#This is the first time she experienced Bruce getting hurt

[meduarts]

Finally finished this! I was so into it during the lining progress but I gave up when I decided to color it XD

Inspired by: My Prompt and My Chat Fic

[spicyhamsamson]

I am. So fucking tired of Batman being portrayed as a bad parent and a toxic person. And it’s so goddamn widespread. Fuck, it might be as bad as the whole “Superman being a kindhearted Boy Scout is boring” take.

I get it, the man’s not exactly stable, he watched his parents get murdered in front of him and spent years of his life training to fight crime dressed like a giant scary bat, of course he’s not perfect.

But to say that Bruce Wayne isn’t caring, isn’t empathetic, to call him abusive…it just misses the point of who the character is to me.

Why do you think he fights crime? Yes, part of it is because he’s bitter and sad because his parents were cruelly ripped from him as a child, and he’s lashing out against the corruption of his city. It’s arguably the focus of his earlier years. But he learns to become more than that. He learns to bring hope, a chance to be better.

Harleen Quinzel is the Joker’s right hand lady, but she’s also a victim of an abusive relationship and a woman with a surprisingly strong moral compass and a love for animals, and wants to get better. That’s why we see time and time again that he has a noticeable soft spot for her, because he knows that she’s a good person at her core.

Harvey Dent is a man who will decide someone’s fate on a coin toss(and a pretty inaccurate depiction of DID), but he’s also Bruce’s close friend who clearly needs help learning to live with his condition, rather than try to get rid of it, and someone who he still goes out of his way to visit, even after everything, because he recognizes he’s not just a criminal with a weird gimmick, he’s a man who is struggling with a condition that he’s mishandled his whole life.

Victor Fries is a cold, emotionless man who will callously discard allies and blame them for being careless, but he’s also a man who’s either lashing out because he had the love of his life taken from him, or just desperate to make sure she isn’t taken from him, and is willing to do anything just to guarantee her survival. Of course Batman would understand, his whole life was defined by having people he loved taken away from him.

Even the Joker, arguably one of the most morally bankrupt characters in all of fiction, is someone that Batman has offered a chance to. After the guy shoots the daughter of his friend, a girl he cared for like she was his own kid, and paralyzes her from the waist down, he tells the Joker that he doesn’t want to hurt him. He wants to get him help. He looks at this monster who has taken countless lives and says “You don’t have to be alone.”

For fuck’s sake, he sat with Joe Chill in his last moments so that he wouldn’t be alone. Joe Chill, the man who murdered his parents, who took so much from him, the person responsible for all of the misery and suffering he’s gone through. And he sits with the man to comfort him while dies. Do you know how much emotional intelligence and maturity that must take? To comfort someone who arguably ruined your life?

And you’re gonna tell me the man who did that would abuse his kids?

That he’d hold up the young man whose death was his greatest failure, the boy he grieved, and say this?

That he’d look his goddamn son in the eyes and say this to him?

Why the FUCK do you think he took in Dick Grayson in the first place? It wasn’t because he saw the kid and thought “Ah. A potential soldier.”, it was because he saw a boy experiencing the same heartbreaking loss he had so many years ago, and wanted to make sure he didn’t end up as bitter and miserable as he was.

Why do you think he smiled when Tim Drake presented him a broken watch for Father’s Day? Because he was just happy to see the boy alive and safe.

DAMIAN LITERALLY POINTED AT A COW AND SAID “I’m keeping her. She’s Bat-Cow.” AND BRUCE JUST WENT WITH IT. DIDN’T EVEN NEED TO ARGUE WHY BRUCE SHOULD LET HIM KEEP HER. HE SAID “this cow is my pet now” AND BRUCE SAID “aight, bet”.

The thing about Batman is that he wants to make sure nobody else ends up feeling the way he does. That’s not just about stopping a mugger so a boy’s parents aren’t gunned down. It’s about giving his loved ones the support and care that he couldn’t have, because it was taken from him. It’s about comforting someone who just went through a traumatic experience and letting them know that they’re going to be okay. It’s about going to someone locked away in a cell who thinks that they’re a lost cause and a burden to society and telling them that he wants to help them get better. It’s about EMPATHY and COMPASSION.

That’s what makes him a HERO. He’s meant to inspire us, to show us that we can have that same empathy for others around us, that we can turn our suffering into hope for a better future.

I just wish more people at DC would start recognizing that. But I might as well follow that example myself. Maybe through this struggle of having to see this hero mistreat the people around him and act like a grade-A jackass, people will start to recognize that missing compassion, and slowly but surely, it might come back. After all, what is this post, if not trying to bring attention to the matter in the hopes of fixing it?

[gilbirda]

Friendly neighborhood vigilante. Chapter 28

BatmanxDP crossover. JasonxJazz

[Read on AO3] [Read on FF.net]

Based on this post

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Danny landed on the rooftop without making any sound. There was soft thud and air displacement when Batman landed next to him, but Danny ignored him.

They have kept it civil because they really wanted to get this done before he was called back to the Realms, but Danny wasn’t very keen on seeing the old man’s face right now.

After all, he hurt his sister.

Jason was very open about Bruce’s involvement in the whole debacle, and explained as well who exactly was Barbara in this equation and how he could find her. Danny had given the other man a hard time during the unplanned shovel talk, but he could easily tell Jason was as pissed as he was for Bruce’s treatment of Jazz, and he respected that.

He was still on probation for the whole “making her cry and making her spill her secrets at gunpoint” business, but for now the guy was making up for it very well. The shine in his eyes as he explained in detail what exactly Danny should and could do for payback was exactly what Danny needed to feel encouraged to start an impromptu prank war on Batman, which he promptly decided to do.

Jazz arrived after work and found them still in the Batburger, plotting machinations that she disapproved of at first, but quickly caved and added her two cents with her observations about Bruce.

Jazz wasn’t a stranger to prank wars. She was a Fenton after all.

Terrorizing the old man had been fun and a great way to blow off some steam, which he desperately needed. He had slipped with his chat with Jason, and he was fearing he went too far with the whole eldritch thing, but the guy was just fine and not traumatized so it couldn’t have been that bad.

He still refused to talk to Batman if he could help it. Weird thing, the man didn’t seem surprised by the development.

Good.

He should be very aware he did something very wrong and was on thin ice.

His only saving grace was new intel Jazz shared at the Batburger — she had struck a deal with Bruce, and apparently the man was going to help her launch her reform programs that the management at Arkham kept shutting down. Of course his sister saw this as an opportunity for her work, but if it made her happy, he was fine with it.

He was still going to mess with the man for a bit longer, though, even when they were on their way to meet The Spirit.

They didn’t have a set destination, but Danny instinctively followed the flow of ectoplasm to where it was the most concentrated, and where he knew she’d be a bit more stable to have this kind of interaction.

Gotham Spirit wasn’t like your regular ghost — she was born after a dream, an idea, a concept. She had never been human and existed in every brick and every tree and every person within the city. Manifesting as a one singular form took a lot of power and ability, something that an entity as old and experienced as Gotham certainly had, but required a lot of ectoplasm.

Danny watched Red Hood land on the other side of the rooftop with his sister in his arms. He scoffed. Jazz hadn’t looked apologetic when she told him she wanted to make the trip with her boyfriend instead of flying with him as usual.

Sure. Let her live her dreams of being swept away by her knight in shining tights or whatever. By the way her face had a slight blush up to her ears, she was enjoying every minute of this.

Danny scoffed and looked away, watching Batman instead. The man was openly staring at the couple being disgustingly cute with that neutral expression of his. Batman was liminal just enough that Danny could sense the underlying sadness he had every time he looked at Jason.

He didn’t know the full story, but had guessed from context that both had a complex relationship he didn’t want to touch with a ten foot pole, thank you very much.

Batman made a grunt type of sound and finally looked away from the other. Danny glanced and found them kissing, Jazz grabbing Jason’s jacket to pull him down and he had a hand on her waist.

“When do you think The Spirit will show up?”

Danny could see the attempt to distract himself away from the happy couple, but he felt a little evil and pretended he didn’t hear him, turning to look at the city skyline.

Gotham was a beautiful city — not exactly his taste, but he could appreciate the charm of such an urban metropolis with grotesques on every other rooftop and overall dark aesthetics. Sam would love the place, for sure. Maybe he should bring her the next time he comes over for a visit.

Batman grunted again, displeased with being ignored.

Good.

“Tomorrow—”

Whatever the man wanted to call his attention for was forgotten the second a colony of bats appeared out of nowhere, screeching and screaming as they rushed in towards Jazz and Jason’s direction.

Danny knew they weren’t dealing with normal animals when the bats ripped Jazz away from her boyfriend and threw her over the edge of the rooftop.

“Jazz!” Jason screamed, running after the cloud of darkness that took the woman.

Danny flew to see what was going on, finding his sister suspended mid-air, already drawing her staff and trying to fight off the bats off her body that were biting and scratching the skin that wasn’t covered by her armor.

“HOW COULD YOU!” A disembodied voice growled, distorted with rage and tell-tale static undertones that ghosts usually had.

Gotham, the Spirit, had arrived.

“I HAD ONE RULE!”

Oh boy.

The dark cloud carried Jazz towards a nearby building, through the wall and again upwards towards the sky, landing on the roof. It was a good thing that Jazz's physical abilities were enhanced with her armor on, because blasting through brick walls really, really hurt. He knew from experience.

