realistically i have a phone with tumblr in it but ideally i have a nokia brick and a accounting magazine subsribction
a look into the mind of a person holding a horse
Stop fucking squirming. I am feeding you oats.
tim drake headcannons
- has dark circles under his eyes not even due to sleep deprivation, it’s just genetics. And every one always tell him to get more sleep but he’s like « no I sleep 12 hours a day I just look like this! »
- googled « am I narcoleptic or just severely depressed » He never really figured that one out
- greatest skill is procrastinating, its not a problem if he’s good at it.
- plays piano
- will randomly ask Bruce “ are you mad at me” and then Bruce will say “ no of course not- why did you do something you shouldn’t have” and Tim’s like “ no I just wanted to check » cause he overthinks.
- eats and drinks most things out of mugs, his family or friends will tell him to stop drinking coffee and he’s like « I’m eating goldfish, what do you think I’ve been chewing »
- has really big eyes, and kinda stares at people a lot without saying things so they are either thinking « aww he’s so cute » or « why is he looking at me, it’s like he’s staring into my soul, can he read my mind! Why is he still looking at me!! »
A fun little headcannon is that everyone believes Jason to prefer paperback and physical paper but he honestly doesn't care. Maybe it stems from his Robin days reading for hours in the manor library. Or how'd he always tell Bruce to write down the details of the case to solve it faster. Or even that they needed to have physical copies of each file in case the Batcomputer got hacked. It just stuck with Bruce and by extension everyone believes it.
But like he would totally love an eReader with how many books you can fit on it. Audio books are even better because he can listen to them anywhere. The man likes the stories people have to tell. How he consumes it isn't a concern. But of course he has a flare for dramatics so he plays into this misconception.
Steph: Jason, I know you'd prefer a physical book but I got a Kindle that you could use more than me.
Jason who already owns the newest model takes it and chucks it at the floor: Disgusting.
Tim at the Batcomputer: Why do we need to write up a report for Condiment King of all people. Its the third one this month!
Jason: Back in my day we would hand write each and every report.
Dick: No we didn't???
Jason magically pulling out a file cabinet with said case files.
Jason: Honestly we should start doing that again let me go ask Bruce.
Bruce: Honestly if you'd wait five more minutes someone would have come in as backup. You don't need to do everything on your own Hood.
Jason completely ignoring him because he's got books downloaded on his helmet.
Damian next to him knowing what Jason is up to because he did the exact same thing with Ra's.
YES, YES!
i think Jason loves paperback when it is his already favourite books, the ones he knows he loves and wants to annotate and explore — otherwise, he prefers to try books in e-version first. or borrow books from the library if he is in the mood. he strikes me as someone who loves supporting local libraries! plus, listens audio-books on missions and during work-outs, yep, yep.
do other family members have a wrong opinion in that in their minds because Bruce is the "heard my kid mentioning something once, now i think their whole personality evolves around this thing" type of parent sometimes? oh, fucking absolutely. does Jason love to play on the stereotype of "boomer" sibling? yeah— lol.
also, he is a type of kid who would remind the teacher about homework (i think he genuinely cared about this as a kid and didn't understand why everyone got mad, but now he knows WHY, and he will do it EVERYONE'S problem) and combined with him, writing reports on papers, i raise you this:
Bruce, tired by the end of the patrol: Had we discussed everything? Hadn't I forgotten something?
literally everyone but Jason, quickly: no, no, we are fine. ha-ha.
Jason, appearing behind them: well. actually. we all now should write our reports.
Bruce: oh, right.
Jason, smirking: here is mine, by the way. i wrote it while you are all was bickering.
Bruce: so competent! thank you, lad.
Other kids, fuming: -_-
also, the image of Jason blasting audio-books through his helmet is frying me. so, get this:
Dick: Jason is so suspiciously calm for the last few days! like, seriously. proud of him.
