#jason todd headcanon

[luca-is-a-pengu]

Take public transportation, they said. It will be fun they said.

I actually went away from my assigned colours and gäbe Tim a new oufit. Mainly cause I feel like he loves baggy clothes.

My working title for this was "Tiny Tim"

[dollishmehrayan]

# HOW DIFFERENT BATBOYS REACT TO BUGS && DEAL WITH THEM ── .✦ ( already written in title ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ )

dollish note ⋆౨ৎ: so I only wrote this because I find it interesting how different people react to spiders and stuff and as someone who has a deadly fear of them like genuinely I start throwing up thinking about them this was very brave of me to write but guys this is just crack fic to me so enjoy because it’s a saturday (tags: batboys )

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Acts brave… until the bug flies. Then it’s over.

“Okay, it has wings. This is a different situation now!” , “Dick you were okay 5 seconds ago” and it’s WORSE if it’s a flying cockroach like no 🙂‍↔️.

Tries to be the responsible one but ends up calling you to “just keep an eye on it” while he gets something to catch it with and screams if it moves towards him or the kitchen.

Probably names the bug before evicting it. “His name is Greg. Greg the Beetle. He just lost his way.”

Will 100% take it outside and gently release it like he’s Snow White.

JASON TODD ── .✦

Kills it. No hesitation. Doesn’t matter what it is, Isn’t scared of them but just will kill them most effectively.

“It’s either me or the bug. I choose the bug.”

Uses a shoe, a bat, a magazine, or if he’s feeling dramatic a gun. (H/j…)

But if you want to save it, he’ll sigh dramatically and do it for you. “Only because you gave it a name and now I feel bad.”

Still mutters “disgusting little freaks” under his breath the whole time.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Doesn’t notice the bug until it’s already crawling across his laptop screen.

Just calmly gets a tissue and moves it without fanfare.

If he’s had too much stress and not enough energy for it, he might scream, flinch, and then immediately be embarrassed.

Once had a crisis over whether squashing a spider was morally wrong.

Will google “Are bugs sentient?” at 2am.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Is completely unfazed. He grew up in the League bugs are nothing.

Might let a spider crawl on his hand to “observe its movement.”

Gets genuinely offended if you try to kill it. “That is a living creature with a purpose.”

Probably has a pet bug. Or a terrarium of beetles he’s named after Shakespeare characters.

If it’s in your room, he’ll remove it like it’s a royal escort mission. “You’re safe now, beloved.”

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Doesn’t flinch. Sees a bug, handles it like a Mission Impossible agent.

He probably has some fancy WayneTech bug vacuum he designed just to keep Alfred from squishing silverfish.

“It’s just a moth.” Proceeds to turn off the lights, open the window, and gently shoo it out like a pro.

Somehow always knows where bugs come from. “There’s a gap in the vent cover. I’ll fix it.”

Alfred still ends up handling 90% of the Bat-bug drama in the manor.

(In summary they are all okay with bugs but some will die when they see a rat)

[writing-nothing-but-spilled-ink]

I have this headcanon that Jason todd as a boyfriends is absolutely a murder boyfriend okay let me explain

Jason is the type of guy where he does not care if you joke about murder or be like I wish that person was dead when your frustrated or angry he doesn't bat an eye even when you look insane ranting and raving or when you go into derail qbour how much you want them to suffer but you do have to tell him if your serious or not.

Cause that man will absolutely put on his helmet and his little murder jeans and go take care of business.

And like it's a constant theme like you say something he immediately goes out does it and like at first you didn't think he was serious until you witness him suiting up.

but there is a bit of a condition to this with Jason. Okay he's not like this immediately upon being in a relationship there's a certain amount of time that must pass and you can't tell him to go kill a man just cause he accidentally bumped into you and made you spill your cupcakes if you asked he'd squint at you and be like.. "ummm how about I just do your laundry and make you new ones cause that's not a crime and clearly an accident?"