The Bats immediately grappled closer to the fight, but didn’t dare intervene just yet — the murderous colony of bats seemingly multiplied and flew in a storm around Jazz, making it impossible to get closer or help the woman without risking injury.

Jazz shook her head to clear the debris from her face and hair as much as she could, and started flipping her staff around in practiced moves. She knew how to move with a staff, it was her main weapon after all, so she didn’t find a lot of trouble with at least keeping the worst of it out of her personal bubble.

“Do something!”

Danny’s head whipped away from the fight. “Like what!” He shouted back at Jason.

“I don’t know! You are the King! Stop this!”

Jazz screamed in pain, and they turned to watch as the bats finally overwhelmed her, sinking their teeth on her skin and taking flight with her, body and all. Her staff was useless in the air, and the higher they flew, the more she risked falling and hurting herself.

“Danny!” Jason growled, demanding answers.

The young King wished he could do what he was asked. It was his sister fighting for her life right there, but—

“I can’t.”

“What!”

“I can’t intervene! Could be perceived as a power move and make things worse.”

“Power move? What the fuck are you talking about? It's trying to kill her!”

Did they have time to discuss the intricacies of ghost politics, haunt protocol and unspoken rules of courtesy? No, they didn’t.

“Just trust me, dude!”

Also, technically, Gotham was within her rights here. Jazz broke a promise made with a ghost more ancient than her. She was not supposed to get close to the city’s beloved crime fighters.

Jazz activated the electrical tip of her staff and shocked the cloud of bats surrounding her. She screamed, probably because she shocked herself in the process, but it served its purpose — the electrocuted bats finally let go of her and started nosediving back down, freeing her.

She didn’t waste time and repositioned her body to dive back as well, her long red hair flapping wildly on her back, eyes fixed on her objective, hands tensed around her staff.

They watched the colony recover mid descent, flying back up to meet her halfway. Jazz placed one arm forward, activating the ghost shield of her arm guards, using the opportunity to cushion her fall back to the rooftop. She landed safely and flipped backwards a good distance away from the bats to regain her breath.

“Get over here!” The voice screamed again, less distorted and more human-like.

Black smoke manifested around the bats as the cloud changed course, preparing to rush towards Jazz. She was ready for them. She had put away her collapsed staff back on her waist and lifted both arms, making a bigger shield that hopefully could withstand the onslaught of the very pissed off ancient Spirit.

When they made contact they heard Jazz gasp as she was pushed back from the sheer force of impact, but she held her ground. Her legs trembled a little bit, and one collapsed until she had one knee on the ground.

Finally, it was too much and the woman was launched again over the edge, but this time something else caught her fall.

Batman’s cape was gigantic, and Danny could understand how it became a symbol for the city. It was like Jazz had been enveloped in the night itself and nothing could go through the protecting barrier as she was carried into safety by the vigilante.

The cloud of smoke and screeching bats followed, but froze the moment they realized who exactly had their arms around their target.

The moment Jazz was on her own feet she drew her weapon again, breathing hard and glaring at the murderous cloud.

“My Knight.” The voice whispered, static gone, rage gone.

Jason had rushed towards Jazz’s side and started checking her wounds, but stopped to watch as the bats and the smoke started to coalesce into human form. It was reminiscent of the visual effect when the Bats manifested from the shadows, as if the void itself suddenly had eyes, then a shape and at last a three dimensional form.

“My Son.” Gotham, the Spirit, breathed with newly formed lips.

“Holy shit.” Jason murmured under his breath.

Danny watched as both Batman and Red Hood froze in the presence of the personification of their beloved city. It was the woman of the painting back at the Manor, Danny confirmed, so it must be the face of Bruce’s mom. She was wearing a long deep black cocktail dress, darker than a moonless sky, that hung down to her feet and blended with the shadows she was formed from, almost as if she remained tethered to the essence of the city even with her humanoid manifestation.

What was the name of Bruce’s mother? Martha? Yeah, Danny was sure the name was Martha.

He was still going to call her Spirit or Gotham, just in case. Anything else could lead to confusion.

The Spirit approached the masked vigilante and touched his face with a delicate pale hand, face contorting in what could be called a maternal worried expression.

Batman didn’t move, frozen in place, letting the strange and yet familiar woman touch him.

He looked like he wanted to say something, but hesitated, and then the moment was gone.

The Spirit withdrew her hand and turned to glare at Jazz, ignoring everyone else standing on the rooftop.

“You promised.” She growled with a static-y edge to her voice.

Jazz had regained her breath. “I know. I’m sorry.” She collapsed her staff and slowly put it on the holder at her hip.

“Tell me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you.”

Jason responded for Jazz, stepping forward to place his body between the angry ghost and his girlfriend. Danny thought it was cute.

The Spirit’s face softened at the gesture, floating closer to the pair. “My Knight.” She didn’t stop even when Jason tensed at her approach. “Would you protect her from me?”

He stood still even if it was clear he didn’t want that woman touching him. He wasn’t wearing his helmet, just a domino mask, so he was caressed on one cheek just like Bruce has been.

“Yes. Without question.”

The Spirit purred, considering. The shadows at her feet trembled and morphed as she thought, rivulets of pure darkness floating up until they dissolved like smoke.

“Very well.” Danny breathed in relief. “But you can’t expect me to be happy with you and the young King flaunting your power like this is your own haunt, girl.”

Jazz cleared her throat. “Actually, we wanted to talk about that topic.”

Gotham’s form shook and her shape blurred for a moment, her mouth curving in an impossible smile. “You dare make demands?”

“Not… Not demands,” Jazz tried to laugh the tension off. It didn’t work. “We wanted to discuss the possibility of letting me— letting us operate freely in the city—”

“HOW DARE YOU!”

The human form exploded in a cloud of bats, but this time they didn’t hurt anybody, they just flew around the group, screeching.

“If you could give me a minute—”

“You come into my city and dare—!”

“Listen to me.”

“ — prance around like it belongs to you!”

Danny and Jazz shared a look.

Jason stepped closer to Jazz, watching the flying cloud of murderous bats.

“B, do something. She likes you.”

Batman didn’t hesitate and moved closer to the pair, positioning on the other side of the young woman. Jazz ended up protected, sandwiched between the two vigilantes.

“There’s a threat coming.” The Dark Knight said. The bats slowed down, listening. “And only these two can help us. Hear what they have to say.”

The colony screeched one more time before they gathered again into the shape of Martha Wayne. She stood there observing the Princess, unblinking and unmoving, with one hand on the pearl necklace resting on her chest.

“A threat?”

“You don’t know them. They call themselves the Ghost Investigation Ward, and are after anyone that has been death touched.” The Spirit’s eyes sharpened, glowing with power. “Yes. Anyone. Including your Knights.”

“I can stop them.”

Danny intervened. “Vlad Plasmius may show up as well.”

The smoke cracked like a bonfire, and a strong smell of burning rubber and chemicals filled their noses.

“Plasmius?”

“You know him?”

She turned towards Danny, her eyes glowing red and dangerous. “I know of him. I don’t want that… man,” she twisted her mouth in distaste, “in my city.”

The siblings looked at each other and nodded. “We’ll deal with him. If—”

“No.”

“No?”

She floated away, the horrible smell followed her. “I don’t want any of you in my city either. You have caused enough harm as it is. Leave.”

She made a dismissive gesture and turned away, deeming the conversation over.

“What?” Danny heard Jason whisper.

“I’m sorry, my Lady, but I just can’t accept that.” Jazz stepped forward.

The burned rubber smell was back. Gotham looked over her shoulder, one eyebrow raised.

“You have done enough. Leave.” This time, the word had an added Command to it. Jazz stumbled but held her ground. This made the Spirit fully turn around to face her.

“No.”

The Spirit’s eyes glowed brighter as she stared down the Princess.

“Leave. My. City.”

“I won’t leave this city—” Jazz lifted her staff just in time to parry some kind of projectile Gotham threw at her. It vanished in a cloud of dark smoke that smelled like car exhaust. “I won’t leave this city, and I won’t leave its people. What’s coming is dangerous and we want to help you.”

“I don’t need—”

“Yes you do! How can I stand by and watch how they take all the death-touched that are under your protection? How can you?”

“I can protect them.”

“Can you?”

The Spirit didn’t like her comment, her body starting to lose its shape again. But didn’t respond.

“Let me help you protect them. You know I can. You know who I am.” She stepped closer to the Spirit, eyes fixed on the powerful ghost, unflinching. The fiery tips of her mask ignited with determination, fire extending to make a perfect circle of flames above her head. “You know I can protect what matters the most to us.”

Gotham’s red eyes briefly found the quiet figures of the vigilantes behind Jazz, who were watching the exchange with bated breath. Maybe they understood the importance of the situation, the gravity of what was happening. Openly challenging an ancient ghost like Gotham, in her own haunt, was a highly frowned upon offense. If the Spirit wanted to smite Jazz there was nothing Danny could do.

He watched his sister, stomping down the impulse to jump in and protect her. He had seen her square up against big threats, against a whole army, but he wasn’t used to seeing her dive headfirst into a fight she couldn’t win.

She really wanted to stay, huh.

Danny looked at Jason, the reason why they were in this mess in the first place. That man better understood how much his sister was risking with this confrontation.

