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Jason Todd - Blog Posts
Batfam quotes as things my family has said. (Featuring Latino Jason)
Tim: *Doing duolingo* Hey Jay, how do you say glue in Spanish?
Jason: El Glue.
Tim: *types it into duolingo* *pauses* *glares* You're a bitch.
Damian in the Sons of Anarchy AU still speaks English like that but this time its Jason’s fault since he taught him to speak like a Victorian aristocrat because he was petty about being kidnapped and made a babysitter to his baby brother in a foreign country.
Batfam quotes as things my family has said (and done)
*whole family is sitting in the living room*
Jason: *coughs*
Tim: *dives off the couch and slams into wall trying to get away from Jason*
Jason: What the hell. I don't have the plague...
Batfam quotes as things my family has said
Dick and Jason: drunk
Jason: ever notice how Tim glows in the dark.
Dick: huh?
Jason: He glows in the dark! Just look.
Dick: *looks over* woooooah... you're right. It's because he's so pale.
Tim: What are you guys talking about?
Dick: Your pale skin. Don't worry I love pale skin... I love ALL skin.
Jason: Nice save.
Tim: Become Robin they said, gain a family they said...
Batfam quotes as things my family has said
Okay, so this one is long. Legit this happened yesterday.
*whole family is going out for dinner*
Tim: *locks the door before leaving the manor* okay, everyone ready to go? I'm starving.
Bruce: Alfred, did you get the house key?
Alfred: ... no master Bruce. You grabbed the car keys, I assumed you grabbed the house keys.
Bruce: oh... well... oops?
Jason: You, Bruce Wayne, Batman, "world's greatest detective", have locked yourself out of your own manor.
Bruce: ...
Jason: *wheeze*
Damian: Drake, look what you did. Not only did you lock us out of the manor, but you have humiliated father!
Tim: wtf, how is this MY fault!?
Damian: tt useless.
Tim:... you little-
Dick: whoa! Let's all calm down! We're all a little hangry and not thinking straight.
Steph: yo, I didn't get my phone. It's in the kitchen.
...
Bruce: *sigh* let me get a sledgehammer.
Alfred: master Bruce, there must be a less destructive way to enter the manor.
Bruce: Alfred, I've spent millions of dollars on our security system. This is the least destructive method.
*leaves to get the sledgehammer*
*a couple minutes later.*
Bruce: how... how did you?
*Cass standing next to the open door*
Cass: credit card!
Jason: million dollar security system my ass.
Batfam quotes as things my family (and friends) have said.
Damian: *ranting* Father is infuriating at times!
Steph: I don't have a dad
Jason: I don't have a mom
Dick: You guys have parents?
Batfam quotes as things my family has said
Dick: hey, you want to go get Starbucks
Jason: Sur-
*loud footsteps sprinting down the hallway*
Tim: *slides around corner* CoFfEe?!
*silence*
Damian: you need professional help.
Hands: a batfam drabble
While the eyes may be the window to the soul, but Tim fully believes the hands are more significant. Your hands show your journey, where you've been. Tim familiarized himself with the hands of the people around him.
Damian’s handsp are small. Chubby. But deceptively hardened. Callouses wrap around his little brothers hands, telling of long, laborious days. But those little hands create amazing things. Colorful paintings and sculptures Tim can't even dream up.
Dick has strong hands. His callouses are older. Small scars across his knuckles tell of conflict, fighting. But those strong hands radiate endurance and hope. The strength that only an acrobat can have. Tim knows his strength runs deeper than his hands, it's a bone-deep essential part of his brother.
Jason has scarred hands. Thick ridges criss cross his fingers. Once upon a time those hands had been split open, blood falling onto splintered wood and expensive satin and dirt. Now those hands cook dinner for his family when it's Jason’s turn to host movie night
Cass' hands are dangerous. Lithe and quick. Before you could blink those hands would have you pinned to the ground. They move like a fleeting shadow, but also like a dancing butterfly. Those hands flit about as Cass twirls and dances. They seem to float around her. She looks like a fairy, circled by two bright butterflies.
Tim is not sure what his hands tell. He's not sure he ever wants to discover that. The secrets that are contained with one's hands are special and precious to him. So he hides his hands. Crossed together, behind his back, swaddled in hoodie pockets. No matter what his hands stay hidden, along with the secrets they contain.
Okay, but like...
Jason loves to mess with his siblings. That not particularly unique, as most siblings love to annoy each other. Only difference is that Jason is a little shit. Most of his "jokes" involve property damage.
One time he put Tim’s laptop into jello (he watches the office, sue me). Tim loaded all his guns with jolly ranchers in return.
Damian’s katana has been mutilated by Jason several times. It's always washable, but annoying all the same. A perfect example of this is the 'Syrup Incident' in which Jason coated everyone’s favorite weapons in syrup. Dick's sparky sticks were actually damaged by that prank....
The only one who rivals Jason in property damge has got to be Steph. I mean, come one, it's Steph.
