Hc That Jason Todd Has An Instagram/youtube/tiktok Account Called Gatsbyreviews (named After Jay Gatsby)

March for More: Names

MASTERPOST

"...Do you need a pad or tampon or something?"

Danny, Jason's roommate, blinks and sputters in confusion from where he sits on the floor in a pool of blood, "Wh-what??"

Jason pauses, wondering if he had been wrong about Danny wearing a binder around the dorm, but no. He and Danny had been roommates for a while and Jason knew a binder when he saw one. So, why is he... oh shit.

"Shit, are you bleeding out right now?" Jason fumbles to take off his jacket, trying to hurry into the dorm so he can help. "Just- wait a sec, I've got a first aid kit."

Danny only stares, a hand pressed tight to his ribs where he's either been cut or shot and shit, Jason needs to see it to know what he's working with. "I- you don't need to-" Danny tries to say as Jason settles in front of him, but Jason only sets down the kit and glares until his roommate moves his hands.

"Shit," Jason hisses as blood begins leaking out of what is clearly not a stab or gunshot wound but something fucking gruesome and... Holy shit, did someone torture him, what the fuck? Jason shakes off the thought, grabbing antiseptic and stitches and gauze—fuck this is gonna suck.

As he works, Danny sits still, practically lifeless, and if it weren't for the occasional hiss or flinch, Jason would think he'd completely disassociated. And if it weren't for the blood on his hands and the gasping body below him, Jason would probably already be out the door. Searching, hunting, killing whoever the fuck did this.

What Jason is stitching up right now isn't just typical Gotham street crime, isn't a stick-up gone wrong or a hit and run or a gang war, no. This is intentional, like being tied down in a crumbling building and beaten and broken and teased with the salvation of passing out. Jason would know.

He shakes his head, this isn't the same. Danny, sitting in front of him and breathing shakily, is alive. He's alive, and whoever did this won't be soon enough.

"Names. Give me their fucking names, Danny."

DPxDC Urgent Call

"I need your phone."

Tim looks up from his laptop. The boy in front of him looks like he's been dragged to Hell a week ago and just made it back: smudges of soot on his face, his not-so-white t-shirt smelling of smoke, and a nasty looking burn on his hand that he somehow doesn't even pay attention to. Tim thinks back to his mental list of 'Rogues currently on the loose', but it's only Ivy and Harley (who don't even count anymore), and Penguin, who is not known for setting things on fire.

"I can call 911 for you, if you want?" He offers, because this is still Gotham. Despite the fact that a slightly scorched guy casually walking into a coffee shop is not something out of the ordinary here, he's not giving his phone to strangers.

The guy grimaces and starts aggressively rummaging through his pockets.

"No, thanks, ACAB and all that, and they won't do shit here anyway," he says, and then pulls a handful of tangled golden jewelry — rings, chains, necklaces with various gems in them — from his pocket and places it on the table in front of Tim. "I need your phone," he repeats.

Tim stares. First, at the gold — these things look antique, and his parents were archeologists, he knows what he's talking about — then, back at the guy. He looks... ordinary, sans the dirt and smell.

But the burn on his hand looks significantly more healed than it did just a minute ago.

Thankfully, Tim has already had his cup of morning coffee. Which means he is thinking very rationally when he does get his phone out of his pocket and hands it to the guy, just to see what he does next.

"Thanks," the guy grins at him, plucking the phone out of Tim's hand and unlocking it. Tim's eyebrows shoot up — there's a password there! — but the stranger is already dialing in a number and pressing the phone to his ear.

It takes less than a second before someone evidently picks up, and the guy starts talking.

"I have less than three minutes before the phone dies, so listen very carefully. Etrigan is fine, Jason is not, Klarion is still being a bitch. Dora won't help anymore, so you're on your own until Sam makes it there with the staff. I'm in Gotham because, apparently, mazes and I don't mix well together, so if you could summon me back, that'd be cool," he says, a look of mild annoyance on his face.