But if you tell him that person was abusive treated you badly and is treating someone you care for badly he looks into it and will eliminate the problem. That man is absolutely feral when he's in love more so when he's out of it and the batfam kinda watch this version of Jason with a sigh and they do what they can to make sure his lover doesn't want anyone dead they're so tired of the bodies Jason buries. Dick is a little more accepting he definitely disapproves but if it's a mass murderer that no one's caught he's just like I saw nothing actually.

[eveysnotebook]

dating jason todd hcs ⋆·˚ ༘ *

• he has a really hard time asking for things, whether it be asking to read a book with you, or asking if you’d like to go on a walk, he struggles (me too 😞)

• he’s a pretty good chef and will make dinner most nights for you guys!

• loves cats and would love to adopt one with you

• stays up late and wakes up late, he won’t be fully up and around until like 10:30 am 😭

• he will try and wake up earlier for you if you wake up before him.

• he will look into things you like, music taste, shows and movies, ect…he wants to be able to bond over stuff like that.

• he will absolutely go anywhere with you, want him to go shopping with you? definitely!

• that also means he will visit your friends with you. he might not talk to them but he’ll definitely stand there menacingly!!

• the worst man spreader ever (is that the right word lmao?) he man spreads anywhere and everywhere. it’s lowkey hot though

• adores rock, punk rock, all that type of music but from the late 90s and early 2000s, will make you listen to it with him!

• he always gives the best bear hugs. if you are ever feeling upset he is immediately there with the best hug you’ve ever received!

• makes the best hot cocoa ever, learned from alfred of course.

• sometimes you’ll see some fresh flowers on your nightstand, you know they’re from him

sorry if this is short i’m working on a lot right now! i’m trying to get headcanons like these out for everyone I write for!

stay hydrated

[rosaeh]

my jason todd's headcanons | II

biter with sharp canines !! like this man has fangs and it's both cute and hot.

wavy hair, but he doesnt define his curls much, he doesnt have time for that. and he has is helmet on almost all the time, so his hair end up flat sometimes lmao which makes the curls worse.

not that his hair isn't pretty but it could be better, you know ?

however he lets you define his curls when you both lay together, and your hands find their way in his hair —like it always does when your together. even lets you buy curls products. his hair is way better since you guys are together.

thoughts on tattoo and piercing : i saw someone saying it's like personalizing your character. but i feel like jason doesn't feel like he owns his body anymore. so it could both be a way to try and reconquer his body, or he wouldnt do it because there's no point.

either way i like sleeves tattoo probably (he would so let you color it). and i like tattoo that cover/follow the line of his autopsy scar like the all caste tattoo.

and piercing i like a few ones on the ears. and now that i think of it, a tongue piercing would be REAL hot. perhaps one on the brow too.

private but not secret relationship with jason todd.

jason with a picture of reader in his wallet. he is old fashioned like that.

and while on patrol, he tends to keep a picture of you in the pocket inside his jacket, near his heart. he claims it protect him. (he would definitely sit somewhere after a patrol, all beaten up, and he'd take out your picture, whispering a thanks for keeping me safe as if you were his own personal godess)

«I'm not a religious person, but I do sometimes think God made you for me.» - Normal People. (one of my fav quote !!)

like, come on, this man literally greet his bed, of course he speaks to a picture of you.

bonus point if you write a note at the back of the picture. makes this grown man melt.

and you do actually keep him safe, because every night he has to make sure he comes back to you.

speaking of ! he would literally crawl into bed with you. he'd discard his helmet and gear, letting them fall on the floor — he'll take care of it in the morning, all he wants for now is to hold you. if he's not too tired he'll take a quick shower before crawling into bed with you.

temple kisses, so that he can smell your shampoo. but honestly he just turns his head when holding you and reach to kiss without really carrying where it lands — you mouth, your hair...he loves it all anyway.

im 100% sure he gives you a little "trinket" to use as a keychain, and you like just have to press it if you're having trouble, and it'll send him your location. he'll be there in less than a minute top.

