#red hood ficlet

[incorrectbatfamandfriends]

Headcanon that since Jason can’t go out with his family publicly, what he does instead is show up in random disguises.

Bruce is chatting up some socialites at a gala, talking about the joys of fatherhood and how rewarding it is. Meanwhile he made eye contact with Jason disguised as a waiter twenty minutes ago, and is currently trying to stop his eye from twitching.

Dick is speaking to a third grade class as a part of the Bludhaven Police department outreach program, except when he walks in Jason is sitting behind the teachers desk, playing the role of substitute.

Babs can’t help but stare when Jason hands her a coffee from behind the counter of her favorite coffee shop. (His name tag reads Peter, and for a second she thinks she’s actually lost it).

Tim walks into Wayne Towers one day and on his way in, he waves to his secretary- lo and behold Marjorie has been replaced by Jason. It takes him three hours to notice.

Cass walks into ballet class to discover her teacher had to take a sick day- his replacement is Jason in a beret who talks in a terrible French accent the entire class, only to drop it at the very end to talk in a thick New Jersey accent. Her entire class talks about it for weeks.

Stephanie hails a cab on her way home one night, only to find Jason driving. She’s not sure how he pulled it off or how he got a cab, but her mind is effectively blown.

Duke is on a school trip to the natural history museum, and when the tour guide introduces himself, Duke can’t help but role his eyes. Jason gives a surprisingly good tour, even throwing in some tidbits about a robbery that went down just last week that the Signal stopped.

Damian’s encounter happens when he’s with Jon in metropolis. He’s watching Jon play baseball, and when Jon steps up to bat, he can’t help but notice a the umpire looks a little familiar.

[catgrandpa]

Gotham has always been weird, so when the groundskeeper at the cemetery noticed the Wayne kid’s plot was disturbed, he just chalked it up to more of the same ol’. Alright, so ‘disturbed’ may be a tad too light of a word, but what’s an empty grave in the grand scheme of Gotham? God knows in a city like this one, they could use all the burial room they could get. He figured he’d just jot it down on the website and hope nobody noticed for a while.

Too bad he didn’t account for the 13 year old boy in Bristol who periodically checks the cemetery’s website when he’s feeling particularly lonely.

Plot Removed.

Tim Drake stared at the two words under the heading for Jason Todd’s plot number. Removed? What do they mean ‘removed’? They can’t just remove a plot? That’s a person down there! That’s Robin down there! You can’t Remove Robin!

Calm down. Deep breaths. Assess the situation.

Robin has been dead for 5 months and 14 days. There is no reason for a grave to be removed that early, especially one of a member of such an affluential family. Chances are likely it’s a simple clerical issue. He can call first thing in the morning and make them aware of the mistake. He can have it all fixed in 5 hours.

Just a phone call.

In 5 hours.

…

Tim hates talking on the phone almost as much as he hates waiting.

Well it won’t be the first time he’s snuck out to head to Gotham proper at 1am. It can’t even really be considered sneaking out if there’s no one home to catch you.

Buses stop running at 2, so he layers a couple sweaters under his coat and grabs his best running sneakers so he can comfortably make the trek back.

Just a quick trip to settle his nerves. Maybe get a few shots in if he spots Batman, but really he just wants to see with his own two eyes that things are okay and Jason can rest.

It’s 1:37 by the time he gets to the headstone reading ‘Here Lies Jason Todd’ and the gaping, muddy pit in front of it.

This- This doesn’t make any sense. This is not removal. This is destruction. Desecration. Somebody did this. Somebody-

Assess the situation.

A hole in the ground, approximately 1.5 feet in diameter.

Mud and grass flung outward but with little force.

Large chunks of earth turned over and shoved away.

No signs of tool marks or clean lines of entry into the dirt.

Dragging claw marks.

Staggering, shuffled pairs of foot prints in the mud.

A trail of dirt.

Something… Something large clawed its way out of the ground here. Something large and bipedal and- and humanoid.

Tim refuses to jump to any conclusions he can see all the facts laid in front of him. He’s going to cautiously follow the trail and simply hope to any god listening that he isn’t the world’s first line of defense against the zombie apocalypse.

He’s been walking for 23 minutes and there’s good news and undecided news. Good news: he’s closing in on the target and the trail isn’t taking him out of the way so his trip home won’t be prolonged. Undecided news: The potential Zombie Robin is heading directly for Wayne Manor.

As zombie apocalypse news, this is very bad. From Tim’s collected observational evidence, his not-so-professional opinion is that Batman, faced with a horror movie level zombie of his dead son, would not respond well, and would likely not fight back.

In Batman and Robin news? Tim’s unsure. If Jason is simply back? What could that mean for them? Batman can have his Robin. He wouldn’t have to continue nearly killing others and himself every night in his grief. Jason could-

No. Stop. Do not jump to conclusions.

Hope only brings heartbreak.

What would Batman do? Get close and see if the target is a threat.

Target is male. Mid-teens. Dark hair. Pale skin. Leaning against surfaces as he walks. Appears injured and disoriented.

Minimal risk assessed. Approaching and attempting contact.

Target identity confirmed: Jason Todd.

“J-Jason?” It comes out as a croaked whisper. Jason shows no sign of acknowledgment.

Tim clears his throat, steps right in front of his path, and tries again.

“Jason. Jason, stop I want to help you.” Still nothing.

“Please, Jason. I can help, I promise I can help!”

Why isn’t this working?! Why can’t he just do something right for once?! He wants this to work, he wants to help Bruce, he wants to fix Batman, he wants to not be alone, he wants-

“Robin!”