“You are a child.” Danny cringed at the condescending tone. By ghost standards, it was technically true. He knew Jazz hated it almost as much as he did.

But she wasn’t fazed.

Jazz did a flourish with her staff and slammed it against the concrete roof, releasing a wave of power, her power, amplified by the magical properties of her armor. Danny and Gotham were unaffected, but he saw the vigilantes take a slight step back.

Huh. Interesting.

“I am Crown Princess Jasmine. I’ve protected the Keep against invading forces for seven days and seven nights straight. I’ve battled alongside the Ancient Pandora, and trained by the Amazons residing in the Infinite Realms.” She slammed her staff again, another wave of raw power coursing through the city skyline. Her hair was lifted by the stream of energy, flowing around her body like a fiery halo. “I’m not a mere child, my Lady, and I’m ready to risk my own life, my own blood, to protect this city. I will stay.” She marched closer, extending her hand. “Do we have a deal?”

Gotham made a face, barely giving Jazz’s hand a spared glance. Instead, she turned around and floated closer to the edge as if she was getting ready to jump.

Danny wanted to scoff. What a stubborn ghost. Just like its protectors.

“Very well,” she said, words carried by the wind. “You can stay. But,” she looked over her shoulder, “you must do one thing for me, if you are so fixated on ‘helping me’.”

“Anything.”

Danny’s eyebrows went to his hairline. That was a very, very dangerous thing to say. You just don’t promise “anything” to a ghost, even less to someone like the Gotham Spirit.

“There’s a vortex of corrupted ectoplasm hidden in my city. Find it, neutralize it, and I will be forever in your debt, Princess. Good night and—

“ — good luck.”

The last parting words were lost in the sound of flapping wings of the flurry of bats Gotham finally surrendered to. The colony flew up to the sky, vanishing among the dark clouds.

“Whew!” Jazz whistled. “That could have gone better.”

Danny turned away from the sky to look at his sister in disbelief. “What the fuck, Jazz?”

“What?

“What do you mean ‘what’?” He lifted his hands. Unbelievable. “You just— That was such— Why?”

She chuckled, her voice weak. “I… don’t know? It just happened.”

Danny wanted to get the bottom of how could his sister, always so obsessed with following protocol and rules, do a stand off with a whole freaking city just like that; but said sister was whisked away by two hundred pounds of vigilante.

Jason was laughing without caring who may listen, holding Jazz by her waist up in the air, spinning in place with her in his arms.

“That was amazing!”

Jazz laughed with him, placing her hands on his shoulders. Her cheeks were colored, probably from embarrassment at being at the center of such a spectacle.

“Oh, well.”

Jason stopped spinning and placed her on her feet, but immediately captured her and flushed her against his chest instead, reaching for a deep kiss that dipped Jazz backwards.

Danny looked away from such a cheesy moment.

Batman ignored the show and had already approached the point from where Gotham disappeared. He placed one knee on the roof and reached for the concrete, but there was nothing on it. No stain or mark that there had ever been a ghost formed from soot and smoke.

“It really was her.” He murmured under his breath.

Danny knew he wasn’t supposed to hear that, but the alternative of engaging with Batman was watching his sister exchange bodily fluids with her boyfriend and hmmm no thanks.

He sighed.

“It’s not your mother.”

“I know.” Danny didn’t flinch at the tone. “I know.”

Danny crouched beside the man. “Was she what you expected?”

He thought about the question for a second. “I don’t know. She looked like my mother, but there was nothing of her. She was hurt and distrustful. Cautious.”

Danny hoped the man could see the similarities between the city and its protector, but chose to bite his tongue and not comment on it.

“The corrupted vortex of ectoplasm.” Batman said out of the blue, standing back up. “I think I know what she was talking about.”

Just like that, the man was all business and no fun. Almost made Danny want to go back to giving him the cold shoulder and ignore him the rest of his stay in Gotham.

“What do you mean?” Jazz asked, tuning into the conversation. Her lips were swollen and her cheeks were still flushed.

“I’ve had my suspicions but I never had enough proof to investigate.”

“What?”

He looked at his son. “There’s a Lazarus Pit here, in Gotham.” He looked at Jazz. “And I think I know where it is.”

---

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[superultrachicken]

We need a version of the Justice League where Wonder Woman's team mom.

I noticed that the Justice League is primarily made of orphans. Even if they're not an orphan, they've at least lost a single parent, usually their mother (because woman in the fridge is such a prevalent trope).

So... Diana is over 2000 years old in most comics. Even if we're just counting years spent outside of paradise as a demi-goddess experiencing the rest of the world, she'd still be around 85 mentally, even if she doesn't age. So when she starts finding these wayward children, she starts getting attached to them as if they were her own children.

Here are some ideas for how it could work:

Superman - She was a close family friend of the Kents while Clark was growing up and would often watch him while they were on a date night or the like. She was around so often that she acted as a secondary mother figure. Having multiple strong feminine influences during an overall good childhood makes him the most well adjusted member of the Justice League and he attributes a lot of that to Diana. She sees Clark as her son.

Batman - Adult adoption. This is after he's adopted most of the bat-family, she asks him why and in a moment of vulnerability he tells her that it's because he knows what it's like, it's why he love Alfred, because Alfred's been a father to him, even if he didn't really know how beyond being protective. That he had a rough childhood. Diana's motherly instincts kick in and she starts comforting him. After a while, they get close enough to be considered family, some of the bat-family actually start calling her grandma and she's more or less become a part of the family. She asks him if he'd be interested in adult adoption and though he struggles with it, Bruce eventually says yes. She brings presents for Bruce's kids every time she comes around. She includes Barbara in the gift giving too so she doesn't feel left out.

The Flash - Adoption. Barry effectively becomes an orphan in his backstory due to his father being in prison after being wrongfully convicted of the murder of Barry's mother. She raises Barry from childhood having no clue that he'd end up getting his powers later in life. Using New 52 here because they actually made Reverse Flash a good villain instead of being a lazy palette swapped evil version. It also amuses me to think of Bruce and Barry as siblings.

Aquaman - She knew Arthur's father while he was growing up. While she'd only see him while she was in Boston, he left a lasting impression on him as one of the few feminine influences he had. After the first few times she'd even bring gifts for both him and his father from Metropolis.

Green Lantern - Same as Arthur, knew Hal's parents growing up and got super close with the family.

Martian Manhunter - Close friends. He's the only other member of the group who can comprehend living as long as she has.

As other members start joining, she starts feeling responsible for them. Effectively mothering most of them. She also formed the Justice League in part to protect the salt of the earth, working class people that raised most of the other founding members. These are the people she spends most of her time with when she's not out saving the world.

She also has a red lantern ring that only activates with her mom rage. Gods help any soul dumb enough to hurt one of her children.

Clark suggests calling the organization the Super Friends and Diana's like "I love you Clark, but we need something a bit more official, like the Justice League." Bruce and Barry simultaneously chime in with "I agree with mom." Barry doesn't waist time doing the jinx, he's just adjusting to having a much older brother very quickly.

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

Slam

Following an injury in the field, Bucky goes to check on Steve in the infirmary and confesses his feelings and his fears.

CW: Minor injury, smut, first time. Don’t forget to use lube, folks – unless you’re a super soldier.

Prompts used;

‘Bad Coping Mechanisms’, ‘Mutual Pining’ and ‘Wall Sex’ – Build-a-Bucky Bingo (@buckybarnesevents);

“You Look So Pretty Like This.” and ‘Muscles’ – @stuckybingo;

“I’m Right Where I Belong.” and “You Getting Flustered is One of the Cutest Things I’ve Seen.” – @sebastianstanbingo.

Check it out on AO3 here, or below! Boards at the bottom. Banner by @sarahowritesostucky

Bucky raced through the corridors, the serum’s power flowing through him as his feet pounded the linoleum, heart hammering in his chest.

As soon as the news of Steve’s injury had reached him, he’d been up and running, with fear he hadn’t felt in decades pulsing in his veins. Ever since Steve had been bulked up in the war, Bucky had been able to slowly let go of the terror for Steve’s longevity that had plagued him since he’d met the kid at six years old, scrawny but surprisingly bold – and prone to getting his ass kicked. But the serum Steve had received had made the once-tiny man a hulking mass of muscle and sinew, invulnerable to most things thrown at him, and Bucky had finally been able to relax a little – though he still worried about his childhood friend more than any other member of the team.

Bucky blamed it on their longstanding connection and the camaraderie born from being the only two super soldiers, both displaced from their own time by time in ice (and servitude, in Bucky’s case). It was a miracle they were both here, together, a hundred years in the future and experiencing things they never even dreamt of.

That was it, Bucky argued, when he lay awake at night thinking of the skinny kid from Brooklyn, the strong man he’d grown into. He argued it was appreciation of the smooth curves of muscle that had him fantasising about the water flowing over his back when he’d glimpsed him in the shower after a training session. It was simply concern that had him inspecting his Captain’s bare chest when his suit had been ripped in battle, checking thoroughly for cuts and scrapes.

He'd argued, but it was as he was skidding to a halt and slamming through the infirmary doors that it finally hit him that his argument was a lie.

The sight of Steve lay on the thin medical paper, his back to the doors as Bruce finished stitching a deep wound above his hipbone, had Bucky pausing and panting for breath. It’d been a long time since he’d managed to move so quickly that he was forced to breathe harder, but his strides had barely touched the floor as he’d flown towards his teammate.

