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charliedawn · 2 months

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hi charlie ^_^✧*。i hope you're well. i'm not sure if you're accepting requests atm, but i had an idea which is how would the slashers react to a siren nurse (fem or gn) who walked the corridors of st. louis late at night singing haunting and alluring melodies as they went about their job, or whatever song was in their head? one of their favorite songs would be "curses" by the crane wives. maybe they would sing brahms a lullaby sometimes? but a creepy lullaby that was also strangely soothing to him. anyway, i would just like to see what you'll do with that idea. make any changes or adaptions u like, feel free to put your own spin on it. and take your time bc i know u get a lot of asks ♡

this is that song:

(Thank you for the request and the song ! It’s beautiful. 10/10. 🤩 Hope you like it.)

The Right Wing of St Louis:

Michael Myers:

Michael rarely sleeps. He doesn’t need to and is unable to. Too many nightmares and concerns about his own life and duality. And he usually sleepwalks too. So, really…He doesn’t like sleeping. But, this is why you were put in charge of the night shift.

"Sleep, Michael. Sleep your sorrows away in the darkness of the night. Let your dreams take over…" You whispered to him, but he only looked up at you with a saddened expression and shook his head.

"I don’t dream." You read when he gave you a piece of paper before bedtime and you smiled knowingly before looking back at him. You then stroked his cheek.

"You will tonight. I promise. Rest, Michael. You deserve it."

He seemed skeptical at first, but finally complied and went to bed. You then tucked him in and started humming next to his bed. When you started singing, his eyes started to slowly close and strangely enough…He dreamt that night.

Penny:

"P-Pretty voice. Soooo pretty. Such a pretty bird." Penny giggled and looked at you with a wide grin. He knew you were a siren, but he had never seen one before. He was curious and whenever you would start singing, he would appear behind you and just squeeze you tightly or just start tilting his head to the rhythm.

Penny doesn’t sleep like normal people do, so he can appreciate the music fully. Most people would sleep, but he would take your hand and start dancing with you. Unlike his brother, Penny is no singer. But, he is one hell of a dancer.

He would smile and laugh while you keep singing and he’d even watch over you when it’s YOUR time to sleep.

Penny *watching over you.* : "Sleep sleep, little bird. Sleep well."

Pennywise:

Pennywise also has the power to sing people to sleep. But, he doesn’t use it because a) He doesn’t like to and b) He doesn’t want to. He only ever sang to the children he ate and his past family. It isn’t a memory he likes to keep and he would simply hum along to the songs you are singing sometimes. He’s also move forward and backwards on his rocking chair as you sing. Sometimes, he’d sing with you and even dance when it is the middle of the night and no one is around to witness this moment, but he’d never do it in front of the others.

Pennywise *smirks* : "A siren, huh ? I wonder how a siren tastes…"

He would never eat you of course. He likes to joke a lot, but he would protect you and feel affectionate towards you. He would listen to you and sing along sometimes and then…the most beautiful and sweet melody would put the whole hospital to sleep.

Brahms:

Brahms remained silent as your majestic self walked through the halls of St Louis—your magic voice singing everyone and everything to sleep. Your voice was soothing and deep, so deep he was afraid he might fall asleep and never wake up. He laid down on his bed and waited for your arrival—as per every night.

He never locked his door at night.

When you arrived, you sat next to him and kissed his forehead. He closed his eyes and when you started singing, he felt at peace and relaxed. He held your hand and smiled when you whispered.

"Sweet dreams, Brahms…"

Jason Voorhees:

Jason is the same as Brahms. He likes physical touch and be reassured. He waited for your voice to soothe him to sleep. You usually slept in their room at night because both babies wanna hang on to you and they both feel safe in your presence.

Jason would sleep on your lap and have a good rest. He would slowly fall asleep to your gentle words.

Arthur Fleck:

"Y/N. I knew it was you. Come in. Come in. Please."

Sometimes, Arthur asked for private sessions. The man had nightmares and dark thoughts that none could even begin to comprehend. But when you sang, he forgot his troubles and worries. You would sometimes take his hand and softly lull him to sleep. He liked it.

Freddy Krueger:

"Yo ! Who’s singing ?! Shut za hell up, bitch !" Freddy shouted before shoving a pillow on his head. Freddy is the sleep demon. He isn’t one to sleep with siren songs. He prefers silence. But sometimes…He would stay awake to hear you and a small smile would appear on his face.

Secretly, he didn’t mind your singing all that much…

Bo Sinclair:

"Hello, birdy. Come here. Come to Papa."

He literally tackled you to the ground his first night in St Louis. You must understand that Bo was raised by fishermen and bars. He knows what a siren is and knows that whoever owns a siren is supposed to get extremely lucky. He would want to capture you more than anything and make you sing ONLY for him. Fortunately, Brahms and Jason would never allow you to get hurt or captured. So, they’d defend you and fight the Sinclair brothers if necessary.

The Left Wing of St Louis:

Father Paul:

The first time Father Paul heard you, he thought he was losing his mind. Your voice was like an angel’s and he truly believed his time had finally came. But, it didn’t. And every night, he would hear you and his mind would settle for a little bit. He would hear your song and find mercy in that moment.

The only link the Right Wing and the Left Wing of the hospital ever had: You.

Your voice would make them feel a little better in their misery and Father Paul enjoyed hearing you, when all thoughts of happiness and hope was lost…one beautiful thing remained.

Jonathan Crane:

Jonathan Crane was laid down on his bed—locked up and attached securely. He was staring at the ceiling and let out a small sigh. He was restless. It was the third day in the row that he was being tested on and he had no moment of peace…not until night fell and a voice came from outside. A quiet lullaby. So beautiful and peaceful. His eyelids felt heavy and he finally found a certain inner peace within.

"…Thank you, lady of the night." He uttered in a whisper before closing his eyes and sleeping soundly.

#fandoms #imagine #fanfic #slashers au #slashers #pennywise 1990 #pennywise 2017 #michael myers x reader #pennywise x reader #freddy krueger x reader #jason voorhees x reader #brahms heelshire x reader #father paul hill #jonathan crane #bo sinclair x reader

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valiantsuitcaseskellington · 1 year

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Weeping Siren

Inspired by this post, but not the same thing.

Had this amazing idea I couldn't let go.

So basically, Danny's home world was destroyed, and none of his friends or family are alive or even dead with him. I'm not sure what caused thus but probably some sort of dumb GIW plot. This act also damages, but not destroy, the ghost zone/infinite realms.

Danny becomes the ghost king, sure he might have a bit of paper work, but in this story the main job of the ghost king is to keep the ghost zone working/safe, and even protect it should he have to. Because the ghost zone is damaged, he spends most of his time feelings himself through the ghost zone and fixing areas, maybe this is why the Lazarus pits exist?

Anyways, since Danny's always stressed and is grieving/will always grief his home, the ghosts always feel the sorrow of their great king, whom they all grow protective of, and who they greatly love and appreciate.

Danny takes to singing to relieve stress, help him pass the time, and even let him grief in a safe way. Despite this and the love of his people, being in the ghost zone and effectively working even when he can sleep, it all starts getting to him. So he starts performing his songs to the ghosts, telling his stories, his wishes, his love and grief, what he wishes could've happened, and what he hope WILL happen, all through his songs.

Yet he is still in the ghost zone, and so the ghost suggests he performs to the many dimensions and universes that the ghost zone is connected to, it is infinite after all.

And so he does.

From here the ghost king gains a reputation for being a great, yet sad king. A being that could destroy dimensions without trying being in perpetual grief. His stage name becomes the Weeping Siren.

It continues like this.

My idea come from a story where the JL see Constantine being excited/ecstatic for once. They ask what's up and John says the Weeping Siren is going to perform in their universe soon, and he's excited to attend.

One thing leads to another and John or Zatanna convince the other members to join, or the other way around, the JL convinces the two to take them. Either way they tell the JL time and space and everything stops for those who attend, so there are no consequences, and everyone can have a chance to join. And they want the JL beings from different dimensions and universe will most likely be attending as well.

If you want to go even crazier you can add different versions of the Justice league or those they know, like many different versions of Jason Todd attend and things like that.

I imagine it like a bar/dinner kinda vibe, with a stage that Danny steps on to. He's obviously going to be dressed androgynously, and it's hard to say if he seems more ghost or human, as his forms have long since practically merged with eachother. Sure he could shift more to one of his sides, but he accepts hes both, so he becomes both.

Danny sings songs, even the happier songs have a wisp of sorrow or longing in them.

A song I'd add is Nobody by Mitski. Idk why, but it resonates with me, and I think It'd resonate with this Danny.

This danny totally wears dresses, and i imagine he wears darker colors, more blacks with chains, as well as have glasses that look perscripting perched on his head like you would sunglasses. With a certain flower in his hair. Nods to Tucker and Sam. Yes he wears pants and combat boots popular my many world's men. He'd wear biker gloves and all in all he'd change up his outfits, wearing a multitude of different things popular of both genders. Yet the flower, the dark colors, those glasses, they always stay consistent.

#dp x dc prompt #dc x dp #dp crossover #dp prompt #dp x dc #dp #dc #dc x dp crossover #im not sure i came up with the best stage name #i might even change it myself if i ever write this #so feel free to mess with that all you want

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captain-mj · 10 months

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London Fog

And this is the end! It's been fun guys!

also, my apologies about the poll, when I was writing this, one of the options was winning and I only found out later it lost :( sorry

Link to the full thing

Ghost sat on the roof of the courthouse, smoking quietly. He had the gun aimed right at Wayne’s head in case anything happened.

Jason had easily accepted their request to agree with the police that it was a misunderstanding. Thanks to Wayne’s military status, things were quickly swept under the rug in an act that could only remind him of why he hated police as a kid. It had been tied up with a pretty little bow. No charges put down. No care about the person hurt. Luckily Jason made an extremely quick recovery. If it was because Ghost pulled a few strings with some magic people he knew, that was no one’s business.

The fact only made Ghost more bitter than he already was. So he had the gun pointed right at Wayne. He was sitting in a coffeeshop, waiting for Soap to arrive. Wayne should be kneeling on the ground. Ready to beg and plead once met with the presence of Soap.

What a goddamn fool. Reckless asshole. However, that was to be expected by someone who acted like him. Who’d mistreat Johnny so callously.

It would be the last mistake he ever made.

Soap arrived, looking flushed and so alive. Everything about him was brighter. He had purposely picked something typical of what he’d normally wear, but it was definitely different. The clothing seemed to tug differently. His beauty unmatched. Right before he went in, he gave Ghost a small smile, directed right at him. Sun incarnate. The very sea itself wrapped up in human skin. Volatile and loving and loved and ready to crush you once you went too deep.

Johnny was very different from Soap. Still the same in all the ways that mattered, but he was just so damn good. He dragged Ghost back into bed each morning and now that he was able, he drew all the time. Ghost had never, ever liked his face but seeing it drawn with pencil and pressed onto shitty notebook paper? Maybe he could stomach it. He also worked better than whiskey. Soap had the ability to knock him out and let him sleep through the night. Either through sex or by cuddling. Something about his touch just felt right. He was perfect.

Ghost watched them talk. Wayne was harsh. Something about his edges. Wrong. Cruel. He was talking to Soap like Captain ordering Sergeants. It set his teeth on edge. But Soap wanted to do this, so he stayed here. Watching.

