nu-so

[nu-so]

I keep searching up Jacob and Bruce in your ACC it’s so good their dynamic and everything you said about them is so good, I just wonder do you have any ANGSTY headcanons and maybe put the batkids knowing a thing or two about his past!, oh and I would love to know how Cassandra would feel knowing her father went through something similar to her as a child, thinking about how she was saved and he wasn’t

By god, do they hate this man. A hate you can feel to the marrow, to the beat in your chest, quiet and pulsing. Especially when Jacob’s being Jacob to Bruce.

“Which one’s yours?”

Bruce, tight-jawed, voice naturally gentle, rainy, like sad songs from of a bass guitarist, snarls like a wolf with blood on it’s teeth. “They’re all mine.”

Cass doesn't know how the hell Jacob rolls his eyes at that— that tone.

She’s been hit by bullets less deadly than Bruce’s voice, right now, and she feels Jason tense to her right.

Batman couldn't sound more dangerous.

“Which one’s really yours?” Jacob’s eye moves to Tim, cutting, like seizing up a lamb before driving the knife home. “Can’t be you. Too smart.”

Then Dick, and Jason, both stiff as steel and tight-lipped, with a restrained they wouldn't have if Bruce didn't beg them to. “Or you. Too much blood.”

He thinks it’s Cass. Everyone always does.

Tim takes a slow, self-soothing breath, hiding Damian just a bit deeper behind him. It’s not deep enough. Damian snaps his teeth, all venom, all Talia.

Jacob’s eyebrows raise to his hairline, impressed, not really proud, giving Bruce a look that’s half approval, half knowingness.

“You should try getting another one. Worked with your aunt.”

When Bruce gave them the “don’t punch my uncle, please” speech, he sadly forgot to count himself in.

[nu-so]

Time travel AU where Flash accidentally resets the timeline by moonwalking.

Moonrunning? Moonjogging? He hasn’t decided yet.

All he knows is this; When they figure out how to retrieve the Bat and his birds from ‘94 Gotham, his ass is grass.

—-

Bruce breaths Gotham in. It tastes like stale piss, expired cigars, and sinful intentions.

Tim is trying to build a Doctor Who time machine out of a payphone.

It’s held together by sticky gum and spite. The profanities scribbled on the glass are so strong Jason blushes.

Dick, ever so tortured, looks like a war vet who lost blinking privileges. “I’m pretty sure I just saw someone throw a body in a dumpster.”

Steph’s attention gravitates to a pair of rats robbing a cat for a can of tuna. Duke refuses to engage with this foolery, frankly.

“We don’t even exist yet. How does that work. How do you just exist one moment, and then you don’t. Only in Gotham, dude.”

Jason snorts. “You want the funny answer, or the real one, twinkle toes?”

Damian, for a lack of dignified description, is cranky.

He was supposed to watch animal planet with Batcow and Jon. It’s past his bedtime. Bruce gently patting his back is NOT adequate compensation.

He’s about to tell him, don’t worry, baba is going to fix it, but—

Bruce’s world, momentarily, incapsulates two figures bickering in front of a restaurant.

Not hateful. Intimate and knowing and intense, but not hateful.

Thomas. Nursing a cigarette with a rapidly declining lifespan, and Martha, looking like she told Gotham to chew glass and get a better wardrobe.

Bruce? Bruce carried his 8 year old corpse under his ribs for 30 something years, and it’s the first time he felt it move.

He doesn’t think. Not really. He just walks. Stares.

“You good, kid? You look like if Edgar Allen Poe fought a raccoon and died.”

Bruce’s thinking capacity is reduced to zero.

He doesn’t know if it’s Dick or Jason who cursed behind him. Just that he crumbled in Thomas’ arms and wailed.

[nu-so]

I just keep thinking about how mentally damaged Bruce is after leaving Jacob I just know he left with no self esteem left in him, I wonder how that’ll effect his future as a father and how the kids will react to it(sorry but I’m a sucker for Bruce angst)

God — me too. Literally writing tiny Bruce and wailing. I didn’t even get to the training part and I’m sobbing.