[blu3n]

PEOPLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

UAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA UOOOF UOFFF

[talekinesis]

Headcanon that Jason hated taking pills as a kid, partially due to trauma from being on the streets, but mostly because he's like 10 and they're just yucky

But he's also a kid with ✨️allergies✨️

And Bruce has tried everything. Bribing, begging, being stern, bargaining, everything.

But one day he gets the brilliant idea to hide the pill in a snack and give it to him then, and what do you know, it fucking works

And that's just how he continues to sneak allergy pills into Jason's system

Until Dick catches him and can't stop laughing because, "That's how you give dogs medicine."

And Bruce is mortified at the realization that he's been treating his son like a dog.. But like, it works, regardless, and it's the only thing that works

Years and a pit later, Jason's an adult and his allergies are acting up again so he asks Bruce if he has any allergy meds, and out of pure muscle memory, Bruce reaches for the snack cabinet before he stops and remembers that Jason's an adult now, so he just grabs the medicine bottle and tosses it to him

And that's when it finally clicks for Jason that everytime Bruce gave him a 'random treat,' as a child, it was deception

And he's never felt more betrayed

[eiraeths]

thinking about the pit giving jason visible blaschko lines

they’re the lines of fetal skin cell development and everyone’s got them they’re usually just not visible unless something causes hyperpigmentation

[icarusignite]

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys (p.2)

Pairing: Jason Todd x Civilian! GN! Reader

Summary: In a city where kindness is fleeting and warmth feels like a myth, a reclusive vigilante crosses paths with another ghost orbiting the same darkness. What begins as cautious companionship spirals into something tender, fragile, and terrifying. But when fear drives him away, and violence drags you to the edge of death, Jason Todd is forced to confront the one truth he’s always run from: some things, once lost, can’t be stitched back together. And some things are worth bleeding for.

Warnings: GROVELING (ish). more of Jason being a yearner like god intended, some religious metaphor shenanigans. Hurt/comfort, angst to fluff

Word Count: 3k 

A/N: the amount of love part 1 received blew my mind omg, yall are the absolute sweetest, thank you. I hope you enjoy how I wrapped it up <3 Would love to hear your thoughts!

Part 1 | Part 2 | AO3

You woke into a scene that felt like something pulled from a fever dream, or worse—a cruel afterlife stitched together by the frayed edges of your longing. Everything was bathed in an almost sacred kind of stillness, so at odds with the agony blooming just beneath your skin. It was too warm. Your body felt swaddled in heat, sunk deep into softness, and for a moment you couldn’t remember why that should feel so strange. Why the warmth felt like betrayal. Why your ribs felt like they were being pried open with every breath.

And then it began to return. Not all at once, but in shattering fragments. The cold tiles, the sting in your side, the dim bathroom light flickering against the red that wouldn't stop coming. And the loneliness. God, the loneliness.

But you weren’t in that tomb of porcelain and mildew anymore. Someone had moved you. Carried you, tended to you. You were in your bed, the edge of your blanket folded over with care, and your pillow fluffed just enough, like a memory from childhood reimagined in a cracked mirror. The surrealism of it nearly brought tears to your eyes, until you turned your head, and saw him.

Your breath caught in your throat. He looked like hell. His jacket was slung over the chair, his gloves were forgotten on your nightstand, and his helmet was nowhere to be seen. But his eyes were the same. Wild and wide and far too human, locking onto yours the moment you blinked.

And then he moved. Bolted upright from his seat as if your gaze had yanked him forward with a chain, and his hand shot out to reach for you before he hesitated, curling his fingers into a fist mid-air, holding himself back.

“You’re awake?” he said hoarsely.

You couldn’t answer, because now you remembered. You remembered everything.

The rain. The sick, spinning cold. The dying. 

And him of course. 

His silence. His absence. The words he'd left you with, sharp as glass, tearing through you with more cruelty than any dagger to the ribs. The memories hit you like the tail end of a speeding car, and your face twisted as the grief crested again, too exhausted to cry but too full not to break.

Jason watched it happen in your expression, and he flinched like he’d been struck.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I’m—fuck, I’m so sorry. I should’ve never—”

But he didn’t finish. What was there to finish?