I love how everyone has weird nicknames for Tim. Point in case: Timberly
“wow it must suck being the only teen titans member without superpowers”
tim drake, with an unlimited number of memes: “are u kidding”
Batfam quotes as things my family has said
Tim: *in a heated debate with steph* it's so boring! Dead children, dead children, dead children, nobody cares! Walton files is so much better!
Jason: what the fuck did I just walk into.
@oliveid
Part 2 of Batfam Nerf War
Scroll down for part 1. It's not far.
Previously: Tim then builds a team...
The "Tim team" consists of Steph, Duke (reluctantly), and Cass.
It starts out with the four of them ambushing Jason as random times. At one point, Jason has to restrain himself from pulling a real gun on Steph. She has her guns loaded with glitter as a "artistic addition".
Jason eventually loses it and recruits the "big guns". He promises Dick a hug and cashes out a favor from Damian.
The group spends about a week ambushing each other (Tim usually concocted unusually complicated traps). Until Dick's gun malfunctions and accidentally fires on Damian. The teams split into three, the four....
By next week the manor becomes the battle ground of a no-holds free-for-all nerf war.
God help poor Alfred.
Imagine nerf darts, glitter, and batarangs scattered all around the mansion. Alfred just following behind and cleaning up the "bat tornado aftermath".
Somehow, Bruce is completely oblivious to the destruction his children are causing. "It just a harmless game Alfred". Bruce is lucky Alfred loves him.
I'll write part 3 when I'm motivated.
Batfam quotes as things my family has said
Jason: Pass me the blueberry jelly
Damian: *picks up jar and scoops the rest of the jelly out onto his eggs*
Damian: sorry, it's all gone
...
Jason: you little...
Batfam quotes as real things I've heard
*standing on one foot with an arm in the air*
Tim: doing flirty things
Jason: THAT'S flirty things?
Tim: *deadpan* I can't flirt
Batfam Nerf War...
Nerf wars are supposed to be fun! Right?
Usually they are! Until you take a family full of child soldiers, emotional constipation, and trauma; give them toy guns and tell them to go.
You've doomed yourself from the beginning!
Of course no one started this intentionally. It was just supposed to be a... joke.
Jason started it.
Because of course he did!
Saw video of someone rigging a Nerf gun and said "Bitch, I can do better". Jason proceeded to create a Nerf gun that shot Nerf darts like paintball.
Now that he had a demon Nerf gun, he had to test it out. On Tim.
"He won't be THAT pissed off."
Famous fucking last words
Tim gets hit ONCE and then declares war.
Now, I don’t know if anyone knows this about Timothy Drake, but the man is a literal genius. Who decided to use his smarts to create something that would blow Jason’s "weapon of mass annoyance" out of the water.
This man build a custom Nerf gun. That fucker leaves bruises.
Tim then builds a team...
I'll write part two tomorrow!
Don't we all love some chaotic siblings shenanigans at the gala?
Ah! The annual Wayne gala...
Every year, Bruce Wayne attempts to throw a normal gala.
You, know. The kind every other billionaire throws.
But somehow
Somehow
Something weird happens.
Whether Damian lets Batcow into the ballroom, or Steph sets off the sprinkler system, or (God forbid) Jason mixes laxatives into the cake; something always goes wrong.
And. It. Is. Always. His. Kids'. Fault.
It's become a running joke in the media!
"The Wayne Kids at it again!!! Read their latest gala antics below!"
Bruce just wants to jump into that bottomless pit in the Batcave...
Why WHY are his... lovely children like this? Can't they just give him some peace.
Of course not, Dick is sitting on the chandelier and everyone is staring.
Dick waves at him.
He can only stare blankly until Tim comes over and hands him a cup of coffee, Tim holding one himself.
Not really a typical gala drink, but he deserves it. Takes a big drink and almost spits it out. He give Tim and incredulous look.
The coffee is spiked.
He can't tell if it has monster, whisky, or a fucking 5 hour energy in it though.
Tim just shrugs and takes the cup back.
"More for me"
Cass walks over and gives him a pity pat on the shoulder.
God help him.
He loves these kids.
But God help him...
Am I the only one that has a serious issue with how they made Jason not a book-nerd in Titans?
Jason is a book nerd!
Just because he grew up on the streets and curses like a sailor, doesn't mean he can't like books!
Okay, but like...
Jason Todd coaching a little league team called the Outlaws.
And trying to keep it from literally everyone he knows.
Because he adores these kids, but he knows he'd catch hell if anyone found out.
Tim finds out first.
Of course he does this is Timothy Drake we're talking about.
Jason expects Tim to use this as blackmail. He's surprised when Tim doesn't. Even more surprised when Tim starts showing up for all their games, and becomes the most enthusiastic fan.
Cass follows Tim to a game one day. Gets as invested in these Baseball playing babies as Tim is.
Everything is all fine and dandy for a while... until Damian discovers the team.
Of course being the little demon he is, he forms a plan to destroy the team. "The team is a distraction to Todd and must be eliminated". So the little shit joins the team without Jason’s knowledge. His plan was was to start rumors and divide the team until it fell apart.