Robin jerks to a stop.

Tim reached out his hand.

“Robin. Robin please, I’m sorry you’re going through this, it’s really scary, I’m really scared. But I just want to help you. Help you find Batman. Help you get home.”

Jason just stares at him. Of course he does. Of course it’s not going to work. Why did he even bother hoping he could help?

Hope only brings heartbreak.

His sight blurs as his eyes fill with tears and he starts to lower his outstretched hand.

His arm is slowed as a cold hand weakly grasps his own.

“Don’t… scared… Bat… help… Dad… help.”

A relieved sob tears out from Tim’s chest and he gathers himself together. He yanks his extra sweater off and gently pulls it over Jason’s cold shoulders. Jason lets Tim drag his arm over his shoulders to try and carry some of his weight.

“Okay, Robin. Yeah. Your dad will help us.”

Batman will solve everything once Tim gets Robin home.

[cloakedsparrow]

Dick: Okay, I think we’re gonna have to do ‘Good Cop, Bad Cop’.

Jason: Yeah. It’s tropey but it works.

Dick: Exactly. Wanna flip for Bad Cop?

Jason: You’re kidding.

Dick: Or we could play Rock, Paper, Scissors, Lizard, Spock?

Jason: Dude, I can’t be Good Cop. I kill people, remember? You can’t kill people and be Good Cop.

Dick: Those were traffickers and mob lieutenants. These are Rogue goons.

Jason: What, like that matters?

Dick: Yes, that matters. They don’t care that you took out some mobsters. They care that you revived the Joker after beating him to death and then let him go.

Jason: I didn’t revive him, I just didn’t let him die yet! And I didn’t let him go either! That was Batman! I was gonna kill the psycho!

Dick: Yeah, well, you still kept him alive and the goons probably know it. Just like they know I was happy to leave him dead when I killed him.

Jason: What?

Dick: You heard me.

Jason: You…?

Dick: Killed the Joker? Yes. I thought he killed Timmy and then when I confronted him, he said your name and…I didn’t stop hitting him until he choked on his own blood.

Jason: Then…how is he still alive?

Dick: Batman revived him.

Jason Fucking what?

Dick: Yeah.

Jason: Well, now I definitely can’t be Good Cop. I’m way to pissed for that shit.

Dick: Well, so am I.

Jason: Fuck.

Dick: Fuck.

Jason: So now whadda we do? Try to beat it outta him?

Dick: No, he'll lock down. That's why I suggested "Good Cop, Bad Cop" to begin with.

Jason: So we need a Good Cop.

Dick: Okay, I’m gonna call Timmy and see if he can come play Good Cop.

Jason: Good plan.

Dick [talking into a secure (& Batman-proof) phone]: Hey, Robin, you busy?

Tim [on speakerphone]: Kinda, yeah. What’s going on? You sound weird.

Dick: Hood and I need to get some intel from a goon, and we’re thinking “Good Cop, Bad Cop” is the way to go but neither of us can pull off Good Cop right now.

Tim: Shit. I’m in Bangkok right now-

Jason: The fuck are you doing in Bangkok?

Tim: Speedy needed help with a thing.

Dick: In Bangkok?

Tim: No. She’s in Korea.

Jason: So, again, why the fuck are you in Bangkok?

Tim: Because Lady Shiva’s here and she’s perfect for what Speedy needs, so I’m calling in a favor she owes me.

Dick: You’re calling in a favor from Lady Shiva because Speedy needs help with a thing in Korea.

Tim: Yep. You got it.

Dick: No, that’s- You say that like it doesn’t require any further-

Tim: Can you hang on for a second? There’s an assassin tailing me.

Dick: Shit. Do you need us to send someone out there?

Jason; Starfire should be done with her thing by now. She's not on your shit list, right?

Tim: No, I like Kori. But I’m good now. My assassin got the other assassin.

Dick: You have an assassin?

Tim: Kinda? She defected from the League of Assassins and is up for hire but she always gives me priority since she feels like she owes me a life-debt.

Dick: Again, you sound like you think that statement doesn’t require any further explanation.

Jason: So you hired your assassin buddy to kill the other assassin?

Tim: What? No. Of course not. She didn’t kill him. We’ll question him later. She never kills on my jobs since she knows I don’t like it.

Dick: What about other jobs?

Tim: That’s her business. We aren’t all control freaks, you know.

Dick: That’s-

Jason: That’s good, Little Red. Good that you have healthy boundaries.

Dick: I have healthy boundaries.

Jason: Sure you do.

Tim: Okay, you’re gonna have to argue that on your own. I’m supposed to help my friends out with something after I get Shiva to help Speedy, but I have to handle this interrogation first. So how about I just send my friends the twenty-five plans I drew up and ask Bunker if he minds helping you out before he joins us? He should be able to get inside Gotham in less than ten minutes.

Jason: Oh, Bunker’s perfect for Good Cop.

Tim: Right? They’ll spill everything and probably give him their grandma’s secret family recipes on top of it.

Dick: Wait. Back it up. You have twenty-five plans drawn up? What are you guys up against?

Tim: Nothing we can’t handle. Young Justice figures, why even bother with a plan B if you aren’t gonna cover the whole alphabet?

Jason: There’s twenty-six letters in the alphabet, Little Red.

Tim: Yeah, but plan Z is always the same, so we don’t bother listing it anymore.

Dick: Is it ‘get an adult’?

Tim: Of course not.

Jason: When you were a Teen Titan, how often did you call in an adult when you probably should have?

Dick: Okay, that’s fair.