Tim: right? it is actually hilarious. Bruce was screaming at him yesterday, and Jason was just staring at him silently, no word, no remark... he was so quiet that Bruce instantly felt bad and apologised. like. master-tecnique. lol.
Jason, who was listening to audio-book all this time, and didn't even hear what Bruce said, just nodded when he started randomly hugging him and murmuring "my baby": whatever.
Still thinking about the Social Worker Jazz concept that @gilbirda posted about and it's slowly turning into a full Anger Management fic send help
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Jason at length - much longer than it really should have taken really - set the resume down.
The new Social Worker’s resume. Because she was there, in his office, trying to convince him to hire her as a member of his criminal organization.
Crime Alley’s new social worker. A bright eyed Midwestern transplant from some tiny speck of a place that only qualified as a city because there was nothing bigger in a hundred miles in any direction to claim otherwise. The new social worker who had a Psy D. and three masters degrees and who had graduated Valedictorian. The one that had high paying private gigs lined up all over the country with the offering companies fighting over her.
The one who had, apparently, decided to take a shit job in Gotham’s shoddy social services department instead. The one that got kicked to Crime Alley - which was its own division despite technically being a small neighborhood in the grand scheme of things - within her first month. Supposedly for the sole purpose of scaring her off or getting her killed for all the questions she was asking and secret dealings she was sticking her nose into.
That social worker.
“I’m gonna need you to run this by me again.” Jason said, never so grateful for the voice modulator in his helmet as he was in that moment. It stripped out the bewilderment that had bled through into his words and made him sound stoic instead.
“I’d like to work for you.” The social worker - one Dr. Jasmine Nightingale - repeated primly. Back straight, clothes neat - if skewing more on the librarian side of professional - expression confident and hopeful. Completely and utterly oblivious of how fucking insane she sounded. “I was told that you’re the person in charge of Crime Alley.”
He resisted the urge to scrub at his face. It’d just look weird with his helmet on and not do anything to actually settle him in that moment anyway. “I understood that part.”
“Look, Doc,” She earned a doctorate and she was crazy enough to waltz into the office of one of Gotham’s most powerful Crime Lords, he’d be respectful about using her proper title at least, even if he suspected she was ten pounds of crazy in a five pound bag. “You’re going to have to tell me why. I was under the impression the only reason you ended up dumped on our end of the city ws because you wouldn’t play ball. But now you want to sign up for my crew?”
Nightingale frowned a little at that.
“Is that what people are saying?”
“What else are they gonna say?” Jason answered, leaning back in his seat, “Head of the department only dumps Crime Alley on folks he don’t like. And everyone knows he doesn’t like anyone that can’t or won’t play his game by his rules.”
“Alright, well. I’ll give you that.” Nightingale conceded, “Payne doesn’t like me. The feeling’s mutual. But for the record,” She added giving him a wry smile, as if sharing wry smiles with Red Hood was just something people did, “I asked to be assigned to the Park Row and Bowery neighborhoods.”
“You wanted to work here.”
“Yes.”
“Bullshit.”
Nightingale laughed. It was a bright sound. Not especially clear or pretty, but warm and welcoming in a way that carefully calculated giggles or overdone guffaws couldn’t be. Something with real and honest amusement in it, that encouraged those nearby to laugh along. Not the kind of involuntary, nervous chuckling people tended to slip into when they thought they had pissed someone that scared them off.
She just wasn’t intimidated by him at all, was she?
Behind his helmet, Jason found himself smiling. Just a bit.
“I’m serious.” She assured, blue-green eyes meeting the dark stare of his helmet without a moment of hesitation. He watched as she brushed a lock of her bright red hair behind her ear and out of the way. She’d woven it all into a practical, neat braid but a few sly pieces had snuck out to bounce around her. Gilding her quiet professionalism with a playful charm that worked well with her academia but make it cottagecore kindergarten teacher aesthetic.