Buuuuut, turns out Damian Wayne likes baseball.
So now we have nearly half the wayne family invested in this team of 13 year old baseball players.
No one really knows how Barbara found out. She just started join Tim and Cass for the games.
Steph and Duke start showing up not long after. Showing up with enough snacks to feed a small nation.
The Wayne family turns out to be very enthusiastic... so much so that it makes headlines...
Annnnnnd that's how Dick Grayson joined the group.
And they thought the others were obnoxious...
This grown ass man shows up with a 6 by 2 foot banner that says "GO OUTLAWS" in giant glittery letters. He bring face paint and T-shirts for all the parents. Really he just gets way too into it.
Jason and Damian are mortified...
When Bruce sees the headlines, he thinks it's adorable. Of course he joins in all the shenanigans, just a little less chaotic.
Alfred just sits back and watches. He knew the whole time. He was the one to suggest Jason coach the team in the first place
I would pounced on him so quick you have thought I was faster than Flash XD cause let me have a piece of that XD
you were staring. very unabashedly so, too. just… oogling your boyfriend, watching as he lounged on your couch, his black shirt fitted around bulging arms, the hem riding up around his tummy to reveal that line of thick black hair that dipped below his plaid pants.
oh my god, those stupid plaid pants. they made you wonder what the hell the hype was about grey sweats, when those existed.
and it’s not like you had anything to be ashamed about, either. he was your boyfriend, all six foot something of him, for fucks sake. all the thick muscles, and short cropped hair, and scars, and fuck, those eyes. you could look if you damn well wanted to.
you’d tried very hard to convince yourself all morning that you were fine, and definitely not ovulating, and fine.
but in that moment, watching your boyfriend literally just sit there, eyes shut and head tipped back, this was not you. it was some evil entity, possessing you and in full swing. you were ready to jump him, and it wasn’t even ten in the morning yet.
your gaze kept dropping lower, toward those pecs, all soft and plush beneath the fabric of his tee, and you could feel yourself start to salivate.
it wasn’t even anything provocative either, but the sight of his tits in a black shirt, tight over the unflexed muscle, was driving you up a god damned wall.
you curled your legs up beneath you, arm perching you against the back of the couch, the other pressed between the low of your thighs to physically retrain yourself from grabbing him like a deranged person.
because, no matter what you did, it was almost impossible to stop imagining just throwing yourself at him, and doing some entirely unspeakable things. things you know you’d never do unless it was this god forsaken time of month.
“you good, ma?” Jason asked, finally breaking the tense silence, and drawing your attention away from his torso. he was staring back now, one brow raised quizzically, and his scared lip curled up in questioning.
“your eyes are dilatin’ and shit.”
yeah. you got up, wordlessly, and walked toward the kitchen.
I need this man Now \(^ヮ^)/(*^‿^*)\(^ヮ^)/(❤ω❤)(❤ω❤)(❤ω❤)
Keep It Down
Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader
Summary: Trying to not wake anyone up while staying over for the holidays…
Warnings: Intense feels, trying to stay quiet, hand over mouth, Smut 18+, literally just pp in vv moment, petnames (Ma (ofc, this is Jaybird we’re talkin’ about), baby), crying but…in the hot way?, obsessed with this concept ngl. Yes, I got lazy at the end, don’t judge.. :(
Word count: 1k
======
It was all quiet pants and silent tears.
The holidays had rolled around and the two of you were staying at Wayne Manor for the week. A classic Gotham storm raged outside, snow gently falling as lightning flashed through the closed curtains of Jason’s room. Thunder shook the house, momentarily deafening what was happening.
You and Jason were always recklessly in love. So, no wonder you couldn’t keep your hands to yourselves for more than a day. The only problem was volume. And shit, could Jason make you lose your voice moaning and crying out his name. On the other hand, it would be sucky to be caught by one of his brothers, let alone Alfred or Bruce…
“Gotta stay quiet, baby.. Can you do that for me?” Was what he murmured in your ear before you got started.
He was slow, loving with his slow but deep thrusts. His dick hitting that spot within you that made your back arch and nails drag down his back, leaving angry red streaks in their wake. Fuck, he knew how to make your head spin.
Tears streaked down your cheeks, shallow breaths leaving your parted lips. Jason ate it up, kissing and nipping along your neck. Tasting your skin and groaning into your neck to keep his own noises to a minimum. Calloused hands gripping your thighs to haul them up around his waist to get a better angle. The whine you let out was quickly muffled by his lips capturing yours in a deep kiss. “Shhh.. I know, ma, I know..” He mumbled against your mouth.
As he had your lips captured, his hands moved up. Pulling you up into an arch by your waist before wrapping his arms around. Shoving his arms between you and the bed. Chest to chest, arms hugging your middle like he was scared you’d slip away. When he finally pulled away to breathe, his forehead dropped to your shoulder. Hot breath fanning across your skin making a shiver run up your spine.
