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My Art Fight 2025 Contributions!

Here's the two pieces I drew for Art Fight in the midst of my exams:

"Those Emerald Eyes" ◊ Heaven Othonos

For my aloe vera <3, @kentocrush

You can find their Art Fight Profile at: arfight.net/~cowboykento

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"A Rare Sight" ꒰ঌ Nari

For a stranger whose pieces are a mastery of soft shading and character design ✧

You can their Art Fight profile here: https://artfight.net/~sejiun

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Here's my Art Fight Profile: artfight.net/~Ra-Ra-Rainn

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My Secret Series Headcannons (because I've loved this series since I was a kid)

Cass is demiromantic/sexual. She thought something was wrong with her when she was a kid because everything on the movies and in books were talking about love, and she didn't really understand it. It's partially why she went Survival-Cass (and contributes to her canonical pick-me phase where anything remotely feminine is 'bad'). She eventually falls for Yo-Yoji though, after the two become good friends.

Yo-Yoji is bisexual. His gay awakening was falling for one of his bandmates. He absolutely tells everyone, okay? He's the embodiment of PRIDE. This man used to dye his hair rainbow on pride month before Max-Ernest convinced him to keep it ("Yeah but what about having rainbow all the time? It's not like you're only queer during June. How 'bout that?"). Though Yo-Yoji eventually goes back to dying his hair neon green and black. Yo-Yoji piercings. His parents aren't too happy, but Cass and Max-Ernest think they look great.

Yo-Yoji is absolutely a SoundCloud rapper. Also, his band takes off as a sick punk garage band. They eventually get around to doing tours or Alien's Rock. Yo-Yoji wears Alien's Rock merch in public, and shirts with his face on it, even if it's a little cringe.

Max-Ernst isn't gay, he's Achillean (male version of Sapphic). I absolutely think he'd spend therapy session after therapy session trying to logic down his attraction, but there would be some outliers in past experience that confuses him immensely ("I mean, I thought Ms. Mauvais was pretty, but I can't tell if it's because she's an attractive person or that I find her attractive..."), so to end the debate because his therapist is probably getting tired of him, he settles on Achillean. He's scared to tell Cass and Yo-Yoji, but they accept him with open arms (Yo-Yoji has no idea what it means at first, he just thinks Max-Ernest is part-Greek or something) (Yo-Yoji temporarily wanted to have something greek about him too so he isn't left out).

Owen is fluid in his gender, and sometimes goes by Elowen if he wants. Like, Owen prefers he/him, but other pronouns (even neos!), he's fine with. As long as Owen's being addressed with respect in mind, he's fine. Also, Owen absolutely dresses up for any and every occasion, regardless if it's for the Terces Society or not. Him and Yo-Yoji absolutely bond, and Owen drives Yo-Yoji to pride when Yo-Yoji's parents get too busy also his family isn't the most accepting.

Amber is a lesbian. Her gay awakening? The Skelton Sisters. Change my mind, I dare you (you can't).

Cass and Yo-Yoji are on and off dating. It always feels like the right thing but the wrong time. Maybe there isn't a right time.

The Secret Trio flinch every time they see someone wearing gloves, even if it makes sense with who they are. They always double-check the lunch food to make sure the gloved lunch ladies didn't put something into it. They skirt around construction/manufacturing workers. Max-Ernest can't seem to want to wear the white gloves that are a part of his magician costume.

The Secret Gang have code names for each other! It was groaned upon when max-Ernst brought it up, but Cass and Yo-Yoji eventually start vibing with it, especially Yo-Yoji. Cass is The Orb-acle (reference to the fact that Cassandra could tell the future, much like the Oracle, and the Sound Prism), Max-Ernest is Apollo (bad jokes, spiky hair like the rays of sun, is the god of truth "It's Max-Ernest like Max-Earnest, which basically means truth. How 'bout that?") and Yo-Yoji is Diyonysus (chill dude, chaos maker, is very cool, and has a perfect placement for a pun).