“Hey, Buck.”

The Winter Soldier cocked his head sharply, smiling just a little to himself as he saw Steve’s muscles relax minutely. “How did you know it was me?”

“Heard you running. Anyone else would be far more breathless – and definitely couldn’t move so fast.” The grin in Steve’s voice was audible, and Bucky chuckled, moving closer slowly.

“Yeah, well. Nat messaged, and she wasn’t liberal with the details. All I knew was that you’d been hurt.”

“Worried, were you?” Steve’s shoulders trembled as he laughed silently, making Bucky snort as he rounded the table, casting an assessing eye over the shallow lacerations marring the Captain’s bare chest as he took a seat.

“Actually, I was hoping to get here in time to pull the plug,” Bucky quipped, grinning, and Steve rolled his eyes affectionately.

“Your life wouldn’t be worth living without me in it, and you know it,” Steve teased back, lips quirked in a fond smile before he grimaced as the doctor tied off his thread. Buck reached out automatically, squeezing Steve’s hand reassuringly, heat tingling up his palm at the contact. He’d done this dozens of times as a youth, Steve’s fingers clinging desperately to his as the larger boy had carefully cleaned yet another split lip or scraped palm, but it felt different now, with Steve’s palm comparable to his and Bucky’s metal fingers cool against his skin – and Steve’s pulse beginning to pound at the contact.

“I’m all done here,” Bruce murmured, gently pressing an adhesive bandage to the suture line. “Keep it covered and dry for a few days, and the stitches should dissolve in a week or so. You’ll be good as new by then.” The doctor grinned, shaking his head fondly. “If only all of my patients recovered so quickly!”

Steve chuckled obligingly, pulling the edge of his suit a little higher to obscure both bandage and sharp curve of bone. “You’d be out of a job, Dr. Banner. Thanks again,” he added as Bruce rose, receiving a polite inclination of the head for his gratitude.

The boys were left alone, fingers still entwined together, Steve fiddling with the ragged edges of his clothing idly. “I’m gonna have to get a new suit… This one got pretty shredded.”

Bucky laughed, running a palm over the lacerated star hanging over the edge of the table. “What the hell happened to you?”

“I got thrown. Road rash sucks,” the Captain replied with a shrug, and groaned as he pushed himself into a sitting position. “But you heard Bruce – I’ll be good as new in a few days.”

James nodded, eventually releasing his friend’s hand with a discreet twitch of his jaw. “Yeah. You were always the strong one.” Steve snorted and raised an eyebrow, considering his fellow soldier pointedly, but Bucky only laughed and shook his head. “Maybe, when we were younger, I could pick up something heavier than you. But you were always so… Tough. You weren’t scared of anything.” He smiled softly, head tilted minutely. “Actually, no. You were scared, but you always stood up for yourself anyway. You never let anyone keep you down or underestimate you. That’s real strength.”

Steve chuckled, his cheeks pinkening minutely as he looked away. “Not always,” he muttered, hands knotting uncertainly in his lap. “There were some things I just… I didn’t fight when the insults and assumptions started flying.”

“The assumptions?” Bucky repeated softly, head cocked. When Steve only shrugged, Bucky leaned forward conspiratorially. “You getting flustered is one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen.”

Steve blinked in surprise, his back straightening nervously. “I-I… What?”

Bucky smiled softly, leaning a little closer. “Those assumptions… Do you mean the ones about your sexuality?”

Steve hesitated for a moment, eyeing his friend nervously. “… You heard about that?”

The sergeant arched an eyebrow, head inclined. “Of course, Stevie. You’re my best friend. Besides… We spent a whole lot of time together. It wasn’t just you that they made those assumptions about.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve replied quickly, looking away as guilt creased his features, but Bucky simply chuckled.

“Don’t be. They were right.”

The words sat in the still air for a moment before they collided visibly with the Captain, sending him jerking backwards in shock.

“They- You- … What?” Steve stammered, his eyes widening in shock.

“I’m gay,” Bucky replied easily, shrugging. “Well, no – I’m bisexual. But we both know it’s not the women you were asking about.” Steve’s mouth worked wordlessly, and Bucky smirked. “So? What about you? Were they right about you, too?”

Steve glanced around uncertainly, examining the empty space as if checking for someone hiding in the shadows. “… Why did you come so quickly, Buck?”

“I asked you first.”

“I’m trying to answer. Humour me. Why did you come so quickly?” he repeated, looking down to where his fingers were knotted in his lap.

“Because… Because I care about you?” Bucky offered uncertainly, and Steve nodded, eyes diverted.

“As a friend?” he prompted quietly. Bucky hesitated for a moment, watching as his Captain struggled silently to find the words he was looking for. “… I’m not gay, Buck.” The sergeant blushed minutely, opening his mouth to respond, but Steve held up a hand to stop him. “But I’m not straight, either. I… I’ve only ever wanted to be with – been in love with – one person. After all these years… It’s still only ever been one person.”

Bucky sat silently for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was soft, apprehensive. “Who?”

“Don’t make me say it,” Steve replied, a wry grin quirking at his lips.

Bucky reached out, fingers finding his best friend’s once more, swallowing nervously. “Tell me, Stevie. Please.”

Steve glanced up at last, the brush draining from his cheeks with the sincerity of the moment, ice meeting cerulean in an all-encompassing gaze. “You, Bucky. It’s always been you.”

The words released a feral urgency in his fellow soldier, moving forward to kiss him in a clash of lips and tongues, a low whine escaping the brunette as he tangled his metal fingers in the other’s hair.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” Bucky muttered, shifting to trail kisses over the broader man’s jaw, his free hand finding Steve’s hip to pull him closer. “I can’t believe I wasted so much time trying to bury my feelings in drinking and whoring…”

Steve nodded weakly, head instinctively tipping back under his sergeant’s rapturous ministrations. “I-I… I never knew you… I never expected…” He swallowed audibly, hips twitching as his arousal became ever more evident under the skin-tight material of his uniform. Bucky let out a quiet groan of desire, fingers trailing over Steve’s hipbone slowly – but the blond grasped his wrist as his fingertips brushed against his increasingly stiffening length. “Wait.”

Bucky winced, drawing back with a quick, apologetic shake of his head. “I-I’m sorry. We don’t have to, of course, I-”

Steve kissed his lover softly to interrupt him, shaking his head with a smile. “I want to,” he breathed, his fingers finding the back of Bucky’s neck to press their foreheads together. “I’ve just- I… I’ve never…”

Bucky’s face went blank as comprehension dawned, lips parting minutely. “You… Oh.” A smile flickered across his features, and he cupped Steve’s jaw gently. “That’s fine, sweet boy. We go as slow as you like, and do as much or as little as you want. It’s all up to you.”

Steve nodded slowly, then more firmly, and pulled Bucky back to him by the neck of his t-shirt, crushing his lips desperately against the taller man’s.

Buck’s hands were gentle as they explored the Captain’s bare chest, tracing the dips and curves of bone and muscle reverently, mapping each detail and committing every modicum of minutiae to memory – just in case. Steve shivered under his touch, the hand on the back of the sergeant’s neck drawing him closer as he lay back, gasping at the thigh that pressed lightly against his throbbing length.

“Buck, please,” he whispered, tugging gently at the other man’s shirt, purring with delight when the material was shed and dropped to the floor. His hands fumbled with the taller man’s belt, hesitating only minutely before pressing a palm to Bucky’s boxer-clad member and blushing shyly at the relieved groan the motion elicited.

Buck’s lips trailed slowly along jaw and throat, over Steve’s collarbone, proceeding patiently over chest and stomach. Bucky’s knees met the floor as his fingers curled in the waistband of the other man’s underwear. He glanced up to receive clarification, and when he was offered a nod, nervous but sure, he slowly slid Steve’s boxers down, trailing gentle kisses in their wake. When he looked up again to take in his Captain in all his glory, his mouth ran dry, tongue darting out to wet his lips in anticipation. He rocked on his heels for a moment, enjoying the sight for a little longer before falling forward, growling hungrily. His mouth encompassed Steve’s length quickly, eliciting a gasp and a whimper from the soldier pinned to the table, his hands tangling frantically in Bucky’s wild hair.

“I- Oh, Buck, th-that’s so…” Steve trailed off into a desperate moan, his back arching instinctively to press himself deeper. Bucky, in his experience, simply swallowed around his amateur partner’s erratic thrusts to take him into his throat, hands finding his hips to help smoothen his pace, earning a quiet, stammering exclamation for his efforts. The feeling of Bucky’s tongue massaging the underside of his cock as it passed between expert, kiss-flushed lips had him quivering and mewling uselessly until the sergeant pulled back, oceanic eyes dancing with joy. “Good?”

Steve all but sobbed in his pleasure, raising his head to nod weakly. “A-Amazing. Please, honey, Buck… I want… I need…”

“Anything you want, baby boy,” Bucky purred, wrapping a loose, coaxing hand around Steve’s length while he spoke – but unable to keep from leaning in intermittently to pass tongue or lips over the leaking tip, delighting in the gasps and jerks the simple gesture invoked. “You just say the word, and I-”

“I want to make love to you,” Steve interrupted softly, pink tinging his cheeks as he spoke, his twitching cock betraying his enthusiasm. Bucky blinked in surprise before smiling tenderly with an amused shake of his head.

