#let jason have a life

[nondistinctmeganerd]

Jason teacher au is gold but I want to see a Jason school librarian au. Just think of the endless possibilities of Jason being the school librarian at Park Row Elementary.

Jason: *in the middle of a pile of students reading the BFG* the kids: are you sure you ain't the BFG Mr. Jason? Jason: *shushing the kids and gesturing for them to lean in* okay, you caught me, but you can't tell the other giants the kids: *excited whispers and giggles erupt* Dick, who was looking for Jason to ask about a case that he had been following from Blud, staring from the window: I- - Jason, sat down with the sweetest girl helping her sound out the words in Dr. Suess: There you go! You're a expert now! the girl: *beaming up as she high fives Jason* Tim, who thought that Dick was either pranking him or seeing things: I honestly have no idea how to respond to this - Jason: *talking to the grandmother of a child who wants to help her grandson with his English reading* Bruce, who noted his other kids acting strange and visiting the school: hnn The school's library receives a very generous donation from an anonymous source the next morning

[starspilli]

FINALLY did some of the x men & dc crossover stuff that’s been rattling around in my head lol. & trust me i have more. i just think these ones would have interesting / funny dynamics lol

[fir3flytv]

JASON TODD didn't want a dog. He lived in an apartment with you, with one bedroom, a tiny kitchen and a living room that looked like the furniture decorated in it would fall apart at any moment.

But one day, he comes home to you, sleeping in your bed with a little bull mastiff puppy on his side of the bed. He stares at the dog for a few moments, before going to take off his Red Hood outfit, as though that would make the situation disappear. When he comes back, the dog was still there. Of course.

Gently, Jason shakes you awake, giving you a pointed look. "Got anything you want to share with me, babe?" He asks, eyes trailing down to the dog, still asleep on the bed. A sheepish smile crosses your face. "I can explain?" You say, though it comes out more like a question. "I was volunteering at the animal shelter and found him. He didn't like being with the other dogs in cage but they didn't have enough space to isolate him." "So you thought the best plan was to bring home a dog that can grow to be 150 pounds?" I scoffs lightly. "No, no! I'm fostering him. Just for a little bit," You say quickly. "I thought since he's still a puppy he would be adopted quickly, right? So we won't have to make space for when he gets that big." Jason lets out a soft sigh and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before speaking again. "You're too good," He murmurs softly. You smile up at him and return the kiss onto his cheek. After a few moments, Jason clears his throat and looks down at the puppy, still sprawled out onto his side of the bed. "So where am I going to sleep?" ... JASON TODD sucks at being a foster. He's terrible, horrible, even. If you were to look up 'How to not foster a dog', they would just show his face. It wasn't that he neglected the dog. He could never. He took him out on runs, fed him good food, washed him, played with him. Everything a dog owner could do. No, the reason Jason was so bad was because his first ever foster dog turned out to be a foster failure. Every time someone came by interested in adopting the puppy, Jason would be in your ear, whispering to you that it didn't seem like they knew what they were doing, or that the puppy wouldn't like living with them. Every. Single. Time.

It wasn't till the three month mark of fostering the pup, having moved to a more spacious apartment, that Jason popped the question.

"You know," He starts suddenly while the two of you were on the couch, eating Chinese take out with the dog resting on the floor nearby. "No one here seems to be right for Buster." Buster, his name for the dog. He's used it so much he actually started responding to it. "There's someone, I'm sure," You counter, taking a bite of your food. "I know there is," Jason counters. Just as you open your mouth to tell him that makes no sense, he cuts you off. "Us. We're right for Buster." "Think," He says, reaching out to grip your hand. "For three months, we've had him, we've moved with him. He has his spot in the bed, we've worked him into our schedule. He's happy. Why ruin that?" "So you want to adopt him?" You ask, making sure you understood just exactly what he was saying. It felt too good to be true. "Yeah, I do," He says with a small smile. As soon as he finishes speaking you practically lung at him, tackling him into a hug while whispering small 'thank you's. The action makes Buster jump up and want to join in on whatever is going on, leaping onto the couch and sniffing at the two of you, his massive head bumping you both. In that moment, Jason knew he made the right choice. This felt right. It felt good. It felt like home. You, him, and your giant dog.