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Everything was silent for a long time.

A dog was barking from somewhere, and the chains that propped up Call's body rhythmically clacked against the wall with every swing.

It felt lightyears away to Alastair, who was standing frozen in his basement, unable to look away from his son.

Call, please get up.

A minute passed. Two minutes. Call hadn't moved. Alastair didn't have the heart to drop his gaze to Call's chest to see if he was breathing. Any minute now, Call's eyes would flutter open, and Alastair would tell him he's sorry, and that he loves him.

Three minutes. Four minutes. Kill the Child. That's all Alastair could think about. The chill of the caves, Sarah's body just as cold, her eyes that used to look back at Alastair with such love, now empty, staring at the sky. The moment he picked up her body, her knife clattered to the ground unfamiliar - Sarah never lost her grip, even when she was asleep. Kill the Child. Alastair thought it would be hard. But Call crumpled almost instantly. A couple of sparks, a curl of black smoke, and then nothing. It was almost anticlimactic.

Five minutes. Kill the Child - but Call wasn't "the child". He wasn't an it, or some nameless monster. Alastair had spent almost 13 years caring and loving his son, through sheer resilience and pain. Alastair didn't "kill the child" - Alastair killed Call. His one and only son.

Alastair took one jarring step forward. One step turned to two. Then three, then four, five - and he was running towards Call, uncuffing the boy's poor arms, letting the body finally hit the floor, arms sagging to the ground.

It was unnatural. To see a boy so full of life, wit and courage be nothing. Grey eyes that reminded Alastair of Constantine were to never move again.

Alastair's knees hit the ground. He tossed the Gauntlet outside, not caring about the searing pain, and pulled Call into an embrace. Alastair wasn't a hugger. And the one hug Call would ever get - he will never feel.

Call isn't alive. He isn't alive anymore. And it's because of me.

It was hours until Alastair staggered into the kitchen, looking just as dazed and as lost as he had felt. Call's half-drank cup of milk still sat on the counter. His clothes were strewn about on the ground, as childish drawings of pirates and astronauts decorated the walls, taped crudely.

He passed by Call's room. How many years did Call spend on his comic book collection? Growing it slowly but surely, till it took up two whole shelves of the bookshelf in his room? How many countless hours did Alastair, so short on money, spend trying to make figurines out of metal to gift on Call's birthday?

The Star Wars posters hung above the bed. A stuffed plushie of a mole rat. Papers strewn about the floor. A crumpled love letter on the ground from when Call was six, that he never had the heart to throw away.

Call was just a boy.

The the Enemy of Death, not the Monster of the Mage world.

Callum Hunt was just a boy.

↑༄△〇𖦹 ⋆ 𖦹〇△༄↑

Alastair turned himself into the Mages.

Call's body was covered in white silk. A couple Masters placed his body on an air elemental gently. Master Rufus watched from the corner of the suffocating basement, unable to stop a tear or two from rolling down his cheeks.

The funeral was quiet as a pin drop. Tamara couldn't convince her parents to let her go - not even when Aaron asked nicely. He's Alastair's kid. Stebbins took Tamara and Aaron in spite of the orders.

They wore their best clothes. The car ride was quiet.

Despite it being early fall, too early for snow, there was a small fresh sheet by the casket. Celia was wrecked with sobs, hugging her moms. She was the first to leave, face red and puffy.

Jasper stood in front of the dark casket awkwardly. His parents were waiting for him in the car. He was tearless, but silent. A million things he wanted to say, to clarify, now falling to dear ears. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Call. He left soon after.

Tamara and Aaron were the last ones to leave. They were there until the sun crept under the horizon, till the casket blended into the surrounding foliage.

They would never know of Call's secret. They would never see Call again. An apprentice group of three, dwindled down to two.

They turned, and walked back to the car. Crunches in the snow in sync, the sound of an engine revving, a car driving off, a hush.