Soap looked soft. Sweet. A picture of the same mockery of a person that he was before. Ghost imagined slowly slitting Wayne’s throat for Soap. Having him watch. Tell him to slow down. To make it last. Blood starts to fill his mouth and he realized in his excitement that he bit his own tongue.

It felt nice. The liquid getting between his teeth. Would Soap be worried if he knew? Make him wash his mouth out and tell him to be more careful? Would he tell him to sink his teeth in deeper?

Soap nodded along to what Wayne was saying. He smiled and flashed his teeth and did all the things he’s supposed to do. He’d make a lovely siren with how easily he pulled Wayne into his thrall.

The drink he had stayed untouched on the table. It was clearly a hot drink, which Ghost found weird because Soap preferred cold.

Wayne stood up and left, Soap trailing after him, cup in hand. Once they stepped out of the coffeeshop, Ghost stood up and made chase. He leapt from rooftop to rooftop, gun in hand, keeping them in sight every moment.

Wayne’s voice floated up. Harsh syllables in a harsh voice. Picking Soap apart.

“Why didn’t you tell me a man was going to be in our home?”

“I didn’t think about it. He was just supposed to run in and grab something.”

“He had your coat.”

“He knew I was a selkie. I apologize, darling, I didn’t know what he planned to do.”

Wayne whipped around, grabbing Soap easily. It rattled Ghost. How the man just… touched Soap. Did his skin not burn from doing so?

Soap stared at him. Doe eyed.

Wayne saw something in those depths. He let go of him. “Your coat. Who has it? Where is it?”

“Not here. I Have it.”

“I see.”

“I want to give it back to my husband.”

Husband. The word made something in Ghost’s soul preen. He had figured out, without Soap explaining it to him, that thanks to the back and forth of the coat, they were married in Selkie eyes.

And once Wayne was gone, Ghost would be his only husband. The only person that mattered. He grinned and readied his gun again. Letting the familiar weight guide him. One small movement and Wayne’s head splatters on the ground.

Soap started to lead him to an alleyway. “Please. My darling. You want me back, right?”

Wayne followed. Moth to fire. A rat chewing through flesh to get to the prize. “Of course I do. You’re mine.”

Ghost could hear their voices. The angle was getting difficult for sniping so instead he stayed poised with a knife.

Soap smiled at him brightly. His teeth… Were they always that sharp?

They were bloodstained moments later. Ghost was only supposed to help him if he started losing, so he wouldn’t be helping.

Military training and raw strength did nothing to help him. Soap sank his teeth deep in his throat to damage his vocal cords and grabbed him by his shoulders. He shoved him to the ground and started punching. It was less animalistic than Ghost was expecting but no less feral. No less enthralling to watch.

Ghost jumped down, not making a sound as he hit the pavement. He stalked around them, enjoying the sight of blood mixing with crisp morning air.

The cup sat on the fire escape of the nearby building. How Soap managed to do that with neither himself nor Wayne noticing was beyond him. Out of curiosity, Ghost grabbed it and smelled it.

Earl grey. Soap probably got it for him. He hated the stuff. It made his insides feel warm and fuzzy as he lifted his mask to drink it before turning back.

Punching him must’ve not been enough after a minute, because Soap had gotten to strangling him. Blood still poured from the wound in his throat. He’d be dead in minutes anyway. But it gave Soap some satisfaction, watching the life drain from his eyes.

He kept choking him long after he was dead. Needed to make sure.

Ghost wrapped his arms around him and grabbed his hands. He slowly helped him uncurl his stiff fingers from the pulsing, bloody mass of his throat. “It’s done, love.”

“Mo chridhe.” Soap leaned into him, letting Ghost pull him up. “This won’t be suspicious right?”

“I’ll handle it. Nothing is ever going to happen to you.”

Soap nodded and tilted his head, kissing along Ghost’s throat. He was an image like this. Covered in blood. There was something in his eyes. Something new.

“Simon.”

“You’re using my first name. Must be serious.”

