beside your bed reads 6:12. The numbers blink in and out of the window, their red dots and dashes taunting your heavy eyelids. You still have forty-eight minutes of peace before it will scare you awake. Its beeping will ring so loud and angry that the adrenaline from the startle will power you through your morning routine, and your beating heart won’t dare still to entertain wishes of just five more minutes. 6:13 now. You have forty-seven more minutes of peace, minutes which should be spent sleeping, giving your poor brain a break from itself. But you can’t. Every time you close your eyes and begin to sink below the level of consciousness, your heart pumps a house-special cocktail of cortisol that laces through your bloodstream and convinces you that if you fall asleep you will miss your presentation and you will get fired. The off-grid escape plan formulating in your head switches from hypothetical to tentative when your neighbors, apparently awoken to lust as well as tired by it, start going at it again. You want nothing more than to bang on their door and scream obscenities until they hate each other enough to never touch again, but you resign yourself to consciousness, giving up on the dream of what would now be forty-four more minutes of sleep. 

It’s Friday morning; only one more day to get through before the sweet release of the weekend finds you. (The whole weekend will be spent contemplating the start of a project, feeling like two days is not nearly long enough to complete anything, and dreading Monday until it finds you with nothing done and the same, endless cycle awaiting.)

After completing your morning routine 44 minutes early, you use the spare time to go through your presentation once more, just for good luck, wrapping up the third run-through just in time to hear your alarm to leave for work.

The presentation goes decent, at least well enough to quell any doubts about your ability to do your job. Your coworker ate his words for sure, and you might have enjoyed the look on his face had you not mentally checked out as soon as you finished your closing remarks. Rush hour traffic has the ice cream tub you bought at the convenience store dripping condensation all over the passenger’s seat and your hips hurt from being in the same sitting position for most of the day, but you remind yourself that peace is only a few miles out. Stopped at yet another red light, your grip tightens on the steering wheel. Breathe in. Breathe out. The line of cars starts to move forward.

When you get home, your frustration is close to boiling over. You kick off your shoes right at the door, your keys and bag following close behind.

Far be it from you to break down on the floor in the middle of the room, the plan begins to formulate. There’s a box of tissues on your desk– that can go on the nightstand, along with two of the chilled water bottles you keep in the fridge for after you work out. And you’ll need something for the tissues, right? The small wastebasket from the bathroom should be fine. You drag it over to the side of your bed, sitting in your usual spot to make sure you placed it at a reachable distance. You won’t want to get out of bed to wash your face after this, so a washcloth should go next to the tissues. And an extra one, just to be safe. There’s a half-pint of ice cream left in the freezer, you remember, and store that information for later.

You keep a set of comfortable clothes ready, the nicest, softest pajamas you own that you only wear after an everything shower. This shower, however, is a quick one, not much more than a few minutes under scalding water to comfort you, if nothing else. The light pink pajamas are a high-quality cotton and you feel like you’re in the clouds when you slip into them. Remaining is the ice cream, which you set out on the counter right before your shower so it would thaw just enough to be soft but not melted, With everything in your room ready, you go to retrieve the ice cream but stop with a startle when you round the corner.

“Jesus,” you mumble.

He’s just sitting there, doing nothing except bleeding out on your cream-colored carpet. He’s spread out on the couch like he owns the place, head leaned back against the wall as he lets his injured arm hang over the armrest and drip blood and dirt onto your cream-colored rug. The liquid seeps into the expensive wool, staining it with reddish-brown hues and the scent of iron, and he doesn’t even notice.

“Hey.” The Red Hood lifts his head when he sees you.

On any other day, you’d be quick to action, hauling him up off the couch and sprinting for the first aid kit under the bathroom sink. Today, your arms are too heavy and your gaze remains rooted on the widening splotch of red against white. Your throat feels dry. “You’re getting blood on the carpet.”

He peers over the armrest. “Oh, shit,” he curses, lifting his arm to hover it over his lap. He sounds robotic through his muzzle mask. His hood, pulled down to reveal his thick black hair curling at the ends from humidity and sweat, rests on his back.

I don’t have time for this, is what you want to say. You want to scream it in his face and kick him out for having the audacity to think he can come and go as he pleases, that you’re nothing more than a drive-through emergency room who will drop everything if he gets so much as a paper cut. But you can’t say any of this, and you do want him to come to you whenever he needs help. God knows he won’t go anywhere else.

Holding back your heavy sigh, you wordlessly walk to the bathroom. He takes that as an invitation to follow. 

It’s clinical. Rehearsed. Neither of you speak. It’s a partnered dance long since committed to muscle memory, steps you can take in your sleep. He knows to seat himself on the step stool you got just for him, for nights like these. He knows where to find the first aid kit and which supplies to hand you first. You know the exact steps to follow. Check the palms for abrasions. Antiseptic to the lacerations. Concussion exam. 

Maybe he can sense the air of tension surrounding you, because he doesn’t say as much as he usually does (though, granted, it’s still not much). It’s a reflection of your dynamic several months earlier when this arrangement began, back before you’d managed to chip away at the surface of his rough exterior. You notice the way his fingers curl against his thighs when you, somewhat carelessly, wipe the dirt from his skin with more pressure than necessary and the way his eyebrows tilt inward when you work slower than usual. You notice, but you ignore it.

We both know you have at least a dozen people who could do this for you. The words echo in your mind. Don’t act like I owe you this. If anything, you owe me a new carpet. These are things you wish you could say, but never will. Being realistic, you’ll probably never be able to say things like this. You’ll be subjected to all the shitty coworkers and unsympathetic friends and exploitative vigilantes of the world for the rest of your life.

This isn’t his fault, you remind yourself, but still, your lips turn down and your jaw feels tight with the effort to keep your face still, to not burst into tears right on the spot. In the second it takes for you to calm yourself, your hands pause. He notices. He says nothing. 

It’s not until you’re finished with cleaning the blood from his arm wound and giving him a wad of gauze to hold against it that he tests the waters and asks, “Is it too bad?” 

He sounds automated, but over the last few months, you’ve learned a thing or two about reading even these robotic actions. There's a certain quietness to the beginning of his sentence like he’s debating if he should say it or not. 

“It’s fine,” you say, shortly. 

“Sorry about your rug,” he says. He tugs at the strap of his muzzle with one finger, rubbing at the skin underneath the leather. “I can get the stain out.”

You retrieve the needle and thread from the kit and don’t respond. You don’t even look at him.

After a moment’s hesitation, he continues. “It’s easy. You just need salt and—”

“Okay.”

He goes quiet.

You don’t mean to be so tetchy, but you don’t have the energy for anything more. Every little thing has you feeling on the edge of shattering. It’s too much. It’s all too much.

It’s when you’re kneeled at his side, staring into the gaping wound on his bicep and trying to thread the needle, fingers trembling from the chill of the tiled floor with nothing but a layer of thin cotton to keep you warm, that it happens. He shifts on the stool, a mere twitch in an attempt to get comfortable, but it brushes his bloody arm against yours. Flecks of fresh red on the light pink fabric. First your carpet, now your pajamas. Your favorite, special, extra soft matching cotton pajama set, a rare splurge after your promotion that stood out among old t-shirts and sweat shorts. Ruined. Again, he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Did I say something?” Hood asks. He waits for your response, but when none comes, he adds, “I’m sorry if I did.” He speaks so quietly you may not have been able to separate his words from the whirring filter of his mask, if not for the chilling silence of the bathroom floor. The insulating brick walls of your old apartment building are something you’re usually grateful for, but tonight you find yourself wishing for the city’s commotion to seep through the walls. Something, anything to buffer his proximity to you.