Jason: So what’s plan Z?

Tim: ‘Fuck it, we ball’.

Dick: That’s not a pl-

Jason: That’s perfect. I love it.

Dick: No. Don’t encourage him.

Tim: Thanks, Red. So do you want me to ask Bunker about helping you? I’m kinda on a time crunch now.

Jason: Yes, please.

Tim: Okay. He’s on the way. Is there anything else?

Dick: Whe-

Jason: No, we’re good. Have fun storming the castle!

Tim: ‘Kay, bye!

Jason: Bye!

Dick: The fuck-

Jason: Bunker and I can handle the interrogation here and Timmy and his assassin friend are gonna be busy with an interrogation there for a bit. If you take off now, you can probably catch up with him and go all big brother like you’re dying to.

Dick: You sure?

Jason: Yeah, I’m sure me and Bunker can handle this asshole.

Dick: Thank you.

Jason: Yeah, well, you did kill the Joker. That’s gotta count for something, right?

Dick: I’ll tell you all about it after I make sure Timmy doesn’t get himself killed or lose another organ.

Jason: I’ll hold you to- Timmy lost an organ?

Dick [already calling Kori to get him to Tim]: Later. I’m on a time crunch now!

Jason: I’m holding you to that!

Jason: *sighs* No one in this family knows how to share.

[14muffinz]

had a small dp x dc red hood thing that i wrote during class last week. figured i might as well share it

~~

“Uh… boss?” One of his men hesitantly pipes up. Another one elbows him, but he keeps going. “What are you drinking?”

Jason lowers his water bottle and stares at the green, glowing ectoplasm inside. It does not at all look like something that one could consume without coming to their (second) untimely demise. “Gatorade?”

“What flavour?” Someone else blurts.

He considers it.

“Contaminated.���

He walks away.

[everwalldigan]

I love me some delicious miscommunications so:

Bruce and Jason standing off (again) after a mission actually gone right and Bruce is looking constipated trying to articulate how proud he is while Jason’s just pissed as fuck that he accidentally followed the bats’ rules and

Jason, fuming, thinking to himself: Bruce must be behind this, he MANIPULATED me into playing by the rules the asshole I didn’t even get to shoot ANYBODY today im never teaming up with them again my reputation is ruined people are gonna think I’ve gone SOFT

Bruce, going through five stages of grief just trying to find a way to say that he’s proud of Jason without him getting decked in the face and Jason running away: today showed me that you will always be your father’s son (he means himself)

Jason, thoughts immediately going to Willis because Bruce would obviously never address him as his son: actually fuck you, fuck you never speak to me again I can’t believe I was stupid enough to agree to this what the hell is wrong with you

So, on one hand. now you have Bruce face palming because he’s sure he articulated himself in a way that couldn’t be misinterpreted so Jason obviously wants nothing to do with him and oh great they’re back to not speaking terms but hey at least Jason didn’t shoot at him so he obviously understood what he meant, right?? Right????

Meanwhile on the other hand Jason is capital H Hurt and so so angry about it because what the actual fuck. He’s TRYING to reform but obviously nothing will ever be enough for golden standards Bruce so he should just go back to at least beating criminals within an inch of their lives because he wasn’t going to prove Bruce right no matter how much he wants to take those pieces of shit off the streets permanently.

And of course, because both of them would rather shoot themselves in the foot than, I don’t know, talk, it results in a huge falling out and Jason’s “shoot at the Bats on sight” rule is back, until one day just happens to trap Bruce and Jason together in a warehouse rigged to explode. They accidentally went after the same gang and got themselves captured instead in the confusion. So Jason’s watching Bruce frantically trying to dismantle the bomb while sitting back casually taunting him like

Jason: you know damn well your cape’s gonna protect you from most of the explosion and the whole building is deserted by now, why are you trying so hard? The only one who’ll bite the dust is Willis’ son, fitting ending isn’t it? Always his son until the very end, you said it yourself!

And holy mothers of all fuckups Batman, there hasn’t been miscommunication this bad since the aftermath of the Tower of Babel

Bruce, turning around with the dismantled bomb in his hand, actively inventing new stages of grief: I was referring to myself actually.

[phantobats]

Since Lee has infected me with Jaime x Jason brainrot, I have come back with a small fluffy piece of Jaime patching Jason up:

Jaime had barely settled in for the night when the knock on his door sent a ripple of unease through him. It was Jason—he could tell from the rhythm of the knock—but there was something different about it tonight, softer, almost hesitant. When Jaime opened the door, his heart stuttered.

Jason stood there, battered and bruised, his red helmet clutched under one arm, his leather jacket torn in several places, and his hands bloodied. The normally unbreakable Red Hood looked worn, his usual sharpness dulled by exhaustion and pain.

“Hey, Blue,” Jason rasped, forcing a smirk despite the clear strain. “Ran into a bit of trouble.”

“¡Dios mío, Jason!” Jaime’s voice trembled with concern as he closed the distance between them, his arms instinctively wrapping around Jason’s waist to steady him. “What happened? You look—” His voice caught in his throat as he took in the full extent of Jason’s injuries. “You look like you went through hell.”

Jason’s attempt at a grin faltered, replaced by a weary shrug. “Nothing I couldn’t handle, cariño. Just another night in Gotham.”

Jaime’s brow furrowed as he helped Jason inside, the warmth of the apartment quickly replacing the cold Gotham night. “No más excusas, amor. You’re letting me take care of this. Come on.” His voice held a softness that Jason could never resist, even when he was stubborn enough to pretend he didn’t need help.