“I’ll admit, Gotham wasn’t part of my plan when I first graduated. Time and choices take you funny places sometimes.” She plucked an invisible bit of lint off her soft blue cardigan, not nervous but absent as her gaze went distant for a moment. Thinking back on the events that had led her to his fine city. In a blink, those sharp eyes were back to focusing entirely on him. “But Gotham is where I am now, and I want to help.”
She looked at him, a serious, determined expression settling easily on her face. “The city as a whole has so much chaos and crime breaking out all the time.” No censure or horror in her voice, just a neutral fact to be observed. “But where the rest of the city has millions of dollars poured into it by various foundations or charities run by the Waynes, Park Row is largely ignored.”
Jason watched as steeliness sharpened her gaze, the blue-green shifting from the shine of a bird’s wing to the warning hue of something poisonous and deadly. “No one deserves that. No one.” Her chin tilted up, proud but not imperious. “So yes, I want to work here. There are people in Park Row and the Bowery who need help and I refuse to let any of them feel like they are going to be ignored.”
Jason considered her.
Really looked at her. Pealing back his initial off handed impression of her as some clueless transplant in over her head with no idea of what she was doing or what she was poking her nose into to find the real woman beneath. Her confident poise, her clear unshakable belief, her unflinching willingness to look danger in the eye and not blink. The tense curve of her frown, the lines of pain at the corners of her eyes, the simmering anger beneath it all. There was an edge to her, too. Something sharp and dangerously well hidden by the cardigan and folksy charm of her accent.
It was personal for the woman before him, Jason realized. Maybe not Crime Alley specifically, but something about the whole situation. The treatment the neighborhood and its residents received from the city at large, from those even beyond it.
Crime Alley wasn’t a place that received much in the way of charitable thought. The average joe with their house in Somerset and job at some corporate shithole hating every second of their life but thinking at least I don’t live in Crime Alley. Those asshole hoity-toites in city hall throwing money around equally between shit that’d get them re-elected and their off-shore slush funds in the Caymens doing their damn level best to pretend the black mark on the other end of the city just didn’t exist. Bruce, flooding the entire city with charitable programs and carefully constructed infrastructures shying away from the manifested grief and trauma that was the place he watched his parents get murdered.
For the most part no one from outside of the Alley gave a shit about the Alley other than as a place to avoid at all costs. And most of the time those natives that manages to claw their way out into better and brighter lives didn’t ever turn to glance back. Orpheus could have learned a thing or to from an ex-Alley Kid who managed to eek out a steady 9-to-5 and move to Burnley.
And something about that seemed to piss Dr. Jasmine Nightingale Psy. D right the fuck off.
He could see why Bill said he liked her enough to let her in.
“Alright.” He said, tilting his head, watching the woman seated across from him carefully, “Still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here. Why you’re trying to get on my payroll.”
“I’m not trying to get on your payroll.” She said, some of the glinting edge softening, but the steel remaining. Strong and unyielding. “I’m trying to get into your community outreach program.”
Jason thanked god and all the saints once again for the gift of his helmet. That baby had saved his ass more times than he could count both by keeping his head in one piece and keeping his stupefied expressions wrapped up and hidden from view. Dr. Nightingale was one hell of a woman to make him have to rely on that fact twice in one conversation.
“Wasn’t aware that was something I had.”
Nightingale, not fortunate enough to have a full face covering helmet of her own, had nothing to hide her stupefied expression behind. Jason had a feeling she might have removed it to make sure he saw even if she did though. She looked like she had caught him eating glue like it was a cheese stick.
“Yes you do.” She said, sounding deeply confused but unshakable confident in what she was saying. “I’ve seen it. The soup kitchens, the shelters, the collection boxes for donating old clothes, the after school day care.” Nightingale ticked off on her fingers, “I’ve lived here for less than two weeks and I’ve lost count of all the things I’ve seen setup to help people struggling in the area that I’ve been very reliably informed you and your organization are behind.”
Oh.
Those.