You hear his inhale as he prepares to say something else.

“Can you just let me work?” You snap before he has the chance to speak again. It’s loud, louder than you’d ever dream of speaking to him, and he flinches. Your eyes shut in apology, but only for a moment before you get back to it. He looks away. His feet point towards the door.

He wants to leave, you can tell, and you don’t blame him. You just messed everything up. But you started this, so now you have to finish it.

You sit in silence for the several minutes it takes for you to clean his wound and stop the bleeding.

He’s not looking at you, gaze transfixed ahead of him on a chip in the paint. At least, you assume. It’s difficult to guess what’s going on behind the milky white covering over his eyes. His subtle body language can be read if you pay close enough attention, you’ve learned, but that’s not something you care to do right now.

(Maybe you noticed in the back of your mind that he’s not exhibiting any body language since you snapped at him, but the compartment in your head for guilt is already overflowing, so maybe you didn’t notice it, you tell yourself.)

You stare at your sleeve, at the patches of blood blooming like ink blots. The red and pink hues blend together behind your blurring vision. You sniffle.

“Are you—” Hood starts. Because now he’s looking at you.

“Excuse me,” you say, pushing yourself off the ground and stumbling out of the room without so much as a glance back at him. You stagger into your room, needle and thread still in hand, and push the door closed. The lights are off, and the darkness is calming, quieting your buzzing thoughts. You close your eyes and lean against the door. Breathe in. Breathe out. You continue this exercise, breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth to soothe your sympathetic nervous system, the same way a therapist instructed that one time you went. You wipe away the moisture that has collected in your eyes, roll out your stiff neck, dry your sweaty palms over your thighs. You toss the needle and thread aside, because they are definitely not sterile anymore, and take a few more breaths before opening the door and going back to the bathroom.

You avoid his face, following the lines of grimy grout between the tiles before resuming to your spot at his side. His inspecting eyes burn on the side of your face. You wipe down the forceps with a sterilizing wipe and rip open the plastic packaging for a new needle, holding it up to the wound, but your hand refuses to steady.

Another deep breath. Then another.

Hood sighs. It’s almost chastising. “I think I should go.”

“What?” You’re just surprised enough to be torn away from your thoughts and look him in the eye (mask) for the first time all night.

“You can’t do this,” he says, gruffly. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ll let you figure it out.”

You scoff. “Yes, I can. I’m fine.”

Before he can argue, you grab him by the wrist to hold him in place just as he starts moving to get up. He winces, but you keep your grip tight on him. You can feel his scrutiny through the cold, expressionless barrier of his disguise, practically track his pupils as they search your face.

You both pretend he couldn’t break from your hold in an instant if he wanted to.

“You’re shaking,” Hood says. His voice is much softer now.

You follow the turn of his head to your hand where it hovers the needle right over his skin. You are shaking. Trembling, in fact.

“No, I’m not.” It comes out as an empty whisper.

You focus all your strength on steadying yourself, but the harder you try to stabilize, the harder you tremor. Your other hand releases his wrist to clamp over your dominant hand and force it to stay in place. It guides the needle closer to the skin, but now your vision is blurring. You blink rapidly, but it’s not enough. The tears start falling. You look away from him, but a warm hand settles over yours. You don’t dare look at him, unable to bear showing him your shameful face, wet and blushing and screwed up in misery. You turn your face into your sleeve. Clamp your eyes shut tight, thinking maybe if you keep them closed, this darkness will swallow you up and he won’t be here anymore.

But the warmth of his skin on yours is the first feeling of softness, of relief you’ve felt in months, and then it’s gone. Your shoulders are shaking, quaking with the effort to keep your sobs quiet.

One finger ever so gently hooks around your chin, pulling it back up to face him. You keep your eyes closed, not wanting to see him see you like this, but the tears are still streaming. He brushes them away. Whether that makes it better or worse, you can’t be sure, because you cry even harder, snatching your face away from his grasp to muffle your sobs into the back of your hand. You don’t realize he’s pushed himself off his stool to sit cross-legged on the floor until you feel his hand circling your arm and pulling you closer. The tools in your hand clatter on the floor as your palms come up to press against his chest, fighting against him with half-hearted protests murmured through your cries. But even with only one good arm he’s too strong for you, and you’re pulled into him.

He’s so gentle with you, rubbing your back and resting his chin atop your head while you cry and cry and cry into his shirt. Several minutes pass like this, with your face buried in his chest and his good arm holding you tightly against him while the other dangles lamely at his side, throbbing with an intensity he’s trying to ignore.

When your sobs die down, and you’re sure you’re all cried out, you linger against him. He smells like smoke and gasoline, and his shirt is soft and warm from his body heat seeping through. His hand continues to stroke up and down the length of your back, even after you’ve quieted. The edge of his mask digs into your scalp where his chin sits, but it feels worth it. Your hands, still pressed to his chest, slide higher, completely of their own volition, out of a newfound desire to wrap your arms around his neck. You don’t hear it, but you can feel his sharp draw of breath, his chest rising quickly under your touch. Your hands lose their nerve at his clavicle as you hold your breath for fear of the smallest movement drawing attention to your forwardness. You wait for him to rebuff you, to lean away from your touch, or grab your wrists and pry them off. He doesn’t.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. His chest finally falls.

Eyes opening, your thumb swipes over the edge of the red bat symbol just below his collarbone.

His movements pause, lightly gripping the fabric of your shirt for just a moment, before releasing it. “It’s alright,” he tells you.

You pull back from his chest to look at him, the way his cold and unfeeling expression stares back at you. You wonder from time to time what’s under the mask, but tonight the desire is overwhelming; you ache with the want to know what he looks like. The color of his eyes. What his mouth looks like when he winces over a deep cut or chuckles at one of your anecdotes. You wonder if his lips are soft or chapped. If he’d like it if you dragged your thumb across the bottom one.

The metallic odor spreading through the room brings you back to the present, and you hope the flush from your tears hides your cheeks’ growing heat when you realize where your mind had wandered. 

“Oh, fuck, your arm.” You speak in a watery voice, wiping at your face as the urgency returns to your senses. Though you try to move away, his firm hand on your back pulls you back in.

“Don’t worry about it, okay?” He says, resuming his caresses up and down your back. “I can take care of it.”

“Then why do you even need me?” You sniffle with a small smile.

He stays silent. But when you search his face, waiting for an answer, his hand moves to your side, palm sliding a fraction of an inch closer to your waist and fingers tensing, you can almost see through the mechanical muzzle to the way his lips shape the words. At least, he wishes you could.

You know why.

this was lots of fun to write and thank u for your patience ik i said i was gonna "knock this out in a day" 2 weeks ago😬😬 also we're gonna pretend they aren't just letting his open wound marinate for half an hour when it should be getting stitched up bc it's fiction ok? everyone say thank you mostly-imagines for proofreading this😚

but anyway happy new year!! it's been barely 2 months but starting this account made my year so much better🫶🫶🫶and ty for 500 followers that's crazy🫣🫢

[thargelalia]

Jason Todd headcanon alert 🚨

*taps mic, and clears throat*

Okay okay so, I’ve seen some people on here saying Jason probably uses 3 in 1 shampoo conditioner body wash, and I actually agree.