“And here I’d had you pinned as a bottom… What a pleasant surprise,” Bucky breathed, powerless to stop one of his hands from grinding against the straining in his sweatpants desperately, eyes blown wide with lust. “I’ve thought about you fucking me so many times…” He winced minutely, expecting a reprimand from his straight-laced captain for his language, but the blond simply smiled.

“I may be inexperienced, Buck, but I’ve overheard enough sleeping in the room next to Tony’s to expect a little cussing in these situations.”

Bucky simply nodded, standing to pull his shirt over his head, and Steve gulped. He’d seen the brunette in varying degrees of undress on countless occasions, but always he had kept his eyes diverted and downcast, never looking up for fear he would give himself away. But now he could let his gaze roam freely, taking in the curve of the sinew and muscle, of strong arms and well-defined pecs, his expression softening minutely as he took in the puckered ridge of scar where flesh met metal. Bucky shifted self-consciously, raising a hand to rub uncertainly at the marred skin, and Steve pushed himself quickly to his feet, catching the other man’s fingers. “Hey… You’re beautiful, he whispered, dropping his head to pepper kisses along the seam reverently.

Bucky stiffened infinitesimally, relaxation gradually easing the tension in his muscles, a soft sigh escaping parted lips as his eyes closed. “I want you, Steve,” he breathed, fingertips trailing through the short hair adoringly.

Steve could only nod in response, hands fumbling with Bucky’s belt as he dropped to his knees, one flushed, pink lip pulled between his teeth. His breath ghosted over the bulge in the sergeant’s boxers, making the taller man shiver with delight. With a slow, nervous exhale, he wrapped his fingers in Bucky’s waistband, eyes widening minutely as the soldier’s cock was freed at last. Bucky smirked, hand resting gently on Steve’s head, letting out a quiet groan as the barest flick of a tongue passed over his tip. “Please, baby boy, I need you to-”

Bucky’s words were interrupted by his own sharp yelp as Steve clumsily but enthusiastically took him, his inexperience making him gag at the depth, but he recovered to bob his head just as eagerly. The taller man groaned, hand knotting in pale strands, head falling back as he attempted to guide his needy lover into smoother motions, but Steve grasped desperately at his hips, still frantically attempting to take Bucky’s length deeper. “Easy, Stevie,” he breathed, shifting one hand to cup the other man’s jaw tenderly, smiling at the soft whine around his cock. “You really want it deeper, hm?” Steve blinked balefully up at him, tongue still eagerly caressing every inch available, and the sergeant chuckled quietly, gently raising Steve’s chin slightly. “Swallow,” he murmured, pushing forward slowly, using the rhythmic motion of his lover’s obedience to sheath himself fully in Steve’s throat with a shudder. “Fuck, baby boy- so goddamn hot… You look so pretty like this…” His eyes found the other man’s, the pale blue shining with joy, lips parted wide around his cock, and Bucky could have come undone simply at the sight. Steve could only mewl with satisfaction, lashes flickering in pleasure as Bucky rocked his hips, driving his length into his Captain’s throat before drawing back just far enough to let him snatch a breath.

It didn’t take long for the brunette’s muscles to begin to tremble and clench, incensed by the sight of his lover stretched and kneeling before him. The fingers in his hair tensed, and Steve’s eyebrow twitched questioningly. “I-I can’t- I’ll- I can’t hold out,” Bucky stuttered, the rock of his hips become spasmodic – but Steve simply dug his fingers into the other man’s flesh, groaning encouragingly. Bucky hissed with the realisation, free hand joining the first, holding Steve’s head still as his thrusts became more forceful. The feeling of soft whimpers vibrating around his length spurred him on, and he stammered out a quick warning before burying himself deeply, fingernails catching  against scalp as he pinned his submissive Captain against him. “Fuck, Steve- Stevie!”

Steve’s eyes closed in pleasure as his sergeant emptied with a guttural groan, swallowing eagerly, licking his lips as his trembling partner drew back at last. “Thank you,” Bucky breathed, unclenching his hand to smooth the messy blond strands tenderly. Steve opened his eyes to meet his gaze, hesitating only briefly before scrambling to his feet to pin the brunette to the wall, earning a grunt of surprise and a dry gulp.

“I’m going to fuck you,” Cap growled, one hand wrapping lightly around his sergeant’s throat, smiling when a quiet whimper and desperate nod came in response. Bucky groaned as he was turned quickly, hands flat to the wall and ass offered willingly, the Captain’s cock pressing against him teasingly. Steve spat in his palm and slicked his length quickly, one hand steadying himself with his lover’s hip as he lined himself up.

“Please- Please, Stevie, I need you, I want you- please, just-” Bucky moaned needily as Steve pressed inside him roughly, his forehead finding the other man’s metal shoulder as he groaned.

“Bucky- Buck, honey, you feel so good…” he grunted, dragging out slowly before slamming home once more. Slowly at first, the movements of his cock inside the taller man felt incredible, the spark of discomfort from the lack of preparation or real lubricant fading quickly until Bucky was rutting back desperately, trying in vain to increase the pace. “Sweet boy, you’re so eager!”

“Yes- God, yes Sir, please, Stevie- Cap, I need you to fuck me, baby boy,” Bucky panted, fingers curling against the plaster. Steve’s fingers found his, pinning his metal hand to the wall either side of his head, while the other wrapped around his already-stiffening cock, stroking him in time as he thrusted harder. Bucky yelped in surprise, back arching. He’d been fucked many times in his life – but never by someone whose strength parallelled his own, his very bones creaking under the strain as Steve pounded against him with bruising ferocity.

Steve was lost in the heat fizzing through his veins; there was nothing but this, the feeling of Bucky wrapped around him, tight and hot, the air full of the scent of sex and the lewd sounds falling from their lips. This was everything he’d ever wanted, and he found his body reacting automatically, knowing just what to do as he drove himself deeper, their hands on the wall creating cracks in the plaster under the power.

“So beautiful – so good, James – I love you,” Steve groaned, fisting his sergeant’s cock faster as he felt his climax approaching, too far gone and too eager to slow down, to take his time in this. Bucky simply whimpered in response, his forehead pressed to the plaster, soft sobs of overwhelming pleasure falling from his lips between pleas and gratitude, rutting  back against each perfect thrust. “Please- Stevie, fuck, just like that- I-I’m going- I-” His spine arched as he came without warning, painting both his lover’s hand and the wall before him, muscles clenching around Steve’s length.

Steve wrapped an arm around his partner’s waist, dragging him against his chest as he fucked him harder still, groaning out a plea for mercy into Bucky’s throat as he finally, blissfully, emptied himself inside his sergeant.

Bucky lay panting with his head on Steven’s chest, sweat-damp and exhausted, his backside bruised, entirely blissful.

“D’you want to get up?” Steve murmured, tracing his fingers gently down his lover’s spine, earning a lazy shake of the head.

“I’m right where he belong,” Bucky whispered in response, pressing a tender kiss to the bare skin under his cheek.

[elizabethemerald]

Summon the Cat: Part 5

Master post

It was hobby night in the Kyle household. The past two months had been wonderful for Selina. She had gotten Danny and Jazz enrolled in school under fake identities created by Oracle. She was delighted that both of them decided to take her last name. Danny and Jasmine Kyle. 

Without the pressure of their previous living situation, both kids were excelling. Jazz of course loved school and was happy and excited to be back. The fact that she didn't have to worry about her brother getting hurt by a ghost allowed her to top the school charts and get involved in the clubs she never had time for before. She also didn’t have to tutor to make sure she had enough money to buy food for herself and Danny, which freed up so much time. 

Danny was also doing well. It had only taken two conversations and one training session with him to realize he was neurodivergent just like Dick was. While Dick and Jazz had learned some coping strategies for how their brains functioned, Danny didn’t have those. So she paid extra for a tutor to help him learn those coping strategies. On top of that, Gotham Academy’s young engineer program was known worldwide for its incredible quality in hands-on learning. He was able to put the brilliant and creative mind that had helped him survive two years as the solo hero in Amity to more productive use. 

Even in the just two months he was there, he already had two patents filed. Selina was so happy for him. Being an astronaut was now probably beyond his reach because of his medical problems, but he could still help NASA and Star Labs with their space programs. If Bruce would finish up with his whining and complaining he would be a shoe-in for the Wayne Space and Aeronautics program. 

Of course Bruce was still at the height of his bitching and moaning about how Danny must be an otherworldly being that was trying to take advantage of her naivete. She wanted to shake him or slap him. Of course he was an otherworldly being! That’s what a ghost is, you idiot! But he’s not taking advantage of her, he’s being protected by a parent for the first time in his life, you obstinate prick. 

The two kids were still working through a lot of issues left over from their previous guardians. Selina couldn’t even call the Fentons “parents” in good conscience. Hell, they barely counted as guardians. The two of them still shared a bedroom, partially out of necessity due to the lack of bedrooms, and partially out of a desire to be there for each other when they had nightmares. Selina’s heart broke every time Danny’s screaming nightmares woke up the household. He had no shortage of nightmare fuel, from the ghosts he had fought, to the GIW, to what his own parents had done to him. 

Unfortunately, Jazz wasn’t immune to the nightmares either. Selina would often wake early to make breakfast and find Jazz already awake with dark rings under her eyes. Sometimes when Selina returned from her “evening work” Jazz would be awake and studying on her own, unable to fall asleep. She hoped that given enough time her kids would eventually be able to at least sleep through the night. 