“Oh shit…” You breathed, hand coming up to drag through his dark hair. Gripping with shaky fingers, lightly tugging, making Jason practically growl into your skin. Brows pinched in pleasure as tears fell back into your hairline. Every roll of his hips takes your breath away and makes you tremble. His fingers dug into your back as he squeezed you tighter.
Fire.. that's what you felt. Crawling beneath your skin, licking at your core making your stomach flip. Pushing you closer and closer to your high with every thrust, sharp breath, and moan. Trying to keep quiet. Desperately. But it was so difficult with how overwhelming it was. The thrill of accidentally being too loud. Passionate tenderness that made your head spin and tears prick your eyes. In a vulnerable state of intense pleasure and connection. All while your loving boyfriend whispered sweet nothings into your skin. “That’s it, ma..I’ve got you.. Just let go, I’ve got you..”
Flushed and blissed out, your head pressed back to the pillows. Whimpering an, “Oh my god..” into the darkness of the room. Maybe a little too loud than you should’ve…
Jason was quick to remedy your loss of volume control. His hand coming up to cover your mouth, his other arm still securely holding you to him. While he loved how wrecked you sounded, he didn’t want to get caught..You breathed harshly through your nose as you let out a ragged moan that got muffled by his palm. “Baby, baby.. Gotta keep it down..” He murmured, voice laced with desire.
Despite his words, he picked up the pace a little, rocking against you with more intensity. Hitting harder, somehow it felt deeper too. Eyes squeezed shut as you tried to focus on your pleasure and keep your moans down.
Pressing closer, practically suffocating you with his weight. Draping himself over you like a protective blanket made up of over two hundred pounds of muscle. His hand left your mouth to grip the pillow next to your head. His head dropping once more, groaning right into your ear. “C’mon, ma..” You were so close…
You choked and pressed your face to his neck. Letting out a strangle moan you muffle against his skin. Finally reaching that peak. It wasn’t fast and strong like it usually would be. The kind that would have you moaning shamelessly and crying out his name. No.. This twisted your spine and burned through your veins. Making you choke on your own air and hold your breath. Crashing over your body like waves on an ocean shore. Tensing as you gripped him where you could. Pawing desperately at his skin for purchase as fat tears rolled down your cheeks.
Then you let out a sob of raw pleasure, still muffled against his skin. Shaking as you rode out your high. Thighs trembling around his waist as your body pulsed with the aftershocks. He slowed down for a moment, cooing softly in your ear and pressing kisses to your tear-stained cheeks as he helped you ride out your orgasm.
When you finally calmed down enough, he took your chin in hand, “Yeah..?” He mumbled to you. Seeking permission, seeing if he could be selfish now. Chase his pleasure. All you could do was tighten your legs around his waist again and nod weakly. Arms pulling him closer once more. “Yeah..” He quickly sought out your lips, locking you in a deep and needy kiss as he picked up the pace again.
Panting and pressing as deep as he could. His groans went straight into your mouth as he chased his release. He wasn’t far behind. His hips stuttered before he let out a strangled moan, “Baby..” he grumbled against your lips. Giving a few short thrusts as he finished. Jason finally broke the kiss with a heavy sigh. A string of saliva connected you still before he licked his lips. “Fuck, you did so good for me..” He praised softly as he caressed your cheek. Thumbs wiping away the tears.
“Fuck yeah, I did..” You gave a tired smirk. He paused before he gave a slow smirk of his own.
“As if, you were loud as hell.”
“Shut up…”
Shovel Talk: Dick
When Dick starts dating, Jason is still rocking the yellow cape. He can’t do much, cause Dick is still distant with Bruce and he’s thirteen, but he glares extra hard whenever he sees Dick’s partner.
Dick keeps dating, goes through a few different partners, and him and Jason get closer. Dick thinks his little brother is cool with whoever he brings round. Dick is wrong. Jason waits until it hits the five month mark then all of a sudden the partner in question is subject to covert threats and subtle enough intimidation so specific that they sound mad trying to tell anyone about it. Especially considering this is coming from fifteen year old, ‘Robin is Magic’, heart of gold Jason Todd.
Dick is still dating after Jason dies, but there’s a weird lack of somehow scary younger brothers.
Until Tim shows up.
Once Tim and Dick are close, that’s it. Dick’s partners will walk in to find photos of them going about their day on their desk, with a final one of them and Dick that’s got ‘Look after him’ written on the back. Kori thinks this is sweet and immediately goes to Tim for all missing persons cases she hits a wall with. None of Dick’s other partners from that time would agree.
After Jason returns, Dick starts dating Wally. Tim tracks Jason down in Crime Alley to deliver the news. Wally walks into his room at the JL one day to discover pages covering the walls. It’s a document with a list of co-ordinates, which turn out to be every place he’s slept or eaten at in the past month. Every place he’s been in a theoretically vulnerable position. A separate list has his regular orders. Wally freaks out, and goes immediately to Gotham to talk to Dick about a possible threat. Coincidentally, Jason happens to be at the mansion for one of his rare visits, and although Dick is out he’s happy to hear about Wally’s quickly mounting anxiety. After being shown all the evidence, giving a sympathetic ear, Jason looks up at Wally.