BUT as a latina I got somethings to say!

I won’t even address the comments I saw saying that he doesn’t shower regularly because that’s just insane btw. At least when it comes to the way I imagine him.

Obviously I try to make my reader as neutral as possible in terms of ethnicity and stuff but bitch I’m sure as hell incorporating our overall cultural aspect of always being clean and smelling like heaven alright lmao 💅✨

Smelling great has gotta be like one of the biggest aphrodisiacs in the world idc what anybody says. Being clean and smelling good is POWER babes!!!

That being said:

If Jason starts dating a girl like that, the minute she spots that product on his bathroom shelf, it’s 👏 going 👏 away 👏

He may protest at first, saying it’s practical, and that he’s been doing that for years etc, but the death glare he receives will shut him up completely.

Besides proper shampoo, conditioner, and body wash, I see him incorporating good smelling body lotion, and post-shave balm for example.

With time, he also sees your commitment with skincare (again, nothing too crazy), and gets convinced to adopt a 3 steps routine too (face wash, moisturizer, sunscreen). Ofc he’ll forget about it in the beginning and whenever he’s exhausted from patrol or his missions. But you’re always there to gently remind him or do it for him.

He also applies a thicker facial cream to his face on Winter, and relishes on the fact that his face stops cracking.

You might convince him to try on a face mask with you on a lazy Saturday night. It’s domestic and another way to bond as well.

Aside from abolishing the 3 in 1 horrid thing, you wouldn’t really push him into doing anything else. It’d be mere suggestions accompanied by an extra sweet smile.

Ultimately, Jason doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to. Even if you insist. If it doesn’t make sense to him, he won’t do it.

However, he’s actually as open to listen to your ideas and opinions as you are to his.

And that’s how he gets convinced, and starts incorporating these things into his life.

His skin and hair actually look better, hence he feels better about himself too. It’s an act of self care. One he’s never actually had the luxury to have or think about.

Besides, he loves how wonderful you smell with sweetened and fresh scents, making him wanna bite you all over just to get a taste of the supple skin.

So why wouldn’t he want to mirror that as well? He sees that it’s worth it when you just can’t stop smelling him, praising him, and returning his bites with just as much eagerness. This man purrs alright!!!

And listen, he’s a manly man, but fortunately not one to have a fragile masculinity in any way. So this isn’t an issue for him.

You’re there to help him when he needs it, making sure he feels comfortable, and respecting his boundaries at all times <3

Overall, I just think as your relationship progressed you’ve incorporated and exchanged a lot of things between each other, and I’m excited to share some other examples in the near future.

thanks for reading this, and let me know your thoughts!

if you disagree feel free to do so in your head (just kiddin’!! maybe!) <3

[yoitsjay]

A Family

Summary: after reading some old letters, Jason feels it's time to make things really official.

Warnings: soft smut, protected sex, p in v, use of condoms, mentions of birth control and periods, mentions of babies, talk and agreeing on marriage.

Word count: 5543

A/n: this was a work in progress for a while, I'm glad I finished it tho-

He had been sitting, reading his father's letters for quite a while now. He was only a young kid, a teenager, at the time he didn't really understand what his father's letters meant, or what his dad was saying, but reading them now, again as an adult, it finally clicked... and he cried.

Jason, deep down, did miss his father. He loved Willis Todd, yeah his father was a goon for several villains in the city, but at the time that's what it took to survive. Jason's childhood might not have been grand, or rich or amazingly awesome but, he remembered the small things, the valley fair with his father...

He reads over his father's last letter. "*one day when you have a son, or daughter... you'll understand*" the letter read... Jason glanced up, and his gaze wandered over to the kitchen, where you, his girlfriend of 3 or so years, was cooking dinner and baking cookies, without a ring on your finger. You and Jason agreed that marriage was kind of far-fetched and expensive, and that just being there for each other, loving each other was good enough..

Now he was wondering if he shouldn't get down on one knee... and start a family... for Willis Todd.

You looked over at Jason when you had felt him staring for long enough. You slipped the cookies into the oven then shut the door before dusting your hands off on your pants, looking over at your boyfriend with a light smile, before making your way over, placing your hand on his shoulder, rubbing it gently. "Hey handsome, you alright? You look like you're thinking." You stated softly, moving your knee up on the couch beside his leg, lifting yourself up on top of his lap, arms loosely wrapped around his shoulders, fingers playing with the wisps if hair at the back of his neck

Jason looks up at you, his gaze a combination of both sadness and contemplation as he feels you move onto his lap. His hands moved to your hips to keep you steady there as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close so you couldn't squirm away.

"I'm... alright." He mumbled as you started to gently play with his hair, your touch eliciting a small rumble of contentment from his throat. "Just thinking... you ever considered marriage?" He inquired.

You looked down at him, raising an eyebrow at his question. "I thought we agreed marriage was for noobs." You replied playfully, continuing to play with the ends of his hair.

"Why?" You then asked softly, pulling one hand away as you tucked some of your hair behind your ear, staring into his eyes. "Changing your mind?" You asked, voice softer now as you glanced back to the letters Jason was reading.

Jason rolled his eyes at your playful reply, his hands giving your hips a gentle squeeze, his fingers tracing small circles against the hips that were now against his lap. "Yeah so? I'm allowed to change my mind..." He mumbled, his gaze watching you as your attention shifted back to the letters he held.

"I just..." He trailed off before groaning and giving his head a shake. "I was rereading these letters my father left for me after he died... I'm just... thinking about him a lot lately…”

You frowned slightly, though nodded in understanding, leaning forward as you gently pressed your lips to his forehead, before hugging him gently. "Your father might have been a criminal, but despite that he was an amazing man." You whispered, pulling back as you cupped his face in your hands. "Which letter got you thinking about marriage? Can I read it?" You asked softly.

A small hum escaped his throat as your lips gently pressed against his forehead, a warm and small gesture that gave him comfort. His hands continued to gently rub and grip your hips and held onto you , needing to feel you against him as he spoke up again.

"One that he wrote the night before his death..."

Jason reached out, grabbing the letter he was reading and slowly handed it over to you, his eyes watching you intensely, curious about your reaction.

You gently took the letter, leaning back but staying seated on his lap as you started reading it over. You frowned at certain points, the words clearly having an emotional effect on you.

You then smiled lightly, reading the last words. "His dying wish was for you to have a family you're proud of." You whispered, setting the letter down gently, looking back at your lover. "I'll marry you, put it on paper, if that makes you happy." You said softly, brushing some hair from his face. "It can be small, just us, our families.”

Jason's hands remained on your hips, though his fingers gently stroked your fabric covered skin in comforting and soothing motions. He couldn't help but watch you as you read over the letter, saw the expressions you made and the emotions and thoughts that went through your head as you did so.

You could clearly read between the lines, see what he wanted, what he needed. And hearing you agree made his heart jump. "Are you sure?" He asked, his hand moving up to gently cup your cheek.

"You know... this means forever…” you simply nodded your head.

"We agreed a year ago that you and I were forever Jason, at the time we just didn't care about it on paper. But if you want this, I do too." You stated, smiling down at him. "I can call my dad, arrange something. And hey- maybe you can finally meet my estranged sisters." You snickered, staring into his eyes.

