Latest Posts by jaspersgems - Page 3
Okay but imagine, while dead, ghost Jason witnesses how people spoke ill about him and blamed him for his own bruthal death. Like, his own family not only don't try to defend him or rebut what they say, some of them even start it.
It's a sucker punch. He's dead and can't defend himself and his own family are being so awful. Maybe he thinks that they don't want him, they didn't like him, they didn't really love him.
So he goes away to follow A) random person who wasn't there when people were trash talking him or B) random person who did defend him.
And when I say random, I mean random. It could be anyone from Roy to Two Face to a citizen who overheard Batman scolding other vigilantes at three in the morning and scolded him and all of them for having the audacity to talk like that about a dead kid.
Just, imagine ghost Jason following a nice grandma he didn't even know in life because she was the only one who he ever heard defend him, saying his death was not his own fault. Maybe at first just because he feels so lonely and lost, but then he gets attached. He sits on the isle while she cooks, he follows her grandchildren to and from school to try keep them safe (like tugging their clothes when way ahead is dangerous, making them trip when something goes flying towards their way, and so), he sits in the arm of the couch when she and her daughter talk about their day, etc.
And when he goes back to life and bumps into that person he feels something warm on his chest and doesn't know why. Maybe he's really partial to this specific cape, maybe he's more open to this one rougue than he is with the family, maybe he meets that old lady and connect right away.
this made me so emotional, this is insane. imagine Jaybin's ghost strolling around, hearing how he is being criticised for his own death, how they twist and turn his story to fit a convenient narrative, but then he enters the Crime Alley, and it is so drastically different. they all miss the Second Robin, they talk of him to their children, they cuss out if they hear Batman mumbling some non-sense. after all, they are not stupid — they knew that the Second Robin was *theirs*. they heard it in the way he spoke and understood them, how he fought for them earnestly. and they don't know details of what happened and how he died, but they know that this kid was anything but what others tell about him now.
so they keep his memory. they always speak of him nicely. and Jason is so, so touched. his heart aches, but for once, it is a pleasant ache — he sits around elderly women hissing at Batman, protecting "their grandson", and he sits on the windowsill of the bedroom of a kid, whose mother tell him stories about the Second Robin sometimes. he is home. and he is loved.
once he is back in the Crime Alley as Red Hood, he feels safer than he ever was, even though it feels like a ridiculous thought. he doesn't remember his days as a ghost, but he knows that these people are *his*. that he is at peace with them.
and if one of the old ladies raises from her squeaky chair to pat Red Hood on his helmet and to tell him that he grew up beautifully, knowing damn well who is hiding under the hood then no one needs to know.
Bruce doesn’t know why Jason is mad at him. At this point, it seems to be an everyday thing.
Jason successfully integrates his way back into the family, making it possible for him to hang out with his brothers without being coerced by anyone. He comes and goes as he pleases and struts around the manor like it’s his home again.
Bruce couldn’t be happier.
So why is his second/third oldest mad at him? It seems like nowadays Jason gets mad at Bruce for breathing the wrong way, or walking too slow, or something completely nonsensical.
It all comes to a head when Jason confronts him in his office when Bruce was just finishing up some paperwork.
“What the fuck is your actual fucking problem?” Jason hissed angrily, slamming his fist down on Bruce’s mahogany table.
Bruce distantly hopes that it won’t leave a mark, but for now, he’s more focused on why his son is swearing at him.
“Hello Jason.” Bruce decides to start, giving him a second to collect his thoughts and mentally see if he’s done anything lately. “I’m afraid I don’t understand-“
“Bullshit! Absolute fucking bullshit!” Jason spat, cutting Bruce off.
Bruce’s eyebrows wrinkled slightly at the many curses directed at him. It’s not like he wasn’t used to it; Gotham is his home, but he just doesn’t know why.
“When was the last time you fucking talked to me?” Jason questioned, rounding the desk and jabbing a finger in Bruce’s shoulder.
This causes Bruce to blink, somehow even more confused than before. “I don’t understand. I’m talking to you right now. And we spoke yesterday.”