He should’ve never left. He should’ve never come back. He should’ve never let you in. He should’ve never pretended you didn’t already live somewhere in his very marrow.

You ignored his words. Your throat burned like you'd swallowed nails. None of this could be real. Not the warmth of the bed. Not the hurt terrorizing in your insides. Not him.

This was a hallucination, you decided, clawed up from the borderlands of death. And none of it mattered. What mattered was water. You needed water.

Gritting your teeth, you shoved the covers off, swinging your legs over the bed in defiance of your own body. The floor was far too cold when your bare feet touched down, and when you stood, your knees buckled. A tremor ran up your spine and you nearly folded in half from the agony that bloomed beneath your ribs. A tear broke loose, trailing your cheek like an apology you didn’t want to give. You told yourself it was from the pain. It had nothing to do with the figure at your bedside.

He was there in an instant. His hands caught your shoulders, steadied you before you could collapse into a heap of stubborn bones and bleeding skin. And you reflexively flinched at his touch.

You didn’t mean to, and you hated the way his face shifted when you did, like you’d just torn something open in him with your recoil.

“Where are you going?” he asked hesitantly. “You should rest—”

“Don’t,” you croaked, voice splintering. A sob caught sharp in your throat like a shard of glass.

Jason blinked. “Don’t what? I was only trying to—”

You shook your head, twisting out of his grasp, something volatile overtaking your features. Whatever mask of patience you usually wore had been peeled away, discarded along with the rest of your composure in some filthy alley.

“Don’t do this.”

His brow knit together. “Do what?”

“Pretend like you care,” you rasped. “Make room for yourself in my life, only to walk out again. I can’t—” The next breath hitched. “I wouldn’t survive it a second time.”

His mouth opened, but you cut him off.

“If you’re going to leave, do it now. Don’t play nurse. Don’t patch me up like it makes things even. Don’t do it for karma points or whatever misplaced guilt brought you here. Don’t do it because you think you owe me something. You don’t.”

"That's not what I—"

“Get out. Get lost. I don't want to be your goddamn charity case. I don't want your pity.”

Each word struck him like a hammer to the chest, and you watched it land. The recoil. The wince. The way the light in his eyes dimmed a little more with each sentence, his own words flung back at him.

But you couldn't stop. You were exhausted and hollowed out, emptied by loneliness and agony and the effort it took to survive when your heart felt like it had been left bleeding beside your body in that alley. And if you were going to be abandoned again, you’d rather be abandoned now. You couldn’t bear the slow unravelling of his presence settling into your world again, only to disappear without warning.

You didn’t want to relearn the shape of him in your life only to lose it all over again. You were already a ghost of yourself. You couldn’t become less.

Jason watched you fold like a dying thing. Quiet and slow, like paper soaked through, caving under its own weight. One second you were standing there, brittle and defiant, and the next, you were crumpled on the floor, your arms around yourself like even your bones didn’t want to stay inside you anymore.

He dropped down with you in an instant. Instinct, more than anything. His hands reached out to anchor you to the moment as if it might save you from whatever abyss you were staring into.

You didn’t fight him. That was the part that hurt the most.

He expected fury. He would’ve welcomed the worst of your vitriol because it was better than this lifeless resignation. As if you'd already decided that you should have died. 

Still, he touched you, tentative at first, expecting to be struck. Cradled your cheeks between his scarred palms, thumbs brushing away tears you didn’t even seem to notice you were shedding. He murmured your name like a mantra, forehead pressing to yours, letting his voice tremble with all the apologies he didn’t know how to shape into words.

And you just let him. For one suspended heartbeat, you let him in.

Your stare was empty, gaze sliding past him like a spectre, but then you focused. Met his eyes.

“Red,” you rasped. "Why..."

A name he used to wear like armour. A name you’d once said in jest, in irritation, in sleepy fondness, curled up in the cocoon of your mismatched apartment. 

He couldn’t do it anymore.

“Jason,” he whispered. “It’s Jason. Call me Jason.”