[fake-fun]

[wizardprime]

allow me to hit Tim with the Slavic beam for a second. and torture Jason Todd in the same breath

so in the magical land of Czech Republic we have a dessert. it is a hard slab of egg and vanilla, typically served with whipped cream, sometimes fruit and coco powder. its name? coffins.

so imagine for me Jason pisses Tim off somehow for the twelve hundredth time or whatever and Tim is like Hm. I could be passive aggressive or physically attack him or start a prank war like a normal person bat. But I have been spending unheterosexual amounts of time with my friend Conner "Midwestern farm boy" Kent and it has moved some ancient brick of my DNA into place.

he shows up at Jason's door with a plate of these and then happily skips away.

cue Jason being strangely pleased when the tox screen turns up clean and it actually doesn't taste bad. until he looks up the name

[notfeelingthyaster]

the way the older batboys cope with relationship trauma is that tim is a serial dater (cannot, will not, be single, would rather swallow glass, name the last time he was single), jason is a serial kisser (what's the name when you're not dating you're just kissing people? in brazil we call it "staying", like when you go out clubbing and kiss 10+ randoms) and dick is a serial cheater (i've said what i said)

[disaster-magician]

Looks like you found one of those golden retriever girls! Good luck with that, Tamarack

(Fake screenshots! These are fan made based on incorrect quotes and not in the game)

[fairyroses]

He was about to kill you, Lex. Or divulge something you didn't want me to know.

— SMALLVILLE, "Forever" (4.21)

+ bonus from "Arctic" (7.20):

[to0-many-headcanons]

I love the idea of Jason deciding to check his grave for whatever reason before Titans Tower and seeing Tim just talking to his grave and showing pictures that Tim really likes that he's taken recently

I like the idea that J didn't think that people cared enough to go to his grave and then checking it and being surprised to find someone there but also pissed off that instead of Bruce or Dick it's the Stalker he saw on patrol sometimes

He isn't pissed off at Tim, actually he is super touched and goes back to watch him and listen to him talk, he's pissed off at Bruce and Dick, he thought he'd see them at some point but he never once does, not in person and not on the cameras he eventually sets up hoping that he just keeps missing them, that they actually care enough to show up

He ends up kind of adopting Tim in his head, like the more he sees Tim and hears Tim ask for advice on how to save Batman, on how to be as good as J, on how to make Nightwing like him instead of reminding him of Jason, his dead brother, J decides that he is gonna do his dramatic reveal plan and then he is gonna move back to the Manor to make sure Bruce isn’t fucking up when it comes to Tim

Tim became his Baby Bird, like he’s Dick’s Little Wing, he is the first one to notice that Tim feels like he is overstaying his welcome, he notices when Tim tries to move back to Drake Manor, he makes sure Tim knows that J came back to the manor for him, stays for him and will leave with him

Can you tell I love J being a good big brother to Tim

Can you tell I’m very fandom heavy with next to no comic knowledge

[glitter-stained]

I used to dislike Lazarus Pit Madness headcanons but I've seen people say "he doesn't need magic madness he has normal madness" and "why would you need a magical explanation for his behaviour have you people never heard of cptsd" and while I understand the sentiment (and Jason definitely has cptsd) this is exactly what I'm talking about when I say dc has a dangerous habit of demonizing/villanizing mental illness and it has a real impact on the fandom's perception of mental illness. Winnick isn't the worst when it comes to Jason's writers but the fact that he wrote Jason as both a brilliant hypercompetent villain and a sympathetic character that makes you go "oh hey, he has a point..." should not distract you from the fact that no, decapitation is not a common symptom of cptsd.