And then nothing.

Kill The Child

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After

Jason Todd tried forgetting the memories.

Jason never went back after he died. It was too much. He rented an apartment, and took up a job, always trying to make it till the end of the day. That's what he lived for. Just to live till the end of the day.

Bruce Wayne lives in the memories.

Bruce doesn't talk about Jason, only vaguely hinting of his existence to the other Robins that came after. He's... he's sometimes in his own world. Maybe staring at a certain spot along the wall for too long, eyes glazed away. He's not as grounded as he used to be, though people take his quietness of his some more brooding. Bruce, at the very least, it a better father now. Maybe not as emotionally available as he used to be, but he's always one step behind you. trying to atone for his mistakes - emphasis on trying.

Dick Grayson passes the memories along.

Dick never got over it. Never got over Jason, of Bruce's reaction to it all. He harbored a lot of resentment towards Bruce for never telling him about Jason's death. Dick had to find out himself that his little brother was gone. Dick's a lot more protective now, and keeps people closer. He carries this presence that once you meet him, he'll never let you go. He's the one who told Tim what had happened. About Jason. He's the one that told Steph, and Cass, and Damian. He's the one to pass on the memory of it all, the tragedy, the blood that trails behind Robin's cloak. Dick, telling Jason's story, is the reason why the rest of the vigilantes don't carry as strong of a no-kill policy like Batman does.

Every year, on the day Jason died, every Batfamily member comes back home. To talk to each other, catch up. They reconnect. They leave multicolored roses on the grave of a boy they only knew through stories and pictures.

Dick hosts the meeting every year. Bruce is always busy.

...................................

Dick and Starfire/Kori get into an argument, a bad one. One of the worst arguments they had. Somehow, the topic of Jason comes up, and Dick, feeling the fresh wave of tears for the first time in a long time, tells Kori everything. He was such a beautiful boy, with so much light in him. Jason reminded Dick of himself, and to see Batman do almost nothing about Jason's death...

Kori wanted to help. So, she searched. She was gone for days. Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into a month.

It took one month for Kori to find Jason Todd, sitting in his apartment, baring almost no resemblance to the photos on his grave. Jason, god, Jason was always so stubborn. He would do anything to rid himself of what he once was... but Kori?

He let Kori in. He told her everything, and Kori listened.

Starfire may not have been who he expected to look for him. It almost hurt that of those who knew him, only the one that didn't... tried looking for him.

But knowing what Dick did, to keep his memory alive, to tell the rest...

...................................

Dick was in his house, unpacking a small vase he had bought. He moved on his own the moment he could. It was right after Jason's death, when he couldn't stand the sight of Bruce.

Kori had been gone for a month now, and Dick wanted to gift her something in apology for the words he had said - to be better than his dad in that department.

Dick heard a knock on his door, a bit confused. He hadn't expected any visitors. But he opened the door anyways.

It was a good surprise, seeing Kori.

It was an even greater surprise seeing Jason.

Jason stayed over for two days, catching up with Dick. And when he left again, Dick didn't push. Recovery was baby steps, after all.

...................................

Jason still stops by for Christmas and Thanksgiving, at Dick's house.

A new little tradition. Soon, Tim gets in on in, and then Damian and Steph and everyone else who had heard of his name but never seen him. Bruce didn't know, but even then... he didn't need to.

Jason had his own family now.

Bruce Wayne may still be living in the memories.

But Jason Todd decided to make new ones.

Maybe things would be alright this time.

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Mirrors

You know how it goes. Jason steps out of the Lazarus Pit. He becomes Red Hood. He hates Bruce. It's the same story. A thousand universes reflecting the same events.

Jason walked back to his apartment, throwing his costume on the floor. He takes of that suffocating helmet, sighing in relief as his forehead feels the cool air. With four fingers, he comes his bangs out of the way.... and freezes.

Bruce used to do that.

