cologona

[cologona]

This is the easiest equation in the world. He has one bullet. Besides him, there are three people in this warehouse (or two, depending on how you look at it.) He knows what to do.

or, jason todd's take on the leave no trace/non-interference time travel protocol.

leave no trace (read on ao3)

if you could destroy the story before it started, would you–  “outhouse,” rachel mckibbens

This is not a dream, even if it seems like that. Even if the colours are too bright in this dark warehouse, and the sun glimmers on the few and narrow windows like it would on stained glass in a church. It must be smudges of dirt. Dirt is everywhere. Layers of ash on the floor. A stain of blood (or a child). Kaleidoscopes of red, yellow, and green.

Breathe. Breathe. Five things you can see (1. His gloved hands. 2. His gun. 3. Sheila Haywood; her face less calm than he remembers it, streaks of tears ruining her makeup– 4. Joker, looking right at him, 5. And that pile on the floor. A mangled, whimpering thing, that would probably feel oddly soft under his boot.) Focus. What goes next? 1. Laughter 2. Laughter. 3. Laughter. 4. Laughter. Or was it something he can feel? Or taste? Blood in his mouth. Focus.

There are protocols for this. One of the few Batman protocols that were designed in collaboration with outsiders, the Flash and even Booster Gold advising on the best course of action. Jason remembers studying them, and remembers Bruce telling him, in a strange occurrence, “I trust you do the right thing, if it comes to this.” And Jason remembers replying– “I always do.” In his mind, he would add, cynically, that fortunately his idea of the right thing was not the same as that of his father.

This is not a dream, but he had a similar once, or maybe it was a hallucination, as he sat in a cell in the Magdala Valley, and Robin’s body was twitching in front of him in spasms of pain, and an adolescent voice asked for help, and he replied, “I have tried, Robin. Believe me, I have tried.” And now he can truly try.

Focus. The Joker is static, perhaps because of the gun aiming at his head. “I love this joke!” He exclaims, his voice echoing in the vastness of the building. Somehow, to Jason’s ears, the moan coming from the floor feels more offensive.

There’s something he is missing, a memory tugging at his mind. A mention of the Joker using his old alias in Ethiopia, or someone else being spotted in a Red Hood-esque attire. “Peculiar,” Bruce said back then, and that was it, either way, “Robin, stay put.” Now, Robin is indeed staying put, Jason thinks with some humour, and the laughter in the background feels almost appropriate, as everything comes together, aligns. He retracts his actions since the displacement happened, where he’s been seen in the Valley, and how he ended up here, kicking the doors in. For a second, clarity almost overwhelms him.

This is the easiest equation in the world.

He has one bullet. Besides him, there are three people in this warehouse (or two, depending on how you look at it.) He knows what to do.

He fixes the gun on the target. Clean. His finger is placed on the trigger. Steady.

The shot is deafening.

***

Jason jolts in the Batcave, and he comes to his senses slowly, like from a dream. He blinks. Bruce is looking at him, maybe a little sadly. He can see his mouth moving, but can’t make out the words clearly. “Since you are here…timeline secure…the right thing.”

Jason stares at him, still a little dizzy.

“Sure did.” He smiles.

“Thank you,” Bruce says. There it comes; normally, he would be surprised at the sentiment, but this is only a confirmation that he was not actually trusted, that the fact that their reality did not collapse with Jason’s unprecedented trip was a surprise. Besides, Bruce doesn’t have any idea what he’s thanking him for, he doesn’t know half of it. And it’s not like Jason did it for him, either way.

Breathe.

There’s the giant Joker card, and Jason’s own gloves, and the empty magazine of his gun–

“One thing you can hear?” This is Batman talking.

“Ringing.”

#ouroboros #:0 #fic #Jason Todd

[cologona]

i was looking for something else but i got hit with this message of mine from 4 months ago instead so…

#father angst #Jason Todd #ough…

[cologona]

“You just want me gone because you don’t love me.” It does not afford him even a glance. “Don’t be stupid. If I did not love you, I could have dumped you at any corner of this cursed city when you were still a baby.” “Like you did with the foetuses or the dead women you took them out from?”

his mother says all the love in the world might not be enough for him.