Because Battinson is all Kevlar, voice soft like a sad piano, broken fists that crack and shatter and protrude skin, but never quite lower.

And beneath all that, there’s a gentleness that defies Gotham, everyday, and gets punished for it. And it worries the batkids to hell and back.

I keep thinking of a scene where they watch Jacob and Bruce train. And it’s not playful. It’s not filled with banter, affectionate insults and laughter that leaves you lightheaded.

Tim saw Bruce fighting to survive before, and it’s not as bad as this.

It’s not the first time he saw brutality from his father, but it’s the first time he wants to look away.

“You fought an angry freak in an oversized trenchcoat,” Jacob’s colder than Lazarus water and it makes Jason’s skin bristle. “And you almost lost?”

Bruce is kneeling down, blood on a gushing lip. Cass assesses his injury with a quick, worried eye, — not concussed, not yet, that’s good. Mild damage to lung, gaze still focused.

She’s worried about his hands. Three fingers bent in awkward, warped angles, not broken, but harmed with the intent to LAST.

A part of her wants to cradle her dad and hold him. Another part wants to see how many times she can make Jacob bleed.

Jacob is painfully unimpressed. “Get up and try again.”

“I’m sure he would,” Dick is all snarl and no friendliness, nothing to his voice but teeth and a seriously unregulated protective streak, “If you didn’t break his fucking hand.”

He looks like Martha, for a moment. Jacob decides not to comment on it.

“His leg isn’t broken, is it?”

That’s it.

Surprisingly, it’s Cass who snaps first, marching up, fists itching with a father’s violence, heart breaking like a daughter, and Bruce—

Bruce stops her.

Arm extended, a barrier he knows Cass won’t break just for Jacob. “I’m fine,” Bruce pants, blood rushing past his lips in a way that has all of them shake. “I’m fine, Princess.”

Because this?

This is Jacob being nice.

[nu-so]

They’re fighting over custody 😔

[nu-so]

This idea just popped in my head so not super elaborate. But let’s have the Batfam out apprehending a rogue magic user when Nightwing gets de-aged to when he was in his first few months as Robin. And they’re all expecting a sweet little sunshine kid, a smaller version of how their brother currently acts.

Instead, they see the itsy bitsiest little kid imaginable in the original Robin uniform, and they’re all instantly so mad at Bruce for ever letting Dick go out and fight when he was literally a tiny little child. He looks like a strong wind will blow him over.

But then they see him in action and they realize oh no, their brother was actually a little monster. He actually growls at them at one point. They get back to the batcave and they see him just become an animal. He bites Damian’s arm so hard when he hears someone call Damian Robin, then screams and yells about how he’s the only Robin.

Then he tells off Bruce with the intensity of a pissed off teenager, except he’s not even four feet tall and he’s standing on a table so he can shout in Batman’s face. And Bruce just looks so exhausted.

“I’m in charge here,” Bruce starts to tell him, but Dick just puts his hands on his hips and huffs.

“It’s cute you think so,” he says in a snotty voice.

“Alright, time for bed,” Bruce says quickly, because he remembers very well how things worked back when Dick really was eight and a snot nosed little menace. And he knows all of Dick’s tells, and he can see that he’s getting overwhelmed and upset and it’s going to soon turn into a total meltdown.

“No!” Dick argues, but Bruce has already picked him up, and he’s flailing and biting Bruce’s arm. “Pumme down! You’re not my dad, put me down, you’re not my daddy!”

He’s screaming and sobbing before they’re even halfway up the stairs. It’s the tantrum of the century, and it’s making Jason’s ears ring.

“What the fuck,” Jason gasps once the door leading upstairs closes, “was that?”

“Was Dick possessed or something?” Stephanie asks, rubbing at her ears.

“I can’t believe he bit me,” Damian mumbles, watching as Alfred cleans the very detailed bite mark on his arm. Tim snorts from where he’s watching.

“I think you’re all forgetting a very crucial detail,” Alfred tells them all, his voice very patient but strained, “that Master Richard came into Master Bruce’s care during a very traumatic period in his life. While his behavior might shock you, I assure you this was all quite normal compared to when he was actually eight years old.”