“I want to join the military.”

~~~~

Six months. Soap did it in six months.

Ghost tried to pull strings, speed it along, but Soap refused his help, wanting to do it on his own.

When he was finally a big enough name though, he allowed Ghost to make sure he got on the 141 instead of a random unit.

So Price handed him the papers and Soap happily signed them. He had bulked up. Still short and not quite as big as Ghost, but definitely bigger. The tattoo on his arm was new, but Ghost had been there when he got it. He also knew that if he went further up his arm to where his collarbone was, there would be dozens of little hickeys and bites from Ghost.

One new thing was also a scar on his chin. It was small but there. Ghost questioned if it was good idea to do this. He’d never raise those concerns to Soap though, not wanting to control his actions. Even if maybe jumping into the military was a bit… of a… choice. Yeah. It was definitely a choice.

As long as Soap was happy. And Soap did seem very very happy.

“I did it!” He grinned up at Ghost. “Now we can go on missions together and eat breakfast and sit with each other while doing paperwork and…” Soap stopped to catch his breath and Ghost kissed him. Nice and easy.

“Yeah. Anything you want.” Ghost wrapped his wings tight around Soap who melted into him.

“Love you, Simon.”

“Love you, Johnny.”

Taglist:

@the-snarky-dragon @elevencloudsofnine-blog @lukewarm-chickensoup @nervouspsychologynerd @korym @cthulhusstepmom @princess-heathen @revenge-of-the-bucket-demon @roachboy @shadowsnowberry @crazies-unanimous @shiftylookingcrow @joltom @xenomorphee3 @thedeepvoidinmyheart

#johnny soap mactavish #john price #captain john price #ghostsoap #soapghost #simon ghost riley #soap cod #cod mw2 #ghost cod #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare ii #alejandro vargas #rodolfo parra #rodolfo cod #Selkie coffeeshop au

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bigdumbbambieyes · 2 years

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Recently saw a Pyrokinesis!Billy post and realized: Billy as Carrie White

Cover that boy in pig’s blood and let him kill his abuser 😇

His powers would be dormant in California because while he did suffer the abuse from his father, he at least had his escapes to the beach and his friends that provided him temporary relief. When his mother abandons him, that’s the first time he can snuff out a candle from across the room, unaware that he’s done it.

But once they move to Hawkins, where there’s nowhere to run, his resentment burns him up inside and his powers are enhanced by the presence of the Upside Down. His anger grows, he’s always hot to the touch, and he doesn’t even notice when he accidentally burns himself while playing with his lighter.

He knows something is up, can feel something waiting to come out, but it never does. Not until Chrissy Cunningham, the head cheerleader of Hawkins high, befriends him and invites him as her date to the prom. Billy can see a strange look in her big eyes, a kindred spirit of abuse, and mutters his acceptance before storming away. Jason finds out and starts spreading rumours about Billy, that he’s a freak like Eddie Munson, a social pariah like Steve Harrington, only because he’s seen those two speak to Billy outside of school. He must be weird like them, out of place, not with God.

And when Billy finally hears about the rumours, his anger flares just like the fire he’s sitting in front of at a party. People don’t understand him - they don’t want to be caught up in those rumours, so they keep their distance, some even brave enough to throw taunts his way. One day, he’d make them regret that.

On the night of the prom, after getting berated by his father, he meets Chrissy at the school like he’d promised. She’s beautiful in her dress and she comments on how nice and warm his hand is as they walk in together. They dance all evening and have a good time while Jason and his friends plot something horrible.

Later, they’re crowned Prom King and Queen, and Billy feels hopeful for the first time since moving to Hawkins as everyone cheers for them. Chrissy is kind and never judges him, even with her own issues that run deep and would normally eat people up from the inside - like Billy. Even Eddie is friendly to him, sells him discounted weed since they share a love of metal music and because Billy’s ‘easy on the eyes’. Steve is cute and dumb and Billy softens the more he’s around him, feels his burning body cool for once whenever Steve smiles at him. Maybe they could be his friends.

And as he smiles up on the stage, he feels something dumped on him from above. Red and dark, thick, soaking into his hair and clothes as Chrissy gasps and the crowd immediately quiets.

Then there’s laughter, sharp and piercing. Billy brings his hands up to his face to stare at them, at the red staining his skin, his eyes wide and lips parted as the blood runs down his face.

Chrissy is asking if he’s okay but he can’t hear her over the ringing in his ears. He doesn’t even hear the screams as he lights the gym on fire with his wide eyes, burning blue. He lets Chrissy escape with tears running down her pretty face, hoping he never sees her again.

He walks home silently, drenched in blood, like a walking nightmare. When he gets home, Neil is there, anger written across his face until Billy looks him in the eye and the anger turns to fear. As it should.

The Hargrove house burns down with Neil in it, Billy sitting on the lawn to watch it fall. He finally lets his tears roll down his bloody face, feeling real and true freedom, until a dark car arrives and a man with white hair approaches. He places his hand on Billy’s shoulder gently, meeting Billy’s eyes with a kind expression before speaking, “William, yes?”

“It’s Billy.”

“Billy. My name is Dr. Martin Brenner, and I would like you to come with me.” There’s sirens in the distance, coming towards them, “Unless you’d rather go with Chief Hopper?”

And Billy’s scared. He doesn’t understand how he was able to do that, start a fire with his mind, that he didn’t mean to do it, and he tells Brenner that with tears in his eyes.

The scientist smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes, even if his voice is soft and comforting, “Don’t worry, son. We will figure it out together.”

So, Billy goes with him, not realizing that he’s jumped out of the pan and into the fire.

#billy hargrove #pyrokenisis!billy #steve harrington #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #harringrove #mungrove #harringroveson #horror #the ships are hinted at rather than actual sorry guys #dr brenner #drabble #ficlet #bambiwrites

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a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all · 1 year

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Headcanons on One Bad Day… please! <3

Hi anon!!!! 💖 These seem very popular! I'm so glad you all are so invested in this world, and story I've created! Thank you so much! 🥰 I love doing these and am always up for more!

The Rumors About Batmom and Bruce's Relationship:

It was no secret how the people of Gotham viewed Batmom, especially Bruce's wealthy contemporaries. No one could accept that they were just two young people who had fallen in love. All sorts of rumors surrounded their relationship, the most popular being:

Batmom was using a love potion or loved based power to enchant Bruce into loving her so she could have access to his money

Batmom was a prostitute that Bruce hired to avoid the tabloids finding out about a secret relationship with someone else

Batmom was a prostitute who Bruce knocked up so he agreed to pretend to be in a relationship with her

Batmom was a prostitute who had found out some scandalous dirt on Bruce and she was blackmailing him to keep quiet

Batmom was a prostitute who convinced Bruce he loved her so they would get married and she could kill him and inherit all of his wealth

Batmom was a charity case Bruce was pretending to date in order to improve his public appearance and boost stocks in Wayne Enterprises

It should be noted that at no point in Batmom's life was she a prostitute. Just a woman from the poorest neighborhood in Gotham who was orphaned at a young age and forced to care for herself.

Batmom Adjusting to Life with Bruce:

Besides just the scrutiny of the public, going from living in the slums of Gotham to Wayne Manor was a huge adjustment for Batmom.

For the first year, she got lost in the maze of doors ad hallways at least once a week. Bruce finally tried drawing her a map, but his lack of artistic ability just made it more confusing.

Having never lived outside the city before, the quiet stillness of the land outside the Manor was unnerving to her. She never imagined she would miss the noise of sirens, gunshots, and yelling all through the night but it had become almost like a calming white noise to her over the years. She had a lot of trouble sleeping at first because of the silence.

Batmom is used to having to beg, barter, or steal almost everything in her life. So when Bruce just throws money, jewels, clothes, and gifts at her all the time, she doesn't know how to handle it (she also doesn't really want most of it). They eventually come to an understanding that necessity items can be purchased without a second thought (this includes crimefighting-related items), but anything purchased specifically as a luxury or gift item for her has to have a specific meaning or relevance behind it. This would eventually include things like a first edition of The Princess Bride signed by the author for her birthday (it is the one she reads to Jason), a simple silver necklace Bruce tracked down that had belonged to her mother, and a custom-made dress which was identical to the one she was wearing when they first met as a present for their 10 year anniversary (this was also just over a month before Jason was killed).

Batmom didn't only have to adjust to living with Bruce. She also had to adjust to living with Batman. The first night he came home covered in bloody wounds, she nearly moved out. She had seen him hurt a hundred times before (she had even caused a few of his scars), but it was somehow different that time. Maybe it was because she loved him so much deeper at that point or maybe it was because their home was supposed to be a safe haven for them and now it was drenched in blood. But whatever the reason, she pulled it together and stayed. She didn't go on patrol very often, but almost every night she monitored Bruce on the Batcomputer, ready to assist in any way should he need it. She also used less-than-reputable connections she had made from her time as Night Watch to gather information that Batman couldn't.

HC’s Part 1, HC’s Part 2, HC’s Part 3, HC’s Part 4

One Bad Day.... Series Masterlist

#thanks!#anon ask #one bad day....#hc #batmom #batman #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x batmom

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edgyandoverzealous · 1 year

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Hot take(possibly??): most of the demigods in pjo/toa/hoo are villain coded. Not all but a lot of them and the best part of this is they're villain coded but they're known as untouchable heroes which is incredibly interesting for me.

For example, the cliche, the obvious, Percy. I love him don't get me wrong but that man's fatal flaw is canonically his loyalty, his personal loyalties specifically. The reason he went on his first quest initially was to bring his mom back from the underworld, essentially back from the dead because his mom is extremely important to him more so than his dad who was absent most his life, not retrieving the lightning bolt though he did end up doing that and Hades had Sally safe and well. The common saying is "a hero will sacrifice the one he loves to save the world. a villain will burn the world to keep the one he loves safe." You cannot look me dead in the eyes and tell me Percy Jackson, the man who while angry and bitter about his mother's "death" and this quest sent Medusa's head in a box to olympus, who after falling for Annabeth couldn't forget her even when Hera wiped his memory, would EVER let anything happen to her. He went to literal hell with her has killed monsters in brutal dark ways while in said hell and even before that jumped into siren infested waters to save Annabeth personal safety and quest be damned. He has turned down immortality for her. The gods could give him an ultimatum and he would choose Annabeth every time over anything, except his mortal family, but even then Percy would save everyone and then burn Olympus for daring to make him make that choice.

Additionally another one of my favorites who is increasingly more complex or at the very least somewhat the opposite to Percy in his villain coding is Nico Di Angelo.

For starters he's lost so much and has failed to save whoever was most important to him, twice. His fatal flaw is canonically, that he holds grudges, which is specifically noted to be dangerous for kids of Hades. Probably because demigods have shown on multiple occasions to have their powers connected to their emotions. IE: Percy through the entire first book and Nico in his first battle with Percy where he essentially summons an army in a panic. Or possibly because of their connection to death, the afterlife, and creatures from the underworld. Luckily this son of Hades is in control as he gets older so it's most likely the ladder in this case. Anyways after Percy got his sister, the only person Nico had left, killed Nico started running and using avoidance as a coping mechanism. Which in itself is a classic villain backstory set up because once someone has nothing they can be pushed to risk everything. However, my personal hypothesis is he spent that time running to avoid a violent outburst and act out on his grudge to cause Percy harm or put him into harms way, on top of the crushing guilt he must've felt for having a crush on the one who got his sister killed. To gain control over his emotions and come to terms with his new reality without his sister and with his new lineage and powers associated with. When he first comes back he is untrusting and distant. Then there was the whole "I have a friend who fully accepts me and I may be able to learn how to love again, trust again, and have friends" thing with Jason and then Rick killed him. That alone gives Nico more than a right to be angry and start fucking shit up tm. But he didn't and now he has Will. Classic case of the fooled me once shame on me fooled me twice shame on you imo. The set up for the same to happen again is underway as well. So at the very least three strikes you're out because I genuinely believe if anything happens to Will, Nico will no longer follow the heroes path. I believe the world would crumble and quake beneath his feet as the most guttural scream escapes his mouth. The dead will rise as he storms Olympus for giving him a story so cruel despite how hard he's fought and how good he's tried to be. I believe he would raise hell so intensely that the gods themselves would resurrect Will in fear of being overthrown by the wrath of the prince of darkness.

#today on why these characters are just like me fr #villian coded #percy jackson #nico di angelo #pjo headcanon #percabeth #solangelo #this makes me feel things #like happy brain worms #i could do a whole analysis about them actually #with sources and everything but for now this is all im giving