"I love you Jason, I'd be happy to take your last name, honored, even.” You confirmed.

Hearing you say that, confirming how committed and dedicated you both were to each other made his heart soar, though the last part had him raise an eyebrow. He looked up at her with a raised eyebrow, a confused look strewn across his face.

"You... have sisters?" He inquired curiously, realizing he never had asked that or discussed it before. You nodded your head. " I have four of them, I'm the second oldest." You stated.

"They all live across Europe or the Mediterranean, living rich and loving every second." You then snickered. "I'm the only one who stayed in Gotham." You added on, and continued. "So you never got to meet them.”

The revelation that you had several sisters surprised Jason, though it also intrigued him. He knew his girlfriend/fiancé/whatever you call it was quite wealthy, your father owned the Gotham General, after all, but knowing you had four siblings who had all scattered across the world living the life of luxury was still a surprise to him.

"Damn..." He mumbled, the smile on his face growing. "You come from a pretty impressive family, don't you?”

"You do too." You replied with a smile. "Bruce may not be your bio dad, not like Willis Todd was, but he's still your family, still raised you. And let me tell you, Bruce Wayne is pretty impressive. I've known him my whole life." You giggled, staring into his eyes. "But even if your father was here, and you'd been raised by him... I have a feeling we would still be here, and I'd still be madly in love with you.”

He couldn't help but huff out a small chuckle from your giggly comment, rolling his eyes but still smiling at you.

He continued gently stroke your side with one hand while the other was on your hip, tracing small circles there.

"You're too soft for your own good," he teased, though his eyes gazing into yours were loving. "And here I was thinking you'd be swooning over Dick Grayson before me.”

"Ugh- dick might be my best friend but he's too- bubbly, for me." You groaned, then snickered, grinning at Jason.

"Trust me, I thought about it... then you came around, and I, the starstruck 17 year old I was... fell in love." You mused softly. Jason chuckled faintly at your description of Dick, unable to help it. He was close with him as well, but he knew how much of a flirt his older brother was, probably the only one in the bat family who loved having a casual and short-term relationship.

"And I, the broody 15 year old I was, fell at your feet." He replied in a joking manner, reaching out one of his hands and gently caressing your cheek, his gaze never leaving hers, watching as she winced at his words.

"Oof, don't remind me I'm older than you." You pleaded playfully, leaning into his touch before you leaned in and kissed him softly. "Loved making you wait until you were 18 though to let you take me on a date." You added teasingly, pulling back from the kiss. "It was cute, seeing you grovel.”Jason rolled his eyes once again, though a smile played on his lips.

He remembered all those years ago, when the two had made it official on his eighteenth birthday. "You just found it adorable that you had such a younger man pining for you." He replied with a smirk, enjoying the tease between them.

"Well it definitely made me amused." You giggled. "I won't lie, I had plenty of guys at my age, younger, and older all begging for my hand... but I knew I always wanted you... I just wanted to see you work for it." You snickered, kissing his nose. "I loved it when you'd sneak in through my window in my dad's mansion. God's it was like three stories up and I always freaked out when you climbed up, worried you'd fall.”

A small chuckle escaped from Jason's throat at your tease, remembering all those years ago when he was much smaller and a lot more reckless than he currently was. "I was... kind of an adrenaline junkie at that age." He admitted, his smile taking on a hint of fondness, recalling all those nights he snuck into your room and spent the night.

"Not much has changed, I suppose.” he added, and she snickered again, kissing his forehead before perking up as your cookie timer went off. You gently pulled his arms away, and you slid off his lap, ruffling his hair before walking into the kitchen, pulling out the tray of cookies, then shutting off the oven.

"Well, three years ago since that happened, two years since you died and came back." You mused, looking over at him with a warm smile. "I'll marry you Jason, whenever, wherever, however you want." You stated. "I'm just glad I'm marrying you, in the end. And not some rich asshole.” She added

Jason watched as you pulled yourself off his lap and moved into the kitchen, watching as you removed the cookies from the oven. He remains in his place on the couch, listening to her words, a hint of amusement appears on his features as you say you're glad you'd be marrying him instead of some rich jerk. "Well... you're still technically marrying someone rich." He teased, referring to the Wayne money that was attached to him.

You rolled your eyes. "Not your money, doesn't count" you replied playfully, bringing over a couple fresh cookies on a plate, perching right back in his lap, breaking a cookie in half sticking part of that half between your teeth.

Jason chuckled faintly, his hands moving back to her hips, gently holding her there as she perched back onto his lap. A small smirk appeared on his face as she broke the cookie in half.

He then leaned forward, and rather than taking his own cookie, he gently took a bite of the other half of the cookie that was between your teeth - keeping his gaze locked with yours.

You grinned a little bit, and leaned further in, biting into the cookie as you pressed your lips against his, your eyes fluttering closed as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

One of his hands gently came up and rested against the back of your head, holding you against him as your lips met and he leaned into the kiss, closing his eyes and wrapping his other arm around your waist to pull you closer to him.

His tongue ran over her bottom lip as he nipped it, silently asking for entrance.

You hummed softly, swallowing the food in your mouth before you parted your lips for him, tilting your head to the slide so your lips slotted together better, your hand sliding from his cheek, up to his hair, pressing your body up against his.

Jason gently pushed his tongue into your mouth, gently exploring and tasting you, relishing the small hum of contentment that escaped you as you pressed against him.

His hand that was on the back of your head moved down and gently gripped the back of your thighs as his other hand slid up to your ass.

He broke the kiss, trailing his lips down to your jaw and neck, gently nipping at her skin.

You let out a low hum against his lips as you felt his hands slide down to her ass and thigh, and as he started trailing his lips down your neck, you let your head fall back. You hummed, and let out short, soft breaths every time he nipped at your skin.

Jason continued to gently trail kisses and nips down your neck, enjoying the taste and the feel of your soft, bare skin against his lips and tongue. His hands roamed, slowly sliding further up your thighs until his fingers were under the hem of your shirt, tracing patterns against your skin as they slowly moved up higher, almost to the edge of the lacy red underwear you were wearing.

He gently tugged on your shirt, lifting it slightly, silently asking you to take it off

A cheshire like smile made its way onto your lips upon feeling his silent request. You pulled back, staring into his eyes before grabbing the hem of your shirt and pulling it up, tossing it over your head and somewhere on the ground, revealing the lacy red bra you almost always wore around him, it was his favorite color after all.

You leaned back into him, pressing your lips against his again, before you broke the kiss and started peppering his neck with kisses too. Jason groaned lowly as you pulled your shirt over your head and revealed yourself to him, his blue eyes immediately taking in your soft curves and skin before he felt you press your lips to his neck.

With one arm remaining on your hips, he used his other hand to gently comb his fingers through your hair, enjoying the feeling as your lips and teeth left marks on his skin.

His head tilted back, giving you more of his neck to mark, his fingers gently teasing the edge of your bra, slowly slipping under the lace.

Suddenly, you pulled away, letting his hands slip away from you as you flashed him a teasing grin. "Uh uh uh." You spoke up, waving your finger side to side as you got up and took a few steps back, gesturing for him to follow as you made your way towards your shared bedroom.

Jason huffed out a small laugh, the corners of his lips curving into a sly smirk as his eyes followed you, watching the way you moved and how the loose pants hugged your figure, particularly around your hips and legs.