Guiding Jason towards the bathroom, Jaime kept an arm securely around his waist. The weight of Jason’s injuries seemed heavier than usual tonight, like it wasn’t just his body that was battered, but something deeper. As they reached the bright light of the bathroom, the full extent of Jason’s bruises and cuts became heartbreakingly clear—dark purple swelling beneath his ribs, a fresh gash across his eyebrow, and more scars forming from what must have been a brutal patrol.

Jaime turned on the faucet, letting warm water flow into the tub, its soft hiss filling the room. “Sit down, por favor. You’re a mess, and I’m not letting you get away without a proper bath.” His voice was gentle but resolute, a mixture of worry and tenderness threaded through every word. As Jason sat on the edge of the tub, Jaime kneeled beside him, unfastening the buckles of his torn jacket and peeling it away from his body with care.

Jason winced as the leather slid off his bruised shoulders, but he stayed quiet, watching Jaime with an unreadable expression. “You don’t have to do all this,” he muttered, though the usual bite in his words was softened by something warmer. “I’m not that fragile.”

Jaime’s hands paused, his eyes meeting Jason’s with a softness that made Jason’s breath hitch. “You may not be fragile, but you’re mine. And I worry about you, corazón,” he murmured, brushing a thumb lightly over Jason’s jaw before turning back to the task at hand. “I can’t just stand by when you come to me looking like this.”

The warm water continued to rise, filling the room with the scent of lavender, an oil Jaime had poured in despite knowing Jason would poke fun at it later. As the tub filled, Jaime helped Jason ease out of the rest of his suit, his movements tender and deliberate, careful not to aggravate any of his wounds.

“Lavender?” Jason arched an eyebrow, his lips twitching with the hint of a smirk. “Really, Blue?”

Jaime chuckled softly, his fingers brushing lightly over a particularly dark bruise. “Sí. You need it. It’ll help you relax. Besides,” he added, a playful lilt in his voice, “I like when you smell nice.”

A genuine smile tugged at Jason’s lips, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “You spoil me, you know that?”

Jaime dipped a cloth into the warm water, wringing it out before gently running it over Jason’s bruised skin. “Alguien tiene que hacerlo. You won’t take care of yourself,” he said softly, though the playful reprimand was laced with affection. His touch was featherlight, wiping away the grime and blood of the night with care, as though he could somehow wash away all of Jason’s pain.

Jason closed his eyes, a sigh escaping his lips as he leaned back, letting the warmth of the bath and the comfort of Jaime’s touch soothe him. “I don’t deserve you,” he mumbled under his breath, the vulnerability in his voice cutting through the air like a whisper of something fragile.

“Shh,” Jaime responded, his fingers threading through Jason’s damp hair, massaging his scalp with soft, rhythmic strokes. “Don’t say that. Eres mi vida, Jason. You deserve every bit of care I give you.” His voice dropped to a whisper as he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Jason’s temple. “You’ve been fighting for so long, but you don’t have to fight me, ¿entiendes?”

Jason’s hand found Jaime’s, his thumb brushing over the knuckles as his heart swelled with a quiet ache he didn’t know how to put into words. “I’m trying,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “I just… I’m not used to this.”

Jaime’s smile was soft, almost sad, as he continued tending to the bruises on Jason’s chest, his hands moving with the practiced ease of someone who had done this many times before. “You don’t have to be used to it yet. Just let me take care of you.”

As Jaime worked, Jason felt the weight of the night gradually lift from his chest. The bruises and cuts still stung, but they felt lighter now, as though Jaime’s touch had smoothed over the edges of his pain. His body relaxed under the soothing warmth of the water, the scent of lavender wrapping around him like a cocoon.

“You know,” Jason said quietly after a few moments, his voice softened by the drowsy comfort of the bath, “I always thought I didn’t need this—someone to patch me up, someone who worries.” He opened his eyes, looking at Jaime with a rare vulnerability. “But you… you make it hard not to want it.”

Jaime’s heart fluttered at the words, his chest tightening with a mixture of love and tenderness. He leaned forward, cupping Jason’s cheek in his hand as he pressed a kiss to his lips—gentle, slow, and full of quiet promises. “That’s because you do need it, Jay. And I’m here.”

Jason’s eyes fluttered shut, a sigh escaping his lips as he melted into the kiss, his hand resting on Jaime’s, grounding himself in the warmth of his touch. “Lucky me, huh?” he whispered, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’ve got the best guy looking out for me.”

“You’re not wrong,” Jaime teased softly, brushing his thumb over Jason’s cheekbone before pulling back slightly. “But next time, try not to make me worry so much, yeah?”

Jason chuckled, the sound low and soft as it reverberated through his chest. “I’ll try, bebé. No promises, but I’ll try.”

Satisfied with that, Jaime helped him out of the tub, wrapping him in a towel before guiding him to bed. As Jason sank into the mattress, Jaime slipped in beside him, curling into his side, his head resting on Jason’s chest. Jason’s arms instinctively wrapped around him, holding him close as his thumb idly stroked Jaime’s back.

“Te quiero, Jaime,” Jason whispered into the quiet, his voice filled with a rare, unguarded warmth.

Jaime smiled against his chest, pressing a soft kiss to Jason’s skin. “Te quiero también, Jay. Now rest, mi amor. You’re safe.”

And as the night settled around them, Jason let himself finally believe it—safe, in Jaime’s arms, where the world and its weight couldn’t touch him.

[ultimate-marysue]

I want a situation where the robins are fighting together. One of those really messed up villain team ups, maybe they have to work together to save Batman, whatever. The important part is: things are looking bad. There's no back up coming (Nightwing and Red Hood were their back up!) and Damian is the only thing standing between the civilians and the bad guys.

