In Your Dick But Everyone Else Is Ducks Pic, I Noticed No Duke Duck, But I’m Just Very Curious As To

it takes a village

we did it!!!!! its technically just past midnight where i live but its still the 12th somewhere right (laughs nervously)

day seven of @jasontoddweek2025 - return - outsider POV - crime alley

jason todd & crime alley - threatened sexual assault (no assault occurs), threatened violence against children (no children are harmed) - 3826 words

No one is happy when Red Hood rolls into town.

He’s loud and flashy, he’s dumping heads at the police station and chasing Black Masks boys around. Just another asshole, mucking around in the mess of Crime Alley. It’s just another playground for men like him.

So people keep their heads down, prepare to weather the storm his ambitions bring.

———

Katherine is cursing her life and the subway and fucking professor fucking Morrisen when she carefully walks out of the station. The sun had long since set and her cheap, shitty apartment was a 20 minute long walk in the dark on a Friday night.

Fuck Elias Morrisen and his fucking essay, she thought, if I get stabbed because he wanted to bitch about my homework I’m going to kill him.

Katherine set her shoulders, slotted her keys between her knuckles and set off.

Head down, eyes forward, don’t look or react or stop. Just keep walking until you get where you’re going.

The muggy are was almost oppressive, hanging over her like a shroud as she hurried along. It was just early enough that the first round of rowdy drunks hadn’t been kicked out of bars yet, aside from a few catcalls she’d been ignored.

“What’re you doin’ out late honey?”

Shit. Katherine dared a glance, lurking down an alley were a group of men. As she watched one of them lit a smoke, the flare of the lighter threw the black and white coin emblem on his shirt into view. Two Face’s Halfpenny Boys, Katherine looked away, kept walking.

Mutters burst out behind her as she hurried away, “Hey!” It was the same voice, “I was talkin’ to ya bitch! Where you going so fast? Got some other John to get to?”

The men burst into laughter, she could hear them moving. Getting closer.

She grit her teeth, if there was- Was a store or something. A 7/11, maybe? She could hide out there, at least be somewhere with cameras. Fist clenched tightly around her keys, Katherine sped up - not quite jogging, hoping desperately for something. Why couldn’t she remember where the nearest store was? She’d been at the apartment for months.

“Got somewhere to be huh? Why don’t you wanna have a chat with us? We’re real nice right bo-“

The man behind her stopped abruptly as Katherine slammed into someone. Carefully she looked up, Big. She thought, the man was tall and broad - easily large enough to engulf her entirely. And he was wearing a featureless red helmet.

Red Hood. Fuck.

“H-Hey Hood,” The man called out, “You wanna hang with us?” His voice growing stronger as Hood stood, patiently maybe? The helmet hid his expressions, Katherine tried to force her breathing steady, hoping against hope she could get out of this. “We were gonna have some fun tonight.”

“You with these idiots?”

“W-What?”

“You with them?” Red Hood jerked his chin towards the men behind her, his fists clenched in his gloves, the leather creaking.

Resigned, Katherine shook her head, “No. I’m trying to get home.” The chances of Red Hood doing anything about the Halfpenny boys was low, but there had to of been at least six of them. At least if she went with Hood instead it’d only be him, “I can-“

Red Hood flowed past her, ducking around her smoothly without touching her, and punched the first man in the gut.

“Hey! What the fuc-“

Then he pulled out a handgun, shooting the downed man in the gut. Everyone froze.

“I don’t like it. When little fucks like you, bother nice girls just trying to get home.” Something about his helmet distorted his voice, turned it flat and dangerous. The Halfpenny boys had gone pale and their buddy on the ground was whimpering in pain. Hood pointed the gun at the downed mans head, “Now you can either pick up your trash and get the fuck outta Crime Alley, or I shoot this stupid fuck in the head and then start hunting the rest of you down. I’ll send you back to Two Face in pieces, divisions of two even, cause I’m a nice guy like that.”

“Y-You got it man. We’ll- We’ll go! We promise.” Stuttering apologies a couple of the guys crept forward, hauled their buddy up which made him scream in pain, and dragged him away. Maybe to a clinic, more likely to go bleed out in a gutter somewhere. Katherine let out a shaky breath as Red Hood turned back to her.