He watched as you headed into the bedroom, and like always, he followed you, pushing himself up from the sofa before striding into the bedroom after you. "Tease." He muttered under his breath, his gaze fixed on you.

You entered the room and quickly unbuttoned your pants and slid them off before crawling onto the bed, looking back at him with a grin as you teasingly shook your hips at him.

"Want a show?" You cooed, "Have some fun?”

Jason felt his breath catch in his throat as you stripped out of your pants, the way your hips swayed and the fact that you were now only in a set of red, lacy underwear and nothing else was enough to have his blood rushing straight to his cock.

And he felt his smirk grow more wolfish as he approached the side of the bed and gave you a firm, but playful smack on the ass.

"You know me too well, darlin.”

You let out a soft squeal as he smacked your ass, you nudged him with her foot, sitting down on the bed as she grinned. "How do you want me? Yunno-, for optimal breeding." You spoke up playfully, remembering the part of the letter about children, but also joking somewhat. "Or should we wait until after marriage.”

Jason chuckled as you asked your question, his gaze running over your form on the bed while he considered that question. On the one hand, he wanted to take you like this, now, make no mistake about that.

On the other hand, he knew you had a point. You had made that agreement earlier, after all.

"Marriage." He replied simply, his voice coming out gruff and slightly breathless as he kept his gaze on you. "We agreed that marriage comes first.”

You looked up at him, and smiled. "If that's what you want, I'm all for anything." You stated, leaning back on her elbows as you studied him. "Are we good on condoms? Or do we need to buy some." You asked, looking into his soft blue eyes.

Jason's eyes roamed your body as you leaned back on your elbows, taking in your form and the way your chest was pushed forward. His gaze lingered a little on your lips before going back up to your eyes. He nodded a little as you asked your question, trying to remember if they had any condoms left.

"Maybe I have to pick up some more." He answered simply with a small shrug. "We almost out?” he asked.

"I think so." You mused, sitting up again as you opened up the bedside table closest to you, pulling out the box of condoms before emptying it out, watching as two packets fell out.

You hummed, and tossed the box into the corner of the room before tossing your boyfriend- fiancé, a condom packet. "Two will do for now." You mused.

Jason caught the packet of condoms before looking down at the small thing in his hand and letting out a quiet huff, a hint of irritation in his voice. "Damn, we're down to two." He grumbled, gently tossing it to the side for now, and moving back over to you.

He stood there for a moment, looking down at you on the bed where you sat, his gaze studying your form while he reached up and undid the button on his jeans. "This might be a problem.” he stated.

However you snickered. "What, you don't think using two condoms is enough? How many times do you plan on cumming tonight?" You asked teasingly, looking up at him with a smile, watching as he began unbuttoning his jeans.

"Either we use the condoms, and end it after the second one, or you just be really careful and remember to pull out. I'm not on the pill right now because it fucked with my period n' shit.” you explained bluntly.

Jason chuckled as you teased him, watching as you gave him that mischievous smile. He let a soft groan escape from the back of his throat as you spoke, his hands pausing on his jeans for a moment.

"Yeah, I think I might have some issues being careful with you." He admitted with a bit of ego surfacing in his words, remembering how he tended to get a bit carried away when he got inside of you and how you felt around him... "I think I could deal with two.” He stated.

you smiled lightly, nodding your head, sitting in the middle of the bed, legs crossed as you watched him, eyeing where his hand was paused on his jeans, silently waiting for him to continue. Jason studied you for a moment, standing there with unbuttoned jeans and a growing bulge in his boxers, his eyes taking in the way you were sitting on the bed and watching him, no hint of impatience on your face.

He had to admit, he loved just how patient you were, how eager you are to just go along with things.

"You're eager today, aren't you, doll?" He mused, his smirk growing as he finished unbuttoning his jeans and began pushing them down along his thighs. You looked up to his eyes, and smiled.

"I'm happy."

You replied softly, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth as he started pushing down his pants. "Happy to spend the rest of my life with you, excited for everything that comes with it... and- i know we have sex a lot, if the empty box of 200 2xl condoms has anything to say about it." You snickered. "But this feels different... I wanna take it slow.”

Jason felt himself flush faintly when you remarked about the box of condoms, fully knowing it'd be gone within the next three months, if not sooner. He pushed his jeans down and kicked them off, standing there in his boxers for a moment while he listened to you and watched you.

A small, tender smile appeared on his face as you said you wanted to take things slow for the night, his gaze softening. "Slow, hm?" He asked, a hint of playfulness in his voice. "How slow?”

You grinned up at him. "Slow enough to savor it." You replied, checking the time on the nightstand. "We have 3 hours until you leave for patrol." You added, looking back over at him. "You always love being fashionably late too, and I'd love to send you off with some lipstick stains on your helmet”

Jason raised an eyebrow as you looked over at the clock on the nightstand, the thought of how much time they had before he had to leave for patrol popping into his mind. A small, amused huff escaped his lips as you mentioned he liked being fashionably late and how you wanted to send him off with some lipstick stains on his helmet.

"Oh, I can definitely work with that." He replied, his smirk growing as he closed the gap between you and leaned down, crawling onto the bed over you.

You giggled softly, opening up your legs so he could slot in between them. Your arms immediately went to his shirt, and as he crawled over you, you swiftly pulled off the white T, and tossed it to the floor, running your hands up his scarred chest, before moving to cup his face as you leaned in and kissed him softly, slowly, lovingly, with just a bit of tongue, like how porn stars would make out- probably.

Jason hummed into the kiss, his lips pressing against yours in return, gently kissing and nipping at your lower lip as he felt your hands glide up his chest and rest on his face. He gently pushed his tongue into your mouth, exploring and tasting, his own hands slowly moving and running up and down your sides, enjoying the feel of your soft, smooth skin.

He gently pushed you down and laid you on your back, his body fully above yours as he continued to kiss you, slow and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world.

And you would kiss him like this for hours if you could, smiling, thinking back to the times where you would sit on the couch with Jason, and you would just kiss for hours, sometimes it wouldn't lead to anything, most of the time it did, but you loved the feeling of his lips on yours.

You sighed happily against him, sliding your fingers up into his hair, gliding your tongue across his bottom lip as you continued to kiss him, unhurried.

You tasted like fruit, probably because of what you ate for lunch, strawberry banana protein smoothie. You always did taste sweet though.

Jason hummed and groaned against your lips, enjoying the sweet taste of you, enjoying the feeling of your hands in his hair and your tongue on his lip.

He slowly broke the kiss to lean up, taking a moment to look down at you, taking you in, she whined in response, looking and admiring as he did the same.

His eyes roamed over your half naked form, your soft curves and skin and how you looked laying on the bed beneath him.

"God, you're beautiful." He muttered after a moment, his voice coming out gruff and a bit of a low rumble.

You smiled at his words, scratching your nails along his scalp as you hummed softly.

"And I'm all yours." You replied, resting your head against the pillows, your hair spread out around your head. Jason leaned back down with a low hum, taking his time as he slowly peppered kisses and nips down your neck, his lips and tongue lingering on your skin and marking it, leaving little love bites for only you and him to see.

He knew the marks would disappear within the week, but he liked to leave them all the same, as a reminder of his presence, evidence of how he loved you.