He didn’t have anything else to give you. No house with a picket fence. No promises. No future carved from stability or peace. But he could give you this. Himself. Stripped down, unmasked, unhidden.

“I don’t want your pity,” you repeated. 

You refused to say his name, and he didn’t let it show, how that sliced clean through him. How it burned like acid in the hollow of his chest. He’d taken bullets more gently than that omission.

He might’ve laughed if his lungs could move. Pity? You thought that’s what this was?

God. If only it were that easy.

No, this wasn’t pity. This wasn’t some obligation born of guilt. If it were, he wouldn’t have kept orbiting your apartment like some tragic satellite. Wouldn’t have looked for excuses to linger at the bodega you liked. Wouldn’t have memorized the light in your kitchen window during certain hours. Wouldn’t have felt the earth tilt whenever he caught you sitting at the table, staring absently at his old chair, a steaming cup left untouched across from you like a shrine.

It wasn’t pity when you handed him a mug, your fingers brushing his, and he spent the next three days wondering if you’d noticed how hard he swallowed. It wasn’t pity when, in the pitch-dark silence of a blood-soaked rooftop, he thought only of you. Your laughter. Your sighs.

It wasn’t pity when he walked past that bookstore you liked, the one with the crooked shelves and sleepy cat in the window, and found himself wishing he'd taken you up on your offer to accompany you on one of your many visits. He still had an annotated copy of your favourite novel, a sticky note with your handwriting in the margins: “This part reminded me of you.” 

And it certainly wasn’t pity when every fight he picked, every near-death brawl he barely walked away from felt a little colder without your voice in his ear, grounding him.

It wasn’t pity. It was you.

And he hated that it had taken almost losing you to realize that he was not better off without you in his life. 

He reached up again, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear with the gentleness of someone afraid you’d shatter if he touched you wrong. His other hand smoothed the wrinkle between your brows as if he could erase even one fraction of your hurt.

Then, forehead to yours, he declared it like a vow. Maybe if he was sincere enough, the universe might spare you both. 

“Not pity. Never pity. I swear it.”

Jason Todd had never known grace. Not the kind whispered in the hush of cathedral pews or sung in the devout voices of choirs beneath vaulted ceilings, but if it ever existed, he imagined it wore your face.

You were a prayer he had no right to say, but he uttered your name like one anyway, each syllable pressed to the roof of his mouth like a secret devotion. In a life stitched with broken psalms and carmine confessions, you were the only thing untouched. A quiet sanctity in the middle of his ruin.

He wasn’t meant for soft things. His world was serrated edges and retribution, bruised knuckles and smoke-stained silence. But you were something else entirely. You were Sunday morning light through grimy windows. The stillness after the storm. The first inhale after nearly drowning. He would have knelt at your feet if he thought it could keep you safe. Would have bled himself dry if it meant you’d never bleed again. 

Maybe it was selfish. Maybe it was the height of blasphemy, to look at something so good and want it for himself. But the ache in him wasn’t hunger. It wasn’t even lust. It was longing, bone-deep and soul-starved. The reverent need to shelter you. To stand between you and the world’s worst cruelties, like an archangel guarding the last holy thing he’d ever know.

He didn’t deserve you. He knew that much. Jason had clawed his way back from the grave with dirt in his lungs and vengeance in his veins, not love. And yet, he wanted to believe that wanting could make it so. That yearning, in its purest form, might be enough to rewrite a man’s fate. Maybe wanting something so fiercely meant you could deserve a piece of it.

Maybe for once in his godless life, he would get to have something and keep it. Maybe that something could be you. 

Something inside you broke the moment his fingers combed through your hair, like each strand was spun from gold and he feared his touch might undo you entirely. His hands quivered as they cupped your face, and it felt like he was trying to will you whole again through sheer desperation.

Then he gave you his name, and you felt everything go motionless, like the wind outside had paused mid-gust, like the ache in your ribs had dulled just for a moment, stunned into silence.

Jason.

It wasn’t a name you had guessed at. He had always been Red Hood to you, a shadow at your window, never quite real, never entirely yours.

