#jtwsummer2025

[monochrome-genesis]

@jason-todd-week

Day 5 P: Jason Meets Damian in the League of Assassins

Sketchier style but i couldn't decide on a pose

[d33m5um]

Day 03: Pre-Robin Jason Todd for @jason-todd-week Summer 2025

[jason-todd-week]

Rules | Playlist | Playlist Guide | AO3 Collection | Discord

Prompts Day 1: "You can't kill something that's already dead." | Haunted | Lazarus Pit Day 2: Magical/Meta Jason Todd | Wing AU | "Robin gives me magic." Day 3: Accidental Child Acquisition | Pre-Robin Jason Todd | Coming of Age Day 4: "No one's coming." | The Batarang Incident | Loss Day 5: Jason Meets Damian in the League of Assassins | Soulmate AU | Escape Day 6: All-Caste Jason Todd | Punching Bag | A Good Soldier Day 7: Identity Reveal | Amnesia | FREE PROMPT Alternate Prompts: "Don't touch them." | College Student Jason Todd | Criminal Underworld

Jason Todd Week Summer 2025 will run July 28th – August 3rd, 2025!

There will be two aspects to this event:

The main part is the prompt challenges. You can use one, two, or three of a day's prompts—it's up to you! If you don't like any of the given prompts for a day, you can substitute one of the Alternate Prompts. In general, you can interpret each prompt however loosely you want, and for quote prompts, you definitely don't have to use the exact quote. If you want make something for Jason Todd Week that doesn't fit any of the prompts, don't panic! You can use the "FREE PROMPT" on the final day to post any Jason Todd work you want. Each prompt also has a song corresponding to it in the playlist. There is also a playlist guide so that you can know what songs there are if you don't use Spotify.

The secondary aspect is another opportunity to participate if you don't feel comfortable creating art, writing, or other media. Each day of the week, there will be a be an open-ended question about your opinions/ideas related to Jason Todd that you can respond to. For example, "What is your favorite Jason Todd headcanon?"

If you post on Tumblr, you can use the tag #jtwsummer2025 or @ this blog (@jason-todd-week). There's also an AO3 collection (Jason_Todd_Week_Summer_2025).

For your filtering, this blog will tag reblogs with #reblogs, the day, the prompt(s), media type, any non-Jason characters, any romantic or sexual ships (with full character name/full character name as well as ship name if I know it), and any warnings. Anything explicit will be tagged #explicit. Example: #reblogs #day 6 #scars #enemy to caretaker #fic #tim drake #gun violence. Please filter out tags you don’t want to see.

Because I am not able to read/see every work posted (due to time constraints and personal boundaries), some warnings or characters may be untagged if they are not in the original post’s tags.

Feel free to join the Discord!

[somnus-in-law]

Day 1 : Haunted

@jason-todd-week

[tutoriel12]

frankentodd for @jason-todd-week's summer day 1 prompt: lazarus pit

based off of this frankenstein (1931) poster <3

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 47 (Jason Todd Week Summer 2025 Day 3!)

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

Story tags: written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, NSFW, MDNI, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

Chapter warnings/labels: a little angst and anxiety, mostly fluff

wc: 1k

JTW Prompt(s): College Student Jason Todd

Chapter Selection

Previously on CIGYN:

"… I don't even have a high school diploma …"

"A piece of paper means nothing to me, Jay. But if this is bothering you, why not get it? I know you're capable of it. We talk about books and art all the time; you analyze themes and stylistic choices more eloquently and with more passion than anyone I know. You know more science than the average high school graduate. You could probably get your GED with one semester of refresher courses."

He sighed. "… It really doesn't matter to you?"

"What matters to me is that you seem fixated on it. If it will make you feel better, more worthy somehow, then I will support you getting it."

His eyes slowly met mine, and he smiled weakly. "… I think you overestimate me."

"Well I think you underestimate yourself. … Why not try a practice test? Just to see what you'd be getting into?"

He nodded slowly. "… Sure. A practice test. … But … let's keep this between us for now, please?"

"Of course. Whatever you want, baby." I gently squeezed his hand.

He chuckled weakly, squeezing back. "… Love you, doll."

"Love you too~"

Jason felt nauseous. The claustrophobic, dingy office was too bright, the lights buzzed like they were infested with wasps. The academic advisor, an older woman with a delicate frame, sat on the other side of the cramped desk, typing away rapidly at her computer. It seemed like she had to login to a million programs before she could access the documents they needed. All the while, the armrests on his chair dug uncomfortably into his muscular thighs. He wondered in passing whether the cheap plastic chairs favored by schools had always been this size, or if these ones were specially chosen to discourage students from wasting the advisor's time. It seemed an efficient way to ensure meetings went quickly; he certainly wouldn't mind running away entirely, scores be damned. Her printer suddenly roared to life and she smiled pleasantly up at him, seemingly unaware of his discomfort.