She didn’t know what he’d want from her, why he’d stepped in at all. Most people wouldn’t of, those men had been packing heat. He didn’t come any closer, just tucked the, still loaded, gun into the holster almost hidden by his jacket.

“Sorry about that.”

It would’ve been absurdly casual from anyone else, the helmet and distorter made it intimidating. “’S fine.” She said quickly, “Can I… Go?”

Hood nodded, body language open and casual, almost non-threatening. Which was wild to see from a guy who’d just (probably) mortally wounded someone and threatened another five.

“You get home safe miss.”

Miss. She thought dazed, A gangster just called me ‘miss.’

“Sure, uh, thanks Mr Hood. For the save.”

Before he could do anything else weird, or before he could reveal he’d been lulling her into a false sense of security and threaten to shoot her too. Katherine hurried away, her roommates were not going to believe her about this shit.

———

Alicia Montgomery had lived through the evolution of Park Row to Crime Alley, had seen the hookers and gangsters and dirty cops. The way all those fancy politicians had turned away from Park Row as if they would all stop existing if they kept their eyes closed. Well Alicia Montgomery kept her damn eyes open.

She’d walked these streets since she was a little girl, met her Peter here - fool of a man who fell and damn near broke his ankle in front of her. When she’d asked him if he was alright, he’d just stared at her, then told her he’d tripped falling for her. They’d skipped school to sit on a fire escape, just talking for hours. She’d loved that man every day of her damn life, married him and raised three beautiful children with him and buried him too young.

Park Row had done it’s damnedest to chew her up and spit her out, but Alicia was Gotham born and bred and she wasn’t an easy woman to push around. She’d seen the strange and the explainable and the frankly bizarre. But it was still something to look up from where she was sitting on her front stoop to see what’d scared her pigeons away, and see the newest in the line of thugs looking to rule Park Row across the street with some of his Red Hood gang members picking up trash.

For a long moment Alicia just blinked at them, but there they were, bold as brass and all. Red Hood in his stupid helmet with a black plastic bag and a bright yellow sharps container on his belt. Picking up trash.

Something, morbid curiosity maybe, made her slowly rise up. The birds she fed had flown off anyway and she’d been almost out of food for today anyway, it might not hurt, to take a closer look.

The streets and alleys of Park Row were always filled with trash, if any of those costumed idiots wanted to steal a garbage truck without it being noticed than they’d inevitably end up taking one of the few that still went to Park Row. Most people knew they either had to haul their trash to the dumpsters behind stores, which had a better chance of being picked up, or if you had a car, take it to the dump yourself. A lot of people chose to do neither and just dumped their trash wherever they liked.

A couple of Hood’s people stiffened as she approached, it was almost flattering, that they thought an old woman like her would be able to do anything to a man with Red Hood build. But well, you didn’t need to be strong to use a gun, she supposed.

A short woman with a burn scar twisting the skin of her jaw and neck narrowed her eyes, muttered something to Red Hood and he turned to her. His red helmet was smooth and featureless, no indication of any facial features and nothing to show that he could hear or see her.

“What are you doing?” A few of Hood’s people jerked when she spoke, at least three people dropped their hands to some sort of concealed weapon. Alicia kept her eyes on Hood’s helmet, waited to see how he’d react.

Hood raised a hand, motioned for the others to go. With a ripple of grumbling they spread out, snapping on gloves and shaking out garbage bags. The burned woman stayed close, stepping back to lean against a wall pretending to be absorbed in her phone. Alicia had no doubt that if she made any moves the woman didn’t like, she’d end up with a bullet in the head. There’d been a lot of gang leaders in Park Row, in Gotham as a whole, and none of them had ever done something like this, not even when they were pretending to be on the straight and narrow.

What was Red Hood up to?

“We’re cleaning up,” Red Hood said, his helmet turned his words strange and robotic, aesthetic or necessity? Alicia wondered. “This is the second block, we’ll haul all this shit to the dump. Get it a little cleaner for everyone.”

Alicia hummed, looked up at him in his fancy gear with his fancy helmet and his robot voice. “None of the gang leaders before have cared about the trash before,” She said, more statement than accusation. “What do you get outta cleaning up?”