But Jason?

Jason was human. Jason was a name carved in soft syllables, not the hard edges of the mask he wore. It was a name that felt like the sun on concrete after the rain. Solid. Honest. A name you could say in the dark and know someone would answer.

You held the syllables on your tongue like a secret. God, it fit so achingly well, like it had always been stitched into the seams of your life, waiting to be revealed.

And when he said it—“It’s Jason. Call me Jason.”—it wasn’t a demand. It was a gift. His truth, stripped bare, handed to you like an apology wrapped in longing. You hadn’t asked for it, but he had given it anyway, and now you knew it. Now it was yours. You never wanted to let it go.

The tears came hard and fast after that, like a dam rupturing, and you collapsed into him with the weight of it all. Your grief, your fear, the loneliness that had become a second skin. It spilled out in great heaving sobs that made your bruised insides scream in protest. Nonetheless, you sobbed, gasping for breath as though your lungs no longer remembered how to hold air.

Jason, as always, caught you.

His arms wrapped around you like armour, and you felt the tremble in them too. He held you not as if you were fragile, but as if he might fall apart if he let go. You hated yourself for clinging, for staining his shirt with tears, for taking up space in a life like his, like an old ornament someone had meant to throw out. You thought he’d pull away. You thought he should.

But he never did.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, choking on the words.

“Hey, none of that, now” he murmured into your hair. “You don’t apologize to me. Ever.”

Your fingers curled tighter into the fabric of his shirt, the scent of smoke and rain and something inherently him grounding you. “I didn’t want to be a bother. You said to let you go.”

Jason pulled back just enough to see your face, his thumb brushing beneath your eyes. His own shone with something terrible and beautiful—grief, regret, reverence. He shook his head, jaw clenched like it hurt to speak.

“You came?” you rasped. “You really came?”

He swallowed. “Of course, I came. You were supposed to call me. That’s what the number was for.” He held up the burner phone like it was a relic.

You looked away, the shame unbearable. “Didn’t want to be… a burden. You said—”

“I know what I said. And I was a goddamn idiot for it. I’m sorry. I can’t be sorry enough.”

“Yeah but—” 

“You’re not a bother,” he affirmed, fiercely now. “Not to me. Not ever. You call me—any hour, any day—I will come. In a heartbeat. I don’t care where I am, who I’m with. I will always come for you.”

"Oh."

Held you tighter then, whispering your name like it was holy. Like you were something worthy. Something his.

“I’ve got you,” he professed, over and over again. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you, I swear it.”

And for once you let yourself believe it.

When your breathing finally slowed, you felt his arms move beneath you, one under your legs, the other steady at your back. He lifted you as if you weighed nothing at all, tucking you back into bed with a tenderness that made your chest throb all over again, but this time for a different reason entirely.

You blinked blearily at him, just in time to see him pick up something from the bedside table. A mug, steam curling faintly from the surface.

“Made you tea," he indicated. "Though it’s probably shit.”

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of your lips. It felt foreign on your face like it belonged to someone else.

“Thank you.”

He gave you a nod, awkward and a little unsure. Then he turned as if to leave, and you panicked at the sight. You reached out, not even grabbing him properly, just the ghost of your fingers brushing his wrist. Regardless, he stopped like you’d tethered him with chains. The expression on his face was hopeful, like a man on the edge of salvation. It was almost too much to bear.

“Will you stay?” 

For a second, he said nothing. You felt the fear rise, a tide ready to swallow you whole. Maybe you’d pushed too far. Maybe this was where he decided it wasn’t worth it after all.

But then, he nodded. His shoulders relaxed, eyes softening as if he couldn’t believe you wanted him here. That you chose him.

He sat beside you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating through the space between you. Maybe it was the lingering adrenaline, or maybe it was the rawness still bleeding at the edges of your soul, but the confession spilled out before you could stop it.

“Thank you... I’m glad you came. I didn’t... I didn’t want to die. I was—”

Scared. You were scared. You had been terrified of dying alone, with no one to mourn you, with no one to even remember that you had existed. Just another blemish on the tapestry of the city. 