"Well, Jason, I have to say - I've never seen GED practice test scores quite like these." Her tone was almost unreadable; irritating for him, his Bat training clearly faltering under the weight of his anxiety.

He cleared his throat awkwardly; "you haven't, huh?"

She shook her head. "Never. Frankly, with reading comprehension and writing scores like these, I'm surprised you're not already on your way to a bachelors. From your transcripts I see you dropped out of high school in the tenth grade, but before that you were an exemplary student. May I ask why you left?"

It was a reasonable question, asked out of pure curiosity, but it made his stomach turn anyway. "Ah, … medical issues. I had to stop going to school entirely for a few years."

"Oh, you poor dear. I'm so sorry... Well, I'm quite pleased you decided to come in today. I've got your scores here…" she passed him the paper, hot off the printer. "Now, in order to pass the GED you'll need a score of 145 out of 200 in each subject. As you can see here, your reading, writing, and social studies scores are well above that. Your math and science scores do need a little improvement, but even so, they're quite close. You should be very proud of yourself, young man."

He was startled by the blatant praise; he wasn't a teen anymore, he should have been able to pass the test today. But the kind smile on her face bore no hint of mockery. The numbers on the page stared up at him:

Writing: 161

Reading Comprehension: 176

Social Studies: 152

Science: 132

Math: 125

"-so I'd like to recommend a few of our GED Preparation Courses for you…" She pulled another sheet of paper out of her files, and was marking a few things on it before she passed it to him.

Jason hesitantly took the course list from her, nodding slowly. "Well, … my job is a bit … unpredictable. I don't know if I can commit to a class schedule…"

"Not to worry, we offer online classes specifically for students with complicated schedules, and due dates are very flexible." She smiled brightly, putting a pamphlet on the desk in front of him.

He took it, slowly flipping through it. "Huh … I didn't think college teachers were so … relaxed."

She chuckled. "Maybe not everywhere, or in every program. But for our GED prep courses in particular, we're doing everything in our power to remove the barriers that kept people from their education the first time around. Just let the professor know what kind of schedule you're looking at, and they'll be happy to work with you. I would recommend signing up soon though; our GED prep courses fill up fast. In fact, if you'd like to sign up now, I can put you on the list and we'll get that ball rolling!"

He nodded slowly. Everything was happening so quickly, he was starting to feel a bit dizzy. She typed away at her computer again, smiling brightly.

"So, once you have your GED, what are your education goals?"

"… My what?" He frowned a bit.

"Well, surely with scores like these you must have a passion for literature, right? Do you want to go to college?"

"Oh …. Honestly, I hadn't thought that far … I just … don't want to be 'the guy who didn't graduate' anymore."

She nodded. "Well, maybe you should consider looking into an associates degree after this; it would be a good opportunity to find out what you'd like to focus on."

"… Yeah, maybe … I'll think about it."

She nodded, smiling warmly; "good. A mind is a terrible thing to waste, after all."

Jason nodded slowly. He had always wanted to go to college. But the life he lead wasn't exactly conducive to a set schedule like that, and he had long since given up on the idea. The advisor continued talking about the benefits of getting an associates degree, and the many virtues of Gotham University. Jason nodded along, but quickly stopped listening. It sounded a bit too much like a sales pitch, and college really wasn't on the table as long as he was Red Hood.

She passed him several pamphlets about the school and a folder for his test scores, told him to check his email for the registration information, and finally sent him on his way. Jason stepped out onto the quad, clutching the folder to his chest. Students were gathered in small groups, studying and chatting. A pair out in the grass were playing catch with a baseball. Jason looked around, taking a slow, deep breath. He could almost see himself here; getting back into the classroom, having intellectual conversations about literature, art, history, meeting up with his girl for lunch between classes. He chuckled softly, slowly making his way toward the parking lot.

A frisbee landed in front of him as he was walking. He bent over to pick it up, tossing it back to a small group. The cheers of "thanks man!" and "hey, nice throw!" filled his chest with a subtle warmth. He waved and continued on his way, surprised by how alive he felt. The campus buzzed with energy, even as he drew away from the crowds. As he tucked his folder into his bag he felt lighter somehow, free even. The present wasn't such a terrible place, and the future was actually something to hope for. He laughed as he started his bike, revving the engine excitedly as he flew down the road toward home.