“No, you walked into the room looking for Golden Boy, saw me and said some fake ass greeting before turning and basically running away!” Jason swung his hands around, making Bruce lean back in his chair to avoid getting hit. “Why are you avoiding me? I thought… I thought you had forgiven me and stuff…”
“What? Of course I have! You’re always welcome here!”
“Then why are you avoiding me? You don’t invite me places, y-you barely speak to me nowadays…”
Bruce picked at the peeling arm of his swivel chair, peeling off a small portion of the black paint and ripping it into smaller pieces before dropping it on the ground. Alfred would probably make him clean it up. “I’m giving you space.”
Jason blinked, looking down at Bruce in confusion. “Space? Why are you giving me space- so much space? You're never fucking around anymore!”
“Well… because you hate me?”
“What..?”
“You told me…” Bruce says slowly, barely stopping himself from scratching at his arm in the tense silence, a habit Alfred made sure he broke. “You’ve told me multiple times how you hate me… and that I’m not your Dad.”
Jason gaped at Bruce, taking a moment to sit on the edge of Bruce’s desk, running a hand down his face. “Fuck Bruce! I-I wasn’t- ugh! I wasn’t being fucking serious!”
Bruce squints, his eyes darting around Jason's angry and confused expression.
“But… you said it? Why would you say that if you didn’t mean it?” Bruce asked quietly, his chest tightening like it does when he wants to cry.
He hasn’t felt this way in a long time. At least, not so strongly. The kind of feeling that you get when you know everyone around you understands something that you can’t. Why would Jason say something he didn’t mean?
Why did Bruce have to be so fucking stupid. He's supposed to be the world's greatest detective, so why does he always have a hard time deciphering what people mean? Especially his children.
“I don’t understand,” Bruce repeated, his eyes stinging as he flapped his hands before drumming them softly on the arm of his swivel chair, trying to calm himself down. “You’ve said it. You say it all the time.”
“Bruce-“
“All of you say it! You say that you hate me, so you hate me!” Bruce insisted, no longer looking at Jason, the study felt significantly smaller now. “Why would you say it if you don’t mean it? Why would you say something so mean?”
“… Dad…” Jason whispered softly, slowly taking Bruce’s hands in his own. Bruce hadn’t even noticed that his fingernails were painfully digging into the palm of his hand, leaving angry red half moons.
“Dad, if you think that we hate you, then why…?” Jason gestures widely, pointing at nothing in particular yet everything at the same time. “Why do you do this for us? Why are you still here?”
Bruce tilted his head in confusion. Not a single second of this conversation has made any sense to him but he knows this part, it is woven into the very fabric of his being. “Because I love you. I love all of you.”
all those terms for when you dont really like something but someone else does and you respect that… youve heard of “not my cup of tea” and “whatever floats your boat” and now its time for this phrase to shine
Rarepair so rare there aren't any pics of it on AO3
Rarepair so rare there's only 8 fics on it on AO3
OLIVIA RODRIGO performing at Lollapalooza Chile (March 21, 2025)
Today I was chatting with two guys and mentioned I was aroace. It went a little something like this.
A: wtf is that
B: it means she’s not attracted to people in that way
A: bro you can’t just not pick a side, that’s crazy
B: nah, it just means she’s spectator mode
A: OHHH IT MAKES SENSE NOW
I have never felt more validated or laughed so hard
who can relate
:0 omg, so swaggy, also that's real as fuck, they share number one on my mental podium of favorite ships because I can't decide which I like more
It’s okay
like/reblog if u are:
a bitch
a bastard
an all around fool
an omnipresent all-powerful being
a sparrow
c̵͙̳͕̈͛ụ̷̔r̸̗͎̽̓͗͜s̴̨̈́̿͘e̸͍̰̜͊̈́d̵̛̫̙͍͝͝
capable of moving at immense, incomprehensible speeds
an eldritch being
no one will know which one u chose! :D
reblog if you're gay, not gay, slightly gay, or if you just want to launch donald trump into a dying star
You gotta love Damian, man.
Bro's family is falling apart, his house is gone, his siblings won't talk to his father, he is fresh out of grandfathers, and he's alone with a Father that doesn't understand him and forces him to go to a school where they bully him...