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basicbatboys · 1 year

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Request #32 Part 3

I think I need a title for this story! A part 4 is surely in order. Thank you to the random soul who requested this, I'm sorry I've turned it into a monster.

Pt. 1

Pt. 2

Pt. 4

It had been three years since you last saw Jason Todd. You saw Red Hood everywhere though, he was always all over the news, ripping you new wounds and rubbing salt in the old ones.

You missed him. It was as simple as that and still so much more complicated. You missed every inch of him, the way he laughed and breathed, the scars on his hands, his eyes, scattered freckles, scattered thoughts- you even missed the way he was yelling at you that last day.

You had been through almost all the stages of grief. Therapy helped get you to the first stage about two years ago. You fought your poor therapist on many occasions as you battled with denial, swearing up and down that he would come back and things would be the same. Next came the anger and if your therapist had thought denial was bad, she had a bigger storm coming. Bargaining was the easiest. You tried to contact him, but he wouldn’t answer. You can’t beg a brick wall to hold you again.

Right now, you were teetering on the edge of depression about to slip and fall into the warm bed of acceptance. Some days, you could feel relief spreading like vines, ready to pull you into the grave you dug. Some days, the grave was miles away and you couldn’t bear to stand up and search for it.

Today was one of those days.

You woke up that day at 7pm, and your sleep schedule was totally fucked and beyond recognition. Somedays you slept upwards of 14 hours, some days you didn’t sleep at all.

You pulled yourself from bed and walked into the living space, pausing to look around.

You stood in the wreckage of that day, all those months ago. Everything was exactly the same. You hadn’t even picked up the chair he knocked over, not even on your best day. It was your only reminder that he had been real, that he had been here once. You couldn’t stand to change that yet.

Your therapist said you were having such a hard time because Jason was the only person who listened to you and made you feel heard. You weren’t just going through a breakup, you were going through the death of your humanity.

By all means you should have gone and killed everyone in the city. Old you would have, but you had a terrible need to prove him wrong.

“You are not a person. Not to me.”

You were a person. You had a favorite color and a favorite flower. You held stuffed animals at night, and you noticed cracks in the sidewalk and avoided them. You counted steps as you climbed them.

That made you a person, didn’t it? These little things, they all added up to consciousness and that had to count for something.

You stood in your kitchen and made yourself a coffee, holding yourself and resting against the counter as it brewed. The sounds of the city poured through your open window. Sirens, screaming, gunshots, a loud clang.

You looked up, alarmed.

Something else had poured through your open window.

Before you stood the biggest man you had ever seen in your life. He stood up from the ground slowly and pointed a finger at you.

“Havoc.” He bellowed. “My boss wants to meet you.”

-------------

You couldn’t remember the last three hours. At least you felt like it had been three hours, it could’ve been days as far as you were aware.

You were starting to piece things together, to gain consciousness when someone came in making a sound like a stick being dragged along a metal fence.

As the person came into focus you immediately recognized the Joker, dragging a crowbar along the bars of jail cells. You looked around, realizing you were in a jail cell and as you tried to move you also realized you were tied to a chair.

Fuck.

“My little tornado, how I’ve missed your messes.” The Joker spoke. You winced as his voice came out, gravelly and terribly hoarse.

He came closer until he stood in front of your cell.

“My, my, my.” He tsked, holding his hands behind his back. “Aren’t you just so hard to track down?” He laughed. You frowned.

“See, my dear, we’ve got a little problem.” He pulled the crowbar from behind his back and began to tap it into his hand as he paced back and forth.

“You ruffled that little birdy’s feathers something awful, didn’t you? Trust me, I loved watching it.”

He froze. “Until I didn’t.”

You began to struggle in your chair again, trying anything to loosen the ropes that were laced around every appendage. It was hopeless but you couldn’t die here like this.

The Joker laughed again, “No! No, I didn’t love it anymore when that silly little boy began to play a new game! The violence, the violence!” He screamed.

His voice echoed off the walls and you shivered. You were frozen in fear, unsure of what to do or how to save yourself from this. Was this it for you? Were you destined to be another notch on the Joker’s pistol?

“Once the Red Hood lost his leash, the doggy started running around the city killing my men in droves. So, what’s the logical answer, hm? Let’s put our heads together now, dear, let’s put them together and imagine we are logical and can think of a solution to this problem. Hm, hm, hm.”

He put his hand on his chin and pretended to think for a moment, his foot tapping and his head bobbing from side to side.

You thought too, but not of a solution to the Joker’s latest ‘joke’. You thought about what he was saying. Jason had been more violent? He missed you? He cared? You forgot, for a brief beautiful moment about the situation you were in until-

“Ah! An idea!” He stuck up a finger and a sick grin spread across his face. “Well, I suppose I’ll have to remind him who the real top dog is!” He clapped his hands together, the crowbar making a metallic cling as it hit his hand.

“Yes, let’s remind him. And to remind him, I’ll go ahead and dispose of the only thing he cares about.”

He took the crowbar and pointed it out, spinning around quickly and then slowly until he finally came to a stop. “You.”

#dc fanfic #x reader #fanfic #jason todd #angst #jason todd x reader

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wrencatte · 7 months

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Oooh I’m liking their whumpy titles so can I ask about “water torture” and “stress position” !! And then bc I need to feel nicer, what about “community”?

Thank you for sharing your WIPs with us!!! ❤️

<3 <3 thank you for asking!

water torture! I actually posted about this one a while ago. It's a very specific water torture I've been eyeing for a few years now to put a character through (Mythbusters did an episode about it!)

Maybe it’s the blood loss. Does he have blood loss? He might have blood loss.

Another droplet hits his forehead. He flinches. It’s almost cold with how superheated he feels – like a fever but worse because there’s no relief. Hopefully it’s not actually a fever. That would monumentally fucking suck.

He tries to tilt his head, but concrete blocks one way and then the other just leads to the edge of a one-inch lip digging into the back of his head. It makes it even more uncomfortable than just accepting the annoyance of water dripping. For good measure he reaches for his helmet, finding it just slightly out of reach. Thanks, past Jason, real helpful. He strains for it a little bit longer before his chest starts screaming at him and he pulls back.

Cool.

Drip.

Jason sniffs. Water runs down his forehead to pool in his ears. He scratches it out of one of them, but the other is – he tilts his head over. It only helps a little. He closes his eyes, listens hard for sirens or deliberate rubble shifting beyond the, quite frankly terrifying, sounds of the building settling.

Until another drop smacks him right out of it. Fuck. Jason squeezes his eyes shut and starts counting instead. One. Two. Three. Four. Drip. One. Two. Three. Four. …Five…Six. Drip. One. Two. Drip – oh come on!

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me!” Jason all but howls at the pipe.

Drip.

stress position....that one's been tricky. I keep trying to come back to it. it's a 2022 whumptober prompt. but the vibe of this one is A+ (to me)

Jason spits at their heels as the men leave the room, the door snapping shut. He misses them by a mile, bloody saliva falling short which is such a shame because their boots were so shiny. The room is dark and freezing. His shivers feel like he’s seizing instead, muscles contracting painfully, bruises and open wounds pulling. There’s a click-click, and even colder air blows in from somewhere, making him groan. Fucking hell.

He’s stung up like a piece of meat. Wrists bound painfully together and hooked on, well, a meat hook, then bound to that for good measure or else he would’ve used his impressive core control and unhooked himself a long time ago. He can touch the ground, barely, with the tips of his bare toes – because, oh yeah, they took his helmet and his shirt and his boots and his goddamn socks. The weight is hell on his shoulders. He can only stand on his toes for so long. The angle does this weird thing to his lungs, making it hard to breathe if he’s not paying attention.

"because I need to feel nicer" I am so sorry....

It only takes them a week – it hasn’t made the news yet, buried by the scrolling headlines of BRUCE WAYNE’S SON KILLED IN TERRORIST ATTACK and the unspoken agreement to ignore it. But Gothamites always know. The air had changed when Robin left the first time. Sad and melancholy and a low, simmering anger that didn’t know where it wanted to go.

Robin leaves a second time and there’s nothing useful about the word sad when it’s grief, heavy and burdening. Rage, explosive and violent. Devastation. A pleaded bargain in every broken bone and hospitalization, in every reckless plan.

The Batman – well, he disappears fully into the shadows that he never quite blended into when he had a brightly colored Robin at his side. The kid had been like a sunbeam peeking between clouds, cutting through the darkness, and letting everyone see the bright day ahead.

When Batman stopped letting himself be seen. When he stopped lingering after scenes to comfort and console.

As days and days passed, Robin never showed his face again.

That’s when they knew, and they finally had to acknowledge it.

Robin wasn’t coming back.

#asked and answered #my writing #jason todd

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little-engineer-who-cant · 19 days

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Jason confronts Bruce

Part 5 of Sirens Scream Names Forgotten by Tomorrow, Laid to Rest in Infinity

(also posted under cut)

“You cannot create a monster and then condemn it, hate its ugly features, its terrible gait. When I look into the mirror, I do not see myself but all of you who made me.”

- David Jones

(Shoot him.)

(That’s not the plan.)

(Fuck the plan. Shoot.)

(You’d have me waste all this?)

(It’s what you want, isn’t it? No one walks away.)

(Ideally, I will.)

(You’ve been dead for how long now? No one is walking away.)

(I-)

(It was never going to be you.)

He’s staring down the barrel of his own gun at the man who should have been his father when he finds the truth.

(You came back from the dead. You were never making it out alive.)

(No one walks away.)

No one walks away. He’s cheated death to ensure it.

(Reaper made flesh.)

(Pull the trigger.)

So he does.

—

There are burns on his arms. The hair singed right off. He reeks of smoke and despair, cloaked in failure as he hunches over the metal railing. He aches of broken bones that are healing, of bruises on his ego, his body, his memories, his everything. But that’s nothing compared to the sting of failure. Of all the times to grab me, old man, it had to be now? At least if Bruce had let it all happen, Jason wouldn’t be alive to care about the aftermath. He’d be back in the ground-

(where you belong-)

-making nice with the worms and decay.

But that’d be too easy. That’d be nice and neat, a pretty little bow on the tragedy of Jason Todd. Born to die, again and again, until he finally got it right.

(Maybe you’re still trying to be the perfect son.)

(I can’t be. I’m not Dick.)

(No. You’re not even Jason.)

It’s an old truth. That doesn’t make it sting any less. What’s really fucking with him, running in incessant circles in his already insane mind is the why. Why did Bruce grab him? It wasn’t like he was Bruce’s son anymore.

(When a man puts a dead thing in the ground, he expects it to stay there.)

But he’d clawed his way back out. And like every warning sign on the way up from Hades, he hadn’t come back right. Would Eurydice have been the same, if she ever broke the surface? He’d done that, come up from the water, reborn and remade. Jason Todd, Talia and Ra’s had christened him. A dead man.

(You’re not making sense.)

(Isn’t that what you wanted?)

It’s easier not to think, to let his body turn and twist and ache in whatever direction it decides to take him. It’ll make sure he’s safe, that instinct is too ingrained to ever die. As long as his mind is blank, he’s not thinking about Bruce.

The Pit stays quiet. No use trying to drive a man towards a cliff when he’s already leapt off the edge.

Jason has never fucking once wanted it to talk more than he does in that moment. Just for a reminder that he’s not alone.

—

Weakness, plain and simple. When he comes out of his haze, he’s staring at his worst weakness in the form of her bedroom through the window. Perched precariously on the concrete sill, he leans his forehead against the pane and watches his breath fog it up until he can’t see inside. Can’t see if she’s home or not. Can’t see if she’ll see him.

(Weak.)

But the voice is weak too. It can’t goad him over something he’s already accepted, something he already knows. She’s his pressure point, the chink in his armor and it’s all because she-

Click.

The window unlatches and he leans just far enough away that he won’t tumble when it opens to reveal her, the off-white hue of distant neon light catching in her dark hair like a halo of starlight.

“Hey,” she whispers, leaning her elbows on the still and looking up at him, seeing the dirt and blood, smelling the smoke and sulfur, hearing the sirens that herald emergency vehicles screaming towards that fire.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he mumbles, resting his head against the rough brick exterior, the edge of her window digging into the back of his mask.

“Come’ere.” She holds out a hand.

“I shouldn’t be here.” It’s the one thing he knows for sure.

“I don’t care.”

“They can find you.”

“Let them. I’ve faced worse.”

“You shouldn’t face what’s after me.”

“If it means keeping you, I’ll welcome them all with a smile.” Her stubborn expression hasn’t changed. Hasn’t even flickered. “I’ve lost a lot of people that I’ve loved. I’m not losing you too.”

“You’re insane.”

“Maybe. What a pair we make.” He takes her hand, she pulls him in the window and they press their foreheads together. Her fingers come up and gently, carefully, reverently undo the clasp on his mask, peeling away the vengeful Red Hood to show the exhausted man underneath. And he is exhausted.

“I let him get away,” he confesses, like a bullet to the gut. “The Joker- I-” Her fingers rest over his lips, silencing him.

“It’ll take time, but he’ll get his due.”

