Rangin

The Superman Prime thing punching reality is a little goofy--creative, but goofy.

So I get why people don't like it.

I think it's a lot better, though. Lazarus Pit actually originally couldn't bring people back to life. They bring it up in Under the Hood actually. That was a retcon as far as I'm aware.

The original grit and nastiness of the original resurrection scene is powerful stuff though, like a modern-ish horror story.

Also, damn look at that hot head, calming himself down while suffocating. Oh Jason and that temper of his. Look how temperamental he is--Okay, I'll stop.

This imagery too. Could hang it up on your wall if you were into edgy stuff like that.

Jason Todd here is only 15-years-old too. Only six months after he was murdered in that explosion. Teen got some freaking heart in him that's for sure.

Makes ya feel something.

The way he's drawn there walking down the hall. Total horror story stuff. I love it. It's so marvelous and dashing in a disturbed type of way.

Another thing I love is how the Lazarus Pit in this story looks like lava too. Adds to the horror story, modern day Frankenstein without sewing together bits and pieces of different folk together.

'bout bringing the brain dead back to proper life.

Giving me genie Jafar vibes though for some odd reason.

Like these two images combined or something.

I mean they're both red themed, I dunno...

What's with the early '00's and making Talia an absolutely wretched person? He's twenty at this point I believe, but I didn't see no consent. That's your lover's son ya freak.

(I've been corrected, he wasn't even 20. Have fun knowing Talia is even worse here than I initially realized. That's...I was going to say fun sarcastically, but nah, that's really weird, and super gross.)

Damn why couldn't they keep up the pace with Jason Todd, man? I don't necessarily want to make the post, and I probably won't do it for a while anyways, but they treated Jason like total dog shit after this for no good reason. I think some people forget how bad he had it for a bit. Still doesn't have it good--but--jeez whole other level for a bit.

The writing is so strong.

I can't put into words how much I love the narration boxes here. It's like the bible, except I give a shit.

Anyways, I hoped you've enjoyed our big ol' Jason Todd history lesson today.

It's been really fun reading this again.

Really hope too anyone that been along with me on this journey today has enjoyed themselves too. I like being an educational blog for the Bat-Family. I get a good kick out of it.

But for now--

BONUS:

Jason’s always lived like he’s bracing for something to fall apart.

He doesn’t mean to — it’s just instinct by now. Keep things at a distance. Don’t get too soft. Don’t name anything you don’t want to lose.

But then you came along. Quiet at first, patient in a way that didn’t ask anything from him. You didn’t try to fix him. You just sat beside him when the nights stretched too long. Let him ramble about books you hadn't read just to hear him talk. Listened, actually listened, when the silences got heavy.

And now, here he is. Sitting on the kitchen counter of the manor in the middle of the night, his hoodie pulled over his broad frame — sleeves pushed up — texting you back with a half-smile he doesn’t bother to hide.

The message is simple. You still awake? I miss you.

He’s barely set the phone down when Bruce walks in, looking like he hasn’t slept since the Cold War. Jason freezes, then relaxes. It’s just Bruce. Not that that makes things less complicated.

Bruce gives him a long, unreadable look, then glances down at the phone Jason tried and failed to shove under his thigh.

“Do they know who you are?” Bruce asks — not in a threatening way.

Jason’s quiet for a beat. “Yeah,” he says finally. “they know.”

“And they stayed?”

Jason lifts his eyes. “Yeah,” he says again. “they stayed.”

Bruce just nods, like that’s enough of an answer. Maybe it is.

Later, when Jason’s back in his apartment, boots kicked off and your arms tucked around his waist under the blankets, he presses a kiss to your temple. You shift sleepily, murmuring something against his chest. He doesn’t catch the words. Doesn’t need to.

He lies awake for a while, staring at the ceiling, his fingers brushing soft circles against your shoulder.

And for the first time in a long time, he’s not bracing for impact. He’s just… here. With you.

Another wip cuz I do wanna draw all the robins,,, initially was planning to wait until I finish the whole thing (this will never happen-) but I’m still figuring out what details to put for Jason since I’ve been trying to revolve the compositions around their costumes 🥲🥲

Thinking about aligning his symbol with the all caste tattoos and the negative space showing his robin phase,,,

Jason would be the type to have cheeks as red as cherries if you were to compliment him, so much that even his ear would burn red also, and if you were to compliment them too then Jason would try to cover them out in embarrassment.

He’s not cute or beautiful or anything else that you’ve been calling him recently, he’s anything but and yet his heart skips a couple of beats when you do call him such things with honesty and love within your eyes. It was enough to have him becoming that lovesick teenager that read romantic novels, the very same teenager that sang loudly to confession songs/reprises of his favourite theatrical plays.

He’s a six foot something man of scars, trauma and muscle. He’s not cute or gentle or delicate as you made him feel as you brushed your nose against his before kissing it, pulling away to smile at him as you then kissed the burning red apples of his cheeks so tenderly that Jason thought he was being kissed by a butterfly.

because he was good. because he had a bleeding heart despite every reason not to. he loved school and was good at it. he was the first to be adopted, with little pretense of guardianship. he did everything he could to be a perfect Robin and live up to an impossible ideal. he only ever wanted Bruce and Dick to like him.

because he met Bruce in the same place and on the same day that Bruce's parents died--the single defining moment of Batman's existence. and he made Batman laugh. he hit the Dark Knight, Terror of Gotham, with a tire iron. he wasn't afraid of the man who turned fear into a weapon.

because he couldn't save his mother from herself, but he tried. because he was too good not to try and save the woman who gave him up. too good to play the Joker's game. the crowbar didn't kill him, the bomb did. he died knowing he wouldn't make it and tried anyway. he died a hero.

because other Robins have died, but none of them put an irrevocable tear in the mythos of Batman. because Jason Todd always dies, in every universe. he dies for the sins of his father. he was put to death by popular vote, sacrificed by the crowd. doomed by the narrative and doomed by the audience. the boy who only ever tried to prove he was good enough--wasn't good enough.

because he has every reason to be angry. because he didn't ask to be murdered, didn't ask to be brought back, and when he did everyone acted like he was better off dead. Bruce tried to kill him and nearly succeeded. he's blamed for his own death and blamed for his resurrection. he can never come home because the house is haunted by his own ghost.

because he's been the hero, the victim, and the villain. because his family and his writers and his universe don't know what to make of him. they don't know how to look his tragedy in the eye. and how can you?