Before you could finish, Jason pulled you gently to him, your head finding the cradle of his shoulder like it had always belonged there. His arm wrapped securely around you, grounding you, steadying your breath. You closed your eyes, lulled by the beat of his heart beneath your cheek, the solid presence of him where the void had been.

And when you were just about to slip into sleep again, you felt it—or thought you did. The softest press of lips against your temple, so light it could’ve been a dream. All of tonight might as well have been a dream, one you never wanted to wake up from. 

But his words? Those were real. They etched themselves into your mind with a gravity that no dream could hold.

“I will never let anything happen to you ever again.”

[myeyebagsaredesigner]

Headcannon that Jason is so touch-starved from isolating himself and convincing himself he hates his family, so when he starts reconnecting with them, he’s caught off guard by how weird he gets with human contact

Getting back to the cave after a patrol

Dick: “Great work today guys!” *pats Jason on the shoulder*

Jason, brain malfunctioning: “Uh-I-uh- fuck you!” *runs away*

Dick, with tears in his eyes: “.. I was just- I’m sorry?”

And like it gets to a point where Jason is so weirded out by how much it affects him so he starts going to a hair salon. He figures that they touch your scalp so much, he’d be cured within 2 visits, but he ends up liking it there and is now a regular customer.

So he knows all the gossip with his hairstylist, Janice, and her next door neighbors who keep stealing her garbage can. And he knows about Mary, another regular, and how she can’t get married to her new boyfriend because her ex-husband refuses to sign the divorce papers.

The bats have started to notice the increasing quality in his hair, but refuse to outright ask him about it. They’re also very confused at the random names he throws out there occasionally during moments together

Tim, working on a school project and throwing out lots of plastic

Jason, walking by and remembering a salon girl majoring in environmental studies: “Ooh, Gracey would NOT like that.”

Tim: ???

Eventually, they see Jason through the window of the salon while they’re passing by, and see him talking to the older ladies and waving around a hairbrush like he owns the place.

[orchidsarchives]

Jason Todd headcanons part idk

- he’s got a little miffy sticker on his bike because some kid was in a “vandalizing” mood. jason thought it was stupid at first, but then the more he looked at it, the cuter it got. so he just decided to leave it there.

- skull hand tattoo. he’s corny.

- jason’s definitely got photographic/eidetic memory, that boy does NOT forget anything. he’s also generally more perceptive than the average person… the perks of being raised by a detective…

- he does that spinning pen trick out of habit (and it’s super attractive). you leave that boy anywhere with a pen and he’s set, he will not be bored. he’s doing silly little tricks to keep him company.

- and this doesn’t really need to be said, but he’s such a good listener. it doesn’t matter who’s speaking, they’ll always have his undivided attention.

- oh and uh he does the whole “bends down to hear you better” thing… (or he looks up at you with softest eyes if you’re taller btw)

- jason smells warm and spicy, somthing like tom ford’s tobacco vanille perfume. i also don’t think he cares about cologne vs perfume, he just wears whatever smells good to him.

- this might be a little niche, but i don’t think he’s ever been on a clean bulk lol

- speaking of which, jason’s got a big, big, BIG sweet tooth! he loves sugar and craves it almost all of the time.

- i like to think that he stops by little bakeries during his patrols. they’re not usually open at 3 in the morning, but the bakers are always up and preparing yummy treats for the day. they often see jason out and about in the late hours of the night, so they always give him somthing to eat, thus making his sugar addiction worse.

[airplanecrashingtowardstheground]

jason todd strikes me as a man with a jewelry kink. he didn't have one at first, then he saw his partner wearing a necklace he bought them and it wrinkled his brain. now he's buying every shiny thing he sees, he wants you dripping in gold, silver, rose gold he doesn't care. you're getting diamonds, rubies, pearls... jewels are all he wants to see you in, especially if he bought them for you

[dollishmehrayan]

# BATBOYS WITH A TURKISH!READER ── .✦ ( written already in the title ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ )

dollish note ౨ৎ: this is requested by amazing @natsbloggg and enjoy you guys and please tell me if got anything wrong and also this is so funny because I’m going to to turkey in 2 months and then after my trip I need to move again if you didn’t know I just moved so yeah if I don’t post much that’s why my life is getting busy soon 🥲 tags: (batboys x Turkish!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Tries so hard to learn Turkish. His pronunciation is tragic at first, but he gets better.