“You say that like you know.” Her smile is full of teeth, knives gleaming in the dark as her blue eyes flash through with the soft pink of an unknown power that absolutely terrifies him. Carefully hidden away, only to be drawn out to hamstring someone without warning, to hobble, to cripple, to destroy.

“For you? I won’t give Fate a choice. And he’ll beg for one.” Was this how Paris felt when Troy burned for Helen? Like any price was worth paying to keep those eyes on him with all that promise, that devotion, that dedication to do anything. Her fingers stroke down his jaw and he follows those streaks of heat like he’ll die if they leave his skin.

It’s an incredible dichotomy, the violence of her words mixed with the gentle affection in her touch and it’s more intoxicating than any drug he knows.

“I don’t want you in danger,” he protests, but it’s weak in the face of a woman stubborn enough to defy gods.

“And I don’t want you to get hurt. But here we are.” But here we are. With him hurt and her in danger. “Come to bed, the world can wait.” There’s so much he doesn’t understand, so many questions he needs answered, but in this moment, he can’t ask. Can’t be reminded she belongs to other people too. He needs to pretend, just for one more night, that she’s no one’s but his.

—

It’s quiet and dark and he loves it here, curled around her in a cocoon they’ve made of blankets and their bodies. It’s quiet and dark and he cares more about that than the fact that he’s overheating under the blankets. If he got rid of things he loved for the sake of his own comfort, he’d be in a very different place in life. He’s got the quiet and the dark and her, he’ll endure any discomfort to keep them.

“Penny for your thoughts?” she asks, voice a bare breath that stirs the room and him towards a semblance of life. But he doesn’t have any right now, none that he can speak. None that she can hear and live to see another day.

“I can’t say what I want to,” he admits in the silence of her room, breathing that truth into the back of her neck.

“Hm?” her head twists, trying to look at him, but he digs his forehead into the nape of her neck to stop it.

“I can’t say it,” he repeats, arms banding more tightly around her, clutching her like a child holds their most comforting toy. “Or you’ll get killed.”

“Jason, let me turn around.” He clings harder, petulant, pressing a kiss to her spine and tasting salt. “Jason.”

“Silena,” he growls, curling further, squishing her more firmly into the circle of his body while he tries to shut the world away.

“Can I at least look at you?” He shakes his head. He likes it here, in the dark of her room, buried in the softness of her hair. Childish of him, absolutely, but right now he can’t face the thought of seeing her eyes pick him apart. “Fine, then…” she grumbles something under her breath in what sounds like Not-English but he’s not concentrating enough to tell exactly what dead language it is. “Give me.” She pries at one of his hands with that ever surprising strength of hers.

“Silena-”

“Please can I hold your hand at least?” That he can do. He can keep her like this with one arm, that’s not a problem. So he gives her a hand, letting her pull it up and towards her face, what is she-

She presses each one of his fingers to her mouth, kissing the calloused tips, her breath warm and grounding. The sensation hits him like a pile driver, tears welling in his eyes as he buries his head deeper. Maybe not seeing her was a mistake, maybe then he could have stopped her before- Her mouth presses delicately into his palm, a gentle and reassuring hum vibrating against his skin.

“I love you too,” she whispers into the hand that has taken hundreds of lives, destroyed thousands more, a hand that could so easily smother her with just a bit more pressure but she puts her life in it again and again- “I love you too.”

#jason todd #bruce wayne #the joker #silena beauregard #my writing #ao3 link #batman #percy jackson and the olympians

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nomoreusername · 10 months

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Instincts (Pip x Ravi One-shot)

It was finally over. Pip and Ravi could finally let the world know the truth. Sal was always innocent, but no one had bothered to look past the surface. Everyone has failed him including the cops, but was that surprising? For years people had looked at Ravi's entire family as monsters because of one lie. Now it was over, and they could finally get some peace.

Except there was something terribly wrong. As they left Pip (or Sarge as Ravi affectionately called her) with Becca something in his gut was screaming not to leave her alone. He told himself he was being ridiculous. Becca had no reason to hurt Pip, and the killer was behind bars.

As they were driving to the festival for the first time in years Ravi wanted to enjoy himself. He was trying to, but there was something reminding him how Sal got freed in the first place. Gut instincts had gotten them this far. Even when it was wrong they were closer to the truth. Instincts kept people alive, and he'd be damned if Sarge wasn't going to be alive because he ignored them.

"Stop the car,"He demanded.

Everyone turned to look at him except for Josh who was playing on his DS.

"Stop the car. There's something wrong with Pip,"He explained. "How do you know?"His mom asked. "I don't, but I do. Look, we only found the truth because we trusted ourselves. Please, trust me,"He pleaded. "We'll go back to look,"Her father agreed. "Check her location. We need to be sure."

Her dad pulled over and unlocked his phone. Ravi couldn't see the phone, but he could see her dad's face pale before twisting in horror.

"She's near Jason Bell's company. Why would she be there?"

"Then that's where we need to go,"Ravi told them firmly. Even Josh was listening now. Normally he would be upset by missing the festival, but this was his sister. If his sister was in trouble he was going to help her.

"Okay. You keep looking at her location. Tell me if it changes,"Her dad directed. Ravi nodded as his stomach kept doing almost painful flip flops. He could never live with himself if something happened to her. She wasn't just Pip. She was his hero, his partner in crime, and most importantly she was Sarge. He didn't doubt her strength for one second. He doubted Becca's intentions with her.

It couldn't have been more than a few seconds, but it felt like days or even weeks when they made it. Before anyone could say anything he jumped out of the car and ran towards where the phone said she was.

He stopped and looked up to see Pip, but she wasn't alone. She wasn't conscious either. There was Becca dragging her with a tear streaked face. It was unfathomable that Becca could be the one crying when Pip was the one being dragged.

Ravi could only stand there in shock as he heard faint footsteps behind him. It wasn't that they were actually quiet, but all sounds were muffled to him.

Becca stood there with her mouth agape staring right back at him. She wasn't running or coming to attack him. Instead, she had accepted her fate. Soon she'd be behind bars. Maybe she'd even be there until she died.

From around them red and blue lights were flashing. Sirens were ringing almost making it possible to properly hear again. The cops had done something right for once.

Detective Hopkins was there with his gun drawn. Becca only put her hands up showing defeat. She was going to accept anything that came her way, but she didn't want it to be bullets.

A cop walked behind Becca and handcuffed her while reading her rights. Becca had watched plenty of cop shows as a kid to know them. Back then she had innocence and a bright future. Look where she was now.

"We need to ask you some questions. Come with us,"Detective Hopkins said, putting a hand on Ravi's shoulder. He shook it off and stared at the man in disgust. He didn't deserve his title. He had failed his brother, and the only reason he didn't fail Pip was because of a phone call.

"I know you're upset about Sal."

"Don't you dare say his name. Do you know what you helped do? I had to move schools because of the beatings. Even the teachers hated me because you failed him. My parents suffered the loss of a son because of you, but yeah. I'm just upset that you killed my brother,"Ravi spat, giving a bitter laugh. "I'm not a killer,"Hopkins defended. "Not directly, but you made him look like a monster. Thanks for rescuing Sarge though. It's about time you didn't fail someone I love.",

Ravi didn't say another word as he walked to the ambulance Pip was being put in.

"Sorry sir. Family only,"The paramedic said, lightly pushing his back. She had seen what young love could do. She didn't even need to hear the conversation. She could see it in his eyes.

"I need to be with her,"He argued.

She sighed remembering what it was like for people to watch someone they love die. They couldn't save everyone. Life didn't work like that. She was about to repeat her words when Pip's mom spoke up.

"He is family. Let him in."

Ravi was surprised, but nevertheless he was grateful. The paranormal knew time was limited so she let him in.

The ride was almost silent. It was just Ravi and Pip's mom not knowing if she would make it. Ravi had faith in her, but he knew she wasn't indestructible. Even our heroes are only human.

The rest of the ride to the hospital was spent with silent tears and prayers. His prayers had never been answered before, but he needed them to be this time. He could lose his Sarge. He couldn't lose the girl he loved.

----

Ravi had obviously been in hospitals before, but ever since that day with Sal he found a way to avoid them. Even when he was sick he refused to go back to the smell of disinfectant and the cold air that was supposed to help the ill.

For Pip though he would do anything, even if it killed him. Even if it reminded him of every agonizing memory he would do it for her. He felt like he owed her that much. She felt like he owed her nothing, though she couldn't say that just yet. They were waiting for her to open her eyes and make some kind of remark because that's who she is.

Together the two families sat together waiting for her. At some point they would become one, but that takes time.

Josh was in the corner of the room with his legs curled up to his chest. The normally relaxed he always had seemed to be wiped away. It almost reminded Ravi of him. Of course the circumstances were different, but the idea was very much the same. Their beloved sibling was lying in a hospital. The difference was Pip would wake up.

Ravi was more than aware of these facts, but he already grew to care for Josh. Even if they already knew Pip would be conscious soon he was still her brother. To be less specific he was human, and the majority of humans have fear and empathy. There was more than enough in this room to go around.

"Hey buddy. Do you mind if I sit?"Ravi asked, moving away from Pip. No matter how badly he wanted to be by her side when she woke up he had the urge to comfort the little boy.

"I guess,"Josh shrugged, unable to take his eyes off his sister. In his simple kid mind if he kept watching her breathe she couldn't stop.

"She's going to be okay. Sarge is strong,"Ravi assured him. "Who's Sarge?"Johs asked, refusing to move in any way. The average person blinks twelve times per minute, but extreme or traumatizing situations seem to change the way we behave. Josh hadn't blinked for an entire minute and thirty seconds.

"Pip. Pip is going to be okay,"Ravi clarified. "Dad called her pickle. She hated it at first,"Josh responded, sounding like he was in a trance. "What do you call her?"Ravi asked, taking the approach of distracting the little boy. It was clear no words of reassurance were going to help. "I call her Pip it Pippa,"Josh answered.

Together they sat listening to the beep of her heart rate. Each beep seemed to fill the room with more oxygen. Even though the nurses explained she hadn't been given enough to kill her someone still tried to murder her.

"Pip really likes you. She writes about you in her journal,"Josh stated. "Why are you reading your sister's journal?"Ravi asked, pretending his heart didn't flutter at the thought of her writing about him.

"That's my job as her brother. As her little brother I also have to look after her so be a good boyfriend to Pip."

"Boyfriend?"Ravi asked, too shocked to get out any other words. Josh didn't notice the disbelief in Ravi's voice nor did he care. He might be a kid, but he wasn't stupid. To be fair Pip and Ravi were far from that as well, but they were blind.

"Yes. I am giving you my blessing,"Josh stated, sounding much older than he actually was. He was only repeating a phrase from a television show he heard his parents were watching when he was supposed to be in bed, but the sentiment was there. It didn't take away the fact that they were still powerful words. Of course the truth always is. That was learned in the most memorable and unfortunate way possible.

Pip opened her eyes disoriented and confused. Josh sat up staring at his sister who was finally awake. Ravi snapped his head over to see her staring at the ceiling. The emotions that ran through the room changed in an instant.

Even though Ravi's parents hadn't known her very long they still cared for the girl who brought justice for their son. As for their other son, she taught him how to smile again. In a way they had lost both their children for a while. At least now they could have one child back.

"Come on bud. Let's get you a drink,"Their father suggested. Josh cocked his head puzzled at why they were leaving, but he was hoping to get a Pepsi.

One by one everyone left the room until it was just Ravi and Pip. He walked to his original seat directly next to her and pulled it out. Pip was going to ask questions once she was all there. That's one of the things she does best. Technically, anyone could ask questions, but people rarely go to the lengths she did to get the answers they seek. Pip was different though, and even if she didn't see it he did. He saw the spark in her the same way she saw the strength in him. They were Pip and Ravi, partners in crime, detectives, mystery solvers, friends, and most importantly soulmates.

They would do anything for each other, and they would see just how deep that ran very soon. Until then they'd rely on Instincts to keep them going. There was another thing that would keep them going as well. They would keep each other going.

There was plenty of time to think about that later though because their story wasn't even close to ending. This is only the beginning of the bittersweet mess that is their love.

#agggtm #a good girls guide to murder #one shot #pip x ravi

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xxmyhomexx · 9 months

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KING OF WRATH: Dante and Vivian

This is a bit different from my persistant Romance Club posts, but King of Wrath by Ana Huang has me thinking of a fan spin-off if they were to have a kid.

Their daughter is the POLAR opposite of both her parents, named Tatum Russo. She inherits her mom's hair and eyes, but she resembles her dad in the face. She is more laid back in personality, and is very close with her Aunt Agnes and Uncle Luca. She doesn't have a relationship with Celia or Francis, as Vivian and Dante don't want them to use her as a pawn, and she is aware of what they put them through with their arranged marriage.

Dante allows his own parents to visit her and they develop a straight bond. Tatum doesn't want to take over The Russo Group or Lau Jewels, because owning a business isn't her passion: music is.