[deadchannelradio]

my fanfiction abortion morgue is gaining another jayroy victim that is not long enough to clean up for ao3. this was going to be a very long and meandering noodle about in the river that is jason's mental health and trauma and relationships of all types and healing and the asexual/aromantic spectrum (not that that's the verbage jason would use or language hes even aware of) and low sex drives all that beautiful muck and mire but i have not put a single word on it in well over a year now. so i'm letting her go. be free little fish.

-

They’re better now, anyways, better than they ever were before. Jason had a crisis a few months back, stopping himself from reaching reflexively for his phone to give Dick a call about- nothing important. And then he had realized that he had reflexively gone to call Dick about nothing important, and had gone and stared out the window for 15 minutes, trying to work himself into a different, less horrifying conclusion than the one gathering in his brain like an avalanche. Roy had come home in the middle of it, taken one look at his face and dropped his bag on the floor with a thunk.

“Holy shit,” he said. “Who died?”

“I like him,” Jason said, somewhere between incredulous and horrified. “That cunt, that motherfucker- he made me actually like him-,”

“Who?”

“Dick!” Jason had shouted. “That piece of shit, I want to spend time with him, hours out of my actual human life that I can’t get back-,”

Roy had proceeded to laugh in his face for a solid ten minutes, positively gleeful about Jason’s horrible emotional crisis. “He does that to you, man,” he said once they’d settled in, still chuckling as he cracked open a can of soda, posted up on their couch with Ethiopian takeout in his lap. “One minute you’re sitting there thinking oh my god, this guy, he’s so loud and annoying-,”

“And he never fuckin’ stops moving,” Jason groaned from his spot laying on the floor below him. “His body or his mouth. And he chews loud, he’s obnoxious on purpose, and he’s a model and dated Kory but half the time he dresses like something a goodwill dumpster threw up-,”

“Have you seen his new shoes?” Roy asked. “I dress like dogshit, man, but those things-,”

“Wally got them for him,” Jason said, and then immediately slapped his hands over his face, horrified that he knew that. Roy laughed again. “He’s constantly in your fuckin’ business! Constantly! Last time I saw him he knew the social security numbers of the baristas in the coffee shop I’d been going to-,”

“He gets enabled,” Roy muttered, shoveling injera into his mouth.

“He gets enabled!” Jason said. “Everyone enables him! I enable him! And god, his fucking- puns, man, his quips, we’re all guilty of it but this is a fight, not comedy hour, and even if it was you’d get booed off the stage-,”

“He texted me what he said to Mr. Freeze two weeks ago and I wanted to eat my phone,” Roy said. “It’s amazing no villains kill themselves after he hands their asses to them, I would be humiliated.”

“He sucks!” Jason snapped. 

“He sucks,” Roy agreed. “And then you look around one day at your life-,”

“And you go oh shit, I think this motherfucker’s alright!” Jason mimed hitting himself in the face with Roy’s abandoned house slipper. “Fuck! What’s fucking wrong with me?”

Roy laughed at him, again. “Dick Grayson Derangement Syndrome gets us all in the end,” he said. Jason curled a hand around his bare ankle, and Roy looked down to smile at him, the smallest touch making his whole face bloom open like a rose. Jason had to look away from it, wanting to say: stop. No. You know I’m not enough. You know I’m not like you. You know I can’t give you enough.

He’s been wanting to say that a lot, these days. Toss Roy off the sinking ship with a lifeboat before he has to wake up one day, years on, and realize he’s wasted years with Jason, who can’t love that loud.

He wanted to call Dick about it, which was another horrible realization. Hi big bird, I’m having boy problems. Dick would probably tell him that it means more that Jason has to try, that wanting to try for it is selfless, makes it more significant, which is the kind of thinking that lands a motherfucker in bed with Barbara Gordon, who is enough like Jason to warrant a comparison, but not enough to call her and ask what he should do. Babs loves like the Bolton Strid, and sometimes Jason isn’t sure he loves at all. Not like that.

Jason isn’t nearly as selfless as Dick is convinced he is, not deep down. Because he doesn’t want to let Roy go at all.