After patrol, when him and Batman got back to the Manor, Bruce would take off his helmet, and comb his hair out of his face with his fingers.

Jason gets annoyed, muttering about how it's just a coincidence, and how he couldn't be anything like his "father". But in the next couple weeks, Jason keeps noticing more and more. The way he throws his hands to up stretch while still sitting, the sound of his morning voice, even the way he liked his coffee.

Even... even the mirror started to betray him.

Jason always thought he would age, grow old with someone. But the lines under his eyes, the small curl of his cheekbone, even the grim line he set his mouth, they looked like Bruce. And for hours, he couldn't look away.

Jason stopped looking at mirrors after that. His eyes afar on any reflected surface. He tried getting his hair back to being red, but whatever dye went into the Lazarus Pit didn't come off. Even his body started betraying him. Rough hands, muscles, the same shoulder problems.

He was a walking copy. A twin. A mimic.

A paradox of himself.

Anytime he would accidently catch his reflection he would wince in pain before blinking it out. The last time he made a mistake like that, Jason broke the mirror, all the shards falling onto the counter, into the sink. His knuckles were red and bloodied, and even in the shards he saw fragments of the man he despised.

"What did I do? What did I do to deserve all this?" He yelled angrily, clutching the sides of the sink, fingers white.

The shards of glass did nothing, his fractured reflection gleaming off of their surfaces.

Inspired by "Like Him" - Tyler, The Creator

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Okay but remember young Jason. Remember young Jason's small cries in his mother's arms. Remember his little waddle by the circus tents, chasing a bright red ball. Remember his first words - a baby gibberish that sounds a lot like 'dahdah'. Remember his first nightmare, his first teddy bear. His first time winning a prize at the fair, holding it in his hands triumphantly as the last rays of the sun's light shine on his red hair. Remember his little doodles on paper, filled with spaceships and aliens and puppies.

Remember his first cartwheel, his first time on the bar. Remember his growth, chubby fat replaced with lithe limbs. Remember his first costume - the last piece in a matched set. Remember his first time in front of an audience, his first standing ovation. Remember his trophies, hung proudly on the shelf.

Remember the crocodile. Remember his family, no longer moving. Remember his first time in a mansion, his first time in a fancy car. Remember his second costume - the last piece in a duet.

Remember the lashes. Remember the laughter. Remember the bomb.

Remember his joy. Remember his anger. Remember his pain.

Remember young Jason.

Remember for him, so a part of that history lives on.

You must.

Because as Jason stepped out of the Lazarus Pit, he didn't.

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I made a little doodle of Jason Todd in my math class when I was failing to understand anything that was going on. Hope you guys like it!

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⋆☆⋆ Hello There ⋆☆⋆

Call me Jazzi. My pronouns are she/her, and I'm also on Wattpad and ao3 (@constantly_rainning). My favorite colors are orange, yellow, blue, and brown.

This is my first tumblr account! I made it to connect with a close friend of mine, and I'm sticking along until the world burns up in flames. Which, I guess, isn't that long away but let's pretend it is.

I like art, writing, reading, and watching game play of horror games like FNAF, Little Nightmares, Resident Evil, and At the Dead of Night (to name a few). I'm also super into Detroit Become Human, Superliminal, and Inscryption.

I'm super into books such as The School for Good and Evil, The Magisterium, The Secret Series, TSOA, & The Captive Prince.

I like listening to True Crime, and the podcasts I listen to are Sinister by Erika Bozeman, Predators I've Caught by Chris Hansen, and Cults by Spotify Studios. I also like Distractable and I Got Nothin' w/ Boze by Erika Bozeman, which aren't True Crime Podcasts but they're pretty entertaining, and they do a good job of not leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Apparently I'm intimidating. But don't be scared to reach out! I only bite on Tuesdays.

And uh... yeah. That's about all that's coming to mind. This post will definitely be edited later.

-Jazzi 🐻⭐