Hood’s head tilted, weak sunlight making the smooth, glass like surface of his helmet glow, “I live here too ma'am.”

Simple, humble, ‘I live here too.’

Alicia was too Gotham to believe in faith, to trust anyone so easily. But there was something about this boy, and he had to be a boy her intuition screamed it to her, she could see why the burned lady was so protective. She smiled, reached out slowly to gently pat his muscled forearm,.

“Well then, gimme a minute to get into some working clothes and I’ll come help you young folk out.”

Hood jolted, “You don’t have to, we’ve got it handled. We can-“

“Young man.” Her voice was firm, “I do have to, after all,” She squeezed his wrist gently, “I live here too.”

Then she turned and hurried across the street, it could still be a scheme, a ploy of some kind. But for today the Red Hood was here, cleaning Park Row up in a way no gangster or vigilante or politician had bothered to do since she was a little girl. And she’d be damned if she didn’t lend a hand.

———

Ye-jun was late, his beloved daughter Ha-eun had woken up with an ear ache. Which meant she woke up screaming and crying inconsolably, she’d fought him with all her two-year-old might when he forced the drops into her ears. Even now, almost 40 minutes later, she was letting out soft hiccuping sobs into his chest as he rushed down the street to work.

Her daycare wouldn’t take her until she had a doctors note proving she wasn’t sick and even if they would’ve taken her, the daycare was on the other side of the Bowery. He’d be almost 3 hours late for work if he took her at this time.

“Appa,” Ha-eun whimpered as a car honked furiously, her little hand coming up to hover over her sore ear. “It’s loud.”

“I know baby,” He murmured, pressing a quick kiss to her hair as he waited for the light to change. “We’re almost at Daddy’s work, you can have a nap in the office okay?”

Ha-eun sighed deeply, sunk heavier into his arms. Not for the first time since he’d woken to a screaming toddler, Ye-jun missed Val. Also not for the first time, he cursed the thief that had decided the change from her register was unsatisfactory, and made Valerie pay for it with her life. Don’t think about it. He told himself firmly, Just focus on getting through the day. Ha-eun needs you.

“Sorry I’m late,” Ye-jun called out, cradling the back of Ha-eun’s head as he rushed into the small office at the ship yard.

“Gene!” Joel yelled happily, Ye-jun forced down a wince. Joel had hired him years ago and, after Val, had told him to bring Ha-eun to work whenever. It was worth having their names butchered to keep this job, a lot of people had it a lot worse than him. “How’s little Hay-yoon, huh?”

Joel roared with laughter, making Ha-eun start to whimper. Ye-jun needed Joel to leave, Ha-eun was already overstimulated. The last thing any of them needed was for her to throw a tantrum and scream the whole office down around their heads.

“Still got an ear ache,” Ye-jun winced with a fake laugh, bouncing her gently in his aching arms. “She’ll probably go down for a nap soon so I can get the arrivals all logged before she wakes up.”

“No rush, no rush.” Even attempting to be quiet Joel was uncomfortably loud, but Ye-jun appreciated the effort. “I’ll get outta your hair and let you handle all… that.”

Joel shot the clunky computer Ye-jun used for work an almost frightened look, technologically inclined, Joel Watson was not. And then finally, finally the office door closed behind him and it was just Ye-jun and Ha-eun and the old ceiling fan that clicked with every spin.

Ye-jun turned on the computer and then focused on getting Ha-eun set up while it loaded everything. From his duffel bag he pulled out some snacks, her water bottle, several colouring books and Chi-chi - her bright red Clifford the dog plushie.

Hidden behind his desk was a small bean bag and bookshelf, the top three shelves had Ye-jun’s work supplies. Folders of approved shipping accounts, meticulous notes of containers received and departure times and a copy of every law, mandate and advisory the Gotham City council had released regarding the ports for the last 8 years, ready to be referenced.

This job wasn’t glamorous, wasn’t exciting or even very challenging outside of the sheer volume of work he had to do, but it kept his daughter with a roof over her head and food in her belly and that was all he could bring himself to care about.

Hours later Ye-jun rubbed his aching eyes, so far he’d managed to avoid the Asian stereotype of needing glasses but the strain of squinting at ship numbers on a database was making him feel like he’d need them sooner rather than later.