“Günaydın, aşkım!” (sounds like: goon-eye-denn...ash-come?)

Absolutely obsessed with Turkish breakfast. He will wake you up just to set it up together.

“Wait, we get cheese AND olives AND honey? Every morning?? This is heaven.”

He wants to learn all the dances at weddings and ends up being the overly enthusiastic foreigner who somehow becomes the crowd favorite.

You catch him watching Turkish dramas and crying like it’s a sport.

JASON TODD ── .✦

Knows a few key words: “aşkım,” “hayır,” “çay,” and “ne?”

But also knows how to curse in Turkish and uses it with impressive accuracy.

Pretends to grumble when your family insists he eat more, but he secretly loves the home-cooked Turkish food.

He even tries to learn your grandma’s recipes. "Teach me how to make dolma or I’ll riot."

Super protective of you and lowkey fascinated by your history and culture he’ll stay up reading about the Ottoman Empire and then drop facts out of nowhere.

Brings Turkish delight ( is a proper gift there? ) as a gift when visiting your family, trying to win everyone over.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Has a whole Google Doc of Turkish phrases and cultural notes he’s compiled.

“So I shouldn’t use ‘tamam’ sarcastically, got it.”

He’s blown away by your language’s structure and will 100% ask you to explain agglutinative verbs.

(If your Muslim) Tries to fast with you during Ramadan even though he’s not built for it. He faints by iftar and you’re like, “Babe… it’s only day two.”

Gets deeply invested in Turkish poetry and tries to quote Rumi or Nazım Hikmet to impress you.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Starts learning Turkish just to communicate better with your family, even if they speak English he sees it as a matter of respect.

When someone in the League insults your culture, he goes full wrath mode. “Say one more thing about Türkiye. I dare you.”

Secretly loves the music, especially traditional Turkish instruments like the bağlama don’t be surprised if he’s trying to learn it.

Stubbornly insists on doing things your cultural way during holidays.

“We are having Şeker Bayramı with the proper sweets, and that’s final.”

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Fluent in Turkish within six months. You’re not even surprised.

Will absolutely fund Turkish cultural projects, books, or charities if it’s something you care about.

Quietly joins your family’s traditions with full respect and zero complaints.

“Of course, I brought lokum. And yes, I removed my shoes.”

If you’re homesick, he arranges Turkish radio/music playlists, gets Turkish groceries imported, and turns the manor into a little piece of home.

[fear-is-truth]

JASON TODD does not have a soft spot for you.

if anyone asked, that’s what he’d say. flat. absolute.

because he doesn’t.

doesn’t matter that he lets you get away with things that would have anyone else eating pavement. doesn’t matter that when you touch or poke or kiss or bite him, he does nothing to stop you—and when you do stop, there’s something almost like… disappointment.

he most definitely doesn’t go out of his way for you, either. doesn’t swing by that café you like just to bring you your favourite beverage. sure as hell doesn’t automatically search for your face when he enters a room full of people…

no. jason todd does not have a soft spot for you.

(he has a weak spot for you. a vulnerable spot. an achilles heel lodged just behind his sternum, nestled between his lungs—right where a bullet would do the most damage. but never a soft spot.)

[fattuccini-afraido]

Gentle reminder to every dc fan out there that Jason's first kill was not as Red Hood or even while training to become him, but as robin.

[rosaeh]

im a firm believer that before jason gets into a serious relationship with you, he breaks up with you/try to cut ties with you while you guys are getting closer. because, no matter how much he cares about you, he doesn't feel worthy of it at all, and believe he will only bring you pain and regret.