His hands roamed your sides and continued to trail over your skin as his mouth reached your collarbone, gently nipping at the sensitive skin there. You hummed and sighed as he left kisses and marks along your neck, down to your collarbone.

Your leg twitched slightly when he nipped at it, and you smiled, wrapping your legs around his torso loosely, sitting up just enough for him to reach behind you and unclasp your bra.

Jason felt her leg twitch and smiled against your skin, his hands trailing up your sides and pausing at the straps of your bra, feeling for the clasp before he found it and popped it open with a careful flick of his fingers.

He pulled up for a moment to discard the bra, throwing it somewhere behind him, before he continued his trail of kisses down your neck and collarbone, moving down to her chest. You continued to sigh happily, laying back on the bed, in his arms, relaxed, happy. You let your eyes flutter closed, sliding your hand from his hair, down to his forearm, gripping it gently as if to reassure him that this was good, everything was perfect.

Jason continued his slow, unhurried trail down your body, his lips and tongue marking the spot he left with every kiss and nip, enjoying the sounds you were making and the way you responded to his touch.

He felt your hand slide down his arm and gently grip him, a small hum escaping his lips as he continued down your chest, eventually pausing to leave a bite between your breasts.

Upon feeling the bite, you let out a soft laugh, opening your eyes and looking down at him, raising an eyebrow. "I honestly thought you'd be lining up to me right now, who knew that Jason Todd knew what slow was." She teased softly, looking down at him with a loving expression.

Jason let out a snort that quickly turned into a soft laugh as he looked up at her, a smirk present on his lips. "Oh, trust me, darlin, it ain't easy for me." He replied, looking up at you as he slowly continued his trail down your body, placing kisses on her stomach as he went. "I'm only being patient 'cause of what you said, otherwise I'd just be-"

His words were interrupted by a bite on her hip, nipping at the skin.

You let out a squealish laugh as he bit your hip, leaving a mark behind on your skin. "You'd just be what Jason? Finish your sentence." You goaded softly, pushing up to lean back on your elbows so you could watch him.

Jason continued his trail of kisses and bites down your stomach and over your hip bone, marking your skin as he went, enjoying the sounds and little laugh you made when he nipped at your skin.

His hands gently gripped your hips, and he paused for a moment, looking up at you with a smirk. "Well, I'd just skip all the-" He paused and dipped his head, leaving a soft kiss on where your thigh met her hip. "-and get right to-" he continued, nipping at the skin there. "this part.”

You hummed softly, relishing in all the soft kisses he left behind on your skin as he moved his head lower, and lower.

"Which part?" You asked breathlessly, hooking one leg up on his shoulder, the other laying to the side, your lacy red panties still covering the real treasure.

"I want you to talk me through it.”

Jason hummed as he felt you hook your leg on his shoulder, his hands moving and gently gliding up your legs, moving up your inner thigh until they gently stopped at the edge of your lacy red panties, his fingers gently gripping at the edge.

He paused as she spoke, your words making a shiver run down his spine, and he slowly looked up at you, his gaze meeting yours. "You want me to talk you through it, doll?”

You nodded your head. "Yeah." You replied softly. "Adds to the intimacy, I think." You added, watching him with a genuine smile. "You look tense Jay." You started softly, running your fingers through his hair. "Maybe talking me through it, while you do it, will relax you, hm? And after this we can have a bath.” You mused.

He chuckled to your words, face heating up slightly as he thought ahead to how you'd react under him, as he narrated the way he'd be eating you out…

“I'm gonna spread your cunt open.” He started, and you bit your lip as he started going through the motions.

“M’ gonna devour this pretty pussy.” He whispered, his hot breath fanning across your exposed, glistening folds, making you shiver.

And he did just that, his tongue sliding up your folds, teasing your entrance, flicking against your clit, the sucking, slurping noises quickly filling the room as he sucked on your downstairs lips, then payed more attention to your clit, drawing out more moans from your lips.

He would stay between your thighs for hours if he wanted too… though he had other plans..

As soon as your orgasm was on the horizon, he suddenly stopped, and pulled his head back. You let out a gasp, sitting up as you looked at Jason with a desperate look in your eyes. You were about to speak up until he moved you onto your side, and laid down behind you, one hand holding up your leg, while the other quickly grabbed a condom. “Put this on for me baby?” Jason asked softly.

You smiled, taking the condom from his hand, tearing open the package before you stretched the condom slightly, then rolled it over his cock, pumping it a few times which caused him to groan.

He then nudged his tip to your entrance, and you let out a soft whine, your eyes falling shut as that familiar stretch began to occur, as he started sliding inside of you, inch by brutal inch until he was bottomed out inside you.

He was keeping things slow, though, for your sake, as he began thrusting inside of you, his hand still gripping your thigh, while the other slid underneath you, and wrapped around your waist, holding you close as he began to kiss and suck at your neck, while rocking your hips into you, groaning against your neck.

Gradually, he started picking up the pace, not going hard, like he could, but definitely faster… with this position, he was hitting spots inside you that were bringing you to the edge quickly, having been denied once, he wasn't going to deny you again.

As you came, he quickly pressed his lips to yours, swallowing up your sweet moans as he continued to thrust into you, now chasing his own orgasm.

One… two-

Three more thrusts before he goes as deep as he can inside you, and he releases, filling up the condom.

Once it finally subsided, he slowly pulled out, and grabbed the condom, tying it off before tossing it into the nearby trash bin, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck.

“I love you.” He whispered, holding you tightly in his arms.

“I can't wait until you're my wife… and you have my child in your belly.” He muttered, and you smiled.

“You won't have to wait long, baby. Promise.” You whispered in response, shifting so you were facing him now, pulling him into a soft kiss.

This…

This was something you could get used to.

And this was something he craved.

A family.

Tag list:

All: @francesfarhadi @only-my-unexistent-fiances

Batfam:

Jason Todd: @ilaiise

Jason Todd Smut: @ilaiise

[lambergeier]

2024 comics post

broooooooooooo. what the fuck HAPPENED.

the actual cause of all this: i read some really funny fic by ao3 user deadchannelradio, then i got emma to watch some old teen titans with me, then we watched the under the red hood movie, then i read some more fanfiction, almost entirely bad, then i caved and checked what the public library had available to borrow comics-wise. which turned out to be a lot. and then i bought the DCU subscription. and now here we are. this is going to be in approximately chrono order, and there will be no bolded recommendations. read only what big 2 comics you can justify to god.

tom taylor's nightwing, vols. 1-5 (issues 78-105 i think) plus fear state. my first foray back into big 2 comics since my mcu-era marvel situation in high school and college. haha, these are kinda cute, i thought. simplistic, but the art is gorgeous, i said. i would be happy to buy these as floppies at my local store, i theorized. like some kind of idiot. like some kind of naive child.

batman/superman: world's finest, #1-ongoing. waid and mora just too fucking good. i love nonsense, and to put nonsense in my mouth. would actually consider buying the first volume as a tpb it's so fun except for the massive, classically racist, unforced L of making another culture's normal nuanced folk hero (ne'zha) into a demon from hell for just like, no reason. hello? also love mark waid just doing whatever the fuck he wants with the kingdom come continuity. it's his house. no one can stop him. still reading this one as new issues go up on DCU.

world's finest: teen titans, #1-6. loved this also. i also haven't read any og teen titans (emma read all of pre-crisis NTT while i was reading nightwing, so the early children remain firmly in her realm of expertise) but she also agreed that it was cute. waid is just fun. like what are we supposed to do.