“It sounds like someone could get to you really easily.” Jason gives a pitying grimace, and then smiles sweetly. “Better not give them a reason to, right?”
Wally’s heart is at risk of being lost in the speed force it’s beating so fast. Jason gets up, and takes his tea and his book.
“Dick will be back in a few hours. Heard you’ve got a date planned later. Hope that goes well.” Jason leaves an absolutely terrified Wally at the kitchen table.
Yes I know its supposed to hurt, yes I know there are rough patches, yes I know that’s not how it happens, yes I know it’s not realistic, it’s not gritty, yes I know that’s not what fate, the gods, the writers say. Yes and yes and yes I know I know I promise you I know-
But what if
things got better?
things could get better?
what if love didn’t always have to bleed?
what if pain wasn’t inherently more valuable than care?
what if those who thought themselves out of reach still had unconditional love?
what if those trying their best to shoulder the burdens of responsibility got to share the weight?
what if family was supportive, and protective?
what if they grew, what if they learned?
what if they got to get up the next day and keep going, not the same as before, but still getting through this?
what if they weren’t alone? not by circumstance, but by choice?
what if they could heal and you could too?
I know that’s not how it ends. I know it ends in pain and tears and a thousand split branches telling different stories, few of them any kind of joyful.
But maybe it doesn’t have to.
Maybe we pick the branch that bends skywards. Maybe that’s what we need.
Hope is a decision. Found family is deliberate.
Ultimately it’s your choice.
Play in the sand.
I don’t want mine to be full of glass.
Daycare
It’s not just Batman. All of Gotham hates magicians. Because they pull shit like this.
Some out-of-towner decides the best way to keep the Bats distracted while they kick up trouble would be to turn the family into children, thereby making them harmless without the associated alarms if they were to disappear.
Unfortunately, they’re not very good at this.
Alfred is greeted at the Batcave by the normal Batfamily, plus their pint-sized doubles. Every single person is struggling to handle their younger version.
Dick is frantically trying to keep an eye on the most adventurous nine year old. Jason is freaking out trying to responsible parent his eight year old self who’s screaming his head off about stranger danger. Tim and his eight year old double have not broken eye contact, and Tim is refusing to touch ‘it’ except with a bow staff. Steph is bribing hers with ice cream to keep her quiet and to stop her from attacking the other children again. Cass is attached to hers by child reins. Duke’s mini has already tried to escape explore three times and is over Duke’s shoulder to prevent any further attempts. Damian (in his mid teens) is trying to get his toddler self to stop grabbing everything, and failing.
Bruce had called Zatanna, but she’s on a JL mission at the moment. It’s going to be a long week.
I absolutely love this, and I raise you; Stealing Bruce's hoodies
Now, I don't think he'd be much of a hoodie guy, but things are starting to get a little chillier as fall is fast approaching gotham, and he sees all of his kids with them so he figures it must be worth at least trying, right?
The only issue is, he keeps losing his. He doesn't understand at first, he's sure that someone is fucking with him, because there's no way he could loose 6 hoodies without something happening to them. Loses one, buys another, loses that one, it's a vicious cycle, etc. He can only ever wear one for a couple weeks before - poof - they're gone, he can't seem to find them anywhere.
He's completely baffled until he catches Jason in the batcave, wearing a hoodie that seems just a little too big for him, it covers most of his hands and seems to droop a little farther than normal. Bruce squints a little at first, it strikes him as odd that Jason's hoodie was too large, it just wasn't his style. However, Upon further inspection, Bruce recognizes it as his own.
Jason, for one, is ecstatic to finally be on the receiving of someone larger's hoodie- I mean, sure, Dick's we're nice, but there was something guiltily comforting about the way the sleeves dropped a little past where they were supposed to, the way the fabric fell a little looser than normal and it smelled very vaguely of home, and safety. Not that he would ever say that to Bruce's face, but Jason was glad Bruce had gotten himself some hoodies- the unsuspecting fool.
Bruce, on the other hand, is little surprised, but not opposed. He hadn't really taken Jason for the kind of person to steal clothes, but, he thinks it's a kind of cute. Not that he would say that to Jason's face, lest risking the red hood's wrath, but there is no denying the warmth that blooms in his chest at the sight. He figures he should talk to him about the hoodies though, there's no way he could really need all six of them, surely.
Only, Jason doesn't have all six, as it turns out he is not the only one in the household to make a habit out of stealing the warm over-shirts. The next time Bruce spots one of his children sporting his hoodies, he's surprised to find Damian, of all his kids, sitting on a couch reading something in a hoodie that reaches down to nearly his knees. Bruce is nothing short of utterly perplexed, shocked to find his youngest child snuggled up in a hoodie that is much too big for him, completely unashamed as he flips a page.
There is an equally warm feeling that spreads through him this time, though it does nothing to quell his confusion. Bruce wants to inquire, wants to demand an explanation, but finds that either the question is too intimidating or he simply cannot bring himself to interrupt, he's not sure which. Instead, Bruce opts to pay a little more attention to how everyone is dressing, and it isn't long before he recognizes the patterns.