He is terrified, not that he'd ever admit to it, and he knows he needs to be focused on the fight if he wants to win it. There's only one problem: most of those civilians are kids. They are crying, screaming, and having lost all hope. They know Robin will do all that he can to save them, but Robin is a tiny kid, just like them, and he is scared too.

An image comes to mind, of times long past. He'd been way past his curfew, looking at the bat computer he was forbidden from using. It wasn't his fault really, father and Drake hadn't come back at their expected time and he just wanted to check if his assistance was required. After all, he was far better trained than Drake. Maybe that'd be the night father understood and asked him to step in.

The CCTV footage he managed to access from Oracle showed a gnarly fight between Robin and Killer Croc in the middle of the street. That was the first time Damian ever saw Robin in action. It was way different than how he moved in the training mats; he was unnecessarily flashy, cocky even, equally concerned with sassing and hitting his opponent. Robin's smile as he ran circles around the rogue could light up a city.

It had been sloppy at best, but there's a reason why it came to mind right that moment. That fight had been an equally tiny Robin against an immensely larger monster, but all the civilians in frame had been cheering Drake on, forgetting the danger they were in.

Looking at a particularly snotty toddler that looked like he had peed himself in fear, Damian made his choice. It could bite him in the ass for all he cared, he knew that Spoiler would be done soon and coming to his aid. So Damian gave his best smile, straightening up, and insulted the rogue's costuming choices.

The fight was hard, harder than what it needed to be, as Damian balanced blocks and dodges with scathing remarks about his enemy's face, career or the unlikely relations of his mother. It wasn't his usual ruthless effectiveness nor his venomous insults. For the first time he was purposefully putting on a show, despite his own fear. It was hard, keeping up his flashiness while trying to not die, but soon enough he was rewarded but cheering when the hit coming his way barely missed him. So he kept going.

Eventually Spoiler joined him, with her own commentary on the rogue's alleged romantic life (or lack thereof), before Red Hood finished him off with some sort of reference that was missed on Damian. By the end he was breathing hard, absolutely exhausted, when he felt Brown's arm around his shoulder. "Keep up" she whispered as she turned them both towards the crowd. Red Robin was already helping the civilians, while Nightwing helped Red Hood securing the rogue, both of them having finished their own fight.

He lifted a little girl from the rubble, and she giggled merrily as if she hadn't been crying ten minutes ago there were still tear tracks in her soot stained cheeks.

"You were so cool!" She stated, almost matter of fact, "Kevin thought you were gonna get your ass kicked but I knew you'd win."

She said that last part petulantly, staring at another kid wearing a Batman t-shirt. The boy looked a bit ashamed, and Damian couldn't help the derisive t-t that escaped him.

"Obviously, as if that bumbling buffoon had any chance against me."

The girl nodded sagely "I know, Robin always wins."

Damian sat her down next to what looked like some very frazzled preschool teachers, not bothering to correct her. Robin didn't always win, that was absolutely nonsensical. Yet...she had sounded so sure of herself. As if it was a very well known fact and her friend was just being silly.

He was struck down from his reverie by a firm hand settling on his shoulder. He looked up to a beaming Nightwing "Nicely done out there, Robin." Damian wanted to protest, to pretend like he hadn't done anything special and that this was just a regular Tuesday for him. Instead, he dumbly nodded, his chest feeling warm from the praise.

"...and then he said 'I honestly pity your mother, carrying a waste of oxygen for nine months! It was hilarious you should have seen it!" Spoiler was loudly reporting his juvenile jabs to a very amused Red Robin as Red Hood barked out a laugh.

Damian feigned disinterest, suddenly feeling extremely self conscious for his half baked attempts at annoying his enemy. He caught Red Robin's stare, and before he could look away he saw his brother give him a proud smile and a thumbs up.

"Everyone is being so obtusely cheery today," he sneered, "maybe we should check the water supply."

"I can't blame them baby bat, you did your job too well today," Dick laughed "Robin always makes people smile."

It was said fondly, and Damian could feel the love Dick had for the mantle he'd created and everyone to ever wear it. Robin looked back at the gaggle of preschooler he had saved, most of them cheerfully waving their little hands at him. He waved back, smile on his face.

He had always known he was destined for greatness.When Richard bestowed Robin upon him, he knew he would be a great vigilante. But today he realized there was a difference between being a hero and being Robin. It was nice to know, he made a pretty great Robin too.

[bruciemilf]

If jaime and jason were already dating pre Jason's death, how would jaime react to jason coming back

HOHO. I bring you; Arkham Knight! Ex boyfriend! Jason/superhero/honorary robin in training Jaime. :)

I’m asking on my hands and knees, the first time Jaime and jason meet (they’re fighting ^^^) Jaime having his thighs locked around Jason’s rib cage. Yes, he gets his back slammed into the ground and groans, but if Khaji’s let loose, they’ll never know who’s inside that hunk of metal.

AK Jason panting (so he IS human, then) “you may be tiny, but you’re tough”

“Tiny? I could break your spine!”

“Yeah, doll, and Batman’d break your neck. Face it. I got you right where I want you, pretty boy.”

The first thing Jason smells when rising from Lazarus’ gut is the sizzling of flesh. It’s acrid, stale meat turning back to spoiled remains. It clings to him for months.

Jaime? The little fuck still smells like mango and honey glazed blueberries, and something electric that defies the capacity of word.