Next ->

Divider by: @/saradika-graphics  Fanart in the header by: @/crowkip

Taglist (always open): @jawdropforkpop @krys0210 @snowy-violet @superthoughts @wordsfromshona @mystic60 @iwannabealocalcryptid @morstuavitamea-a @frosty--giants @arisa191 @prized-jules @phoenix666stuff @dinonuggysandhuggus @anuttellaa @whore-of-many-hot-men @cottage-worm @v1ckycheesue @roastyyytoastyyy @sarakmec @thestarcatcher7297 @stupidlyunhinged @mishkapi @mermaidgirl-11 @bunniboo0015 @bibibusinessman @iimichie @nekotaetae @sofiafantasies @casgh0st @fandom-trash0116 @viliwi @rochy2175 @anteroz @lou-diaries @devilslittlehelper @jason-todd-week

[bluesredhoodsideblog]

Day 4 Prompts: "No one's coming." | The Batarang Incident | Loss

Untitled Fic (won’t be posted on AO3 yet as I want to turn this into a full blown fic eventually!)

Characters: Jason Todd | Red Hood Dick Grayson | Nightwing Bruce Wayne | Batman (mentioned)

Word Count: just under 1.6k

Summary: basically a fic about if Dick found Jason right after the batarang incident! This is most of the first chapter with more to come down the line (I just wanted to have SOMETHING done for JTW)

@jason-todd-week

Contrary to semi-popular belief, Jason Peter Todd is not a dumbass. He’s not insane, either, although he’s become less sure about that recently. No, he’s instead some mix of chronically angry and desperate for someone to care about him; at least, according to therapists he can think about but will probably never talk to. 

God, him talking to a therapist, can you imagine? Any self respecting one would be terrified after hearing about his death, but this new incident would prove a whole realm of father issues that not even the most seasoned therapist would want to go anywhere near. 

It’s funny, Jason dryly mused as he tossed the remaining recognizable layers of his Red Hood gear into the flames behind him, really funny where your mind goes to when you’re sort-of dying. The day anyone connected to this godforsaken family gets therapy is the day the sun fucking explodes. 

Speaking of explosions; this explosion had turned the building to rubble, setting wood floor planks on fire and probably leaking all kinds of poisonous gasses into the air, knowing how bad Gotham’s building codes were. Jason vaguely mourned the loss of his helmet, no doubt crushed in the blast alongside the gun that he dropped when the batarang-

He swallowed, wincing intensely at the movement, and slowly moved away from the wreckage. 

He had slapped an old, shitty bandage over the gash in his throat, but he knew that the wound, when combined with his probably broken ribs and intense bruising, spelled potential danger to his life. 

Again, though, he wasn’t a dumbass: an injured Red Hood would face a lot more danger walking the streets of Gotham than some random should-be-dead civilian. As himself, he might get mugged or something, but as Red Hood? There wasn’t a single person in the criminal underworld who wouldn’t happily take the chance to finish him off. 

So off Jason went, limping towards his nearest safe house with no semblance of the Red Hood left on his person, desperately ignoring the symptoms of blood loss beginning to set in. 

Darkness creeped into the edges of his vision, and Jason stubbornly grit his teeth as his knees briefly weakened, nearly sending him collapsing onto the pavement. 

After everything he’d gone through - his childhood, dying, his time with the League, just to name a few - a singular fuckass batarang was not about to be the thing that did him in. 

Although, he would be lying if he said he hadn’t briefly considered just… staying on the ground. Letting the building come down around him, batarang laying next to him as he bled out. His dead body, with the evidence of exactly who killed him for good sitting next to him for them to find, once the DNA results Batman was undoubtedly running went through. If he wanted to truly fuck up the bat, forcing him to reckon with the fact that he had killed one of his sons would be a great way of doing it. 

At least, it would be if B ever really considered him a son. Which, considering how fast he was replaced, seemed pretty unlikely. 

Plus - and he would never willingly admit this to anyone - something childish and terrified flared up in him during that moment. A kid who never made it past fifteen, desperately screaming not again, please, not again, as his hands scrabbled against almost familiar concrete, the ticking of a bomb in the background sealing the irony of it all. 

He couldn’t do it again. 

So here he was, just a block away from the safe house and god, was it getting hard to take another step. 

Jason paused at the end of an alleyway, briefly rocking back and forth. He just- one more step. He just needed one more step and-

Darkness overcame him as he extended his leg, and he was only vaguely aware of the feeling of his body hitting concrete before slipping into unconsciousness. 