“Those aren’t part of some community outreach program.” He said, “We are simply locals offering services for our neighbors.”
He watched as her caught-him-eating-glue expression shifted into one that said she’d stumbled upon him licking electrical sockets for a mid-day pick-me-up instead. He had to give it to her, the woman was not afraid to let one of the most dangerous men in the city know she thought he was a fucking idiot.
“Let me see if I understand this right.” She said, and he appreciated that there wasn’t any kind of condescension in her voice, even though she very clearly thought he’d been dropped on his head as a baby. Possibly from the top of a three story building. “You have a large group of people working together to plan, organize and execute multiple services in your area - your community, if you will - that provide aid and support to those that otherwise would not receive it. Reaching out with your available time and resources to offer these services, that you provide. For free.”
Alright, Jason got it. He had stumbled ass backwards into creating a community outreach program. But he wasn’t just going to let her think she won this one. He was Red Hood, he had a reputation to uphold here.
“What makes you think any of that is free?” He tilted his head at just the right angle, the one that cast shadows across the planes of his helmet and made him look hell-touched and terrifying. “Just because we don’t charge money, doesn’t mean there isn’t a price to pay.”
Dr. Nightingale, dressed like a damn kindergarten teacher, laughed at him.
It’s always “evil Superman!!!!” this, or “villain justice league!!!” that.
I want an AU of villain! Bruce who’s absolutely dog-shit at being evil.
Firstly: The worst thing he can think of doing is not donating to animal shelters or charities . immediately feels so guilty he throws up.
Secondly: The second a child cries because of him, he’d freeze up. Stand like a statue, unmoving and petrified. No more evil, but just today.
He ends up helping the city by accident more often than not, and to his immortal disappointment, Gotham loves both the Bat and Bruce Wayne.
“alfred come look at my evil plan”
“Yes, sir, “ Alfred is very indulgent. He does his best to pretend it’s actually good. “ ‘Don’t say please to the barista’. Getting bold, are we?”
EVERYTIME He and Clark meet and Bruce monologues about pulverizing him to dust, Clark (and the League) looks at him like this:
“I can make him worse,” GOOD FOR YOU!!! Clark can make him into his malewife and adopt his 7 evil sidekicks who actually know how to villain. Especially the little one.
Scott: Alright, so the vampire's gravestone is— Stiles: Cenotaph. Scott: What? Derek: It's only a gravestone if it marks the location of a body. A monument honoring someone whose body isn't present is a cenotaph. Scott:I'm… not sure that's how it works if the body gets up and walks away on its own. Stiles: There's a precedent for gravestones being reclassified as cenotaphs if the body is later removed and re-interred elsewhere. There's no rule that says the body itself can't do the removing. Scott: Okay, but the body is very much coming back. That's kind of what we're here to accomplish. Derek, shrugging: So it's a temporary cenotaph. Scott: And naturally our greatest concern here is avoiding semantic ambiguity. Stiles, nodding: Semantic ambiguity is how vampires get you.
Damian being forced to join boy scouts, for the childhood experience. (And because Dick NEEDED to see him in that adorable little uniform and jason needed to hold it above his head for the rest of his life.) He earns almost every merit badge in a week. Except the cooking one, because he refused to cook beef. (I headcannon that he's a vegetarian.)
Dick goes to the same, local owned coffee shop, every morning. Always leaves too big of a tip, and always tells the barista a compliment.
Jason likes bowling. Jason, is in a bowling league. Dorky shirts and all. Most of the other guys on the team are like, bruces age, but he has a good time anyway, he's their Ace.
Bruce's leg was injured badly once, and he was out for about a month. He took up pottery. He made a decent mug with little bat ears. He was going to call it the Bug but he got embarrassed, now it's tucked away in his office.
He lives in Gotham, and he is just A Guy. Nothing weird about him, he's just there to study/work/help Lady Gotham to lift her curse/on vacation with Sam. Point is, he is not there to cause trouble and there's no GIW on his tail. Just a dude living his (after)life.