And it’s everywhere. It sticks into his shirts, into his family, into his skin, piercing the material of everything. His hand curls grips Jaime’s cheeks, pouting up those pretty lips.

“Still stealing my soap, huh?”

Jason takes his time counting Jaime’s eyelashes, and burns the details into his mind. How they fluttered once, then twice.

Then, those cinnamon whiskey eyes widening in grief stricken disbelief. It’s like watching Jason die twice. The only thing he regrets is letting Jaime go too early.

[incorrectbatfamandfriends]

The absolute angst of Jason coming back and seeing Tim interacting with Dick and realizing just how close they are. They do stuff together, all the time, stuff Dick never did for Jason no matter how much he begged. He’s put off with it- doesn’t want anything to do with Dick. He died and Dick got a new perfect little brother he actually liked. Hell, he even comes to Sunday Dinner- something not even Alfred could convince him to do when Jason was still alive the first time.

It gets worse as the others show up- Dick showers them with affection. If they question whether they belong or not, it’ll never be because of Dick. No, Tim, Damian, Cass, and Duke will never know the Dick he knew.

But he doesn’t know that the reason Dick tries so hard is because of him. He felt he’d failed Jason- and when he died he left this gaping hole in Dick’s life. So yeah, he shows up to Damian’s Art Shows, and takes Tim skateboarding, never misses Cass’s ballet performances, and drives Duke four hours to see his favorite band. And yeah he’s at every single Sunday dinner, even if him and Bruce are at each others throats- he shows up and he sits down, and he listens to his siblings as they tell him what’s going on in their lives. Because of Jason.

[cloakedsparrow]

Red Hood climbs up onto a roof with the intention of watching some drug smugglers below, only to find Robin, crouched in the perfect hiding space Jason had noticed. The boy is eating fries from a curled down Batburgers bag and sipping a Riddler Shake.

Jason: What are you doing here, Boy Wonder?

Tim: Probably the same thing you are. Spying on criminals.

Jason: ...

Tim: Want some fries? They're Jokerized, just to warn you.

Jason: Why?

Tim: Kon-El got some to try the last time he sneaked into Gotham and it turns out they're really good.

Jason: No, why would you offer me fries?

Tim: I have enough to share and I can always buy more?

Jason: Why are you being nice to me?

Tim: I'm offering fries, not a kidney. Why wouldn't I?

Jason: Because of the knife to the throat or, you know, that time I beat you within an inch of your life?

Tim: ...

Jason: ...

Tim: What the fuck was your time as Robin like?

Jason: The fuck?

Tim: A mentally unstable individual violently attacked me because he was scared or mad at Batman. That's like a bi-monthly occurrence for me, minimum. At least you were really insane and want to get better now-

Jason: I never said I wanted to stop killing.

Tim: I said get better. You want to be in control of yourself instead of being all Lazarus crazy, right?

Jason: Yes. But that doesn't mean I won't kill.

Tim: That's still wanting to get better. You think half the rouges who rotate through Arkham are actually trying to get better by even that much?

Jason: No.

Tim: Me, either. So that makes you an improvement over the usual. Plus, you know, the trauma from being murdered and all.

Jason: That's not an excuse to attack a kid.

Tim: No, but it's an explanation, which, again, is better than the usual. And you're showing signs of genuine remorse. That's huge around here. How often do we get that?

Jason: Anyone ever tell you your standards are kinda fucked up?

Tim: They'd have to pay closer attention for that.

Jason: Fucking what?

Tim: Doesn't matter. It's not like you're going to talk to anyone and even if you did, who'd believe you?

Jason: ...

Tim: So, you want some fries?

Jason: Yeah, sure.

Jason: These are good.

Tim: Right?

Jason: Is this nori?

Tim: Uh-huh; with paprika, kosher salt, and msg. I think there might be something else in there, but I haven't been able to place it.

Jason: Potato starch.

Tim: Oh, that makes sense.

Jason: I am definitely Jokerizing my fries from now on.

Tim: Try them with the Riddler Shake, too. The mint really compliments them.

Jason: I'll do that.

Tim: Wait. Doesn't that guy work for Black Mask?

Jason: Yes, he does.

Tim: So...want to pull a World's Finest?

Jason: A what?

Tim: You know, a team-up?

Jason: You-? Fucking- You know what? Sure. Let's pull a World's Finest. *under his breath* Little freak.

[unbreakabledawn]

"Why the fuck do I have to go in?"

Somewhere between the dumpster and the sleeping homeless guy, a scrawny rat scurried forward and out the mouth of the alley before Tim or Jason could kick the undoubtedly pest-carrying vermin away.

Tim wrinkled his nose, and turned back to Jason, gesturing down at himself in response. "I'm dripping wet and there's blood on my gloves. It would be rude of me to go in and make the minimum-wage workers mop the floors after me at three a.m.."

"And whose blood is that?" Jason crossed his arms and leaned against the dumpster. There was a faint scratching and rustling sound coming from inside it, and Tim heard the occasional squeak. Great. Hopefully those were normal Gotham rats and not some sort of mutated killer vermin. This night was tiring enough already without the added mutant monster outbreak.

Tim glanced at his hands. Sewer water trickled from his cape. "No idea. I think it's Killer Croc's, but I'm not entirely confident it wasn't from a person he might have mauled, or perhaps eaten."

"Awesome. Really got my appetite going."

Tim raised his hand and counted on his fingers. "Spoiler and Batgirl are stopping the robbery at Twenty-fifth Street, Nightwing is taking the Mad Hatter back to Arkham, the brat has no manners--"

"I heard that!" a shrill voice shouted in his comm.