Ha-eun was sleeping, worn out from playing and colouring, tucked into a the gap he’d made between the wall and an old filing cabinet. He’d brought a spare quilt and pillow from the apartment and Ha-eun delighted in making a little nest for herself and Chi-chi. He was just considering getting up for a stretch and checking on her when the office door slammed open, Ye-jun flinched back, staring at the broad figure in the doorway. Dark pants, brown leather jacket, and a bright. Red. Helmet.

“Red Hood…”

“And I don’t even need an introduction.”

The man’s voice was harsh, robotic; that featureless helmet tilted. Beneath it, he must of been looking around the room. Please, Ye-jun thought, Please Ha-eun stay asleep. Please, please, please don’t be noticed.

“What- What do you want?” His voice shook, Ye-jun kept himself stiff. He couldn’t look towards where Ha-eun was sleeping, had to hope Red Hood wouldn’t notice the bean bag.

“I need information on a shipment Eugene, and since our friend Mr Watson wasn’t very helpful for me, I’ve come to you.” Red Hood put a hand on his hip, showing off the holstered gun. “Think you can help me Eugene?”

Licking his lips, Ye-jun stuttered out, “Wh-What shipment are you…?”

“Some asshole looking to stir the pot shipped a fuck ton of fear toxin tainted drugs into Gotham from this ship yard, and I need to know who Eugene.”

“What?” Fear toxin filled drugs? Jesus, things were bad enough when Scarecrow got out. The thought of people high and driven out of their minds with fear made him shiver. “I- I have shipping manifests but. It’s not like they just put drugs on the damn things when they fill them out!”

In a swift, almost too fast to catch movement, Red Hood had the pistol aimed at his head. The words died in Ye-jun’s throat, Red Hood’s voice was a low growl when he spoke. “Someone in this stupid little shipping yard has the info I need, so you can either give me what you have… Or I take it.”

If he kills you, what will happen to Ha-eun? Ye-jun thought, Val was an orphan and Umma and Appa are on the other side of the fucking country. If you die, she’ll be alone.

Despite himself, despite knowing he shouldn’t, Ye-jun’s eyes darted to the hollow where Ha-eun was sleeping. Red Hood spun on his heel, stalked towards the file cabinets.

“Wait!” Ye-jun gasped, terror a living thing - clawing up his throat. “I can- I can show you my files. It’s on the computer!”

He flung himself forward, clipping the corner of the desk with his hip. The pain was faint, drowned under desperation. Red Hood hadn’t even twitched, gloved hand reaching for the filing cabinet as the other hand swung up to point the gun at him again. The top drawer of the cabinet was ripped open with a screech, Ye-jun stepped closer - ignoring the gun.

And Ha-eun lurched up from her nest, hair messy and eyes mostly closed.

“Appa,” She groaned, “Ear hurts.”

Red Hood froze, helmet tilted down to where Ha-eun was rubbing her face with her fists, one of Chi-chi’s ears clenched in her hand. “Please,” Ye-jun whispered, “Please, please don’t hurt her.”

Ha-eun looked up at Red Hood’s looming figure, squinted at his bright red helmet, looked down to squint at Chi-chi’s bright red fur. Held Chi-chi up.

“Chi-chi?”

“What.” Red Hood growled.

“Chi-chi.” Ha-eun said firmly, awkwardly climbing out of the blankets. Ye-jun snatched her up, tucking her into his side as she whined to get down, watching Red Hood carefully.

“I don’t know anything about any drugs,” He said quickly, “Check my computer and the logs, I just review footage and confirm arrivals and departures. I don’t know anything.”

Red Hood kept his helmet turned towards them, Ha-eun squirmed, grunting with the effort of trying to get out of his arms.

“Sit down,” Red Hood’s voice was still harsh and robotic but the knife edge of violence in his body language was gone. “I don’t hurt kids Eugene, I’ll find what I need and go.”

Slowly, Ye-jun backed up, sinking down into his desk chair again. He kept an eye on Red Hood, even as the man seemingly dismissed them and focused on a file he’d just pulled out.

“Appa,” Ha-eun said, voice rising into a whine as she tugged on her red ear, “Hurts.”