He catches Tim pacing around in one of Jason's leather jackets, watches as Cass sports a loose sweatshirt of Dukes while she works out, and notices when Jason borrow a warm, winter jacket from Dicks wardrobe one night at dinner. Bruce is fascinated by the bizarre ritual, though glad to be a part of it as he watches all six of his missing hoodies pop up across his myriad of wards, something warm and fuzzy pulling at his heart when he sees them.
Bruce considers buying one more hoodie, one for himself, to keep out of reach, but figures ultimately that it would be a waste, given all of the ones available to him. So, instead, Bruce shows up to the batcave one morning, tired but satisfied as he draws looks from his children, knowing full well why there's staring. Dick looks almost offended, but there's a grin in his eyes as Bruce sets his mug down on the coffee table, settling himself down in his chair.
He's well aware that the fabric fits a little snug against him, but it's warm and soft and he finds he likes it just as much as any of his own hoodies. Smirking a little as he takes a sip of his coffee, he finds he understands now, why everyone's stealing. Dicks hoodie feels warm, and safe, and personal, and a little like petty revenge for all of his abducted hoodies, and he loves it.
headcanon that the smaller batkids steal the bigger ones' hoodies and jackets. and by "bigger ones" I mean literally anyone bigger than them.
jason gets the short end of the stick because dick and all his little siblings take his. tim's the only one bold enough to go for the leather jackets (well, and cass, but they're way too wide in the shoulders for her) but it's not uncommon to find dick or stephanie in a dark red or gray hoodie that smells of motor oil and gunpowder.
damian usually takes dick's hoodies, but they're very oversized on him. on the bright side, there are thumbholes in the sleeves of all dick's hoodies, so he can still use his hands. the thumbholes make them a hot commodity in the winter.
there is a tim-steph-cass jacket pipeline. steph steals tim's hoodies and cass takes them from steph. hence tim stealing jason's leather jackets -- steph won't take them, so he gets to hold on to them until jason realizes and takes them back. sometimes cass will also steal duke's hoodies, but she always returns them clean and neatly folded (unlike how it goes with the rest of the family, in which they are returned only under threat of blackmail or with long rounds of negotiation).
this is an extremely long-standing ring of jacket theft. you cannot leave a hoodie unattended in wayne manor. damian doesn't actually own any hoodies, and cass only owns one, because there's so many other people in the house to "borrow" one from. nowhere is safe. steph once broke into dick's apartment to steal his warm hoodie, the one with the fuzz on the inside.
but it goes the other way sometimes. jason leaves things in the pockets of his leather jackets for tim -- film for his camera, hand sanitizer, half-filled punch cards for local coffee shops with "drink water too, fucker" written on the back. cass will tuck little slips of paper in the cuffed sleeves when she leaves hoodies out. the notes don't say anything, but they have little smiley faces and hearts on them, and steph has taken to doing something similar with corny jokes. dick just straight-up leaves candy in the hoods of his jackets.
it's a game, it's a love language. it's simultaneously annoyance and affection. there's nothing like wearing a hoodie that's too big for you, that smells like your family, to make you feel safe.
Me: leaving my self isolation after three days (I lost a political argument i didn't even want to have with my mom (I was right))
Continuation
___________________________________
It was rare to get the whole Bat-family together for dinner, but Alfred had insisted. The dining room at Wayne Manor was filled with a chaotic mix of voices, clattering silverware, and the occasional verbal jab. For once, Bruce allowed himself a moment to enjoy it—until Jason leaned back in his chair, grinning like the Joker had just handed him a free pass to Arkham.
“So, Dick,” Jason drawled, raising his voice to cut through the chatter. “You gonna tell everyone about your new best friend?”
Dick, who had been mid-sip of water, choked. “What are you talking about?”
Jason smirked. “Oh, you know. The assassin who broke into your place and decided to play Mom instead of killing you.”
The table fell silent. All eyes turned to Dick, whose face flushed under the scrutiny.
“Wait, what?” Tim blurted, fork frozen halfway to his mouth.
“Oh my god, you weren’t going to tell them, were you?” Jason cackled.
Bruce set his knife down with deliberate precision, fixing Dick with a sharp, unreadable look. “Explain. Now.”
Dick sighed, already regretting this entire evening. “It’s not a big deal—”
“Not a big deal?!” Tim interrupted. “An assassin broke into your home!”
“And didn’t kill me,” Dick pointed out, raising his hands defensively.
“That’s not the win you think it is,” Barbara said, though there was a twitch of amusement at the corner of her mouth.
Stephanie was leaning forward, her eyes gleaming with barely suppressed laughter. “Hold up. Back up. They didn’t kill you, and instead, they… what? Offered to split the rent?”
“They made me breakfast,” Dick admitted reluctantly.
That was it. Stephanie doubled over laughing, pounding the table with her fist. “Oh my god, you charmed an assassin into meal prepping for you!”
Cass, seated beside Barbara, tilted her head and smiled. “They liked you.”