"--and B is B. Can you just go and get the food." Tim was approximately six seconds away from gnawing on the brick wall of the alley.

“Give me a hundred. Christ," Jason hissed, flinching away from the dumpster as a loud squeal erupted from within. It sounded suspiciously like a rat eating another rat.

Tim sighed. “The food’s already paid for, including tips.”

“It’s not for the food, it’s for me. Pay up or you can spend the rest of the night fueling up on B’s cardboard nutrition blocks. I do think he puts actual cardboard in them, by the way. Also that guy’s not breathing, you should call an ambulance.”

Tim and Jason both looked over at the homeless guy slumped in the corner of the alley. “He’s fine, I took his pulse five minutes ago,” Tim said, not at all sure that it was still there.

A rumbling snore emerged from the man. Jason tilted his head, but Tim couldn't read his expression underneath his mask. After a moment, Tim sighed again and fished a hundred dollar bill from a pouch on his belt and handed it to Jason. He shrugged his shoulders, took the blood-flecked bill and brushed past Tim to head inside, fucking finally.

Tim stood at the corner and listened to Jason kick the door open with much more force and drama than a fast-food establishment required.

"Pick-up for six Bat-idiots," he heard Jason say in his mask-modulated growl. There was a piercing scream from inside and Tim resisted the urge to cover his eyes with his blood-sticky hand.

When Jason reappeared, Tim eyed the take-away bags with suspicion. He couldn't count the items without opening the bags, but Jason wasn't interested in handing them over and set a course for the fire escape without even looking at Tim.

“There’s supposed to be seven orders,” Tim said slowly, following him to the roof. He felt a pair of rat-sized eyes tracking their ascent and was very grateful rats couldn't climb ladders.

“I’m not an idiot. Where's B, anyway? He used to get burgers for me on patrol all the time, he should be the one running your errands, not me.”

"Robbery on Morrison Street."

"At this rate, food's gonna be cold before anyone else makes it here," Jason said, sitting down on the roof's ledge and holding out one of seven burgers to Tim. He pulled off his sullied gloves before accepting it.

"Next time I'll issue a time-out notice to the criminals of Gotham while I'm putting in our food order."

"That's a great idea. You do that, and I'll eat B's fries."

"I heard that," growled a voice over their comm line.

-

based on a prompt by @unshatters-your-teacup! "the batfam stopping mid-patrol to get food somewhere" which i kind of mangled lol but i did have fun.

i'm trying out prompt fills to practice regular writing, because i'm having a lot of trouble with my actual wips. my inbox and my dms are open if you want to send me one (primarily batfam, superman, or batman, both ship and gen, but i can be flexible) though i can't promise i'll be able to write it <3

[timdrakegf]

chances ♟️ jason todd

jason todd x gn! reader

tw : none

wc : 294 // unedited

The rain came in sheets over Gotham City, a relentless torrent that seemed to melt away the night's misdeeds, leaving only echoes of muttered secrets in its wake. Beneath the darkness, the city took on a new identity, a foreboding labyrinth of shadows and steel.

You stood on a fire escape, your shadow blending with the dripping wrought iron, peering down on the gloomy streets below. His eyes focused on the horizon as the city skyline faded into a polluted haze.

His words, when they came, were carried away on the wind, swallowed by the relentless drumming of rain against metal. Yet, in the silence between them, there lingered a language all their own, spoken in the subtle gestures and shared glances that bridged the divide between them.

The faint glow of lamps in the distance created fragmented patterns on the smooth pavement below, highlighting the city's deeper corners where danger lurked like a predator at night. But on the fire escape, there was a sense of refuge, a little reprieve from the carnage that raged beyond their vantage point.

You turn towards Jason, a sad smile pulling at your lips as you shake your head. Tears go unshed in the corners of your eyes and his reflect the same kind of sadness. “That’s the thing Jason, you did once.”

He knew he did. He had to. Because you used to wait up for him every night, you used to bite your nails down to the skin when Red Hoos would swing into the scene and the news would joke through the punches he took and the blood he shed.

“Please.” He pleads, eyes droopy with sleep deprivation. “Let me fix this.”

“I can’t Jason.”

“Just-”

His voices sounds like blood soaked parchment whipping through the wind and rain.

“You can’t.”

[rootbeermilktm]

Whumptober no.16

Necrosis

The thing about being undead is that you don’t come back with the body you died in. Where there were once sapling boughs there are now biceps the size of Bristol families’ Christmas hams. Your stomach, once bloated from three years of gorging after thirteen of near starvation, breaks knuckles when punched. Now your pecs look like they could be milked and your thighs crush watermelons. You don’t have to tilt your head up to look your dad in the face anymore. This body is stronger, faster, bigger than the one you had, and it’s not yours.

Another thing is that the new body fixes itself differently than your old one. You don’t heal so much as you regenerate. Your flesh dies as it is want to do, and then Lazarus brings it back. It sags and blackens and reeks. But then a green light across the bay lures it out of the lake of fire and towards the liveliness that a resurrected body cannot truly attain. Dying aches in a way that feels right, and resurrection cradles in a way that feels very wrong. Cells seem sour as they decompose on the corpse you live in. They twinge with the sensation of death. And then once they’ve withered, they’re dragged back through death’s door clawing at the frame. They dig their nails into the realm they’re meant for until a cruel mockery of life forces itself upon them. It’s relentless and efficient. It certainly expedites recovery. Jason could almost call himself meta at this point, the way it’s faster to let himself rot than heal. He could clean a stab wound, stitch himself up and let his skin grow itself back together over the course of a few weeks. Or he could stay the bleeding just enough to keep conscious and let the tissue die from blood loss, infection, whatever. It’ll be back within a few days.