“I know baby,” He whispered, dragging over the bag, “I’ll give you your drops.”

Ha-eun lent into his chest with a huff, letting him stroke back her hair while he carefully squeezed out the medicated drops. On the other side of the room, Red Hood didn’t react to any of the noises, just dropped the file on top of the cabinet and pulled out another one. Ha-eun smacked Chi-chi into his chest, “Chi-chi too.”

“Is Chi-chi’s ear sore too?”

“Uh-huh,” Ha-eun nodded, kicking her legs, “Extra, extra sore.”

Under her watchful eyes, Ye-jun put the capped bottle of drops in Chi-chi’s ears, Ha-eun pulled the plush in close running her hands over it’s fur. Then she pointed at Red Hood, “Big Chi-chi too, Appa.”

He choked, lashing out to grab Ha-eun’s arm to pull it down before Red Hood noticed.

“Why,” Ye-jun tensed but Red Hood’s head was angled down, looking at Ha-eun, “Why am I Chi-chi too?”

“Cause you’re red.” She said it like it was obvious, brandishing Chi-chi to Red Hood’s helmet.

“Guess you’re right.”

The silence was almost… Awkward, as Red Hood blatantly stuffed the three folders into a bag he’d kept tucked close to his side. “It- The name on these files is Ye-jun,” He felt a small burst of surprise at the clear pronunciation, despite the robotic voice filter. “Is that-?”

“It’s my name,” Ye-jun said cautiously, “Joel just thinks it’s easier to call me Gene so…” He almost wanted to shrug, almost wanted to laugh. Why would a crime lord care about a small time ship yard admin worker having his name mispronounced?

Red Hood grunted, the sound turned strange by his voice filter, and shoved the filing cabinet drawer closed.

“Anyway,” Red Hood nodded at them both, stomping towards the door, “Thanks Ye-jun, sorry about-“ He waved a hand, gesturing at the office in general, “I believe you that you’re not involved with this, if you aren’t - you shouldn’t see me again. If you are,” Red Hood casually rested a hand on the holstered gun, “you will.”

With that the man stomped out the door, Ye-jun followed him to the door, less out of politeness and more to make sure he actually left. The entire afternoon felt insane, he wasn’t entirely sure why they hadn’t been killed. What kind of crime lord apologised for getting someone’s name wrong?

“Bye Chi-chi!” Ha-eun yelled, waving and flinging Chi-chi around as she did so. Red Hood hesitated and then, almost awkwardly, waved back before disappearing around a corner. Ye-jun slumped back against the door frame, weak kneed with relief.

“You’re an angel,” He whispered to Ha-eun, pressing kisses to her cheeks, “And Umma is definitely watching over you.”

Ha-eun giggled, pressed a big, slobbery kiss to his cheek and then beamed. “I like big Chi-chi, can he come tomorrow too?”

“Um, no. Sorry baby, b-big Chi-chi,” Ye-jun choked slightly at calling a fucking crime lord ‘big Chi-chi,’ “Is too busy to come tomorrow.”

“Oh.” She frowned, “Can I draw him a picture? For when he comes back?”

Ye-jun sighed, surrendered and said “Yeah baby, you can draw big Chi-chi a picture.”

Still alive, cradling his still alive daughter, Ye-jun went back to pack up his bag. Fuck work, they were going home.

Okay, so hear me out. There are species of animals that reject their offspring if they don’t “smell” right. Like something about the pheromones are off and thus the vibes are bad. You can’t be mine, you smell funny. Similarly, we know that hormones and neurochemical reactions play a large part in bonding between human babies and parents. Our brains are swimming in chemicals that have us looking at our squishy, decidedly odd-looking newborns and saying “it’s so cute, I wanna bite it.”

My dudes (gender neutral). My people. My fellow nerds. Superman initially rejecting his clone because he doesn’t smell right. The kid was in a soup of artificial, clone-making chemicals and he doesn’t smell like he should. But what the fuck is he supposed to smell like? Superman having no frame of reference for this crazy feeling, for this intense dislike of a person with his face, and struggling internally with it because he knows logically that this deep revulsion doesn’t make sense. Problem is, he physically can’t help it. Something about this kid makes his teeth itch and his fingers twitch.

