covertpartyhat
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All my wisdom teeth grew back, and all I got was this family by Desconhecida
Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types
07 Feb 2026
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Summary
Jason's wisdom teeth grew back after the Lazarus Pit. Annoying, but fixable with a quick trip to the oral surgeon.
Running into Bruce and Tim at said oral surgeon's office? Less fixable.
Jason is not mentally prepared for this confrontation. Not now. Not when he tortured the replacement only two months ago. Not when Batman chose Joker instead of him.
Not when they see him in the waiting room and look at him like he's a bomb waiting to explode.But Jason's a lot more honest when he's high.
And Bruce decides he's taking the very-hostile-but-also-very-high Jason back home with him and a very sad-because-he's-confused-by-the-drugs Tim.
What follows is post-anesthesia chaos, involuntary truth-tellingSeries
- Part 6 of The one-shots inside my head
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Bookmarked by covertpartyhat
29 Jun 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
A few moments passed. The world tilted pleasantly. Jason stared at the ceiling tiles, which were definitely moving now in interesting patterns, swirling and reforming. He could see faces in them. That one looked like Alfred. That one looked like—like…
"Bruce?"
Jason found Bruce’s face again… he was right here.
"Yes, Jason?"
"Am I dead?"
The nurse laughed, a bright sound. Bruce didn't. His face went very still, and Jason's drug-soaked brain registered that he'd said something wrong but couldn't quite figure out what.
"No, Jay," Bruce said, and his voice was so carefully, carefully controlled. "You didn't die. You got your wisdom teeth removed."
That didn't sound right. Jason frowned, trying to piece together reality through the fog. The memories were slippery, sliding away when he tried to grab them. "No... but I did die? Or am I still dead?"
He looked down at his hands, turning them over slowly. The motion was fascinating. "I have hands. Do dead people have hands?"
The nurse started explaining something to Bruce about confusion and anesthesia being normal, but Bruce looked wrong. Pale. Tight around the eyes, white at the corners of his mouth. Pain written in the set of his shoulders.
Jason remembered suddenly—a flash of clarity through the drugs like lightning through clouds—and tried to fix it. Had to fix it. Bruce looked like he was hurting.
"No, I'm not dead anymore." The words felt important. "B, I remember now. I had to break free from my coffin like a zombie. I punched through the wood and the dirt and everything."
He made punching motions that were more like gentle waves through syrup. Bruce's face was doing that thing again, the horrified thing, eyes going wide and dark. That wasn’t what Jason wanted to happen, now Bruce looks worse than before.
The nurse had stopped writing on her clipboard, “Well, I’ll excuse myself for a bit to check in on Mr. Drake. He should be waking up soon.”
Jason tried to think hard, how to make Bruce stop making that face, oh right!
"No, Bruce, it's okay now. All my fingernails grew back—see?" Jason held up his hands, wiggling his fingers in Bruce's face. Bruce flinched back slightly. "They fell off in the coffin when I was getting out, but then grew back. Then the green goop water fixed me. The green water fixed everything. Even my teeth! That's why they grew back. It was the green water."
Bruce stood abruptly, the plastic chair scraping against linoleum. He moved closer to Jason, close enough that Jason could see every detail of his face—he looked different than before… before what? Jason’s thoughts were confused.
"The... green water?" Bruce repeated, his voice very quiet, very controlled. Too controlled.
"Yeah! In the—the—" Jason's face scrunched up, trying to remember. "The big bathtub. In the desert. With Ra's. You know Ra's, right Bruce? Kinda dramatic. Lots of swords."
Bruce was staring at him now, really staring, and Jason's drug-fogged brain registered that something was happening, something important. Bruce leaned in closer, so close Jason could see his own reflection in Bruce's eyes.
"Jason," Bruce said slowly, carefully, like he was testing the words. "Your eyes..."
"Mmm?" Jason blinked up at him, trying to focus.
"They're green."
Jason wasn't sure what Bruce was trying to get at.
"I got good eyes. Pretty eyes. Dick said so once." Jason assured him. That was important.
"No, Jason. They're—" Bruce's hand came up like he was going to touch Jason's face, then stopped, hovering. "The Lazarus Pit. You're talking about the Lazarus Pit."
Two neurons made a connection in the fog.
"That's what it's called! Lazarus! Did you know I came back from the dead, Bruce?" He said it with the excitement of sharing interesting news. Fun facts. "And the pit made my teeth grow back. Who knew!"
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Conversations overheard through the batkid com lines: by orphan_account
Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types
20 Sep 2025
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File name: Oracle_system_recording:_BATCOMMUNICATIONS_06/22/24_22:32PM
Playing audio...
Jason's laughter has turned into breathless, silent cries. Damian barrels on, seemingly unbothered by his state.
"-And during all this I'm trying to subtly switch back to using people's actual names; except it fucking backfired because people just assumed I was calling Richard 'Richard' because we had that special parental mentor bond, and Tim had pissed off to- whatever he was doing in the desert for six months- getting a hysterectomy or whatever the fuck happened-"
"Hysterectomy-" Jason repeats, shrill. "He lost a spleen, Dames."