“I wouldn’t say they liked me—”
“They liked you,” Cass repeated, firm but amused.
Damian scoffed, crossing his arms and glaring at Dick. “That’s pathetic, Grayson. Allowing an enemy into your home and—what—offering to feed them?” His lip curled, but there was a faint crease of worry in his brow that didn’t escape Dick’s notice.
“I was tired,” Dick said, exasperated. “And I thought it was one of you!”
“That makes it worse,” Bruce said sharply, his tone cold enough to silence everyone. “You assumed the intruder was family and let your guard down. That could’ve gotten you killed.”
“It didn’t,” Dick said, meeting Bruce’s gaze evenly. “They left a note, and they stocked my fridge. That’s it. I’m fine.”
Bruce’s expression darkened. “I’ll install surveillance in your building tomorrow.”
“Bruce, no—”
“Actually,” Tim interjected, “we should bug the entire block. If they come back, we need to be ready.”
“They bought me groceries, Tim!”
“They were in your apartment,” Tim countered.
“You didn’t even know they were there, did you?” Bruce asked, his voice clipped.
“I was half-asleep!”
Jason was practically crying with laughter at this point. “This is the best thing I’ve heard all year. You, the golden boy, the people’s champion, managed to turn a hired killer into your personal shopper.”
“Technically,” Stephanie added, smirking, “they’re more like a life coach. They stocked your fridge because they felt bad for you.”
“That’s even worse!” Damian snapped, glaring at Dick. “Your incompetence is so obvious that an assassin pitied you.”
“Okay, Damian, I don’t think you’re in a position to lecture me about assassins,” Dick shot back, smirking.
Damian bristled but didn’t respond, his cheeks slightly red.
Barbara leaned back in her chair, shaking her head. “Only you, Dick. Only you could make an assassin reconsider their target because of how pathetically you live.”
Cass giggled softly, nodding. “They care.”
“Exactly!” Dick pointed at Cass. “See? Someone gets it.”
“That’s not a compliment,” Barbara said flatly.
Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath about irresponsibility and lapses in judgment.
“Honestly, you’re all overreacting,” Dick said, crossing his arms.
“Overreacting?” Tim repeated. “You didn’t even trace the receipt for the groceries they bought, did you?”
“Nope,” Jason said, answering for him. “Too busy enjoying the eggs, weren’t you, Dickie?”
“For the record,” Dick said loudly, ignoring Jason, “those eggs were excellent.”
Stephanie wheezed. “This is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard. Dick Grayson: Assassins fear him, but also…kind of want to take care of him?”
Bruce sighed heavily. “We’re setting up surveillance.”
“You’re not—”
“We’re setting up surveillance,” Bruce repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Dick groaned, dropping his head into his hands. This was going to haunt him forever.
__________________________________________
Jason had planned to crash at Dick’s place for the night—not that he’d told Dick. He’d gotten in late, his safehouse compromised by some bad intel, and while he could’ve gone anywhere, he’d ended up here. Grayson’s door was always open, whether Jason deserved it or not.
He told himself it was just convenience, but when he walked into the quiet, dark apartment, something felt…off.
The place wasn’t trashed, but Jason’s sharp eyes picked up on the subtle signs of a break-in: the faint scuff marks near the door, the window latch reset just slightly differently than Dick usually left it. His gut twisted. Someone had been here.
“You'd better not be dead Dick,” he muttered under his breath, his grip tightening on the handgun he’d pulled from his jacket. He scanned the apartment quickly, checking corners and closets. Everything was quiet. Too quiet.
Finally, Jason found himself standing in the kitchen. The fridge was humming softly, and the countertops were clear—except for a piece of paper folded neatly and tucked into the gap between the toaster and the coffee maker.
Frowning, Jason holstered his gun and picked it up. The sharp, precise handwriting immediately made his stomach drop. Assassins always had a certain way about them. His gaze skimmed the words, and his initial worry was quickly replaced by incredulity.
> "I was here to deliver a message, but your hospitality caught me off guard. Your fridge was so pathetic it offended me, so I ordered you groceries. Try to survive the next visit. You seem like a stand-up guy. —K"
Jason blinked. Then blinked again.
“What the hell?” he muttered, flipping the note over as if the back might offer some clarification.
He set the note down, opened the fridge, and stared. It was fully stocked—eggs, milk, fresh vegetables, yogurt. The yogurt was even the expensive kind. Jason let out a disbelieving laugh.
“Golden boy, you absolute idiot,” he muttered, shaking his head. The guy could charm just about anyone, but this? An assassin breaking in and deciding to do his grocery shopping instead of his dirty work? That was peak Dick Grayson.
But beneath the humor, Jason couldn’t quite shake his unease. An assassin breaking in to deliver a message was one thing. Leaving a note, making breakfast, and restocking the fridge was another. Who the hell was this person, and why hadn’t Dick called anyone about it?
When Dick finally walked in, fresh from patrol and looking like he’d spent the night dragging himself through a cement mixer, Jason was waiting for him. He sat on the counter, arms crossed, the note note in one hald and a bag of monster munch in the other.