While Dante and Vivian grew up with classy music, Tatum loves anything and everything rock and metal. Her room is covered in Rob Zombie, Korn, and Van Halen posters. She doesn't like to dress classy, preferably in shirts with cut-out jeans, dresses with leggings, and heavy eyeliner and mascara.

She doesn't associate herself with her parents' wealth. She believes you don't have to be rich to be happy, and works for her money. She is also a true friend, preferring to hang out with people who she knows won't take advantage of her wealth, and is into the metal scene of headbaning, while also avoiding moshpits because they're too much for her.

She has a thing for horror, and loves things that can give you a good scare. Her room has a glass case filled with memorabilia, from George Romero zombie figurines to classic slashers like Jason Voorhees and Learherface. On family movie night, Dante goes into her room and picks a few DVDs from a shelf.

Tatum realizes he picked movies from her George Romero collection, stopping on Day Of The Dead. She warns him of the gruesome scenes, but Dante tells her he hasn't seen his movies in years. Tatum persuades them to watch the original Night Of The Living Dead since she doesn't want to give her family even more nightmares, and scare her mother from watching another movie ever again. The movie is tame to where Vivian is more intrigued than horrified.

She loves to write her own songs and is killer on the guitar. Although Dante and Vivian try to be accepting of Tatum's tastes, Dante can't help but be horrified at her choice of music and movies. Vivian always laughs, defending that their daughter is just experimenting.

Despite her persona, Tatum is a good kid. She is confident and unafraid to speak out. She loves her parents a lot, although Dante sometimes has to yank her headphones off her head when she is listening to loud rock music. For Christmas, her parents would gift her an original guitar signed by the members of Van Halen.

When she grows up, she becomes the lead singer of her own successful band. They are like Lacuna Coil, except more gutteral and heavy. Tatum can transform her growls into a melodic symphony of octaves, almost like a siren. It'd be enough to chart a couple of singles, but moreso on the album sales.

#king of wrath #vivian lau #dante russo #ana huang

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mochegato · 3 years

Text

An Irrevocably Gone Heart

Tim tugged on her arm. “You’re coming with me.”

“What?” Marinette exclaimed a little louder than she meant to. She immediately looked around to see if any of the other party goers had noticed them and cringed at the eyes on her. She gave them a weak smile and moved closer to Tim, who was still pulling them toward the stairs. “No, no, no, no. This is a family thing.” She tried to pull away discretely but Tim had her arm in a firm lock. Damn vigilante training. She could break out of it of course, but not without making a scene in front of a growing audience, which was starting to include his family.

They were all moving to the stairs like Tim was, and unwillingly her as well, to stand behind Mr. Wayne as he addressed the crowd at his New Year’s party. She briefly looked over to them to see if they had noticed her yet. One of the brothers in particular, Jason, had observed the interaction between her and Tim and was watching her carefully. She accidentally met his eyes and couldn’t look away. She saw a flicker of interest and amusement in his eyes and blushed at the attention. She was so caught up in his eyes, she stumbled slightly, giving Tim the advantage in dragging her the last few feet to the stairs.

“You’re like family. In fact, I like you more than most of my family so… You’re coming.” Tim grinned at her mercilessly. She couldn’t get away now without causing a stir in the crowd, drawing all eyes away from Mr. Wayne and to her. She was caught and they both knew it, trapped by societal convention. He pulled her onto the stairs next to him and the rest of the family, facing the crowd of party goers and reporters.

“Okay first, I hate being in front of a lot of people. Second, this seems incredibly counterproductive,” Marinette hissed quietly at him.

“Depends on your goal,” he said with a polite, fake smile, keeping his eyes on the crowd. “Now smile for the cameras, Love.”

Marinette groaned quietly at him and turned to face the crowd with the practiced, PR worthy smile Adrien had taught her. She stood a polite distance from Tim, making it clear that although she was here with him, she wasn’t here with him. Tim chuckled devilishly and pulled her closer to him, slinging his arm around her shoulders. “I’m going to make you pay for this.” She threatened through gritted teeth and a beautiful smile. “You know who I am but you won’t know where I am and you will never see me coming.”

“Calm down, Trevor. And you’re welcome.” His smile turned real and his eyes glistened with mirth. “Tomorrow our picture, and more importantly your clothes, will be everywhere in Gotham.”

As soon as Bruce was done with his welcoming speech, they bolted from the stairs to escape his family’s and reporter’s questions. Tim guided her as they ran through the maze of the manor. They finally stopped running in a back hallway, doubling over in laughter and out of breath. “Oh man, my family is going to drive themselves insane trying to figure out who you are.”

Marinette closed her eyes and groaned. “How did this help? It’s only going to make Bruce more curious about me to make sure I’m not a gold-digger or using you.”

“Marinette, calm down. You aren’t using me or abusing our friendship to get your name out there. It was my idea and as I recall, to get you to let me commission you for the suit and come with me, I had to blackmail you int...” She lunged at him to slam her hands over his mouth.

She glared at him as she looked around to see if anyone heard them. As soon as she was sure nobody was around to hear them, missing the body listening to them around the corner, she batted at Tim with a pout. “They don’t know that and how are you going to explain it?”

“I’ll figure it out without saying anything important.” He looked back in the general direction of the party. “We should get back though.”

“Ugh, fine, but I’m not staying until midnight just for some trust fund prick to try to ‘slum it’ for a night with me. And next time, you come with your boyfriend, not me. And I can design both of your suits instead.” She adds with a smug grin.

“If you can get him into a suit, deal.” Tim scoffed. “Good luck with that by the way. Come on, give me one dance as a reprieve before I have to be sociable. And if any other trust fund pricks try anything with you, I promise to destroy them.” He gave her a wink.

“Like I need you to do that for me.” She snarked at him.

“Oh definitely not, but it would give me an acceptable excuse to leave the party.” Tim shrugged with a smile.

Jason watched them walk back toward the party from his spot tucked away in an alcove. Well, this night was certainly more interesting than he had anticipated. He followed them back to the party and kept an eye on the friends as they danced. The woman, Marinette, seemed to be having an awfully good time dancing and joking with Tim considering he was ‘blackmailing’ her, but then again if they were friends, like it seemed they were, it was likely to be more embarrassing than damning.

As far as Jason could tell, despite how much she had complained to Tim earlier, Marinette was handling the crowd brilliantly. She managed to make the rounds at the party talking pleasantly with quite a few people. A few of her conversation partners had been attending Wayne parties for years and tonight was the first night Jason saw them give a genuine smile. But, if anyone made the mistake of trying to touch her a little too intimately or make a comment that was a bit too suggestive, or just flat out insulting, she sent them a dark glare that would make Batman proud and crowded their personal space in a way that had the aggressor backing away intimidated and Jason impressed.

Jason tore his eyes away from Marinette and moved to the bar to get some liquid patience. Tim might be a natural at mingling but he needed a little help to deal with this crowd. The only interesting part of the entire evening had been Tim’s friend. She had wandered around the room with an effortless grace and stood up for herself with just as effortless strength. It was a hard balance to maintain and she pulled it off beautifully, just like the rest of herself.

Jason set his empty drink down and looked down the bar for the bartender. He didn’t find the bartender, but he did find the stunning woman herself sitting alone with an empty seat next to her. He moved quickly, seeing a few other men eying her with interest as well. “Is this seat taken?” He asked with a charming smile.

“It is not.” She said tiredly, not even bothering to look up. “My date isn’t using it right now.”

“Smooth.” Jason nodded in approval. “Timbo would just push me out if he wanted the seat. Well, he’d try anyway.” He took the seat and ordered another drink from the newly appeared bartender. “Want a refill?”

“I’m good thank you.” She continued staring at her drink.

Jason grinned at her. She wasn’t remotely interested in playing nice just for the sake of propriety. She wasn’t rude, just not easily impressed. “I’m Tim’s brother, Jason.”

She looked over at him in surprise and immediately cringed internally. He was the brother she had embarrassed herself gaping at earlier. “Oh, I’m sorry. Hi. Nice to meet you. I’m Marinette.” She reached her hand out to him with a smile. “Sorry, I thought you were another… never mind. Hi.”

He gave her a disarming smile and shook her hand. “Don’t worry about it, I understand. The kind of people who come to this are… rich is the nicest thing to say about almost any of them. And you know what they say, eat the rich.” He dropped her hand but kept his eyes on her.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Aren’t you rich?”

He chuckled. “No, Bruce is. I make my own, significantly less red carpeted, way.”

She looked at him skeptically then eyed his tuxedo. “Awfully expensive tux for someone who isn’t rich.” She commented wryly.

“Bruce’s party, he wants me here, he pays. I don’t normally wear suits, let alone ones that cost more than six month’s rent.”

She studied the tuxedo again. “Six months, huh? That still affords you a pretty nice apartment by Gotham standards.”

He bobbed his head to the side in acknowledgement and studied her again, trying to make sense of her. “So, what does he have on you?”

She cocked her head to the side and stared at him in confusion as she tried to figure out what he meant. Her face scrunched in annoyance and her entire posture stiffened once she figured it out. “If you think Tim has to blackmail me into being his friend, you vastly underestimate your brother’s charms.”

“No I don’t.” Jason scoffed at her. “I meant bringing you here.”

She raised an eyebrow at him and set her mouth in a firm line. “You think he has to blackmail me to spend time with him? How is that better?”

“I think he blackmailed you to get you to come to this specific event. And I think that because I heard him say it to you in the hallway a little bit ago.” Jason responded matter-of-factly, taking another swig of his drink.

“Ah…” She looked back down at her drink and took a long sip trying to figure out how to respond. Well on the bright side, he wasn’t insulting Tim with his question, he was trying to understand if she was a threat. But, she wasn’t going to make it that easy for him. She looked back over to him and gave him a pointed look. “If it was something I wanted to share, it wouldn’t be blackmail material.”

Jason grinned at her “True.” Still staring at her expectantly.

“Let’s just say there are things I would rather… uh…” she looked around cautiously, “Bruce Wayne, not know about me.”

Jason raised an eyebrow at her. “Is that so?”

“Yeah… Oh! No. Nothing like that. I’m not like Catwoman or one of the sirens or anything.” She waved her hands frantically in front of her.

He chuckled. “Honestly I don’t think that would be considered an issue for him.”

She cocked her head to the side, “True. The most bizarre relationship ever.”

“Not when Joker and Harley once existed.”

“Most appalling relationship ever.”

Jason chuckled and looked into his glass until he realized what she had said. “Wait, how did you know…”

“What?”

“Catwoman and…” he motioned vaguely with his hand. She hadn’t confirmed she knew Bruce was Batman and he wasn’t about to out that particular secret if she didn’t know.

“Ohh,” She nodded in understanding and gave him a grin. “Your family isn’t as slick as they think they are, Red.”

Jason stared at her dumbfounded for a few seconds. She knew their secret and apparently Tim, the one person that matched Bruce in paranoia, wasn’t worried about her in the least. “And he’s blackmailing you?” Jason asked incredulously. “How bad is your secret?”

“Not bad just… I don’t need someone critiquing all my life choices, you know? It’s a threat of annoyance, not retribution.”

“Mood.” Jason said lifting his glass to hers. She clinked hers to his with a sardonic smile.

She was beautiful, smart, elegant, tough, funny, judicious, cautious, and far out of his league. But he was here now and they were having fun and he wasn’t stupid enough to blow a brilliant opportunity. Jason gazed over his shoulder toward the dancefloor and back to her. He looked her up and down and gave her a roguish smile. “Care to dance?”

“I didn’t take you for a dancer.” She responded as she moved toward the dancefloor and held out her hand for him.

He grabbed her hand, holding it close to his chest and wrapped his other hand around her waist, pulling her closer to him. “It has its advantages.”

Marinette looked up at him with wide eyes, a light blush dusting her cheeks. “I see what you mean.” She ducked her head trying to collect herself. He wasn’t the first handsome man she’d danced with, why was this one making her lose her composure? She wasn’t 15 anymore, damn it!

“So how did you figure it out?” he asked casually. He clearly wasn’t upset, just curious.

“How does everyone not? Seriously, Bruce admitted it under oath.” She scoffed. “Plus you guys are terrible at hiding it. You don’t even try to act or look different. Oh look Bruce Wayne has a new ward or person who hangs out with the family all the time. Oh look, there’s a new vigilante with the same build and hair color. Pure coincidence surely. Then there’s the whole butts match thing.”

“Wow, been studying Bruce’s butt that closely, huh?” Jason raised an unamused eyebrow at her.

“Who said anything about Bruce’s butt?” She asked without thinking about it. Jason spluttered at her. Her eyes widened and her face paled as she realized what she had just said.

“Forget I said that,” she pleaded, her face turning bright red.

“Oh fuck no. That’s the best compliment I’ve ever gotten. A gorgeous woman has been studying my ass so intently she was able to identify me by it?” He gave her a brilliant smile so wide, his cheeks would surely hurt the next morning. “My ego will never come down from this.”

Marinette groaned in embarrassment and buried her head in her hands and then buried her head and hands in his chest, trying to erase all evidence of her existence. Jason wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly as he roared with laughter. Marinette could feel his body vibrating with the sound. The movement calmed her enough that she was willing to remove her hands from her face but not her face from his chest. “I hope you’ll let me return the favor someday.” He whispered in her ear.