– (1430) 1/1, friday night (also on ao3)

My mother did her best.  Once, she said     there will never be enough love in the world for you, but in the dream          she meant it fondly.

– acie clark, intoning

Rationally, Jay knows it has been just two days (or one and a half, really), yet he cannot help but check for the results. He has to press the laptop charger with a book to make sure it stays steady; otherwise, the old brick will shut down at once. Then, the website loads on forever.

And he has to refresh it right away. He refreshes the Wayne Foundation academic mobility scholarship application page twice, thrice, the screen blinking with its contents– Only for him to once again be faced with the bold red letters. His hand trembles slightly as he clicks on the mouse frantically. The same. 

He jumps to his feet and opens the door to the big room; the only appropriate name for what contains a kitchen, doubles as a living space and serves as a makeshift bedroom, the areas and functions blending into each other. He takes a breath in, fidgeting in the threshold. Despite its humble size, the room is meticulously organised, even the dim lightning coming from strategically placed small lamps instead of the main, ceiling one.

“Mom?”

“Mhm?” Sheila is seated on the sofa, engrossed in a magazine. There are rollers in her hair, and she’s dressed in a neatly ironed collared blue dress, so she might be planning to go out later tonight. Which means maybe he should have taken the initiative to make dinner himself instead of waiting for her summons. But that’s a problem for later.

“The website says the documents were not received.” 

She reads on, replying only after turning a glossy page: “Hm. Maybe they haven’t updated it yet.” She still does not look up at him: “Besides, you already got into that Star school, didn’t you?” 

The realisation sinks in.

"You didn’t do it,” he stutters, “You said not to post them because you’d bring them in person— And—" His voice catches with emotion, and he hates it, but he cannot help how the confusion blends with an immediate, raw sense of betrayal. It’s the knowledge he could have taken care of the matter himself, and yet– He left it in his mother’s hands, stupidly, because despite her undeniable lack of enthusiasm, she promised.

“It’s the better option, that Queen scholarship. The location. And even a preparatory summer school included-”

But that was plan B. The fact that he applied there first was just an issue of the application timelines- He swallows, his throat suddenly dry. He wants to stay in Gotham. He wants to stay in Gotham so badly his face gets hot all over with emotion. 

Jay blinks rapidly to prevent the tears from welling up in his eyes, not trusting himself to speak. Instead, he stumbles forward. On a drawer, there is a vase so ridiculous that the antique shop almost gave it away for free. His mother always acted like she was made for the finer tastes, despite not being born into them or being able to ever afford them. He pushes it away to access the stack of envelopes and find the one with the Excelsior’s logo, similarly ostentatious. 

He feels as immature as helpless when he slides the letter out to start tearing it. The pristine, thick paper falls to the shabby, lacquered wood of the floor. 

"We have a PDF of that, you know." Sheila's response is typically delayed and typically pragmatic, punctuated by a slight raise of eyebrows. Her calmness makes it all seem inevitable.

His throat is clenching. The accusation barely manages to make out of it:

“You just want me gone because you don’t love me.”

It does not afford him even a glance.

“Don’t be stupid. If I did not love you, I could have dumped you at any corner of this cursed city when you were still a baby.”

“Like you did with the foetuses or the dead women you took them out from?”

In the following bout of silence, Jay expects his mother to stand up. He expects it so readily that he can almost see it in real time. He expects her to slap him, because there was a time when she would, and short years have not served to prevent the sting in the cheek, even the purely imagined one. In that instant, he almost wishes it was real. 

She does not make a move. She does, however, finally look up at him.

“That was crude,” she huffs.  

He doesn’t care about crudeness. He cares about staying home.

“Dad would never-“

“And where’s your daddy?” 

“I’m going to see him,” he announces, turning to the door.

“You’re going to walk to Blackgate,” she says, unimpressed.

“Yes.” He grabs his jacket.