shazam 2023, #1-6. see above re: waid and his powers. big shout out to dan mora, as ever, but BIIIIIG shout out to colorist alejandro sanchez, who i truly think made this arc. girl those WATERCOLOR EFFECTS!!

robin 2021, #1-17. read this and super sons at about the same time, officially dipping my toe into the damian waters. solid, loved the issue of all the other robins chasing after him, him and dick love each other for REAL. i also like his little goth girlfriend, and his manga habit. felt like a kinda ham-fisted attempt to give damian his own story without being willing to set him up with his own status quo, a la bludhaven, but what can you do.

super sons, #1-16. children's comics for sure, but with a surprising amount of blood in them? wasn't quite certain of the marketing angle on that, but i LOVED jon and damian they are BABIES. i also like every time clark is like, my son, please, never listen to damian. his father is a lunatic. for sure never listen to his father either. that was cute. shame this was cut so short lmao.

tim drake: robin, #1-6. offensively, offensively bad. i didn't even really know tim yet but this was like. please christ in heaven gay people have to be worthier of better comics than this.

batgirl 2000, #1-37. i know this is widely-loved, but it actually didn't get me until like #12 or so? if that? i love cass, but the art was rough for me, and it couldn't carry me for the early non-verbal comics. her shit with shiva was great tho. cass you are fully insane my girl

under the red hood and lost days. ICONIC!! JASON TODD MY RATIONAL KING!!!

robins: being robin. did not like this. trite. also did not like dick's manbun: a real issue.

batman: year one. oughhhhh what if the classics are good actually. and unfortunately. mazzucchelli and lewis are so fucking good, like lewis in particular..... what even is left to be said. the art alone is Just That Good. also bruce wayne and jim gordon are kissing with tongue for real

robin: year one. mmmmmm good. dick grayson your problems. also i still love harvey dent. possibly my favorite batman villain. symptom of having watched a lot of batman begins/read my one random copy of the long halloween an extensive number of times as a teen

batgirl: year one. had some great moments, but did not like it nearly as much as robin y1. i do think this is due to the sexism. i like when babs punched infant dick in the solar plexus tho!

batman: urban legends - specifically the cheer arc with jason. i really liked this but i'm not sure i'll feel the same in a year or so. i think this was a pretty deft way to get jason to drop lethal violence without betraying his own justified belief in the power of lethal violence (rational king), and thus bring him back into the family fold, but of course bringing him back into the fold is itself a fraught project, and his character as a whole is so uncertain (as i understand) since the new 52 so like. i think it did what it was trying to do quite well (and i loved how insane bruce appeared! compared to jason!) but should it have been trying to do all that? an open question!

devin grayson's gotham knights, #1-24. WELL AS IT WOULD HAPPEN THESE ARE MAYBE THE BEST BATCOMICS I READ ALL YEAR. listen i am so aware of devin grayson's many sins. but these are the original "what does it mean for bruce to have all these fucking teenagers" comics, and, so far in my reading, they remain the undisputed best. everyone's just been rehashing her since, and it hasn't been nearly as good. she's got the touch (profound fandom-aligned insanities)

batman: murderer/fugitive. put an order in for the recently-released 1100 page $125 omnibus just this afternoon. It's Good.

robin vol 1: reborn (tim drake). idk the exact issues on this, collects tim's first few post-tlpod batman issues, plus his first miniseries. tim drake by god do i care you.

lmao okay the post editor is starting to lag like a motherfucker. posting this then putting the next half in a reblog

[brucie-baby]

the fact that alfred was the one to put up jason's memorial is so important to me

[covertblizzard]

jaykyle au where they're theatre kids in the same school but they're not the actors jason's the scriptwriter/director and kyle is the prop manager (i don't know the official terms sorry) and they'd probably do an amazing job on the backstage setting if they could stop arguing for 5 whole seconds about their artistic visions and ideas and how "this would obviously work better this way"

[cluescorner]

I gave myself a writing challenge and I am fascinated by it

So basically I put the robins in a randomizer to give them a new order/role (because I just...kinda wanted to see what would happen + I like role-reversal AUs) and got results that are giving me a fucking brain blast.

Stephanie, the first sidekick who defines the role

Tim, the sidekick who dies and comes back wrong

Dick, the sidekick who saves Batman from himself

Damian, the sidekick who was never supposed to be a sidekick but would go on to prove everyone wrong

Jason, the youngest sidekick who is still the Kid Wonder

...So this is fucking wild. I've got some ideas and several of these fit perfectly (Dick's role is pretty similar to his one in canon), but some of these are fucking INCREDIBLE to explore (Steph being the first Robin is something I never even considered but tbh I kinda love it).

I probably won't write a fic or anything because tbh I don't like publishing my writing that much, but I might expand this into a full AU and post about it. I might randomize other stuff too (ie, stuff that I cannot change vs stuff that I cannot keep the same) but this fucking rules as a starting point.

[lesbiankermitposting]

an idea is forming where. in the alternate reality where jason doesn't die from the joker, instead of still becoming the Red Hood or some sort of other killer, he swings so wildly in the opposite direction that he still ends up morally opposed to batman, but this time in the Leslie Thompkins realm of radical anarcho-pacifist. jason still blames batman for what happens, but instead of trying to kill the joker he berates him for not SAVING the joker, and therefore not saving him. if batman hadn't become a vigilante maybe there would have been no joker etc etc. maybe if there had been more options for jason's father he would not have worked for two-face. Leslie has always been opposed to Batman because of her pacifism, and because she doesn't believe his methods actually work. that's why she helps everyone regardless of the crimes they've committed. something something jason realizes he was stuck in a cycle of violence -- from his father working for two-face to batman using force as part of his crime prevention -- and decides to remove himself completely.

[ladytauria]

any jason headcanons you enjoy?

oh this is a fun question, thank you <3

some of these are going to be more widely accepted fanon, i think, but! ^^;

smallest robin turned largest robin. (i actually think for size it goes jason > dick > tim > damian > steph. i also like the idea that as red hood he's taller than bruce, but bruce is broader/heavier.)

ik canonically he didn't join the school's theater/drama club bc of robin commitments, but in my head he was still part of a group <3 maybe they had a city one during the summer? idk

i also think he was starting to get involved with the martha wayne foundation before he died.

alfred & he are close. ik canonically alfred tends to be a lot more victim blame-y with jason (as all of them are) but i think that entire retcon was stupid so <3

he can cook and cook well!

related: he also stress bakes. and cooks, too. also a stress cleaner. actually, just in general, i think he responds to stress with action. anything that feels "useful" or "helpful"--so feeding people, maintaining weapons/armor, cleaning up a space, etc.

very neat, and meticulous about his space. like, he might have a few things lying around that are "in use" but for the most part everything has a spot.

phobia of needles! it was worse when he was robin, but as an adult he's worked on it & learned how to manage it. however, in times of high stress it shows back up. and he's not good with any kind of unexpected need for shots.

i saw something somewhere about jason having multiple copies of books--not necessarily editions (though def that too) but like... one to put on display & one he can annotate/dog-ear/mark up/etc as h pleases. which i like a lot!

also inspired by something else--this time a piece of art, i think for something set in the batman beyond universe--but. i think he develops hearing problems, and maybe even already has? (actually; on that subject, i think he probably has tinnitus now, and maybe develops hearing loss as he gets older.) [updating with a link to the art]

good with kids. that one might just be canon xD

does a lot of volunteer work when he's not vigilante-ing. he does work with various places, but i think one of his favorites is like, storytime with kids at a library, or something.

i go back & forth between "jason is warmer" and "jason is colder" post-resurrection, and i think i like to stick with somewhere in the middle---he gives off a lot of heat, but has a harder time retaining. so even tho he feels warm to everyone else, he's still cold.

not really a headcanon, but. white streak + autopsy scar is peak jason design~

& i'll stop there bc this is getting p long!