It’s late, well into the witching hours, and they’re laying in bed in what was formerly Roy’s bedroom but now holds them both, blinds cracked to let the streetlights through. Jason doesn’t like the dark. Roy’s threatening to buy an eyemask. Jason thinks it’s stupid to blind yourself to potential attackers. Neither of them have brought up going back to sleeping separately. Roy’s nose is pressed between Jason’s shoulder blades, breath humid through his shirt. Not asleep yet, but close. Jason’s books are proliferating on Roy’s shelves, his boxers in Roy’s laundry basket, garrotte wires coiled next to bow strings on the desk that has framed photos, past-Jason’s mouth a little white slash in the bar of orange streetlamp.

Something is clawing at the inside of Jason’s chest, scrabbling like a wild little animal. Trying to dig its way through his spine, into Roy. It hurts.

He shifts, turns over, pushes Roy over onto his back and rolls on top of him, propped up on his elbows to look down at him. Roy grunts, half-awake and confused, but takes his weight. He blinks blearily up at Jason, a crease between his eyebrows- Jason must look intense right now. “Jaybird?” he starts, quiet.

Jason knows this feeling- as all-consuming as it is- is fleeting. It’ll be gone in the morning, and he’ll forget it was ever here. He won’t be able to recall its bite until it comes back around again, like Halley’s comet. He should say something now, while he has it. While he feels it. So Roy can know it’s real. He just doesn’t know how to describe it.

“Jase,” Roy says, sounding more concerned, “Jason, what’s-,”

“Something in here,” Jason interrupts, putting a hand on his own chest, a thudding sound of muscle on muscle, “Wants to eat you.” God, he feels dumb. He’s not good at this, he sounds so much better in his head. His words come out of his mouth sour and curdled and stupid, there’s a reason he doesn’t try to talk about this shit-

Roy lights up, slow at first, then all at once, his face creasing up in his smile like old paper, following familiar folds. Jason feels his toes curl next to his calves, his feet pointing and flexing in excitement. Jason wishes he could make himself smile back, anything other than the dead-eyed concentration he knows he’s wearing right now, but the weight in his ribs is too real and too wild for that- if his teeth come out this might get literal. He wants to crack open Roy’s sternum with his bare hands, climb in like a contortionist and slam it shut behind him.

“Really?” Roy asks, small and soft and giddy. Jason nods, serious. Roy’s teeth dig into his bottom lip, smiling so wide his nose is wrinkling up, little inky lines in the artificial twilight. “Cool,” he says. 

Jason’s hands spasm in the sheets next to Roy’s head. “Roy,” he starts, “Can I-,” stops. Doesn’t know what he wants. Maybe just to look at him until the sun comes up, just to watch the light turn his freckles from a smear in the dim to pinprick-sized marigolds. Maybe to go to sleep on him like this, the thunder of his heart under Jason’s cheek. Maybe he wants everything. Maybe he wants to be the greediest son of a bitch in Gotham. 

“You can do anything,” Roy promises, and the sincerity in his voice makes the thing chewing on Jason’s lungs shake. “Anything you want. I’ll let you do everything.”

Jason drops his head against Roy’s chest with a grunt like he’s just been punched, unable to choke it back. He pushes himself up- Roy makes a quiet, sad noise, grabbing for him- and fumbles the bedside lamp on. He wants to see everything. Roy’s pupils are huge, even in the light he’s flinching from, irises that strange half-color, too dark for blue or green and too flat for hazel and too light to be brown. His cowlick’s sending his hair in every direction at the left temple, and he’s still smiling at Jason, like he can’t help it. Jason doesn’t know what to do, now that he’s here. A restaurant with an infinite menu. What he wants is strange, probably. Not how normal people want things, not what they want. Jason is off-putting, sometimes on purpose, frequently not, and he doesn’t know how this will come across. But Roy said he could have anything. Whatever he wanted. Giving up all of himself, for nothing. For free. 