“At 9pm,” she adds, even though it’s barely 8. “Outside of the visiting hours.”

“Yes,” he repeats. He can’t suppress his tears anymore, so that final confirmation is more of a weep than an articulated response. Sheila’s grey eyes bore into him with the same hardened indifference they usually do the second he starts crying. It is only marginally better than the open frustration he could be met with.

He shuts the door and skips every two steps. The bottom of the stairs is cold to touch as he sits down, putting his father’s stiff denim on and curling in. The tears now fall earnestly. The corridor smells mildly of dampness, maybe even mould. It is almost silent, only muffled voices from the ground floor flats for his company, and he allows himself the first two sobs to echo, before hiding his head between his knees. 

Jay wants Dad. He can’t have Dad until next week. It makes him resent him, just a bit, just for a moment, because mom was right; he is not here for Jason; not now, nor truly ever. Bringing up Dad in a fight was no more efficient than betting on a losing dog. He always does it anyway.

But there was plenty more Jason could add; for example: I would rather have Cathy than you. That, he never says. Thinking about Cathy makes his breath catch violently, and cry harder anyway. Dad’s in prison, and Cathy’s dead, and he’s running out of both tears and parental figures to turn to. 

He reaches into his pocket to take out a loose, slightly crumpled cigarette and a lighter. It tingles his throat even before he even takes a drag. The actual drag makes him cough.

“These women would rather be dead than mothers,” was what Sheila said once, right after Jason found out. Sometimes recalling that defence comforted him; it did not ease the irrational guilt, but it did mean that he, at least, was not unwanted enough for her to entertain other ideas. On other days, the easy sympathy with which these words were laced haunted him instead. He chews them over again, for what feels like forever, their taste sour.

“What did I say about stealing my cigarettes?”

He startles at his mother’s voice and nearly drops it, but Sheila quickly grasps it before it burns his fingers. She extinguishes it against the wall. It was already yellowing from all the indoor smoking anyway.

“Come eat dinner.” she says, her tone curt. Her hair is relaxed. She waits patiently for him to wipe his blotchy face and follow her back. He does. The anxiety curdling in his stomach stings as he walks upstairs, watching the elegant curve of the back of her dress. 

The dinner on the table is frozen pizza, because it’s cheap and because his mom hates cooking, and a green smoothie, to compensate for the quality and the lack of nutrition. And next to that bizarre meal there’s a transparent folder. The text on the paper is still blurry to him, letters spilling away from his vision, but he recognises them for what they are; the documents requested by the Wayne Foundation along with the application form. An unfair taunt.

“I will hand it in tomorrow morning. They will accept it,” his mother says.

“And what if they don’t?” 

“Then I will speak with Wayne himself.” 

Jason half-sniffles, half-chuckles. 

“What’s so funny, hm?” she asks, reaching to gently brush his curls out of his face. The touch is so light it’s barely there. But the coldness of her hand relieves the headache he has not yet noticed, probably a result of dehydration. He takes a sip of the smoothie first. It tastes spinachy, and strangely bitter–sweet.

“Sometimes,” his mother says, her shadow dark beside,  “I feel like all the love in the world wouldn’t be enough for you.” 

She might mean it fondly.

#head between my hands #god this is so #is it better than the alternative??? #I think… yes :( #that is so sad #jason todd #fic #sheila haywood #characterization so good #he wants to stay home :’(

[cologona]

I'm a Jason Todd defender till I die. If he has 100 fans I'm one, if he has 10 I'm one, if he has one it's me, and if he has zero IM FUCKING DEAD.

#lmao mood #rb

[cologona]

Wait but imagine he let someone else wield it?

Thinking about Jason, the All-blades, and the symbolism of turning your soul into a weapon.