And it’s true. Because they do all often forget that the only reason Dick came to live with Bruce was because he’d just watched his parents get murdered and fall to their deaths in front of him. Most of them don’t even know about the couple months he spent in juvie while Bruce fought to get custody of him.

So when they go upstairs and hear Dick still screaming at Bruce, they try to have a little more empathy. Especially when they hear him start sobbing I want my mommy over and over again, and they have to listen as Bruce whispers I know, I’m sorry, I’m here to try and soothe him.

They try to be patient when he gets so angry the next day that he screams and flings Zitka across the room to hit one of them in the head, only to start sobbing when he realizes a couple stitches popped on the leg he held to throw her and now the stuffing is coming out, and they try to calm him down while looking for Alfred to help stitch her back together.

They try not to get frustrated when he’s yelling at them, only to fumble over his words in the middle of his tirade because he can’t remember the words in English, and now he’s upset and tugging at his hair and hitting his head while they try desperately to hold his wrists and make him stop, to help him find the words he was looking for, but he’s speaking like three different languages at once and no one can follow and it just makes Dick so much more frustrated until he runs away to hide in his room.

They try not to get annoyed when he’s in the batcave and actually beating them when they spar (because he’s fighting way dirtier than he ever would if he was his normal age), only to have him taunt them and stick his tongue out at them.

They try to understand how the little brat that was just screaming in Bruce’s face is now clinging to his leg, sitting on his foot, and begging Bruce to let him sleep in his bed tonight. You have to keep the monsters out, he tells Bruce, and they all see the way that makes Bruce melt, makes him do anything Dick asks because somehow this menace has Bruce wrapped around his little finger.

They watch Dick swing from a chandelier one day, looking down and calling everyone some very colorful names in all sorts of languages, but especially Bruce. Then he’ll hop down and pretend like nothing happened, instead clinging to Bruce and making him carry him around all day long, acting as if he’ll be burned if his feet to touch the floor.

He goes from wild to sweet in the blink of an eye, and it’s a total mind fuck.

Then he turns back to normal and acts as if none of that was even out of the ordinary.

[nu-so]

I want a season 1 yj fic where no one on the team knows who Batman and Robin are behind the masks. Wally is friends with Robin, but he only knows him as Robin, and he’s never seen him without the mask or without his sunglasses.

And Dick thinks they’re all friends. Sure, they don’t know his name or half of his life, but they know him. He thinks of them as some of his best friends. He doesn’t actually have a whole lot of friends. He has Barbara, but she doesn’t know about Robin. And he has Bette, but she’s his cousin, so she doesn’t really count.

So when he walks into the lounge area in Mount Justice one day and hears most of the team talking shit about Dick Grayson, who was just shown on TV with Bruce Wayne because there was a big charity gala last night, he’s trying so hard not to get upset. Because they’re making fun of him. They’re talking shit about him. They don’t even know Dick Grayson, but they’re saying such mean things about him.

“I’ve seen him around school, he’s such a snob,” Artemis complains. “His hair is always gelled so obnoxiously and his uniform is always perfect, and,” she snorts, “he’s captain of the mathletes. What a dork.”

Alfred insists on his uniform always being perfectly ironed and his shirt being tucked in. He gets the longest lectures whenever he gets a detention or a pink slip for his uniform being out of line.

And Bruce has been doing Dick’s hair before school since Dick started going to school. He’d been so nervous the first time, because he was eight and he’d been homeschooled in the circus and he’d never been to a real school before, so Bruce did Dick’s hair just like his, and it made him feel so much better. Dick does his own hair mostly now that he’s older, but he mostly sticks with how Bruce first showed him. It’s easy. It’s a classic style. It makes him feel a little less nervous.

And who cares if he’s captain of the mathletes? Bruce insists it will look good on college applications. You can never start preparing too early. Plus, Gotham Academy is full of nerds, it’s far from the dorkiest club on campus. He’s mostly only on the team because his math teacher insisted.

He’s lingering in the hallway, just before the doorway to the lounge, leaning against the wall as he listens in on their conversation.

