#jayjokes

JayJokes

Joker murdered Jason when he was 15 and Robin under the care of Batman, he was handed over by his biological mother. Comes back later to find out his murderer is alive, causing rage and resent at the prospect of his father not breaking his rules over the tragedy of losing him.

Depending on the depiction Jason is both shown to be resentful, angry or scared of the Joker after being traumatized by him.

SladeGrant

Slade is shown to have relations with minors throughout his appearances closer to his creation as a character. It's not too crazy to think he'd touch his own kids.

Grant is shown to have a very complex relationship with his father. In his earlier apparitions he was shown to admire him deeply as his father, then we are shown a more aggressive and abusive relationship where Slade would physically abuse him.

Meanwhile Grant, without knowing it's his own father, idolizes Deathstroke to the point of applying for experimentation in hopes of becoming an enhanced superhuman like his hero.

Exquisite. 

The sight before him inspires many words, but exquisite is the one Joker likes best. He sighs a contented sigh as his eyes crawl up and down the unconscious figure before him, from matted black hair to bruised and broken toes. His latest pair of Batman imposters had left the naked kid dangling by his bony wrists after their playtime was over, and Joker can’t help but think of this mutilated slab of boymeat as an offering, a sacrifice to him. Batsy’s little lambchop led like a sheep to the slaughter, and he’d been waiting, bib tied ‘round his neck, knife and fork in each hand at the ready. A slavering wolf cartoon about to devour his long-awaited feast.

Joker slips off his lavender gloves, finger by finger by bleached-white finger, while he stalks toward his ensnared prey. Toddy’s head hangs dejectedly between dislocated shoulders. Swollen eyelids swim in pits of purply-black bruises and hide behind a veil of stringy hair. His cherub face is puffy, streaked where tears cut tracks through the caked filth. Protruding ribs rise and fall as his lungs gasp for air, each coveted breath sucked in with an adorable wheeze. His toes are curled like a proper ballerina, desperately reaching for the merciful floor below. Fresh blood dribbles down his skinny arms from where the metal cuffs bite into that paper-thin skin.

Joker’s ravenous grin splits wider as his mind drifts back to his little bird’s last playtime. After the bogus Bats had beaten him silly, they’d stripped the jailbird of his orange jumpsuit and cut away his briefs before stringing him up for a flogging. That big brainless brute Blockbuster turned out to be an expert at wielding a bamboo cane, leaving the kid’s backside striped bloody, from the nape of his scrawny neck to the hollows of his knobby knees. Oh how his bird had begged while his skin was shredded to ribbons all over again! But that wasn’t the best part of the performance, no sirree. Before leaving the kid to his tears and fears, Catman had squeezed the baby birdie’s bruised balls in a gauntleted fist until he’d passed out from the pain.

And here they are now: his darling boy still sleeping unsoundly, brain still scrambled from the good Doctor Quinzel’s overdose of hallucinogens. Joker stops short before this tapestry of torture. Resisting the urge to trace the puckered ‘J’ forever seared into his boy’s delicate cheek, he instead takes a moment to admire the full expanse of his handiwork. When the Boy Blunder had fallen into his lap like manna from heaven, he’d been built in the Bat’s own image: a well-muscled adonis with a roleplaying fetish. But after months of depravity those bulging muscles had all but withered away. Now only pallid skin remains, hanging loosely from broken bones. Deeeee-licious!