“Hey, Dickie,” Jason called casually, but there was a sharp edge to his voice. “Anything you wanna share with the class?”
Dick froze mid-step. His eyes darted to the note in Jason’s hand, and he groaned. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”
Jason’s lips twitched, his smirk masking his concern. “Oh, don’t worry, I saw it. Read it. Even checked out the fridge. Wanna explain why a professional killer decided to play Gordon Ramsay in your kitchen instead of, you know, killing you?”
Dick sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not what it looks like—”
“Not what it looks like?!” Jason barked, standing up and waving the note. “An assassin broke in here, Grayson. They were probably two seconds away from cutting your throat, and somehow, you convinced them to restock your pantry instead. What the hell, man?”
“They weren’t going to kill me,” Dick said defensively, though the way he avoided Jason’s gaze didn’t help his case.
“You don’t know that!” Jason shot back. “What if this is some weird psychological game? What if they poisoned your milk or something?”
“They didn’t poison my milk, Jay.”
Jason stared at him, jaw clenched, before running a hand through his hair and laughing—a sharp, disbelieving sound. “God, you’re lucky you’re so damn charming, or you’d be dead twenty times over by now.”
Dick tried to hide his sheepish smile. “That’s why you love me.”
Jason glared at him for a moment longer before the smirk broke through. “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta keep you alive. Speaking of, when were you planning on telling everyone else about this little incident?”
“Uh… I wasn't?"
Jason paused and then grinned, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. “So you're saying Bruce doesn'tknow about this?”
“No.”
“Well, he’s gonna,” Jason said gleefully. “Because there’s no way I’m keeping this to myself.”
“Jason!”
“Relax,” Jason said, smirking. “Think of it as a bonding experience. Bruce will yell at you, Tim will freak out, Damian will call you pathetic, and I’ll be here to laugh through all of it.”
Dick groaned, burying his face in his hands. “You’re the worst.”
Dick Grayson barely registered the creak of his apartment door as he stumbled in, shoulders sagging under the weight of another grueling night. Three jobs and a patrol shift in Blüdhaven would do that to a guy. He kicked off his boots, dragged himself toward the couch, and froze mid-step.
Someone was already here.
For a split second, instinct had him reaching for the escrima sticks he kept stashed near the door. But then he caught the faintest whiff of something familiar—coffee beans? The expensive kind. And the faint rustle of someone shifting in the dark. He relaxed. Probably one of his siblings. Jason liked breaking in unannounced when he was in a mood, Tim treated locks like they were a mere suggestion, and Damien was Damien.
"Tim, if you're raiding my coffee stash again, at least leave some for me this time," Dick grumbled, flopping onto the couch without bothering to look.
Silence.
"Jason? Did you lose your keys, or are you here to eat all my leftovers again?" He paused. "Duke, if that's you, I—okay, actually, no idea why you'd be brooding in the dark, but it's been a long day, so I'm just gonna roll with it."
The silence stretched on, but Dick was too exhausted to care. Whoever it was, they could wait until morning. "Look, I’m on your side. Or, I will be in the morning when I’ve had some sleep." He yawned, dragging himself up off the couch and toward his bedroom. "I’ll make breakfast. We’ll talk then. Pancakes or eggs, your call. Just...try not to trash the place while I’m out, yeah?"
The figure didn’t move, and Dick didn’t wait for an answer. He fell into bed and passed out almost immediately.
---
When Dick woke up, the first thing he noticed was the sunlight streaming through the blinds. The second thing he noticed was the smell of coffee.
He frowned. Coffee? He hadn’t made any.
Dragging himself out of bed, he shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. There, on the counter, was a steaming mug of coffee and a note. Beside the note sat a printed receipt and a bag of fresh groceries.
Dick blinked, reaching for the note first. The handwriting was sharp and precise:
> "Not one of your siblings. Sorry for the confusion. Came to deliver a message, but your ‘brotherly’ assumption and hospitality caught me off guard. Your fridge was so pathetic it offended me, so I ordered you groceries. They should last a week. Try to survive the next visit. You seem like a stand-up guy. —K"
He stared at the note, then at the receipt. The assassin—or whoever they were—had bought him eggs, milk, bread, fresh vegetables, and even a few snacks.
Setting the note aside, Dick opened his fridge. Sure enough, it was freshly stocked. His two protein bars and box of expired cereal were still there, now dwarfed by the bounty of fresh food.
He shook his head, a grin tugging at his lips. “Only me,” he muttered, sipping the coffee. It was good. Better than what he usually bought.
Dick leaned against the counter, rereading the note. Whoever this “K” was, they clearly didn’t know how to keep things impersonal. And while the whole “message from an assassin” thing was technically alarming, he couldn’t help but feel amused.
“I guess I should be worried,” he mused aloud, glancing at the groceries again. “But hey, at least they care about my nutrition.”
It was the weirdest start to a morning he’d had in a while, but for Dick Grayson, that wasn’t saying much.