It was in the effort of them recovering from the horrors they had experienced, that had them all enjoying hobby night. Harley and Ivy were with them as well, though the Bat girls hadn’t been able to make it, much to Jazz’s disappointment. Jazz was working in front of a large basin of water as she wove a small basket. Ivy was leaning over her shoulder and giving her directions as well as telling anecdotes about weaving plants together. Ivy’s plants were already in some cases stronger than steel, and when woven properly they could be strong enough to stop Bane dead in his tracks and even restrain Superman. Jazz laughed and said that wasn’t quite her interest, but it was nice that she could relax with Selina’s friend. 

Danny was playing with his ice ability, with Harley giving him suggestions on what to create. The Kents had given her the suggestion that allowing her son to play and normalize his powers was vital to keep him from suppressing his nature. So as Harley gave Danny suggestions and he laughed and shaped his ice to follow, showing how normal and accepted his powers were. It also helped train and improve his control as he made little icy music boxes and puppets. 

Selina also had her own craft in front of her. Part of the hobby night was not just a chance for all of them to hang together, but also a time to engage in each other’s hobbies. Danny and Selina had each made their own baskets, Selina’s ended up looking more like a bird’s nest, which had Danny floating in the air with laughter. Now she was working on a model of the solar system to enjoy Danny’s hobbies. 

She took a moment to look around at her, her friends and her kids surrounding her and happy. Now seemed the perfect time to bring up the topic that had been on her mind almost since the first night Danny and Jazz had slept over. 

“Since we’re all here, do you mind if we talk about something?” Selina asked. 

She couldn’t help a small flinch as Danny and Jazz reacted. She had tried to keep her voice uplifted and cheerful, but her two kids both looked like she was going to share bad news. Jazz had tensed, ready to move in any direction. While Danny looked like he was about to fly out of the room through the wall. Selina hated again what the Fentons had done to her kids that even a family conversation was such cause for concern. 

“I want to buy a new house where we all have our own rooms and space.” Selina said quickly to clear up the fear and confusion. “I’ve squared away my finances and done some research into homes.” 

Jazz relaxed a little and Danny at least looked like he was relaxing though Seline could see he was still ready to flee if necessary. Harley and Ivy looked up with confusion and curiosity respectively. 

“Ya want us to leave, ‘Lina?” Harley asked. 

“No, this is relevant to you too.” Selina said. “I was thinking that with the Sirens pooling our wealth we could get a larger place with more rooms for our interests.” 

“Oh that would be amazing!” Harley cheered. 

Selina could see Danny brighten at the idea, but also Jazz dim and start to withdraw. She wouldn’t allow that to happen. 

“Jazz, you and Danny will have your own rooms so you don’t have to share, but with large enough beds so you can if you want. You would of course have space for any baskets or any other hobbies or interests. Danny, you would have room to do your homework and store some telescopes. Then maybe we could have room for my after hours work and perhaps a greenhouse or some gymnastics equipment.”

Now Jazz looked happier and Danny had started floating up above the couch in excitement. Selina smiled and pulled out the packet of papers she had prepared and passed it around. Danny started flipping through some of the papers with Harley leaning over his shoulder pointing out the details of the houses. 

“Drake Manor? Are we looking at buying a manor house?” Jazz asked in confusion with one of the papers in her hand.

“What? Drake Manor-?” Selina sat up and leaned over and could see a pamphlet laid out in the exact same manner as the others she had created but she definitely didn’t choose that one. 

“Oh Ancients! We’re going to be fruitloops!” Danny said, then swooped over to Jazz and looked at the paper. “Wow, it's even cheaper than the townhouses.”

“Wait, really?” Selina stood up and looked at it and sure enough the manor next door to the Waynes was for sale at an incredibly cheap price. She looked closer and saw that the Manor was being sold by the owner, the Heir of the Drakes. 

Selina squinted her eyes for a moment before she smiled. It seemed Tim wanted his family close, even though it would piss Bruce off, or maybe especially because it would piss the Bat off. 

“Hmm. I must have missed the price when I put it in the packet.” Selina said, giving a meaningful glance to Harley and Ivy, who both smirk back at her. “Drake Manor might just be perfect for our needs, if that works for all of you.” 

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Lily of the Valley

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: Jason Todd dies and comes back to life. As the League takes him in, he navigates his morality and family values over the years.

Chapters: 26/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Talia al Ghul, Ra’s al Ghul, Damian Wayne, Barbara Gordon, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Sheila Haywood

Relationships: Jason Todd/Original Character(s)

Additional Tags: Immortal Jason Todd, League of Assassins Jason Todd, Protective Talia al Ghul, Good Parent Talia al Ghul, Jason Todd Needs a Hug, Good Sibling Jason Todd, Hurt/Comfort, Adopted Children, Resurrected Jason Todd

Chapter Twenty-Six: Houma Way From Houma

After his first two years alone, traveling and learning as much as he could, Jason trained with a woman who, at first feared him and his potential. She turned him away initially, but after weeks of begging, she allowed him in. Her training was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. It was grueling and left him with frightening visions. He kept them hidden from her, fearing that she’d use them as an excuse to end his training. The hours were long, and he didn’t sleep even when he had time to. He fasted most of the week at her request, but it made the visions worse. 

Jason trained with experts in everything from chemistry to cybercrime but something about this woman was different. She tested him in every way that mattered. It was like she wanted to break him without killing him, and she’d gotten dangerously close on a summer day in Louisiana. She delved inside his mind to take a walk through his thoughts. He always consented to it despite the discomfort he felt at the thought of her touching his memories, like fingers through a file cabinet. This time felt different, though. He was mildly aware of what went on outside of his mind and something was wrong. It made his heart race and his chest felt tight and heavy. “Where are we? You moved my body,” Jason whispered. 

“You’re being buried alive as we speak, but I want you to let go of that fear—.”

“No! Nonononono! Not again, please! Let me out! Let me out, please—.”

“Jason, calm down. You’ve trained with me all this time. I’m going to release your mind, and you’ll have an hour to use what I’ve taught you to get out,” she interrupted. 

“Please don’t leave me here,” Jason begged, “Please, god—. Please don’t—.” Jason hyperventilated as he awakened in a wooden casket. Tears streamed down his cheeks as his body shut down, and he felt along the walls of the casket. He protected his face, inhaling as much air as he could while he searched for a way out. He’d done it before, but it was different this time. The woman was right. She gave him everything he needed to escape. He relaxed, feeling energy travel through his body, and he touched the small crease of separation between the casket. 

“Oh god, please let this work. Let this work,” Jason thought as he blasted the door open. Dirt fell on his face, but he was able to dig his way free from there. He pulled his shirt off and took a breath of fresh air, and he met eyes with the woman. 

“Less than five minutes. Good job, Jason,” she smiled. Jason’s chest heaved up and down as he fought the urge to strike out at her. Tears streamed down his dirt-covered cheeks. “You’re upset. That’s alright… But you shut off the fear. Didn’t you?” 

He couldn’t speak. His lips tightened into a scowl as he sucked in a shaky breath of air, nearly sobbing as he balled his hands into a fist. “Get cleaned up. I’ve taught you everything I can—.”

“What did I do wrong?” Jason asked.

“Nothing… There’s nothing else I can teach you,” she answered. Jason frowned and nodded. “You should leave before nightfall.” 

Jason left her, wondering what was next for him as he headed for the showers. He washed the dirt out of his hair and face, thinking about all the other times the woman buried him alive. It usually left him sick for days afterward, but he felt nothing this time. Once he’d stopped crying, he didn’t care anymore. It all felt like a distant memory. He bathed until there wasn’t a trace of dirt on him, got dressed, packed his bag, and left. 

Jason never carried anything more than one bag during that time. He often left at a moment’s notice, carrying very little. After he killed the first handful of teachers, he decided he’d move quickly from place to place to remain hidden, so he knew he couldn’t stay behind in Louisiana. As much as he liked it there, he had to move on to the next place. Jason blended in well on the streets of Houma, feeling almost at home there. If he wasn’t planning on visiting one more person before returning home, he would’ve liked to stay there. He smiled, thinking about Damian and what it would be like to visit there with him. Before leaving, he decided to have dinner at a seafood restaurant, where he met a young man about his age. 

The restaurant wanted to have the man arrested for not paying for his meal, despite the young man offering to work to pay his debt. Jason’s jaw tightened, and he stood up and walked over. “What you doin’ man?” Jason asked in a feigned cajun accent. “He always do this… Listen, how much is it? We was gon’ pass a good time, have dinner… I say I’m gon’ pay. He so stubborn, knowin’ he forgot his wallet. How much?” 

The waiter looked at the bill, and Jason winked at the young man. The waiter read it out to Jason, and he took the cash out of his wallet and tipped the waiter for his trouble. He and the man left the restaurant, and Jason chuckled on the way out. “Hey, man… I owe you. Where you from? Maybe I can pay you back—.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Jason smiled. 

“What’s your name? I feel bad not having the money to pay you for the—.”

“Peter,” Jason replied. 

“Well, Peter, I’m Josh… And I’m real grateful for you saving my ass out there,” Josh smiled. Jason shook his head. 