Tim is back to staring at him. He recognizes some of the names, and, well, one could have been an oddity, two a coincidence, but three is a pattern.

"The fuck you mean you can't, I gave you the incantation two months ago!" The guy raises his voice, his foot tapping on the floor in frustration. "Do you think I just go around giving my summons to people for shits and giggles? Like, yeah, have a spell that unleashes a cosmic being of immeasurable power, use it as a bookmark!"

This interaction, despite Tim only hearing one side of it, gets more and more alarming with every word.

But then, the boy suddenly straightens up and stills, his eyes flashing bright, unpleasantly familiar green.

"You what?" He asks, his voice slipping from just angry to quietly enraged hiss, "Sold it to whom?!" But, before he gets an answer, Tim's phone makes a thin, tiny buzzing sound, and the guy takes it off his ear, looking at the screen.

"No, no-no-no," he mutters, shaking it like that would make it work. To no avail, though: the phone screen flashes a few times and goes black. The guy curses. At least Tim thinks it's a curse because he doesn't understand a word, but the stranger's face and intonation are telling.

"Useless fucking moron of a human, I swear I'm going to drown you in cow shit once this is over," he switches to English, dropping the phone on the table right by the small pile of gold, "I'll bargain your pathetic soul from everyone you've ever dealt with and give it to the Observants, and maybe, after a few millenia of endless Council paperwork, I'll have mercy and sell it back to Lucifer and watch him fry you on a skillet."

...Whoever the boy is, Tim absolutely refuses to ever piss him off, okay. That's an impressive threat to even make, not to mention being able to go through with it.

"Do you need help?" He asks cautiously. If he is getting his context clues right, this is something that involves JLD, and maybe John Constantine specifically since Tim doesn't know any other man who is a magic user, sold his soul numerous times, would care about Etrigan's wellbeing, and could invoke this kind of murderous intent.

The boy looks back at him, his eyes back to normal blue.

"Huh? Oh, no, I doubt this can be helped," he waves Tim off and pinches the bridge of his nose, "Sorry about the phone, but, unless you have a way to yeet me across the globe so I end up in London in the next twenty minutes..." he shrugs, smiling in that helpless 'nothing you can do here' way.

Tim picks up his phone. It's dead, wholly and completely, won't even turn on when he tries.

He really, really shouldn't do that. This is definitely none of his business, and very much out of his capabilities and area of expertise.

But he thinks about the zeta-tube in the Cave.

"Actually," he says, and the guy's eyes snap back to him, a bewildered sort of surprise on his face.

Dead on Main Sugar Daddy

AKA "Ghost King Danny unintentionally becomes Jason "Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss" Todd's sugar daddy" prompt!

This is kind of a continuation of Graveyard Favors, but not really lmao.

I just love the idea of Jason coming back from the dead, wearing all Expensive Clothes and literally ancient cursed jewelry, and Bruce is just like, "Where did you get that? I didn't buy it for you. You haven't used your allowance either?" And Jason's obviously not going to admit he has the High King of Infinite Realms, Space, and the Dead as a sugar daddy. (Maybe he would, he's a dramatic theatre kid at heart, but it's funnier if he just straight up lies.)

He says, "I'm literally a crime lord, old man, keep up?? Jesus."

But the more he thinks about it, the more he actually likes the idea. Jason wants to help people, make sure they never experience the same fate he did, and where else to do it than the place he grew up? He knows there are tons of kids he can help, families who have a lack of resources. He's not afraid to get his hands dirty - he's already killed the Joker.

So, Jason calls up his Ghost King sugar daddy, points to Crime Alley, and is like, "I want that."

Danny, in Tucker's ratty Amity-U hoodie and ripped jeans, cheesepuff sticking halfway out of his mouth, "What???"

Danny declares Crime Alley as Jason's Haunt. It's officially Jason's territory in both the human realm and the Ghost Zome; conveniently, that also means that no supernatural (dead or alive) can enter the territory without Jason knowing. It also makes Crime Alley emit major Do Not vibes. Bad guys feel this Dread of being watched constantly, residents feel a bit safer knowing there's somebody who will help if they're in danger, and Jason patrols often enough that everybody starts to associate him as the local crime lord. He also uses Danny's money to invest in some social programs in Crime Alley, like open access food pantries, shelters, domestic violence & sexual assault support, a community garden, little libraries, funding for after school activities, etc.