#bro…. #Jason Todd #ship trope

[cologona]

#batfam #canon vs fanon

[cologona]

i am begging for more brotherly jason & damian pls 🥺😔🙏 (i rlly loved the first one!)

can you draw me as a cool strong alpha wolf please dami please 🙏🙏

artblock strong af btw im sorry if it's ugly😔

#Jason and Damian!!! #so cute #art #batsugar

[cologona]

imagine being a villain magic user and you find the last remaining member of the All Caste, the guy who's borderline immortal and carries centuries of tradition and magical practices with him, you think this is your chance, you'll fight him fair and square, depending on the outcome you'll be able to beg him to teach you the ways of All or fight till death

you approach him, ready to fight, you expect a spells, you expect flamming swords, but what he does instead is break off a steal pipe, barehanded, and beat you with it

#the concept of jason forgetting he's magic and just “fuck it we ball” #when he could literally just vibe check ppl with the all blades is so fun #< prev tags #PFFFT #lmao #jason todd #all-caste

[cologona]

Gotta love that of all the batfamily, Jason Todd is the one with enough sense to have a different outfit.

Cold months? Helmet, leather jacket, ling sleeved shirt with the bat insignia, and pants.

Hot months? Helmet (optional), domino mask, weird half mask thing, short sleeved shirt with the hood insignia, vest with a hood, pants.

He probably hated being stuck with the hand-me-down Robin costume so much that he made sure Red Hood could customise.

#weather-based costume change headcanon Yess #Jason Todd #red hood

[cologona]

Are you the artist that did that one of tim in a convenience store wearing a collared shirt under a hoodie

If not, feel free to ignore this hfjhgjhk I have memory gaps and I've been trying to find it for like an hour😭

PS I'm in love with your band au

I am!!! I drew it so long ago too! Like I might do a redraw lol. I also did the Jason playing guitar wearing a skull mask lol

#lmao #Tim drake #Jason Todd #art

[cologona]

#cute #Jason and Bruce #art #jaybin

[cologona]

Generally I’m of the opinion that the wavy knife Jason wields is a flambard dagger, but I was watching this informative video today and stopped in my tracks when I heard-

“A Kris is an object of unconditional love. This love exists between the bearer of the blade and the Kris itself. Through this, a Kris protects the bearer from all threats external and internal- including from oneself.

The blade is borne from an act of love, exists in a state of love with its bearer, and then is passed from bearer to bearer generation to generation in a continuation of that love.”

…and now I can’t get over the IMPLICATIONS.

Also (I’m not SE Asian or Filipino so let me know if I’ve misinterpreted) but man is it not so appropriate for Talia to give something so symbolic? A weapon to protect him, a gift to ward off self-destruction, a recognition and relation to his capacity for love.

#the thing about Jason is that he didn’t just put a bomb in his helmet #he put himself in a situation where if Bruce didn’t come help him out he might’ve died #most miserable win if I win win if I lose I’ve ever seen indeed #also the video references Kris blades being cared for with aromatic oils #imagine Red Hood’s scary knife smells like Jasmine #do you think Bruce would catch a whiff during a fight and recognize the scent?

[cologona]

“the one year later event is mostly a clown carnival BUT i actually love the nightwing brothers in blood arc . they did that for me. complicate your familial relationships!!! no linear healing and no linear love!!!!!!” —me, right before my reread of nightwing: brothers in blood, unaware of the emotional tumult i was about to unleash on myself

an assortment of thoughts after my reread of nightwing: brothers in blood

(omg kalis user jason todd means filipino jason todd— okay yes ik it's a kris and that talia gave it to him and that a kalis is longer, sword length, but let me be delusional for a moment)

fanon and ao3 would have you believe that dick would be reaming bruce out for his behavior in batman: under the hood. it is a delight to rediscover that though dick remains #1 batman arguer, he has not done anything of the sort in regards to how bruce has treated jason's return.

introducing my new fav panel of all time:

And Jason, Jason... God, I wish he had died that night with Batman and Joker...

i lied in the post title, btw. i actually have only one main thought about this run.

i have a proposition to make, batman fandom: dick is actually more wary of Jason then bruce is.