“He’s obviously a publicity stunt,” Wally snorts, and Dick can hear him stuffing chips in his mouth. “Was Bruce Wayne getting bad press when he first adopted him or something? I always thought it was weird he just plucked a kid from out of nowhere.”

“I thought he was from the circus?” Conner asks, but he actually sounds confused, curious.

The question only makes Wally and Artemis laugh louder, and even M’gann is giggling now. Dick feels like his heart just dropped into his stomach.

“The whole thing is so weird,” Artemis laughs. “Bruce Wayne takes him out like he’s some sort of little accessory, it’s so weird.”

“They are a pretty weird pair, aren’t they?” Wally laughs.

“I mean, the kid seems like a pain in the ass,” Artemis says, and Dick can just tell from the way she says it that she’s smirking. “I don’t know if I’d feel that bad if their whole father-son schtick was all for the camera. Brucie probably treats him like a toy he can just put back on the shelf when he’s done playing with him. He’s probably nothing but a charity case.”

Dick can hear someone pushing Artemis into the side of the couch, but he can tell they’re still all laughing and joking around. Dick feels like his breath is caught in his throat.

“That’s a horrible thing to say,” Conner says.

“Oh, come on, Conner,” Artemis huffs. “I’m only kidding.”

“It’s not something to kid about,” Conner says. “He’s a real person. They’re both real people. You know nothing about them.”

“I know that he struts around school like he owns the place!”

“Does he really?” M’gann gasps.

He can hear Artemis, Wally, and M’gann all continuing to gossip together, to laugh about his photos that Artemis is pulling up on her phone. He can hear Conner mutter something about them being childish, and then get up towards the kitchen area.

The hand on his shoulder startles him, and he’s so mad at himself for not hearing Kaldur walking up behind him.

“Robin, is everything alright?” Kaldur asks, and his voice is so gentle, so concerned.

“M’fine,” Dick chokes out. “M’just, I - I’m gonna go, actually. Can’t stay for training today.”

“Are you not feeling well?”

“Just…feeling a little sick. I’ll be fine.”

Conner has since walked into the hallway too, and he’s looking at Dick all concerned now too. But Dick feels like everything is too hot and he can’t breathe right and he’s suddenly so upset, and he can’t stay here anymore knowing that half of his friends are sitting just a few feet away, making fun of him.

Dick rushes back home, and he finds Bruce sitting in his office going over some WE paperwork. Bruce is surprised he’s home so soon, but holds onto Dick tightly when he falls into his lap.

“What’s wrong?” Bruce asks, squeezing Dick tight. “Did something happen at training? Are you hurt?”

“People are mean,” Dick mumbles into Bruce’s shoulder. “They were watching something about the gala from last night. Didn’t wanna stick around.”

“Oh, Dickie,” Bruce sighs, because this isn’t exactly the first time Dick has heard people he thinks are his friends talking about him behind his back, even if this is the first time it’s people who don’t realize they know him talking about him.

“They called me a publicity stunt,” Dick says, pressing himself closer to Bruce. “And a charity case.”

“You aren’t either of those things,” Bruce says, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. “You’re my son, no matter what anyone else says.”

“I know.”

Bruce sighs again, resting his cheek on top of Dick’s head. They’re both quiet for a moment, Bruce swiveling side to side in the chair a bit.

“I know it’s difficult,” Bruce tells him. “But how about I put these papers away, and we go watch a movie before Alfred has dinner ready?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Or we can go down to the cave and we can train a bit, if you’d rather do that?”

“I kinda wanna hit something,” Dick mumbles. “But can we watch a movie after dinner?”

“We’ll do whatever you want, chum.”

Dick continues to cling to Bruce while he straightens up his desk, but he hops up and rushes over to the clock to go down to the cave. Black Canary eventually calls the cave to ask Batman if Robin is alright, because she missed him at training and no one could tell her why he left, but he just tells her that Robin wanted to train with him today.

Later that night after dinner, Dick is cuddled up next to Bruce in his favorite family room, a movie playing in the background, and Dick falls asleep like that. Bruce doesn’t disturb him. They both end up falling asleep on the couch, and Bruce decides to take the next day off and to keep Dick home from school so they can spend the day together.