“In another life, we coulda been brothers or somethin’. I’m not gon’ be in the city too much longer, but it was nice to meet you while I could,” Jason replied as they passed an alley. Josh looked at Jason, and Jason noticed a glint in his eye. It wasn’t dangerous. No. It was something else. Josh leaned in to kiss him, and he recoiled. “I’m sorry. I just—. I’m with somebody. I got somebody waitin’ on me.” Jason had to admit to himself that Josh was handsome, and his intentions were sweet and rich-smelling like a summer wine. If he weren’t in love, he would’ve found the smell appetizing, but it only made him ache for what he had. 

“I’m sorry… I misunderstood,” Josh apologized. Jason shut his eyes, chewing his bottom lip as he swallowed the pain the moment brought him, and he hugged Josh. It was all he could do to ease the pain in his own heart. He slipped a wad of cash into Josh’s pocket and rushed off toward the nearest train station. He cried about it as soon as he was alone. The smell lingered on his skin. 

After all his time training under the mystery woman, he’d developed the ability to smell souls. The woman had no explanation for this other than it being a unique gift that his training awakened. A form of magical synesthesia. The more ordinary a person was the more cut and dry the fragrance was. He knew Josh would stick with him for a while. And it hurt. It hurt more than anything he’d felt in a while. Jason cried so hard it made his throat dry. He drank water and slept until he reached his next stop. From there, Jason boarded a plane to Guyana to follow a lead about an illegal land development project in the Amazon.

[heliads]

One Mission

Based on this request: "can you do an avengers x teen!reader where the reader is 14 and the avengers don’t want her to go on a mission and they get kidnapped and she saves them"

masterlist

It is impossibly cruel to put a girl such as yourself in a position such as this and expect her to do absolutely nothing at all, yet that is the predicament you find yourself in at the moment. The Avengers had always been a far-fetched dream of yours, some golden vision verging on paradise. It seemed as if all of your problems would be solved the second you stepped foot in Avengers Tower and could call yourself a part of the team.

After a year of official Avengers status, however, you think you’d factor in a new and wholly important clause to such a declaration. It is beyond wonderful to be a part of the Avengers, of course, but only when they actually let you do things. Things to do would include being able to train with the other agents without them being terrified of hurting you, not having Tony bring up the fact that you should be doing your homework every other hour, and oh, you know, being able to actually go on missions like you were meant to do in the first place.

Truth be told, it’s been wearing on you for a while. You know you shouldn’t complain. A thousand kids would kill for a chance like this. You’ve lost track of the number of times your friends from school have begged you to let them walk around Avengers Tower, or meet Black Widow, or experience any one of the countless little details that makes up life on the team. You mention a team bonding Monopoly session once and they’re practically turning green. From jealousy, not rage, of course. They may adore Bruce Banner with all their hearts, but not enough to try and emulate his career path.

You are happy with the Avengers, truly you are. They go out of their way to make sure you’re having a good time. You think they feel guilty in some part for what has become of you. You became an inhuman after a freak accident, and now you’re stuck with the weird life you lead. You’d be lying if you said that the Avengers didn’t hold themselves responsible in at least some way. 

After all, if they’re supposed to be protecting the world from unusual activity like what gave you powers, what happened to you should never have happened at all. Even if they weren’t aware of the incident at the time, their lapse in being able to keep the entire world population safe led to you never being able to lead a normal human life again.

Obviously, the logic is a bit lacking there, but that’s what they feel nonetheless. You’ve made your peace with your newfound extraordinary abilities, but you might be the only one. It feels like some days you’ll only ever be a poster child for what happens when the Avengers don’t commit to their job and follow all the rules. They slip up, people get hurt, and that includes kids like you.

That’s not the way you see it, of course, but the fact remains. The Avengers treat you like you’re a window of stained glass– wonderful, to be sure, bright and cheerful, but breakable at the slightest touch. When you first joined the team, you were filled with hopes about doing missions all the time, proving yourself to be as valuable as you saw yourself.

It’s been about a year now since your first day, and that dream has been swiftly crushed underfoot. You think you’ve gone on about two missions total, and given the fact that opportunities for such assignments seem to come up at least once a week if not more, that number’s a little disappointing, to say the least. 

You’ve brought this up with Tony and Steve and the rest about a thousand times, but they say the same things every single instance they can. You’re too young, too experienced. The real world out there isn’t going to be pulling their punches like your instructors. You point to that as a reason that your teachers should stop babying you so you can be ready for what will actually come your way, but they just shake their heads and laugh. Maybe when you’re older, you can join the team on their missions. Until then, you’re going to be left behind, abandoned to the intermittent radio reports and the thrill of looking over the shoulders of the S.H.I.E.L.D. teams hired to watch the team’s progress.

Obviously it gnaws at you. Being told to wait is infuriating, especially given the fact that you’ve already done a year of it. All of these people are on this team because they started too young, because they were forced to confront the world and its injustices far too early. You know they’re just trying to protect you from what they had to go through, but you’ve already faced your fire and brimstone beginning. There’s no way you can leave this life, so you might as well commit to it, right?

That’s what you tell yourself, at least. It still burns like acid at the back of your throat when the Avengers bring up their latest missions. They talk about it over meals and in the halls. Every word seems to strike you like a paper airplane launched by a coming-of-age movie villain, the bully in class who can’t seem to leave you alone. Every single moment spent in the Avengers complex reminds you of the fact that they’re not going to trust you to actually do your job until you’re too old and jaded to care about going on missions anymore. All you wanted to do was save the world. Surely your own team shouldn’t be getting in the way of that, right?

The Avengers are heading out again this morning. There’s a HYDRA base tucked away in the mountains somewhere, another one in a string of what feels like hundreds. You cut off one head and two shall take its place, indeed. This excursion should be at least a little more exciting than normal– you’ve heard there’s an inhuman on the enemy base, one given to leaving S.H.I.E.L.D. agents mangled and bloody whenever someone tries to rid the complex of HYDRA foes.

That’s why the team has been called in. As per usual, you begged to be allowed to go along, and as per usual, you were denied. It’s too dangerous, obviously. They do take pity on you and allow you to ride in the Quinjet with them to the base, but only after extracting promises from all the agents on board that you won’t be allowed to leave the ship, which will be parked very far away from the scene of the drama. It’s a terrible compromise, but it makes the other Avengers feel like they’re not locking you up in the tower, so it’s going to have to do for now.

Sighing, you adjust your earpiece and watch the holographic display of their progress along with the other agents. The team left the Quinjet about half an hour ago and are on the edge of the HYDRA base now, just making their way inside. They had to take out a few patrols along the way, but no alarms have gone off quite yet.

This tentative peace is blown once they step foot inside the walls, however. The base, supposedly only half occupied, is practically full to bursting with enemy agents. You watch as your team launches themselves at the waves of HYDRA forces gunning for them, occasional radio transmissions crackling through your earpiece with calls for aid and directions to head towards a nearby source of shelter from the endless waves of bullets spiraling their way. 

The Avengers are able to fight their way into a nearby radio control room and bar the door, but it’s clear that the situation isn’t good. If they can make their way into a central control room a few halls down, they can shut down the base, but that’s going to take a lot of luck.

Luck which, by the way, they don’t seem to have. The Avengers rally and force their way back into the surrounding corridors, but they only make it halfway to the control room before they’re greeted with a new, certainly not friendly, face. The HYDRA inhuman is a menace, you can tell that from the blurry camera streams if not the collection of curses that ricochet through the team comms. The guy is massive, his head practically touching the ceiling as he glowers down at the Avengers. When he raises his hands, he can conjure up a tower of fire just as tall as him that rushes down the hall towards your team.

The Avengers give it their all, but when they’re so severely outnumbered in such cramped quarters, there isn’t a whole lot they can do. They’re taken alive, at least, and marched to a row of cells in the basement of the HYDRA base. The last thing you hear before the comms lose their signal is that HYDRA was expecting them, and that’s that.

You stare at the other agents, who all seem to be in a similar state of shock. The Avengers don’t mess up, they just don’t. They never lose. This is stunning.

A thought occurs to you, the only solution. “You have to send me in.”

The agent in charge of monitoring the mission shakes her head. “Not a chance. We swore to Tony that we’d keep you safe.”

“And Tony’s doing such a great job of keeping the rest of the team safe, isn’t he? Look, you heard what they said. HYDRA was expecting the Avengers, now they’ve got them locked up. They don’t think anyone else is coming, certainly not me. We have to hit now while they still think they have time before S.H.I.E.L.D. comes to collect. Let me go,” you reason.

The agents exchange glances. “It’s not a bad plan,” one of them admits at last, “but I think you’re missing the point that the rest of the Avengers couldn’t get in. What makes you think that you can do it all by yourself?”

“Easy,” you declare, “I’ve got something to prove.”

They don’t seem to like that as a battle plan, but seeing as losing the Avengers would look really, really bad in a mission report, the agents eventually sigh and agree to let you out. No one wants to be the one to call Director Fury and admit that the other Avengers are all sitting pretty in HYDRA cells, so letting the resident teenager handle the problem sounds good to the rest of them.

It sounds good to you, too. You brought your armor in the off chance that everyone might come to their senses and let you on the mission, so you’re able to be ready in a matter of minutes. You’re given a live camera and your comms are double checked, and then you’re off, hurrying through the surrounding area on the way to rescue your team.