i think—dick heavily dislikes jason for always being able to uncover the old wound. i think as someone who's been there since the start, has seen bruce through his best and his worst, cannot stand this grinning spectre upending all the progress bruce has made with his grief. and! i think a part of dick has always felt unsettled that even he couldn't completely heal that grief. and the one person who could do it (he thinks), the one person who is against all odds alive to do it—what does jason do? he needles the wound open. he won't let it rest. he beats up dick's little brother. he sows chaos all over gotham and dick's new city. he saw bruce drown in the self-destructive depression for years and the one person who might have helped ease it in a way no one else could is too busy cutting a bloody swath through various cities.

i think, also, that this—detachment, if you will, is aided by the fact that dick and jason did not know each other as well as they might have. jason was taken in after bruce fired dick, so nightwing was still taking off solo. they have been able to connect and dick and jason have very cute interactions pre-ditf but it's a drop in the ocean compared to dick and tim's relationship.

there is also, i think, a disconnect between robinjay and red hood jason—his little brother died with robinjay, and whoever the red hood is is almost a stranger

He's someone from a long, long time ago. Black sheep of the family, as it were. His name is Jason Todd. He thinks he's me. This may sound crazy, but... he's supposed to be dead. Twice over.

"from a long, long time ago." and like i said, there's this almost detachment from dick, no (positive) reminiscence of jay's robin days. i do think that dick, wrt jason, is mostly unrestrained by past sentiment—or at least he's better at separating that sentiment than bruce, who although tries to remain objective in his chase against red hood, is also notably shaken, to the point that jason was able to force his hand & drive him to panic, leading to half-thought, panicked decisions that a level-headed batman would not have made (as i think we are all in agreement that bruce would not actively decide to disarm his son via batarang to the throat, especially considering his no-kill rule.)

there's more i'd like to say, but this is most of it—i don't want to drown the dash with batman rambling, but im asking yall to consider it. think about how delicious this dynamic is!! there's so so much to explore!!! and i think it really hammers home just how much the world has changed during jason's death & disappearance 🫣

a final aside before i end this post:

JASON: That's Blüdhaven.

BRUCE: Dick...?

JASON: My God. Is Nightwing there? Imagine that. One son returns from the grave as another enters it... what a fitting ending this has become.

i adore jason's reaction to blüdhaven blowing up in utrh. he's like "my god... 😮 is nightwing there? 🤭 imagine that 😗" HE'S SO SILLYYY. bruce is anguished, having a Time because his exploded son is back from the dead just in time for his other son to also (possibly) die in an explosion—as jason says, "one son returns from the grave as another enters it"—and jason is GIGGLING. i hate him so much <3

#i love a southeast Asian or otherwise Pacific Islander Jason hc #also yeah this is my preferred dynamic between Jason and Dick #I love him your honor #jason todd #Brothers in Blood

[cologona]

Therapy dog Cass is an abomination but Cass absolutely would be that friend who notices whenever someone's going through it and wants to do something to help. The issue being she's really bad at this so she just thinks of what always makes her happy and winds up shoving a chocolate ice cream cone in their face and blurting out, "hey, feel better. Okay?" in a way that sounds a lot more like a threat than a reassurance before quickly grappling away to avoid further awkwardness.

#cassandra cain #<3 #canon vs fanon

[cologona]

get his ass Jason!

#lmao #🤣 bro #jason and bruce #art

[cologona]

Remembering the panel of Gordon commenting on Robin having hit a “growth spurt” after Tim replaced Jason and I’m thinking, wouldn’t it be fucked up if Gotham had no idea the second Robin died?

#it’s one of the things that throws suspicion off of Bruce for being Batman #the girls and goons of crime alley know better but who’s going to listen to them? #the idea that there were three robins before Sword-Robin (Damian) is considered a conspiracy theory and its association with CA doesn’t help #jason todd #Gotham

[cologona]

I know technically speaking Bruce heavily tampered with the crime scene, but I'm sure the news or a rumour about what happened to the second Robin returned anyway to Gotham. And I wonder if parents, knowing the kind of psychos that existed in their city banned little kids from wearing any Robin costumes or colours for Halloween or anything for years after.

#death in the family #Gotham #dc robin