————————————————

Contrary to semi-popular belief, Dick Grayson is not a dumbass. He knows how to take care of himself! He can clean (ignore the current state of his apartment), he knows how to grocery shop (yes, his fridge is currently empty), and he can totally cook (sometimes). 

No, the reason he’s a mess right now is because he’s adjusting to living in Gotham again. Nothing more. 

Bruce never admits that he needs help with anything. And he didn’t exactly ask for Dick’s help this time around, but the vaguely repressed worry in B’s voice when he relayed the threats that the Red Hood had been leveling against Robin had Dick packing his bags in seconds. Blüdhaven needed him, but it would have to wait for a bit. If his younger brother figure was in danger (oh god, please, not again), then that came first above all else. 

Of course, that meant returning to an apartment that hadn’t been used in years (no way in hell was he staying at the manor again) and being faced with the pressing need to grocery shop. 

So Dick left his apartment after moving his (minimal) belongings in, walking to the nearest grocery store. 

Bruce would flip out if he knew that he was staying in Crime Alley, aka the territory of the very guy Dick came here to fight. But Crime Alley wasn’t just his enemy’s home base: it was where Jason had lived before B adopted him. Sue him if it still held a mildly special place in his heart. 

Besides, it wasn’t as if the Red Hood knew their identities!

Dick’s phone buzzed, and he quickly read the coded message from B through the cracked screen. Translation? The Red Hood knows our identities. 

Well, shit. 

Alright, so he’d have to be a little faster than expected getting his groceries. He’d like to not get his ass kicked in the middle of the produce aisle, thank you very much. 

He also slightly altered his route to get there; being roughly two blocks away from his apartment makes that easier, at least. No point taking the darkest shortcuts and walking by the shadiest alleyways if it meant increasing the potential risk of getting snatched by Gotham’s latest crime lord. 

Just one more alleyway to walk by. Just one more and he should be in the clear-

A painful whimper followed by the unmistakable thump of a body hitting concrete came from the alleyway up ahead. 

Dick briefly froze, mentally bemoaning his idiocy to jinx himself twice within just a few minutes before his body instinctively flipped into Nightwing mode. 

The thought that this could maybe be a trap had been considered, but almost immediately thrown away. The likelihood was definitely there, but he knew he couldn’t just walk away from somebody who needed help. 

As Dick rounded the corner, he was shocked at the sheer size of the guy who had collapsed. Definitely taller than Dick, built almost like B, and based on the blood slowly becoming obvious underneath him, he appeared to be suffering from some type of head or neck wound. 

Nightwing kneeled down to check his pulse (worryingly slow, but safe enough for now) before sticking his arms underneath the unconscious dude and flipping him (as gently as possible) onto his back. 

He looked at the guy's face to assess the injury and- it- no. This was- there couldn’t be a worse possible time for his hallucinations to be flaring up again. Because- 

Hallucinations had to be the only explanation for this. There’s no other way that he could be staring down at the older face of his dead baby brother. 

The guy was real. Dick could feel him breathing under his hands, and he had never been able to touch the hallucinations (regardless of how much he wanted to sometimes). Therefore, for some godforsaken reason, his brain had decided to layer an approximation of what Jason could’ve looked like if he survived over the face of a very real, definitely injured civilian. 

Someone had slit this guy’s throat. He’d clearly thrown a shitty bandage over it, but that wasn’t going to do much after a while. So- life threatening, definitely, but not imminently so and Dick could probably get him back to his apartment where he definitely has the medical supplies to treat this-

But why would he do that? This is a civilian, not his brother, he should call 911 or drag the guy to Leslie’s clinic. All of this waiting and hand-wringing was putting this random person into an increasingly more dangerous state. 

Yet despite that very logical thought process, Dick found himself frozen. Stranger things have happened to him and those around him; why shouldn’t someone just suddenly and randomly come back from the dead? He’s probably just feeding into the hallucinations at this point, but if he just checked…

Dick suddenly lashed out, briefly poking the person in his face. He watched intensely as the guy didn’t react and as… his face stayed exactly the same. The hallucination didn’t disperse, which meant- 

This might actually be Jason. Somehow. 

Dick screwed his eyes shut, attempting to slow his rapidly speeding-up breathing. 

Get him to the apartment and fix him up, he thought. You will have PLENTY of time to panic later. 

And with that, Dick slowly (because how did he get so big?) lifted maybe-Jason-ohmygod to his feet, slinging his arm around his shoulders as he made his way back to his apartment as fast as possible, the need for groceries long forgotten. 

[warrior-of-storms]

@jason-todd-week Day 1: Haunted

without the glitch effect + wip Jay + halluciJason ref