Jason should take it. Roy will stop him, if he needs it. He puts his mouth on the cowlick, not a kiss, tucks his nose into Roy’s hair and breathes in deep. The nothing-smell of hair that’s not clean but not dirty. Roy’s hands are pressing into his lats, his legs spreading and crossing behind Jason’s thighs, holding him there. Jason curls both his hands around Roy’s skull, presses gently, cradling his head- all of Roy is in there, somehow, and he needs to be careful with it. His skull feels too small to hold something so important, too fragile. 

Jason drags his thumbs over his eyebrows, presses a thumbnail into the scar bisecting the left one- string snap, Roy told him, nearly took that eye out. Roy’s looking up at him still, and they’re close enough that Jason could count his eyelashes, if he wanted. He runs his fingers over Roy’s ears, feeling the cartilage, gently pinches the flesh of his earlobe, over the hole where he used to have gauges. He moves down to Roy’s neck, puts his hands around his throat, doesn’t squeeze. He feels it when Roy’s breath hitches. Roy shuts his eyes, swallows, his Adam's apple moving under Jason’s palms. 

Jason bites him where his neck meets his shoulder, hard. He thinks about being normal, trying to make it a hickey- but Roy jerks hard beneath him with a strangled noise and that thing in Jason’s chest makes him hold that position until Roy stops moving, until the bolt of his jaw aches. He lets go, spit shining around the deep purple indents in Roy’s skin. Roy lets out a shaking breath, eyes still shut.

Roy already knows he’s an inscrutable freak, Jason decides. He’s going to do everything he’s ever looked at Roy and thought about doing, everything he thought might be weird that he’s ever refrained from. Roy won’t run.

If he does, well. Jason will chase him. Roy is the one who said he was locking Jason down, said nobody in or out. He can’t get too mad if Jason takes him up on it.

He presses his nose near Roy’s armpit. The sharp, live smell of his sweat in Jason’s lungs, muted by whatever axe deodorant he uses that always makes Jason think of a cold wet morning. He rubs his mouth over Roy’s deltoid, teeth dragging. Jason pushes up and kneels with his thighs on either side of Roy’s torso, picks up an arm, runs his hands over Roy’s bicep, digs his thumbs into his elbow. Puts Roy’s thumb in his mouth, tastes skin and salt, bites the draw calluses on his fingers, gentle. Does the other arm too, to keep it even. Roy’s breathing slow and even, looking at Jason again as he shoves his mouth into Roy’s wrist until he can feel the pulse against his lower lip. Roy’s trying to caress his face with that hand, can’t quite manage more than a brush of his fingertips against Jason’s ear. 

Jason knows what he should say here. What he hasn’t been saying, because he knows it’s not the same as how Roy will say it, thinking that it will somehow be a lie because the meaning’s different. But it’s words, which are only stories. There is nothing in a story that is a lie, and no analysis that is wrong, with supporting evidence. Which Jason has, which Jason has always had. Roy at his right shoulder. Never wanting anyone else at his back. Saying to Dick: if there wasn’t Roy, there wouldn’t be anybody. The way they keep finding each other at the lowest of lows, facedown in bottles or looking down barrels of guns to see if they can spot the bullet. Standing there feeling stupid in the holes they’ve dug, pickaxes in hand, before turning and finding the other, just as deep as they are. Saying: gimme a boost and I’ll give you a hand.

Even if he doesn’t mean it in the same way, he means it. I want you, I want you, I want you. The inflection changes the meaning, but only by the barest degrees. 

“I love you,” Jason says, and he’s not lying, because he means them, even if it’s not always how he thinks he should.

[autisticrosewilson]

So do you guys actually think that Jason's entire story, relationship to the others, and philosophy amounts to him being a rebellious teen who wants his dad's attention? Like are you 100% serious? I thought you were joking about that but too many of you are saying it with your whole chest.

And what the fuck is this "Bruce antagonizing Jason is fanon!" Shit I've been seeing? You guys are aware that a parent can love their kid and still be a shit parent right? I know you guys don't want to fathom the thought that maybe your blorbo might also occasionally have to face responsibility for consistently endangering children but let's not start being delusional now.