So Jason keeps killing this new body he’s in. It’s not going anywhere.

[shinobufied]

just a silly little thought I had:

one day Bruce falls asleep on the couch, this isn't a too rare occurence, but this time it was a huge relief to Alfred, since he hadn't properly slept for days.

So boom, knocked out on the couch while watching TV and time freezes, Alfred sees it and does not even dare to breath. Complete lockdown of the wayne household, everyone going into "cat-fell-asleep-on-my-lap-mode" .

Dick enters the room, rambling about something but being immediately interrupted by Alfreds energetic "ssh." At first he looks offended but then he sees his father knocked out on the couch and his expression turns into a conflicted one, because his favourite trashy show is about to come on and he really needs to see it because last patrol was really shitty and his ribs are bruised and hurt and-

Then his phone vibrates in his pocket and he sees a message from Alfred. "If you wish to watch your show, you can do it here, just put subtitles on and be quiet."

Dick sends him a thumbs up in response and when he looks up Alfred is long gone.

About 5 minutes later Jason comes in, complaining about something and just like his brother before were silenced with a " pssch." His eye twitched slightly because how dare they, but then he sees Bruce and immediately understands. Dick, seeing that his brother apparently had a shitty day as well, pulls out his phone and a moment later Jasons phone vibrates.

"Wanna watch with me? It's pretty lame and we only have subtitles but Sharon just found out she got cheated on and is now plotting revenge."

Jason does not know who Sharon is, but oddly enough he's intrigued so he joins Dick on the couch and they watch, occasionally trash talking via the phone.

Then Tim comes in, then Damian, Cassandra, Steph and eventually Duke, all being visibly stressed out and for some odd reason agreeing to watch Dicks shitty comfort show. At some point they're messaging each other more than watching the show, at some point one of them impulsively opened a new gc specifically for trash talking that show and the room is filled with the occasional giggle which is silenced with the glares from the others.

This now developes into a habit of theirs, regardless whether theyre all in the manor or scattered across the globe, they all sit down and watch the newest episode, discussing it in their stupid gc.

Bruce on the other hand wakes up after his nap completely disoriented and confused, but he see's all his children sitting on the couch, seeing them careless and happy for the first time in a long while so he decides the reason doesn't really matter.

[sonneambedo]

let me be cringe for a moment let me let m

"They say tears are holy. That there is a certain sacredness to them, that there are much more tears shed to answered than unanswered prayers.

Bullshit.

I cried a sea enough for Noah's Arc, I bled when I couldn't cry anymore, I sweated my life out as I choked to death in the smoke. Do you know what blood, sweat, and tears brought me? A merciless death. Slow, painful, merciless death. As if that wasn't enough, I woke up, once again, almost out of oxygen; stale air choking me, again, again - and despite all that I clawed my way out. I managed to leave the hellhole. Literal..."

A ghost of a laugh escapes his lips.

"You do not deserve my mercy; you left me to die, and despite your grief, you let him live. I thought I was going to be the last one.

I will make sure I am the last one.

You will not stop me."

The words are not a plea, nor a command. They are a simply stated fact, nothing more, nothing less. 

Joker will die, innocents will live.

He will have his revenge.

girliepops and boyopops and theythempops im so normal and so sane and i am not cryign about smth i made real quick i am not

[smittywing]

Headcanons

JayTim sleeping head canons

Jason sleeps like the dead. On his back, stiff as a board, his hands fisted at his sides or sometimes clasped over his stomach. He figures it's what happens to a guy when a league of assassins teaches him to sleep on the crests of mountains. Assholes. 

Timmy, on the other hand, sleeps like he's clawing his way back to life, flailing arms and legs and tousled blankets and the fitted sheet dragged off the corner near his head. Maybe he is, Jason ponders, as Tim makes a noise halfway between a growl and a hiss. Maybe Replacement has a few shitty dreams of his own. 

The third time Jason catches Tim’s wrist before he accidentally backhands Jason in the face, he doesn't let go. Instead he presses Tim’s hand to his chest and tangles their fingers together. “Hey,” he murmurs without opening his eyes. “I got you, baby bird.” He doesn't think Tim actually hears but he settles a little, his slim fingers folding around Jason’s instinctively. 

No way the kid has stayed alive this long with this level of unconscious activity. Jason mulls on it for a bit and decides that unlike himself, who suffers from a near-constant hyper vigilance, Tim subconsciously knows that he's safe here and this is his actual, unfiltered sleep pattern. 

Jason questions his own conclusions because he did make an effort at killing Tim - twice - and Tim never lets him forget it. But Tim seems to have calmed with his hand wrapped in Jason’s and Jason’s other hand on his elbow. 

Maybe they're good, now, Jason and Tim. Maybe Tim feels safe with Jason, feels like even the spiteful forty percent effort Jason put into terminating Tim is ancient history. (If Jason had wanted the Replacement dead, he'd be dead. And he's currently not, hence the assertion Jason hadn't routed even half his energy into it.)

Jason’s almost asleep when the last piece slots into place. Replacement touching him in the bar, the way he’d leaned into Jason’s every touch, the octopus routine in his sleep. Replacement is as touch-starved as Jason himself. It seems unlikely, Tim having a normal childhood, a good relationship with Bruce and Dick, friendships with Blondie, Black Bat, the Young Justice crowd. But maybe….

When he opens his eyes and turns his face into the late morning sun, Jason is alone in the apartment.