[nu-so]

Okay but what about a scenario with the season one yj team, and maybe no one on the team knows who Batman and Robin are behind the mask, not even Wally.

And perhaps the team is getting annoyed that Robin knows all of their identities, but he won’t share his. They don’t care that he tries to explain that it’s not just his identity, it’s Batman’s, so it’s not just him who has to be comfortable with sharing it with them. It doesn’t matter if he explains how paranoid Batman is, how it’s Batman who makes the final call on if Robin can or cannot share his identity. They just blame Robin, calling him a bad teammate, a bad friend.

Kaldur is the only one who doesn’t press him, who assures him that he has no obligation to share his identity with them.

Too bad the rest of the team doesn’t seem to get the memo.

And maybe one weekend, Black Canary has insisted that the team spends the weekend together. It’s a long sleepover, it’s team bonding. It’s so they can actually have a chance to act like kids.

And Robin had been excited. He’d been really looking forward to it, even if Batman did insist that he wear a mask the entire time. It’s more reliable than sunglasses, Batman said. More likely to stay in place. Not easy to remove like the sunglasses are.

Dick had laughed and said that it’s not like anyone would try to take his glasses off, but he complied with Bruce anyway. It did make him feel a little better, knowing the mask would be in place all weekend and he wouldn’t have to worry about slipping up.

But then he fell asleep during a movie. It had been a very long week, what with school and patrol and training leading to some very late nights. He was exhausted, and it was getting late into the night, and the movie was so boring. He fell asleep curled up on the floor between the coffee table and the couch, cocooned in a layer of blankets.

And he woke up to fingers trying to pry his mask off. Training took over, it was pure instinct, because Bruce has drilled into him how important it is to keep his mask on, to not let anyone remove it, even if he’d been kidnapped by a rogue and incapacitated. Anyone touching near his face makes him wake up instantly, and he grabs the hand that was near him and snaps it before backing away.

A pained yelp wakes him up more, reminds him where he is, because it was Wally whose wrist he just broke. It was Wally who was trying to remove his mask.

Dick is breathing heavily and looking around the room, trying to figure out what’s going on. But now he has the others yelling at him, asking him what’s wrong with him, why would he hurt Wally like that, it was just a joke.

“It’s not a joke!” he shouts at them, his voice cracking. “You were gonna take off my mask!”

“Oh come on, boy blunder, it’s not that serious!” Artemis argues.

“Yes, it is!” he gasps. “You can’t just take off my mask! I’ve told you all a million times that I’m not allowed to let you know who I am!”

“It’s not like we’d even recognize you just because we took it off!” M’gann argues.

That’s arguably false, considering Dick Grayson’s face is on the cover of one of the magazines M’gann currently has on the coffee table right that instant.

“That’s not the point!” Dick shouts, but he’s already grabbing his stuff and throwing it all into his bag before he darts to the zeta tubes. He’s hyperventilating and trying very hard not to outright panic when he runs into Kaldur, who looks concerned and confused. He was coming from the direction of the bathrooms, he must not have been in the room when they decided to try and take a peek.

“What’s going on?” Kaldur asks, moving to place a hand on Dick’s shoulder.

Dick flinches away, feeling bad when Kaldur looks sad.

“I’m going home,” Dick tells him, his voice cracking again. “Wally’s wrist is broken.”

“Robin? What happened? Are you alright?” Kaldur tries to ask, but Dick is shaking his head.

“They tried to take off my mask,” Dick whispers, but he’s putting in the code for the Batcave and leaving before Kaldur can say anything else.

Bruce is still hunched in front of the Batcomputer when Dick gets back, and he’s surprised to see him so soon. But he opens his arms when Dick rushes towards him, and he holds him tight and calms him down when he realizes how upset Dick is.

When he finds out that they tried to take off Dick’s mask while he was asleep? He’s livid.

He doesn’t let Robin join the team again for months. Which is fine by Dick, because he doesn’t want to work with them anyway. He misses Kaldur, but Robin and Aqualad find ways to hang out away from Mount Justice, away from the others. Aqualad relays to Robin how poorly the team performs when Robin isn’t there to pick up the slack, how their lack of experience is becoming quite evident when their mission success rate plummets without Robin.