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Bookmarked by covertpartyhat
13 May 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
Damian now laughs loudly. "And I did- I did appreciate you going along with it, because back when this happened I panicked, and I just started calling Tim 'Drake' because I was too embarrassed to ask him for his first name, and then by the time I heard somebody else call him Tim in passing, everybody had just assumed this was a thing I did because of my upbringing or whatever, and I was too socially awkward to clear it up and switch back, so I just had to stick to Drake."
Jason wheezes again. "So like- was this why- what about calling Dick 'Grayson'? 'Cause you call him Richard now; you managed to get out of that one."
"Well at first I just went along with the surname thing out of awkwardness, but then I'd gone too deep and I had no way out," There's a slight shifting sound, as if Damian is moving to accentuate his words, "AND THEN- and then Batman fucking died-" Jason wheezes again. "And I went from being raised by the parkour version of the dark lord to being gentle-parented by fucking Nightwing,"
"Holy- holy shit," Jason weeps weakly.
Damian continues pointedly, "Do you know what it's like to go from-" He puts on a gruff voice. "'Damian we don't fucking kill, give me the katana or I'll put you in Arkham', to-" Again, he changes his voice to a much sweeter, high pitched tone. "'Oh hey Dames, obviously I can't stop you from killing but I really would appreciate it if we discussed all our options and came to a mature decision together on what's best in this scenario',"
Jason's laughter has turned into breathless, silent cries. Damian barrels on, seemingly unbothered by his state.
"-And during all this I'm trying to subtly switch back to using people's actual names; except it fucking backfired because people just assumed I was calling Richard 'Richard' because we had that special parental mentor bond, and Tim had pissed off to- whatever he was doing in the desert for six months- getting a hysterectomy or whatever the fuck happened-"
"Hysterectomy-" Jason repeats, shrill. "He lost a spleen, Dames."
"Well whatever happened he wasn't around for me to shift to calling him Tim!" Damian complains. "And then when he did come back it was with father and everything went back to square one, except this time I was stuck calling one brother Richard and the other Drake!"
"And is this where I came in?" Jason guesses.
"I FELT BAD!" Damian exclaims instantly. "I'd already taken Robin from the guy, I didn't want him to feel like he was less of a brother to me than Richard on top of all that. I had to demote you to being 'Todd' so that he wouldn't feel alone."
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“The Red Hood has been good for Gotham,” Robin continued. “Crime in Park Row decreased by sixty one percent almost as soon as you showed up, and that’s even taking into account all the crime you commit. Drug overdoses have decreased by twenty two percent in adults and seventy nine percent in minors. Homeless minors are ninety two percent less likely to—”
“Kid,” Jason interrupted. “Enough statistics. What the hell is this about?”
Robin slowly lowered the tablet with his powerpoint presentation and looked up at Red Hood.
“You care about Gotham,” Robin summarised. “Gotham needs Batman. Batman is missing and so is Nightwing. We need you to fill in for Batman.”
“You want me to cover Batman’s patrols?” Jason clarified.
“No,” Robin said. “I want you to be Batman.”
Jason bluescreened.
(Or: Batman and Nightwing mysteriously disappear before Red Hood has even started antagonising them, Robin is desperate, Gotham needs Batman, and Red Hood is Batman-Shaped.)
Series
- Part 1 of The Right Substitution is Key
- Part 3 of Unhinged and Unrelated Jason Todd Content
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- 34,416
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Bookmarked by covertpartyhat
18 Oct 2025
Bookmarker's Notes
The important thing here was that Jason was so, so bored.
“…do you agree, Batman?” Superman finished.
Jason gave a perfect imitation of Bruce’s affirmative grunt. “Keep us updated,” he said gruffly.
“Just like you keep us updated on what you’ve been up to,” Green Lantern muttered under his breath.
Everyone heard it, so Jason sent the Batglare his way, even though he was trying not to laugh.
“Err, yes,” Superman said awkwardly. “Do you have anything to add about your recent absences, Batman?”
“No.”
Jason cackled internally at everyone’s annoyed looks, but Jason was merely answering how Bruce would have.
“At least when Green Arrow skips meetings, he has the decency to make up an excuse,” Green Lantern said, giving up all pretences of not trying to start shit.
“I don’t answer to you, Jordan. The events occupying me in Gotham are my business.”
Jason was starting to see why Bruce liked being a dick to Green Lantern. It was kind of fun.
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The Guild of Gamers: The Tinker by The_Dark_Wolf_Shiro
Fandoms: Parahumans Series - Wildbow
24 Mar 2024
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Why would you think a shut-in would change his ways, just because he got superpowers? I’m happy right here in my room.
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Who did I piss off to end up as The Black Queen? by kurenohikari
Fandoms: House of the Dragon (TV), Game of Thrones (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
31 Dec 2025
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Summary
"Is this some kind of joke?" I whispered in shock, my voice trembling as I stared at the reflection in the ornate mirror before me. Well, her mirror. The polished silver showed a face I knew all too well—just not my own. Pale skin, a cascade of silver-gold hair, and violet eyes that could only belong to one person.