And mf is like 'Fuck this shit, I'm reading Naruto'
I really want to give baby Damian Martha Waynes eyes.
And then take them away before Bruce has a chance to see them.
Just like for one reason or another the Batfam ends up having to go to the League and Damian is sent off by Talia to join his peers in morning katas while the elder family members meet in her office for something.
And of course all of the Batfam are little snoops so they walk around her office and look at the documents and few pictures she has. And then suddenly Tim notices something.
"I thought Damian had your eyes Talia?" Tim says staring down at a picture of a 3 or 4 year old Damian with muddy green eyes rather than the bright almost toxic ones the family is used to.
"No, not at all, I don't even remember what color my eyes originally were." Talia responds barely digging through some files that Bruce needs.
"What does that mean?" Dick asks harshly.
" You didn't truly think the Al Ghul eyes were truly the Al Ghul eyes did you?" Talia scoffs "They're Lazarus eyes, why do you think Jason's eyes match ours?"
"I. I didn't think of that, huh" Jason mumbles dragging his hands along the different books Talia keeps.
"So... So when did Damian die?"
That brought silence to the room.
Jason stopped walking, Dick stopped breathing, Tim was looking sadly at Talia, eye shifting to Bruce as he stared at a wall.
"About 3 months before his 5th birthday, it was before my Father and I started to actually train him. An assassin snuck in after infiltrating the guard for a few months. Apparently he wanted Damians death to be slow. He perforated a lung, I managed to get there and kill the bastard, but Damian couldn't be saved without the pit." Talia says robotically.
"I do miss his eyes though, such a soft green" she almost whispers.
Bruce walks over to Tim, lightly taking the photo.
His breath shuttered for a moment.
He stroked his fingers over the eyes that he will never see again, that were taken from him far to soon. Both times.
"Those are my mother's eyes." He says
"He had my mother's eyes."
He stares, unable to do anything but mourn what he didn't know he lost again.
"Do you have more pictures from before?"
"Of course beloved, I'll make you copies"
The room remained silent spare the shuffling of papers and the drag of Bruce's finger over the glass frame
give battinson a robin and have it be stephanie brown
You'll never be able to love a single person, you love everyone, you love too much, you'll never be able to place all that love into a romantic relationship.
(My exhausted, sick, and in pain mind came up with when thinking on me being aroace.)
I have finished... uhm here I made it a little silly
He's a little lost
Ignore the hands I can't draw them but uhm here you go please enjoy I tried my best and have literally never drawn anyone pregnant before.
If I work on my art and draw you a pregnant Jason (for the funsies) how would you react?
How did I miss this ask—
Words cannot express the joy I'd feel to see that f#-%## (/pos) pregnant.
I would probably explode from the happies.
I would sell you my spleen.
inspired by the beautiful variant cover by stephen byrne
he totally gives me phantom thief vibes!
inspired by the beautiful variant cover by stephen byrne
he totally gives me phantom thief vibes!
I will work on it, It shall be done most likely by this Saturday. I have some homework to do first but I'll start it after that trust. It'll probably be traditional but I'll maybe make it digital at some point and tag you. :p
If I work on my art and draw you a pregnant Jason (for the funsies) how would you react?
How did I miss this ask—
Words cannot express the joy I'd feel to see that f#-%## (/pos) pregnant.
I would probably explode from the happies.
I would sell you my spleen.
Boss is asleep, cannot stop me from frogposting
Remember when that cop pepper-sprayed students in 2011? UC Davis paid $175K to scrub it from the internet’s memory https://t.co/5prbgrx1WL
— Xeni (@xeni) April 14, 2016
crazy how fanfic authors drop the most beautiful and gorgeous pieces of work ever, leaving you speechless and sobbing at three in the morning as you quietly contemplate the masterpiece you just read
and they don’t get paid for it they just do it because they’re having fun and they want to share their joy with you
like I would literally die for all of you fanfic authors out there reblog to swear your allegiance to fanfic authors
feeling called out today
credit: _ADWills
Goodluck Pikachu