Then the kid takes a shower and changes his clothes and oh. Why would I push him away? That’s my baby. Hate him? How could I hate my baby? My baby. My sweet, perfect, amazing angel baby. My baby. My baby. My baby. Mybabymybabymybabymybaby.

And it’s probably hilarious from the outside looking in, because Superman looked ready to light the kid on fire a minute ago and now he’s all gooey-eyed. No thoughts, just sappy smiles and burying his nose in the clone’s hair. He’s ready to pluck the moon from the sky and hang it on a string for his kid. It’s sweet and adorable.

It’s also completely, utterly terrifying. Seeing how quickly one of the strongest beings in the known universe fell victim to his own biology, how wildly the pendulum swung from one extreme to the other. Batman’s immediately planning a trip to the Fortress to gather intel on this reaction. How long does it last? Is it normal? Is it supposed to be like this? Does it have anything to do with the clone being a teenager and not a newborn? Would it be worse with a newborn? Does the League, does he need contingency plans for this?

And Superman—Clark recognizes the sudden shift, but can’t do a thing about it. He should be scared of how every concern in his mind gets swept away by this out-of-control hormonal response, but he doesn’t want to do a thing about it. He can’t help the smile plastered on his face when Kon—what a perfect name, a beautiful name for my baby, mybabymybabyMYbabymyBABYMYBABYMYBABYMYBABY—sighs contently in his sleep or scrunches his nose in disgust at new foods, new sensations.

Something in Clark’s eyes says “I don’t know what’s happening, help me,” but it quickly gets snuffed out by “I will flip this entire universe over if a single hair on my baby’s head is out of place.” And honestly? Yeah, it’s scary, but every parent he knows—Bruce included—totally gets it.

al Ghul banners for combating misinformation <3

Please reblog if you’re planning on using them!

I know Harvey pops a pro boner everytime Bruce gets that post orphan adoption maternity glow

the people are yearning for battinson/corensupes superbat (i am people)

batkids reactions to TikTok ban

Alfred: Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the life of somebody who has been like another member of our family. Somebody who lifted our spirits in times of need and provided advice in times of crisis. Our very own TikTok.

Steph, in a black veil: *weeping*

Tim: *hugs her*

Duke, wistfully: I can still hear its AI voice.

Barbara: Shh, it's okay.

Bruce: May I say a few words?

Alfred: Of course.

Bruce: I didn't know TikTok well, and that is a regret I will carry for the rest of my days. But the way my family interacted with it, it's like it became a Robin on its own. I may not have much to say, but I will always remember the one-of-a-kind way it told Reddit stories on top of Subway Surfers.

Jason, angry: It should've been me, damn it!

Bruce: On behalf of all Americans, I would like to send my condolences to the Europeans, whose feeds will be dry without us. I would also like to send our regards—and data—to China, who has been supporting us through this difficult time. In lieu of flowers, please sign up for RedNote.

Cass, nodding: Anything but Meta.

Dick: That's right. We'll figure it out together.

Kate: *bursts in*

Kate: We have a situation.

Dick: What's up?

Kate: TikTok's back.

Steph: *screams*

Tim: Don't mind her. It's always a shock to the widows. What happened, Kate?

Kate: Lazarus Pit? Flashpoint? Who knows. The point is, TikTok is back.

Dick: That's fantastic!

Kate: I wouldn't celebrate so fast. It's back, but it's different.

Bruce: What do you mean?

Kate: We have to proceed with caution. TikTok is in its Red Hood era and the League of Assassins just scooped it up.

Bruce: You heard her. To the Batcave!

As a artist

Ik Damian be crashing tf out

Damian:*muffled screaming from upstairs*

Duke: what the fuck was that..

Steph: oh thats just Damian in his art studio

Duke: isn't art supposed to be relaxing??..

Steph: 🤷🏼‍♀️

Damian: *yelling* I FUCKING HATE COLOR THEORY *window smashes*

if we’ve been mutuals for long enough i don’t even care what you post anymore. if one of my mutuals of two years suddenly gets really into competitive caber toss i just accept zenlike that half my dash is going to be gifsets of burly men hefting logs forever now. i adapt to all online conditions like an animal with high toxicity tolerance