Because the former Ghost King is absolutely loaded. Danny has eons of old stuff piled in his throne room in the Ghost Zone from Aztec Gold to alien technology. He's not using it and nobody's gonna miss it, so if Jason asks for it, Danny gives it to him. (Does he know Jason is selling it for an absolute shitton of money? Maybe, maybe not. He doesn't really care where it ends up as long as it won't cause the apocalypse.)

So, yeah, that's how Jason actually becomes the crime lord of Crime Alley.

After Clark tells Lois that he’s Superman—and, you know, the last surviving member of his alien race, no big deal—she starts wondering what is Clark being Clark and what is Clark being an alien. She makes lists and asks endless questions. Clark is (mostly) patient with her. It’s cute.

“Does coffee actually do anything for you? I mean, you look half dead without it, so I assume the caffeine does something.”

“Hurtful, but okay. It’s psychological. I like the taste and it’s part of my routine. I guess I’ve conditioned myself to feel like I need it to start the day.”

“Your music—do you actually like it, or is that just a front?”

“Yes, Lois, I actually like Beyoncé. She makes art. Have you heard the harmonies? She sings them all herself and then layers—“

“Oh my God, Superman’s in the BeyHive.”

“Meg’s great too.”

“Trainor?”

“Thee Stallion.”

“Oh my God, Superman’s having a Hot Girl Summer.”

“Do you eat? I mean…wait, is that food allergy thing a lie?”

“Do I—yes, Lois, you’ve seen me eat!”

“Okay, but do you need to? Also, way to dodge the food allergy question.”

“Under a red sun, yes, I would need to eat regularly. Under a yellow sun, assuming I’m not injured, I’m pretty sure I could go weeks without food. I haven’t tested it, though.”

“And the food allergy?”

“I’m not eating Cat’s deviled eggs at the office potluck, and I don’t feel bad for lying.”

“So your snack drawer at work—“

“Is just a snack drawer. One you shouldn’t even know about. How do you—“

“Hush, let me finish. Peanut butter crackers. Peanut butter pretzels. Peanut butter cups. A jar of peanut butter. What gives?”

“I like peanut butter.”

“Clearly!”

“It’s good protein!”

“Do you fake being startled? Like when people pop up behind you?”

“No. Just because I can hear you doesn’t mean I’m actively listening or always paying attention.”

“So you can hear when people are having se—“

“Can I? Yes. I’m also tuning it out, because ew. Massive invasion of privacy, and I don’t want to know what everyone gets up to.”

“What do you get up to?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Yes, Clark, that’s why I’m asking.”

Tim: So Duke, you officially been at the manor a year, how are you liking it?

Duke: I’m finally settling in. I’m no longer worried Bruce is going to send me away.

Jason: I get that. I thought I was just some charity case. I was terrified that I would mess up and end up back on the streets. I stole a bunch of expensive looking things and kept them in a go bag. I was prepared.

Damien: I too feared being sent away. My grandfather would have been disappointed. I was prepared to fight to the death to prove my place in the family.

Dick: I was sleeping with a knife in my sock in case he sent me back juvie.

Cass: (signing) I feared disappointing him. I felt like I needed to earn my place here.

Steph: He couldn’t get rid of me if he tried. I am like glitter.

Tim: Same. I think he tried to kick me out like 6 times. I just laughed and walked past him.

Duke: Are we just going to ignore Dick’s knife comment?

the sillies

timothy the teetotaler kills me. hes a DARE kid. dumping out his roommates alcohol and threatens to get him expelled. i know he acts like someones pulled a gun whenever they take out a joint and it will never not be funny. his idol is dick "lets all try cocaine!" grayson.

Just some dp doodling

this may be the stupidest thing ive made