"Who the hell did I piss off to become her? The Black Queen?" My words were almost a growl as I gripped the edges of the vanity, the cold metal biting into my fingers.
That's right. One moment, I was just me, heading home after another long day, and the next... a car came out of nowhere. I don’t even remember the impact, not really. It was too fast. No flashes of light, no angelic choirs—just darkness. And then I was here.
The next thing I knew, a maid was shaking me awake, her voice trembling with reverence as she called me Princess Rhaenyra.
Yeah. That Rhaenyra. The Black Queen herself. The one and only Maegor with tits.
Series
- Part 3 of I am Team Black, are you even surprised?
- Part 1 of Who did I piss off?
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Bookmarked by covertpartyhat
03 May 2025
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Bookmarker's Notes
Winterfell was too quiet for the chaos Daemon had just unleashed. I could still hear the echo of his voice—loud, booming, and Gods-damned proud—as he declared himself the proudest grandsire in the realm while sitting atop a half-wild Northern horse, as if he hadn’t just crash-landed his dragon in the middle of my life. Again.
I wanted to scream. Or laugh. Or possibly throw myself into the snow and let the Gods take me. Preferably the Old Gods, since the Seven clearly weren’t doing me any favors.
Instead, I sat there, clutching my babies—my poor, unsuspecting babies—and stared at Daemon like he’d lost his mind. Which, let’s be honest, he probably had years ago.
“You rode Caraxes. Here. To Winterfell.” My voice was steady. My pulse was not. “Without stopping at King’s Landing. Even after being summoned by the king. Without waiting for a raven. Without—oh, I don’t know—thinking about how that might look?”
Daemon, being Daemon, only grinned wider and with his annoyingly confident way, he strode forward, arms outstretched like he actually thought I might hug him. I wanted to smack him instead.
“It’s called making an entrance, niece,” he said, as if that explained everything. “And look at them!” He pointed at my twins—my sweet, oblivious boys—like they were treasures he’d uncovered in a hoard. “You can’t expect me to wait another day to meet the future of House Stark. I have rights!”
“Rights?” My voice cracked. “What rights? Daemon, you don’t even have common sense, let alone rights!”
But before I could build up to a proper rant, he leaned in, peering down at Cregan and Jacaerys with an expression so ridiculously soft it made me pause. Then—then—he cooed. Cooed.
The Rogue Prince. The rider of the Blood Wyrm. The man who defied the realm and king without breaking a sweat—was cooing.
Over my babies.
Lysa and Benjen just stood there, completely unbothered by the fact that Daemon Targaryen had essentially declared himself their in-law and was now bonding with their grandsons like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“He’s got Rickon’s eyes,” Daemon said, tapping Cregan’s with one calloused finger. “And Jacaerys? He’s got the Targaryen chin.”
I wanted to cover my face with my hands, but unfortunately, they were occupied at the moment. “You’re going to get me killed,” I muttered. “Or exiled—as punishment for your antics.”
Daemon had the audacity to smirk. “Who’s going to punish you? Viserys? He’s too busy celebrating his grandsons and figuring out how to deal with my Unsullied.”
I froze. “Your what?”
“Oh,” Daemon said breezily, rocking back on his heels. “Did I forget to mention the army I picked up in the Stepstones? The Unsullied. Sworn to House Targaryen, loyal to the death, very fond of burning slavers alive. They are residing at Dragonstone at the moment.”
I stared at him, my brain short-circuiting. “Daemon. You cannot just collect armies like stray dogs.”
“Why not? It was your idea to save them after all. And you’re collecting fleets!”
“I didn’t collect anything!”
“Tell that to the Ironborn building ships in your woods.”
I wanted to die. Or kill him. Or possibly both.
“Speaking of fleets,” Daemon continued, completely ignoring my internal breakdown, “I saw the shipyards on my way in. They’re impressive. And smart. If you’re going to secure trade routes and defend the North, you’ll need more than the Vale and Driftmark’s ships. Dependance on anyone or anything is bad. This way, you’ll be able to stand on your own.”
For a moment, I almost forgave him. Almost. Because despite his complete lack of subtlety, the man was clever when it counted.
But then he ruined it. Again.
“And it’ll keep the Ironborn happy. They’re already carving out a niche for themselves, mending bonds with the North—just like you planned.”
I blinked. “What plan?”
Daemon grinned, sharp and dangerous. “You didn’t plan this? Rhaenyra Targaryen, the Queen of Light, didn’t see this coming?”
“What did you just call me?!” I hissed, cheeks burning.
He raised his brows. “What, you don’t like the title? The whole army seemed pretty taken with it during the celebration for the twins. I am pretty sure the court will love it as well. And let’s be honest, it’s better than ‘Realm’s Delight.’ You’re not exactly a blushing maiden anymore.”
“Daemon—”
“It suits you,” he said simply, cutting me off. Then his smirk widened, it was all teeth, blood, and mischief. “You light the way.”