What happens next? Idk. Maybe Dick starts his own team with Donna, Garth, and Roy. Idk.

[nu-so]

Idk man, TTG was pretty good for the most part

[nu-so]

[nu-so]

at the time when anne frank was arrested, she was breaking the law. the people who helped hide her and other targets of the nazis were also breaking the law.

that is where it leads when you justify state violence. “if you didn’t want oppression you shouldn’t have broken the law” is an attitude that leads directly to fascism, and it rings entirely hollow from those who also support a leader that flagrantly violated the law but waived the consequences by virtue of power possession.

[nu-so]

Jimmy Olsen, opting to make some spare money on the side (there's a new camera that just dropped and it's worth more than his normal salary can afford), signs up for a Clinical Trial.

I DO NOT OWN THESE CHARACTERS OR THEIR WORLDS. I DO NOT INTEND TO MAKE MONEY WITH THIS POST. IF THIS POST IS ON TIKTOK, INSTAGRAM, YOUTUBE, OR ANYTHING OTHER THAN TUMBLR I DID NOT CONSENT TO THAT. IF THIS DISCLAIMER IS MISSING THEN THE POST WAS EDITED TO NEGATE IT.

It'll pay more than enough for that new camera he wants, and he just has to use his two weeks of saved vacation time from work to do it.

But he should have read the fine print.

Because he went to sleep in his bed, and woke up in what looks like a hotel room without any windows.

He pushes the emergency button on his watch, trying to summon Superman, but nothing happens.

Wherever he is, it's so well fortified that Superman can't hear the frequency the watch is going off at.

After the initial freak out though, the doctors come in and explain how the trial will work; two weeks of taking a pill in the morning and getting a shot in the afternoon, blood draws once every three days to monitor any side effects, consulting with a personal doctor every day, and he gets to basically actually have a two week vacation.

The secrecy, the doctors say, is due to it being a Government Run Clinical Trial, and they really are sorry for drugging him, but they figured it would be less stressful than throwing a black hood over his head on the way to the location.

Jimmy does not forgive them.

This is shady as shit.

But also, the doctors very notably did not say he could leave before the trial was up.

The best thing he can do is play along until he can find a chance to escape.

Except that the pills glow a little. The shots definitely glow, and not just a little. If he struggles, they sedate him and give him the meds anyways, and he wakes up in his hotel/prison cell, groggy. If he doesn't talk to the doctor about how he's feeling physically every day, they strap him down and run tests with various scanners.

There's no windows. The doors, every single one of them, need a key card and a thumb print scan to open. There is no cell phone signal; he knows because he overheard the armed guards complaining about it. No matter how many times he whispers for Superman, the Man of Steel doesn't come.

Hell, at one point, when Jimmy was actively struggling against getting injected again, he quite literally screamed for Superman, only for nothing to happen.

Everything is soundproofed, then.

He's not sure how long it's been, but he's fairly certain it's been over two weeks, unless they changed the schedule for the pills and the shots without telling him. Also, his hair is getting longer than it would have in two weeks.

And things are starting to get weird. Well, weirder.

His eyes sometimes glow green. One time he accidentally started floating. They held a jar of some strange glowing orb near him and his breath started frosting over.

He's sleeping more.

He can feel his heart slowing down more and more every day.

He knows he's dying.

And he knows that, for some reason, that's the goal; when he'd been in a sleepy haze, and the scientists and doctors had thought him unconscious, he'd heard them talking about him almost having the same biology as 'Phantom', and that all that was left was the brainwashing stage.

That they were just waiting for him to die before they did that.

But the closer he gets to death, the stronger he becomes. He hides it, of course, but it's difficult to hide a bent metal chair leg. He doesn't know if that happened due to enhanced strength or...or something else.

Then one day he looks up to see his eyes glowing green, but in the way that Superman's do before he uses laser vision. The floating gets more pronounced. He accidentally froze his morning coffee when he blew on it.

For some reason, his body appears to be developing the same or similar powers to Superman, and he has no idea why, or if it's permanent.