Marinette jerked her head back to look at him, her eyes wide and cheeks a deep crimson. When her eyes met the wicked glint in his, she narrowed hers, a hint of a smile on her lips. “Good luck with that. Magic is a hell of a thing.”

Jason looked at her confused. That was not a response he was expecting… or understood. They stared in each other’s eyes for a few moments, both trying to figure out something about the other. Marinette finally broke the silence with a teasing smile. “So, you’re Jason, huh? I’ve heard a few things about you.” She chuckled lightly when he rolled his eyes at that and groaned lightly. “Did you really do a flip off of one building to crash through the skylight of another and beat up a bunch of henchmen then set their drug room on fire all while quoting Shakespeare?”

He barked out a loud laugh and smiled brightly at her, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “It was Austen.”

She smiled back at him but quickly narrowed her eyes and quirked her head to the side. “Prove it,” She challenged him, a playful lilt in her voice. He looked at her questioningly not sure how exactly he was supposed to crash through a skylight when there wasn’t one here. “Quote some Austen to me. I have a hard time believing the formidable… you, is secretly a book nerd.”

A delighted smile creeped onto his face. Marinette was the first person to ask him about his love for literature and encourage him to indulge in it. He tried to remember all the many Jane Austen quotes he’d memorized through reading and rereading her works so often. What would be the most impressive quote? Which one would wow her the most? He ransacked his brain, but suddenly his mind was blank. He couldn’t think of anything. The harder he tried to remember, the harder it was to think. He opened and closed his mouth a few times.

Marinette watched the panic flit across his eyes. She cringed internally. She got anxiety when she was put on the spot. Jason must be the same. It was one thing to do it in the heat of the moment, without thinking about it, but being asked to perform on demand, was a different kind of pressure. She gently cupped his cheek and brought his eyes back down to hers and gave him a soft smile. “Maybe you can show me later. I’ll still be impressed tomorrow.”

He looked in her eyes and instantly felt himself calm down. Her eyes were shining with compassion, like she understood exactly what was going on in his head and believed in him. He pulled her closer and gave her a tender smile in return. He ran his fingers slowly up and down her back, “The very first moment I beheld you, my heart was irrevocably gone.” He quoted quietly.

Marinette gasped at his frankness. She leaned her head against his chest, trying to hide the deep blush that enveloped her cheeks and spread to her ears. After a few moments of silent swaying in his arms, she cleared her throat and weakly spoke, “That… yeah, uh… that works. Point proven.”

He chuckled lightly, a proud smile working its way onto his face. He moved his hand so they were both wound around her waist, holding her close to him. She settled further into his chest, causing him to sigh contentedly. They danced together for a while, refusing others that attempted to cut in with either one of them, Marinette doing so significantly more politely than Jason did. After a while, Tim tapped her on the shoulder. “I thought I was your date.” He stated with a suspicious smile.

“Oh fuck off, Timbers.” Jason grunted at him, twirling Marinette so she was on the other side of him from Tim.

Marinette poked her head out around Jason’s side to give Tim a sheepish look. “Sorry, Tim. You were busy. Did you need a break from socializing?”

“Uh huh,” he responded sarcastically. “No, I’m good. And I thought you weren’t going to stay until midnight? Something…” he eyed Jason meaningfully, “come up?”

Marinette looked at him in surprise and searched for a clock. Surely it hadn’t been hours. If felt like it had just been a few minutes with Jason. She finally found the prominent clock that had been hung to countdown to midnight and gaped at it. “Oh my God. It’s almost midnight!” She looked back to Tim in time to see him pulling back from whispering something in Jason’s ear.

“Well, I’m going to go call Kon so we can ring in the New Year together in some way.” Tim said tightly. He leaned over and kissed Marinette on the cheek. “Happy New Year, Marinette. I hope it’s a happy one.” He gave Jason a pointed look.

“Happy New Year, Tim. I hope it is for you as well.” She smiled at him. As soon as he left, Jason pulled Marinette back into his embrace. “What was that about?” She asked him.

“What?” He asked innocently.

“The whispering. There isn’t a problem is there? You’re not going to have to run off 2 minutes before midnight?”

Jason chuckled at her. “No. No, that was him warning me to treat you like you deserve.”

“Like I…” she thought about it and gave him a half-hearted smile before muttering. “Not sure if that is a threat to you or me.”

“Threat for me, blessing for you.” Jason answered softly.

“You think too highly of me.” She shook her head with a small smile.

“Doubt it.” He answered back quietly. “And it sounds like I’m going to be held personally accountable if your year isn’t amazing, so I better get on that.”

“Sounds like you’ll have to keep a close eye on me. I can be a handful.” She said quietly, looking up at him from under her lashes.

“Rough job, but amazing work environment.” He answered just as quietly, pulling her even closer.

“And what are the benefits to giving you the job?” She gave him a playful smile.

“You get to see my roguishly handsome face and get Austen and Shakespeare quoted at you daily.” He grinned back.

“What if I prefer Verne or Hugo?” She asked with exaggerated innocence.

“Then I’ll learn.” His eyes turned serious and his voice husky.

Jason slowly moved one of his hands up her back, around her shoulder, and rested it on her neck, stroking her jaw with his thumb.

Marinette parted her lips in surprise and leaned into his hand.

Jason leaned down toward Marinette, stopping a bit short of her lips, giving her the chance to pull back if she wanted to.

Marinette rose up to close the gap, meeting his lips in a soft, tentative, hopeful kiss.

The room erupted into cheers and applause at the clock striking midnight. Balloons dropped from the ceiling all around them, but the only thing Jason or Marinette noticed was each other. The feeling of the other’s lips against theirs. The feel of the other’s hands on their bodies and the feel of their own hands on them. The warmth of each other’s bodies against their own. The deep need that grew the longer they kissed. When they finally broke apart, it was just far enough to catch their breath and stare in each other’s eyes.

“This was a great way to ring in the New Year.” She whispered against his lips.

He nodded absentmindedly, still in a daze from the kiss. “There’s still a few more time zones that need to be rung in,” he said leaning down to capture her lips again in a passionate kiss.

#maribat #jasonette #platonic timinette #New Years Eve #she never said it was his butt

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bigskydreaming · 3 years

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#when i read about tim i often kind of come to the idea that he's relatively self centered#and that can be both a flaw and a strength#but he doesn't often consider other people's feelings and circumstances#like when dick made damian robin he didn't really consider the situation from anyone else's view#or in his origin story#he doesn't seem to consider how dick would feel about hearing how tim was affected by dick's parents' death#or with the spyral situation#or in regards to him earning robin#and its pretty consistent in fandom characterization even if a lot of writers don't seem to be aware of it#its interesting cause i think its something i think he has in common with bruce#its honestly a surprisingly consistent thing from what i see#and it can be a strength to#it can absolutely lead to some confidence and self actualization#as well as being able commit to fixing something and working hard at it#because you believe you can and don't think anyone else can/will do it via @emenerd

Y’know, what’s interesting to me about these points is the fact that like.....Tim having tendencies towards self-centeredness is actually something that COMPLETELY makes sense and can be quite sympathetic in light of his backstory of having neglectful parents.

In an age of armchair diagnosticians eager to label anyone who expresses a controversial viewpoint while centering themselves as an example, as like, having a narcissistic personality disorder (and with the loaded implication that this makes them a bad person even if its true, instead of just....having a disorder, yay weaponizable ableism) like, it can be important to add in distinctions that even tendencies that share overlap with a lot of things born of entitlement, etc....aren’t always necessarily proof of that.

For instance, in Tim’s case, an overemphasis on himself and his own position in situations and arguments can very reasonably be attributed as a coping mechanism he developed in an attempt to acknowledge and address self-esteem issues he sees himself as having, DUE to parental neglect.

Its not that he thinks he’s the most important person in the room, necessarily, its that he spent so many years not even being considered a person in the room, that now he OVERCOMPENSATES on his own behalf, in an attempt to remind himself that no, his opinion and feelings and situations do matter.....and because he like most of the Bat-characters has a tendency towards hyper-fixating on a problem they’re trying to address, this can also understandably create a kind of tunnel vision. Where he’s so busy focusing on what he’s diagnosed as an actual issue he has that he’s trying to address or make up for, in order to build up his self-esteem....that he neglects to keep everyone around him equally centered in his interactions with them, and remember that like, they have their own issues and ignoring that to focus entirely on his own runs the risk of negatively impacting them in the exact same way he’s still learning to cope with having been negatively impacted in his development as a child.

None of this makes him a bad person, or is stuff that can’t be addressed and developed just by paying the appropriate attention to it and his interactions.

SO the issue I tend to more often have....

Is with how often in fandom and fanon we hear references to Tim’s neglect and emotional abuse and how this impacted him.....much in the same way we see Jason and Cass and Damian and Dick’s various forms of abuse and the developmental impact it had on them....

BUT there tends to then be a disconnect, IMO, because that acknowledgment of the WHAT of Tim’s neglect and abuse and the HOW it hurt him.....isn’t often followed up by an examination/awareness of how it also SHAPED him.....at least, not compared to how discussions/fics about say, Jason’s abuse tend to point out the latter as much as the former.

And this is a big part of my gripe with the ways abuse is centered and tackled as a topic in fics and fandom discussions, because its so often capitalized upon as a defense or shield for a character from criticism, stuff like that.....without ever actually EXPLORING the topic itself, or the FULLNESS of the impact it can have.

But only in regards to some characters.

What I mean is like....we see a lot of focus on Jason’s childhood abuse, yeah? And this often is then connected through headcanons, meta and fics to various aspects of Jason’s characterization as a teenager, and as an adult as well.....with a tendency towards anger or violence, abrasive personality, etc. Don’t get me wrong, its usually presented as such in a SYMPATHETIC light, especially when raised by fans of Jason themselves.....but his abuse is very much present and centered in fics and discussions as something that not only impacted him and made him suffer, but something that actually shaped him to varying degrees as well....with a lot of focus then in fics of him as an adult, like, paid to him going to therapy and unpacking his childhood abuse in an effort to WORK on these aspects of himself that make his present day life harder or less healthy than he’d like it to be. The issue of how his abuse lent itself to various behaviorisms is raised in order to address various byproducts of his abuse as FLAWS that he seeks to eliminate, in order to make himself happier and make himself someone that people want to be around more.

And again, don’t get me wrong - for the most part, this is a GOOD thing. The caveat here is just a personal dislike I have for how often these narratives smack of a kind of saviorism, and act like it was only through the grace of Bruce and becoming part of the Batfam that Jason’s ever afforded the opportunity to better himself as a person. I dislike the hell out of this because it not only pairs all too well with a lot of classist shit, it feeds into the singular narrative we’re so often presented with by media about abused kids: the myth of the victim being destined to become a victimizer, it all being an inevitable cycle. The reason this myth is so easily perpetuated is the exact reason I’m so critical of the saviorism in a lot of abused-Jason fics.....people can very easily fall into the trap of assuming that abused kids are likely to grow up to be abusers because they never have anyone to TEACH them that abuse is wrong, or to lead by healthy example.

The harm of this perception is that it kinda throws under the bus every kid who never lucks out and gets a Bruce Wayne style savior swooping in to not only save them from their abusive environs, but TEACH them that they deserved better and that abuse is wrong.

Because its like, uh, the thing is, plenty of abused kids who never get a personal mentor or savior figure are fully capable of figuring out for themselves that they deserve better and that people hurting them is wrong, because it makes them feel bad and they don’t like that?

Many abused kids don’t grow up in a media vacuum where they simply have no access to glimpses of lives different from their own.....we see kids having happier, healthier family lives on TV or in books and are able to figure out that society overall thinks that’s what family is SUPPOSED to look like, and its ours that is the aberration?

The very fact that we’re taught or have it instilled in us by abusive parents that like, we’re not to bring up instances or examples of our abuse to teachers or friends, that its a SECRET, is like, usually a dead giveaway that there’s something WRONG with it that we’re being instructed - and enforced with abusive consequences - to keep from alerting others to....like, this is basically a blaring siren to a lot of us that no, what’s happening to us ISN’T normal and acceptable, and that’s literally WHY the parent we’re afraid of is so insistent on us keeping the facts of it hidden?

And so like, tons of abused kids figure out for ourselves the difference between right or wrong, based off nothing more than our own feelings about things and a desire to not be like the people who make us feel miserable - like, never underestimate the power of spite to like, keep a kid from growing up doing the same thing to others that was done to them, lol.