And Gotham, being Gotham, still finds a way to be annoying. There are mugging attempts, robbery, Rogues running around. Only Danny really doesn't want to deal with any of it.
Now there's a dilemma. If he uses his powers to fight, it will sooner or later come to Bats' attention. And if he fights as a human, it will also alert some of the Bats since he doesn't really do a great job at keeping his power levels low. Not to mention the fact he is really not enthusiastic about accidentally punching someone hard enough he sends them to a hospital.
What does he do instead? He pulls the 'I guess I'll die' act.
So every time he is attacked, he just plays dead. The mugger shot him in the chest? He falls down and stops breathing. Caught up in the middle of a Poison Ivy attack? Skewers himself on the vine and goes lax. Scarecrow's Fear Gas? Very dramatically chokes himself and plays a corpse. He makes sure to disappear before any ambulances arrive later, and it all goes well for a few months - he is just a casualty, who cares, really - until one day, he runs into that same mugger who shot him in the chest a while ago.
The man does a double take. Danny doesn't notice - he's been mugged so many times, who has the brain capacity to remember all of those fuckers. But the rumor goes out anyway.
A guy-who-won't-die. It's more of a city legend, really, and the Bats don't give it much thought since, well, it sounds stupid and not very important. A rumor of some man who was shot dead and then showed up like nothing happened? Yeah, it's probably because the mugger didn't check if he was actually dead. That happens. Maybe it wasn't even the same man, Gotham is a big city. If anything, hey, at least that was one less casualty? That's a good thing.
That is, until one day, they show up to Joker's hostage situation and witness the clown screaming at one of the hostages. He is so enraged he is shaking, spit flying out of his mouth, and, contrary to the usual Joker's evil sneers and maniacal laughter, he seems just... furious. But, like, the normal-human-level furious. The 'I just lost the last ounce of patience with you' furious.
"Don't you look away from me, you think I don't remember you?! Na-ah, I do. You were the one I drowned in the shark tank last week! And you were the one run through the chainsaw trap two weeks before that! And you were in the guillotine!!! I saw your fucking head get deattached from your body, how the fuck are you here again?!"
And the guy he is screaming at just looks at him, confused and incomprehensive.
"Um, I'm pretty sure I'd remember getting my head cut off, you know? So, err, wrong guy."
"Wrong guy my fucking ass-"
Joker is so distracted by his screaming match that it makes it almost too easy for the Bats to fight him down and drag to Arkham. Yet, a few of them get just a bit suspicious.
Now, imagine all the shenanigans when they try keeping a watch on Danny the Won't Die Guy.
Au where Jason Todd is sacrificed to the King of the Infinite Realms and, upon realizing Danny isnt actually interested in human sacrifice nonsense, immediately shoots his shot
Like this man has been reading romance novels for as long as he can remember and he absolutely refuses to let this set up go to waste. He has a strange new world, a kind but powerful king, a castle, and big ass fucking library right there.
Too bad his family didn’t get the memo and reverse summoned him back too early.
———
Jason: *finally seduced Danny and is about to initiate the “frantic sex after weeks of pining” portion of the plot*
Jason: *is summoned back*
Jason: *has hickies all over his neck, claw marks down his back, unzipped pants, and no belt*
Jason: …
Jason: I hate all of you, you cockblocking motherfuckers. I had him right there! I could have been his husband. HUSBAND!!!!!
Bruce:
Tim:
Dick: …looks like you’ve been having a better few weeks than we have.
Damian: Father, I believe this is sufficient proof for removing Todd from the family.
Jason: IF YOU FUCKING WAITED I COULD HAVE HAD A DIFFERENT ONE
Tim: sorry that we worried about you being at the mercy of an all powerful ruler of the dead???
Jason: *sighs with heart eyes* god I fucking wish. His eyes are so pretty when he’s angry 💕