Bruce does love his kids, that doesn't mean that he hasn't hurt them. And I'd also argue that for the most part he feels in the right for it, and he's said multiple times that he believes it's for their own good, so you can't even argue that he's sorry about it. It's okay for you guys to admit that your PERSONAL INTERPRETATION of the character wouldn't do that but don't sit here and pretend that it's not a facet of the source.

[thesummerstorms]

So the other thing is, in my headcanon verse, Dick and Jason (Todd) both definitely think Annabeth is dead.

She was a seven year old run away in the streets of Gotham. Neither Batman nor Jim Gordon were ever able to discover a single lead. Just from their mutual experience, the most likely options were death or trafficking that took her out of Gotham.

And at some point, after Tim became Robin (so Bruce and Dick were very tentatively starting to reconcile) but before Jason came back as Red Hood, GPD does finally find something.

Something is a damaged silver bracelet with Anna Elizabeth Wayne's initials engraved on one of the charms and a snapped link where a different charm (the elephant representing Dick Grayson) broke away.

It's an exact match for the gift Dick Grayson gave his baby sister the year she turned six, full of guilt about how little time he spent with her now that he and Bruce were barely speaking.

A hummingbird charm, in part as an indirect reference to Robin, in part because Anna reminded him of a hummingbird with her inability to sit still. A hummingbird in a flock of Robins and Bats.

A star and moon charm, for Kory who Anna idolized and who suggested the gift to begin with. Or for Bruce "I am the night" Wayne. Or as a reference to NIGHTwing. Dick's explanation changed based on his mood and the audience.

A tiny silver disk, engraved A.E.W.

A dog, just because Annabeth so badly wanted one of her own.

The bracelet is found in a crime scene full of teenage skeletons. There isn't a body that can be identified as Anna Wayne's- none are quite the right age, and none match Bruce's DNA sample- but some of the other victims are identified as run away children.

The conclusion seems pretty obvious to Jim Gordon.

Dick accepts it, grieves, and withdraws again, freezing Bruce out while he tries to come to terms with what happened.

Tim knows what's going on, but it all seems somewhat... detached somehow. As if he's watching a blurry bit of film. Like most of Gotham PD, his brain has glazed over most of the other details within the year. He doesn't have enough of a personal connection to see through Athena's manipulation of the Mist.

Bruce Wayne isn't accepting anything as fact until they actually find a body. Some gut instinct, the part of him that hold on to his subconscious impressions of Athena, tells him it isn't that simple.

He's right. The crime scene is actually a monster's nest, and one that Annabeth successfully escaped. But he doesn't know that. And he also isn't convincing anyone, including himself, that his denial doesn't stem purely from his guilt.

And then, with all of this context, a resurrected Jason Todd returns to Gotham in secret.

And, look, it's hard to imagine how his initial reunion with Bruce could have gone much worse...

But finding out that his baby sister, who despite all the other family bullshit he loved deeply, ran away from Bruce and was seemingly murdered in the same year as his own death?

Well... That's definitely not going to help.

[gender-premium-tm]

started reading dc (well. mostly batfam. i know what i like) fics and now this guy won’t stop following me everywhere. he’s in my emails. i have a headcanon design for him (he’s in the meme!! yippee!!). i made a playlist. i don’t even GO HERE. it’s so over 😔

[reddamselette]

at a skating rink and i thought about valgrace so

valgrace except leo is a pro skater. he can spin around and practically just dance while on wheels but jason? he cannot skate for the life of him.

so leo takes jason’s hands, tells him to bend his knees and find a balance, to find a rhythm in the music and just let go; feel it. jason does, of course, after they skate in their third circle because in reality, he’s been distracted by leo and his bright smile. jason catches the way leo sways to the beat, mouths the lyrics if he knows the songs but brown irises are kept on him, forever him.

it’s in that moment, jason falls in love with leo.

[hopesallwegotleft]

ANGRY vs. RESTRAINED