But point being, lots of kids never get a Bruce Wayne figure to take them away from their abuse and also teach them that they never deserved it and how not to pass the hurt forward by doing the same things to others. And its kinda condescending as fuck that we so often see narratives that take it as so obvious it barely merits commenting on, that like, ‘of COURSE abused kids grow up to become abusers if they don’t have someone else step in and show them a better way’....mmm, no. Fuck that. But you get what I mean.

So like, its a mixed bag. Its a good thing, to see Jason-centric stories that show him addressing his childhood and seeking just a more fuller, happier, healthier life for himself. Its a less great thing to see this narrative presented as all encompassing, with it never being raised that no, Jason actually could figure out he deserved better and how to treat people in ways he’d want to be treated even without a billionaire guardian angel.....NOT because the narrative wherein someone helps an abused kid figure out what was wrong about how they were treated is like, NEVER valid....but rather it just becomes a problem when looked at as a data point against the larger tapestry of fandom-wide works....and noticing that this specific narrative is pretty much the ONLY one raised or treated as valid. With it just being ASSUMED to be the natural course of events and characters, rather than just....the direction society overall has their perceptions of abuse steered towards due to a singular and constantly reinforced abuse narrative shown to us in media.

And the way this all plays back into my point about Tim and what took me down this road in general.....

Is that disconnect I was talking about, lies specifically in HOW Tim is often acknowledged and regarded as an abuse survivor due to his emotional abuse and neglect......with this abuse and its impact on HIM often taking center stage, much the way Jason’s abuse and its impact takes center stage in his narratives.....

BUT with a key difference being that while a lot of Jason’s narratives go on to denote the specific ways his abuse helped SHAPE him and his interactions with others, and raise and address the ways in which he can better himself and his relationships by unpacking all of this openly....

Most of the stories about Tim’s abuse/neglect tend to just STOP at the awareness of its existence and impact on him. Never taking it that one step further to examine how those specific forms of abuse could have additionally SHAPED him....in ways that sometimes negatively impact those around him and his own loved ones, even if this is completely unintentional on his part. The difference, the disconnect, lies solely in how rarely its ever acknowledged that Tim’s own upbringing can and does play directly into how he interacts with people later on in life.....and in ways that he’s fully capable of addressing and bettering himself so as to be happier and healthier just in his own life, and in his relationships, as someone others want to be around.

Aaaaand once you actually examine or consider WHY there’s this discrepancy between the full ramifications of Tim’s abuse and that which various siblings of his underwent, when there’s full agreement that what he did go through absolutely can be termed abusive as well....like, its the implications of what about Tim makes him more naturally resistant or whatever to being shaped by his abuse in ways that have actual negative impact on others in his life, whereas the same isn’t true of say, Jason.....that’s when the red flags start to go up for me, and the unintended subtext starts to get Less Than Stellar, IMO.

Anyway. Just food for thought on the subject of Tim, his upbringing, the various impacts this had on not JUST him but also on how he interacts with others, and ways in which all of this compares and contrasts with how the subject of abuse is raised and depicted in regards to other Batkids.

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pixiealtaira · 3 years

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And the Thunder Rolls

This is the first of my Glee Summer Bang fics...but I decided it was too gloomy.

It is a Klaine Break-Up Fic and this Not Klaine or Blaine friendly.

Takes place right after the end of Junior Year:

The crash of thunder shook the house. Kurt looked out to the pouring rain. It was nearly pushed horizontal by the wind. “Very Blustery, my ass. Hurricane force winds would have been a better description,” Kurt muttered as he watched chaos out the window. Kurt still felt that being out in the storm would be preferable than where he was currently at, that the chaos outside would be safer and somehow 'less' than the chaos inside his being as he listened to Blaine. Lightening ripped through the sky, near enough for Kurt to just see the light of the flash and not a actual bolt and for the thunder to roll right after it and actually shake the house. He wondered if Finn knew he had a flashlight in his room. Rachel didn't like power outages. Kurt leaned closer to the window to see if he could see where it might have landed.

“Kurt, I don't think you are listening to me.” Blaine whined behind him. “Do I need to go get Finn and Rachel and have them listen to this as well? I am setting out guidelines for how I want our summer to be and you just aren't really paying attention to me. Stop looking out the window and look at me, the boyfriend. I am beginning to think you don't actually love me at all. You are not at all focused where you need to be focused.” “Blaine, I love you. I told you that just a few days ago. And yes, you are my boyfriend. But that doesn't give you permission to dictate my summer.” Light brightened the whole room again and thunder shook the house and Kurt wished it would just hit the house. Maybe stop what he suspected would be a defining moment to everything for the whole of the rest of his life. Blaine huffed. “I'm not dictating your summer. I'm just letting you know how things need to be so we can see each other more often during the summer. My dad got me this job, you know, and it is Important that I am my best during the time I am working and performing. Important people might be watching, you know. Nila said that Jason, one of the boys who left the year before I could perform at all, got scouted and got a modeling job and a job as a back-up singer for a band. That could be me this year, but only if I'm at the top of my game. I I can only be at the top of my game when I know you are focused on me. You need to know when to keep yourself free to come see me and visit me. If you don't do this for me like I want it done, well then, I'm afraid we will just not be able to see each other at all.” “And I told you I am not going to be going to the amusement park and paying 80 to 100 bucks a day just to see you on your break periods, especially if I'm not 'allowed' to spend the rest of the time enjoying the park. You can come here on your days off or I can meet you at your place on your days off.” “You cannot go to my place. I mean...I just haven't exactly told my folks I have a boyfriend yet...so you'll have to wait for that. And my days off are all booked with family stuff or other things I need to do. If you love me, you'll come see me on the days I listed at the park. It is the only acceptable option. I just do not understand why you are having a problem with this. A good boyfriend would be perfectly willing to do this for me, I'll have you know. And it's not like I'm asking more than others who work there have. Nila's boyfriend was there three days a week last summer. Matt and Ryan both worked there, so I guess they don't really count, but it was so unfair watching those guys making out and whatnot and yet the rest of us had to just make due. Now, this year, I'VE got the boyfriend and so you need to come to the park so I can have good breaks too. You need to come on the days I listed earlier for certain and also whenever I text that the day would be a good day for you to be there. I NEED you to be there for me, Kurt. I need to be able to show the others that I'VE got a boyfriend and that he does what I ask of him. But, you also can't like hang out with anyone, or talk to anyone...I mean, you are great and all but you just don't exactly talk about the kinds of things the other kids who work at the park do and so I need you to remember that...but also you need to make sure they know you are only at the park for me...you'll need to sit off to the side of where ever I am, just smiling and making eyes at me.” Kurt closed his eyes and breathed deeply. The lightening hit again and the thunder rolled and the lights in the house flickered and Kurt heard Rachel screech from Finn's room. There had been nothing in any of Blaine's demands for summer about wanting to spend time with Kurt, himself. Just about wanting to have the boyfriend be there to be seen. And curtailing as much joy as Blaine possibly could in his demanded excursions. “Blaine. You are being unreasonable.” “I am not. I am being perfectly reasonable. Boyfriends show up to support their significant other when their significant other wants them to, in whatever manner asked. That is why people have boyfriends and girlfriends. To have them there when they want them to be there for them. To show off. And if you do things the way I told you you need to, everyone will see how devoted you are to me, and to me alone. It will do wonders for what the others think of me, you there just sitting and looking at me and not even thinking of anything other than me. But, don't try too hard. And like, don't practice making sexy faces or longing faces or anything. You don't do sexy. You do longing OK, so maybe stick to staring at me longingly. It will be cute. Then it will be perfect. I mean, Nila's boyfriend just stopped by to make out with her when lines were too long for rides he wanted to ride, he didn't focus on her only. Just think how jealous she will be when MY boyfriend just pays attention to Me in such a cute way.” “No” The flash of lightening hit close enough that even the air in the house felt charged. The thunder was nearly deafening. It wasn't loud enough to cover Blaine's scream. “What do you mean 'No'? You are my boyfriend, you can't just say no.” “I did just say No. No. I am not going the amusement park, at over 100 bucks a pop when you add travel and food, multiple days over the summer just to sit and stare at you...it is just not happening. There are many reasons why....not the least of which is I would be bored out of my mind. I don't have the time, or money, or inclination to be some sort of living statue for you to use to boost you ego in some sort of ego war with your co-workers. I have work, too, Blaine. And I NEED my paychecks that I get over the summer to be able to enjoy my school year. They pay for my clothing, any time spent shopping or out to the movies or dinner or coffee or anything else fun. I could maybe do ONE trip to the amusement park to see you...and to enjoy the park when you can't be with me and thus get my money's worth. I can not go at least twice a week every week all summer long, with a third or maybe even fourth trip to see you on demanded days at a texts notice.” “But Kurt, if you loved me...” And Kurt saw the next bolt of lightening hit. It hit a transformer on one of the street light poles the block over and half a block down. The thunder shook the house as the lights went out. Rachel screamed like Finn was stabbing her or something. Finn started screaming as well, telling her to calm down. Kurt was glad, though, because with the power out Blaine could not see the tears running down his face, with with how Kurt was standing. “I guess I don't love you then. Not if that is what you think Love requires of me. ” Kurt said, turning to look at Blaine instead of a flames spouting from the blown transformer. He could already hear the sirens of the police and fire trucks responding to it. “And if you loved ME, and not just the notion of a boyfriend, you would have never demanded any of what you have today.” “Of course I love you.” “No, you don't. Because if you did, you would know me well enough to not have come here and said any of what you have said in the last hour. You would know me well enough to know I can't afford your plan in the first place. We don't have that kind of money. You would have listened to me enough to know that I will have a full 40 hour week at the garage every week, and will have hours of work at other places as well. You would have known about other demands on my time over the summer. You would have realized I would like to be able to do things with you that I would like to do as well, like go swimming or go to play mini-golf. Or take you to the car shows with me and have you ride in the parades at the fairs with me. You would know that I don't like just sitting doing nothing for long periods of time. But you don't seem to know or care about any of that, so you must not actually love me.” “Now Kurt, stop being hysterical and silly. You know none of that is true. You might work at the garage but what do you actually do there, huh? Sweep? No one needs you there, and what else do you really have to do...that is as important or more important than me? It is just, face it, your time and my time are not equal. My folks plans are important. I need to be there and show up with acceptable company, so those periods of time are out. My work...performing is hard, Kurt and the rest of the work at the park is just as difficult. Do you even know what it is like to have to deal with parents who are upset because their kid is too small for a ride? That is so much more challenging than anything you might be doing.” “And that just proves you don't actually love me at all. Blaine, as soon as this storm calms, you need to go home. Have a great summer. Maybe if I get in touch with Jeff or Nick or anyone else from Dalton, I'll have them say Hello from me, but I won't be getting hold of you for a while. I need a clean break. And you need someone else, who can love you like you think love works.” “What are you talking about?” “I am breaking up with you. This isn't what I want from a relationship. It isn't what I need.” Kurt turned around again and stared out the window. The lightening strike was far enough away that the whole sky didn't seem to light up with it. Kurt counted a full Mississippi before he heard the thunder. Blaine was still talking to him, trying to tell him he couldn't break up with him and how mistaken Kurt was and how Kurt was purposefully being difficult and misunderstanding everything and making a big show and fuss about things. The rain was coming down more vertically again, just as hard and violently, but in a more natural angle and Kurt could tell the fire was out over where the lightening had hit. He could see a vehicle from the power company over in the area. The chaos was calming...and things seemed to be easing up. Kurt wouldn't be surprised if within the next half hour the storm had settled into an steady gentle rain. Oddly enough, he rather felt like he'd settled into an oddly calm and settled state as well. He wondered if he'd feel bad latter, if he'd feel more crushed and upset at the end of his first relationship, but for now...he felt like he was easing into a peaceful gentle state of being. Not sunshine yet, but the knowing that it could be soon.

#glee fic #Kurt Hummel

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