But he won't get answers if they refuse to tell him anything face to face.

So he pretends to be unconscious more; that way they'll talk more around him.

He learns that Phantom was a hero, despite the bullshit they're saying he knows one when he hears about one, who they took down.

That they experimented on him until all that was left was...the small glowing orb in a jar they kept shoving at his face.

And something in Jimmy knows that Phantom can still be saved.

If he can time it right, he can try to punch his way through enough of the guards and scientists to get to a part of the compound in the open air, somewhere he can get help.

Somewhere Superman can finally hear him.

He just has to do half the work.

Fine.

The more he plans, the more he feels an odd attachment to the orb in the jar. To Phantom.

Something inside him knows that's just a kid, and he can't explain how it knows.

Then, one day, when the timing is right, and he feels like he's on the cusp of...something, he strikes.

He takes a deep breath, just as they go to inject him again, feels his heart finally slow to a stop, and throws the metal table at the doctors in the room.

He doesn't even pause to acknowledge that his feet aren't touching the ground. That he's flying.

He's already across the room and grabbing Phantom, using the momentum to punch out the steel door.

The weapons they try to use on him to stop him sting, but Jimmy tanks it and barrels forward, breaking down door after door without stopping.

Then, after getting blinded by a sun he hasn't seen in an unknown number of days, he's out in the open air.

"Superman! Help!"

With an army rallying behind him, a rescued hostage in his arms, and Jimmy actively fighting off a nervous breakdown, Superman hears him.

And Superman is pissed.

~~~~~~

Clark has been out of his mind with worry.

Jimmy Olsen has been missing for seven months, and no one can pinpoint where he is.

He can't hear Jimmy's heart, and the only thing preventing him from believing that Jimmy's dead is the staunch refusal to do so, and Bruce reassuring him that the evidence in Jimmy's apartment indicated that whoever took him wanted him alive.

So after seven months of no word, he finally, finally hears Jimmy's hoarse, terrified voice scream for him.

He's there before he fully realizes that he's moved, and...

Jimmy's floating.

Jimmy doesn't have a pulse.

Jimmy's very clearly alive somehow despite that, ragged with unkempt blue hair and beard so pale the blue was almost white, skinnier than he should be, glowing pale red eyes, and cradling a jar with a glowing orb inside of it.

"They did to him what they were trying to do to me, and I don't know what they did," Jimmy gasps, hands shaking. "I can fly, I have laser vision, I have frost breath, I don't know what...I don't..."

Behind Jimmy, a small army of men in white suits rushes out of a hole in the wall, leveling strange weapons at his friend.

The same friend they experimented on, for seven months, and probably did irreversible damage to if they managed to foist Kryptonian abilities upon a human body.

Clark reaches out and closes Jimmy's eyes, cutting off and containing the laser vision his friend was gearing up to use from stress alone.

Then, slowly, Superman turns to look down at the men in white suits below him, who appear to be having the sudden and startling revelation that they'd messed up.

The Man of Steel loses a little time after that.

Or; The GIW opens a Clinical Trial to try to create a new halfa after experimenting on their captured subject, Phantom, so much that Phantom was forced into his Core. The Clinical Trial only lasts for two weeks; but after that they can keep whoever signs up for it indefinitely, because at that point they're so ecto-contaminated they don't count as human and fall under the anti-ecto acts. Then, they can create their own halfa and brainwash the halfa into doing their dirty work. Jimmy Olsen, desperate to escape, has been slowly adapting to have the powers of Superman, who is his friend and who would absolutely be able to save not only Jimmy, but whoever these scientists turned into a glowing orb. Since ecto is adaptable, it adapted to the powerset that Jimmy thought he needed. This includes the very last ability he got; invulnerability, but on a lesser scale than Superman's own, hence why anti-ghost weapons only stung him.

[nu-so]

[nu-so]

my humor 2016

[nu-so]

Hanging with 6 year olds is REALLY funny

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couldn’t have said it better myself.

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it sucks being an American because people from other countries will make fun of you for liking burger and you will try to be like NO! I EAT OTHER FOOD TOO! but you can't get the words out because you're too busy salivating over the idea of burger