[jasontoddsno1simp]

Uh...

Where is all this Black Jason Todd discourse coming from?! Because, last time I checked, headcanoning Jason as Black is not exactly all that popular. Unless I'm missing a huge subset of his fandom; I've yet to come across the mob of He Did Nothing Wrong girlies who are deadass that Jason anti's swear run Butstan Twitter/Tumblr.

[whywoulditho]

has anyone ever written a no capes DC AU where Jason's pit rages are switched into OCD/intrusive thoughts?? because that's a concept i literally can't get out of my mind. i tried to write a pit rage once and i noticed the way i'm describing it is a literal projection of my intrusive thoughts back when my ocd was that awful. so i thought i might try to write something like an OCD!Jason fic but if anyone's read something like that before please let me know!!

[picturefirelizards]

Jason Todd would scream the lyrics to pink pony club send tweet

[mintacle]

A trend in whump fanfiction that has been bothering me for a while actually is the conflating of morality messages with whump stories. 

As a great fan of the catharsis through Whump (Whump is like “Angst with a happy ending” or “extreme Hurt/Comfort”) I’ve been noticing that it greatly irritates me when the character being saved out of the bad situation of the premise has to either prove their moral worth before or after being rescued. 

The two characters who get the most whump attention are Tim and Jason, and I want to talk about each of their cases and why implying the need for moral goodness is problematic.

Tim is commonly going to “deserve” his salvation through silently suffering prior to his rescue. These stories enforce the mentality that it is good to not speak up about one’s suffering, that other people will notice if they really love you and that your best hope to be saved is to comply as far as possible with the expectations placed on you, to the point of self-neglect or self-harm.

Jason will commonly “deserve” his rescue through punishment or repentance after the fact. Often he is portrayed to be ashamed of his actions, asking for forgiveness and promising to change his ways. Along the lines of Tim, if silence is rewarded, then Jason’s willingness to speak up about his trauma must be punished. Often the defense for this is to say that Jason has killed people though, and surely we all agree that is just wrong. And indeed, in the real world, we do. But Jason is a fictional character, and his killing is more of a symbolic action for the demand of extreme justice in reaction to one’s trauma than meant to be understood purely literally. 

If we suspend our disbelief for the dressing up in a Batcostume and child-soldier-indoctrination of Bruce to be part of the medium, then we ought to understand Jason’s character with the same degree of abstraction. In the real world context Bruce suffers from severe delusions and Jason commits arbitrary murder. Suffice to say, this is not the story these comics are purporting to convey.

However a lot of fandom whump works choose to include an overt or covert moral message within their work. While it is understandable to cathartically want to feel that one deserves to be relieved of one’s suffering, it is troublesome that the implication arises that one ought to deserve it. The truth is that everyone deserves help and support, regardless of whether they in turn act in the ways we think would be best for them. After receiving help, a former victim should be entitled to the same freedom of self-determination as anyone else. There is no moral debt created by the act of having been saved by someone else.

Where Tim is usually the “good” victim and Jason typically the “bad” victim, they both get measured according to the same insidious metric that pervades the western cultural ideal of victimhood. Silence in suffering is expected and rewarded, complying to the demands set by the abuser is seen as more deserving of outside intervention than standing up for oneself and the narrative that being understood and having people agree with you, means that you are right and that you are loved. I find these implied moral conflations to the whump element of the story upsetting as a former victim of abuse. 

Because, look, the fact is that you aren’t more likely to be saved irl no matter how good you are. Victims don’t have to deserve help, everyone inherently deserves to be helped out of respect for them as a human being. No strings attached. 

[redstarfish-art]

Q1: Who's your favourite Batfam character?

Me: Jason!

Q2: Who's your second favourite?

Me: Grayson~

Q3: Who do you get ideas for the most?

Me: ...

Brain: Tim. It's always Tim. Don't ask.

[authorityproblems]

been thinking about this post on my duke movie a lot lately and exactly how i would do it.

start out with the scene of baby duke talking to bruce when his parents take bruce in. duke explains that he’s going to help people, and we can see a hint of a smile on bruce’s face.

flash forward to duke taunting those kids on the basketball court. you can basically just take we are robin and robin war and throw them in here for most of the storyline. i would make some changes though, and i’m aware that these wouldn’t all be as easy as i’m suggesting, but i do think they’re necessary. return dick to nightwing instead of having him as agent 37. i hate most of new 52 anyway and i could definitely figure out a way to have him as nightwing instead. bring steph and cass in, the girls deserve to be there, and i’m not picky about their identities but i don’t want cass to be orphan. have mentions of babs, like little pop-ups with the oracle symbol helping out the bats along the way, but i’m not even sure if i want her to actually be shown much aside from little glimpses of her at her computer in her wheelchair, just hearing her voice over comms. and this will likely be controversial, but i barely want to see bruce in this thing either. his only appearance at least for the first half of the movie should be the intro scene.

the last 10 minutes of the movie show a training session between duke, bruce, cass, and jason (all people duke has trained with). at the end, bruce takes duke to the side and they have a little conversation about duke’s future as a vigilante, which ends with bruce showing him the signal suit he designed, on display in a glass case. the last camera shot is of duke staring with wide eyes, then he starts to grin and says something along the lines of “oh, fuck yeah,” before we cut out. also i think it would be great if every other swear in the movie was somehow taken out with basic sounds (train going past, car horn honking, crowds of people) except for this one swear, humour me.

dc don’t be cowards i’ve basically done all the work for you.

unpopular opinion, but I think a duke movie would be the perfect place to introduce the batfam to the dceu

introduce his story starting as a kid part of the we are robin movement, some interactions with the batfam during everything that happens, and eventually lead to him becoming the signal and maybe even include the outsiders

we get to see an intro to the rest of the batfam and duke’s story is the perfect one to include at least the batboys, and duke finally gets some of the damn recognition he deserves. I know we all want a nightwing movie or robin movie and don’t get me wrong I want that too, but I would love to see it after getting a duke movie to like bring everyone in and establish the characters with non dc fans

[brucie-baby]

genuinely can't get over the way the end of under the red hood parallels death in the family, with the only difference being that the parts they play in their own destruction are so much more explicit.

ditf has jason being deeply wounded and then dying in an explosion that consequently signs the unfulfilled death warrants of bruce and the joker.

this exact thing happens in utrh, but this time bruce is the one that wounds jason, and it's jason that plants the bomb that literally kills him, bruce and the joker.

it's all just about two people who are so very different from who they used to be, who cannot move past who they used to be. it's about two partners who have learned new tricks but cannot rid themselves of their reflexes. it's about a father and a son who try to reach for the other only to find their hands forming fists. they know each other too well. they do not know each other at all.