Despite the pressing danger, you can’t stop a delighted grin from crossing your face. This is what you’ve always wanted, a chance to prove that you can do this, you can take part in the missions. They’ve been doubting you all this time, and now you’re on your way to save them all from certain doom. Sure, the situation isn’t looking great right now, but you can at least admit that this feels pretty freaking fantastic.

Your hunch was spot on, and when you scale the walls of the HYDRA complex, you’re pleased to note that the waves of enemy agents that had been waiting for the Avengers to arrive are nowhere to be seen. They’re all inside, toasting the fact that they’ve been able to do the impossible and capture the Avengers. Your uniform is nondescript, so you’re able to slip inside so long as you just walk around like you’re supposed to be there.

Sticking to the shadows, you make your way down to the cells in the basement. You haven’t run into the HYDRA inhuman yet, which is great, although you have no doubt that he’s lurking about somewhere. Until then, all you can do is head slowly but surely to where the Avengers are being held. You do have to take out a fair amount of guards, but you’re able to shove their bodies into storage closets and smaller rooms without being noticed. The S.H.I.E.L.D. agents on the other line are able to talk you through the conflicts without too much trouble.

Before you know it, you’re rounding the corner in the cell block and there they are, the team behind bars. They haven’t noticed you yet, and you give yourself a moment to treasure this victory before you make yourself known by knocking out the guards in front of their cells.

You catch the Avengers’ attention the second you spring into action. In a matter of seconds, you’re nonchalantly dusting off your hands after taking out the half dozen guards previously posted in the cell block. The Avengers stand slowly, at first unable to believe their eyes.

“Kid,” Steve says slowly, “what are you doing?”

You just grin. “Saving you. I thought it was obvious.”

Nat chuckles. “You have to hand it to her, Rogers, she couldn’t have better timing.”

“Actually,” Clint says, staring at something behind you, “I think she could have gotten here just a few minutes earlier. That probably would have been better.”

You turn to see what he’s staring at and bite back a few choice words. The HYDRA inhuman must be able to add a superior sixth sense to his list of abilities, because he’s chosen this very moment to come check in on the prisoners. He starts for a moment when he sees you, clearly not expecting anyone else to be down here, but soon enough he’s raising his palms, ready to torch you to smithereens.

You, however, aren’t particularly fond of being reduced to ashes, so you charge up your own inhuman abilities and prepare yourself for a fight. The thing about HYDRA’s resident inhuman is that he’s not used to losing. After all, the guy just took down the Avengers a short time earlier. He’s on his home turf and feeling utterly unbeatable.

All this means to you is that you have to be the one to show him what’s what. HYDRA’s inhuman has prepared himself for an easy victory, so he strolls towards you casually, not too worried about what’s about to happen. That’s his mistake. When you get in the first hit, the enemy inhuman has to take a moment to realize what’s happened. His mental game comes crashing down in a heap, and suddenly he’s not fighting to win, just to survive. Just like you.

You’re not going to say the fight is easy, because it isn’t. You certainly take a fair amount of blows, and hearing the gasps of the Avengers behind you only serves as a reminder of how bad things are getting. However, failure isn’t an option, not for you. When the battle ends, you’re the one who’s still standing, and so you’re the one who gets to limp over to the cells and unlock your friends.

The Avengers look stunned, probably because you just took out the villain by yourself when they couldn’t do it as a team.

At last, Thor breaks the ice. “Excellent work, Y/N.”

Bruce nods quickly. “Yeah, that was great.”

“Great enough to let me start doing missions?” You ask pointedly.

The Avengers share significant glances, and then Tony chuckles. “Yeah, kid. Don’t let it go to your head, but yeah. You just saved all of us from certain doom, I think that’s grounds enough for a promotion.”

You break into a beaming grin. “Really?”

“Really,” Steve says, “you earned it. Now come on, let’s get out of here before HYDRA decides to check in on us.”

As your ragged group leaves the cell block, you feel like you’re lighter than air. This couldn’t be a better first mission, and judging by your success today, it won’t be the last. Nothing could make you happier.

requested by @luvherfairy, i hope you enjoy!

marvel tag list: @thatfangirl42, @rogueanschel, @mycosmicparadise, @ellobruv, @caswinchester2000, @with-inked-solace, @sher-lokid7, @amortensie, @23victoria, @watchreadfangirlrepeat, @gods-fools-heroes, @w1shes43

[spinning-angel]

BRO!!!

Bro.

A Batman fanfiction called ‘Must Have Been the Wind’ about Tim Drake leaving Gotham to pursue self-betterment after realizing how badly the batfamily treats him. Dick was nice at first before Dick wanted to send him to Arkham for his ‘mental instability’ and Tim Drake is desperate for love from being so starved of it from his own family. He’s used to being treated badly, explains it away, and even expects it because he’s never known better in his life ever.

Bruce is always too late, for being a detective he is rather blind to actual problems until they have already occurred. He can solve a murder, but he can’t save anyone. He deals in facts, not sensitivities.

Alfred is either silent or an appeaser to both sides.

Dick tries to send him away to Arkham.

Jason tries to murder him.

Cass tried to murder him in the beginning, and even with their now good relationship she abandons him to go to Hong Kong when he needs her most.

Damian tries to murder him multiple times, actively antagonizes him, and still hates him.

I’d like to think he’s scared of anything else at first because he’s used to silently suffering, and something new is much scarier than something familiar. Tim thought it was normal, that his life with his parents and the Wayne’s was love, but ever the detective he starts to question things when he goes to Ives’ house. He has so many questions; like why do his parents ask about his day? Lean in close, rub his shoulder, look at him so affectionately? Playful arguments, laughing at the dinner table, helping each other with dishes, taking care of the other when they’re sick? Why do they want him when to Tim, children should only be around when they are needed without exception? To Tim, children are a necessity because they are expected, not wanted, because Tim is and feels unwanted so much and seeing a family acting like this..he gets a little emotional and confused.

He might act out, yell rage and scream, ‘why do your parents love you, but mine never did!??!!’ And cry while being hugged and soothed. Or he might watch on with scientific integrity, with no spoken opinion, only to politely ask Ives carefully formed questions later in the comfort of only his presence so no one else will be able to hear his voice tremble, see him break whilst his theories are confirmed. He has been abused. By both his parents and Bruce, and not in entirely dissimilar ways either which is probably why he didn’t notice. If Bruce hit him he would have said something, if Bruce touched him he would have went to Dick who would keep him safe, but Bruce hurts him with his inaction. He hold back on touch, love, affection, everything Tim has already been deprived of. Dick gives plenty of hugs, but it’s different from someone who’s supposed to be your father, it is something Tim has never experienced before and fears he never will.

So he leaves, keeps in touch with Ives who showed him what a loving family should act like and anyone else who he thinks would care (Kon, Bart, Cassie, even Duke!!), then disappears into the winds one day. No one notices for months, could even be years, it’s not like Tim is keeping track. At first though, he does. He dreads the fact he left immediately, starts counting the days from the first, hoping and wistfully wondering if one of them is frantically searching for him…but after a while those feelings fade away and he is left feeling utterly content in the knowledge that he got away before he became another dead robin. It was all he would have been in the end, no name, no Tim Drake, Tim Wayne, or just Tim.

He’d have been another faceless robin who died at a time when he should have been going to friends houses, going through puberty, going to parties, teenage angst, petty arguments, hate, love love love —having a life that didn’t revolve around covering up broken bones and bruises in time for school with 30 missing assignments cause he was too busy fighting crime— normal kid things. Instead, he was given two parents who were never around enough to care about him, and gained a brother and a father who only saw his dead successor in everything he did. It made him feel fake, a complete fraud, inhuman. He had to earn their love when he should have already had it.

Now he’s willingly lost everything to start over again, and he’s okay with that. Tim has accepted that sometimes you need to let things go to let other things in. Two steps back to take five steps forward.

Present day, Tim lives in a nice suburban neighborhood where everyone knows each other and the community is small but strong. The type of community where you’ll walk your dog and everyone who passes by will wave and ask about your day, even invite you to their house for dinner. It’s not what his parents would have wanted, but it’s what Tim wants and Tim doesn’t think he has ever had the chance to freely want something before coming here.

He’s not hiding either, he still goes by Tim Drake, Ives comes to visit him when he feels well enough to, Kon, Bart, and Cassie call weekly to talk about life sans superheroing. Even Duke visits in the evenings on weekends and sleeps over on saturdays before leaving late on Sunday because he’s got school tomorrow.

Anyone could find him anytime, but no one has—Dick, Jason, Cass, Damian, Bruce— because they don’t realize they lost him. One day they might finally understand, or attempt to make amends when they try to become better.

Bruce might hug him and say he loves him

Alfred might call him ‘dear boy’ and ask if he’s been eating

Dick might congratulate him for finding peace

Jason might apologize and make it up to him by cooking one of alfreds recipes

Cass might come home permanently and just lie down next to him, no words needed

Damian might pet his dog and call him Timothy

Though, for now Tim doesn’t worry about waiting because the only thing he’s waiting for everyday is walking his dog in the morning and talking to friends who love him. That’s all he needs.

SUMMARY: fanfiction idea about tim healing from toxic family relations and learning how to love and appreciate himself the way he shouldve since the beginning, but he went from shitty parents to even shittier parent so he never had the time to take a breather and think that he doesnt deserve this treatment

[robinrequiems]

stephanie stuff.

they forgot about me, didn’t they?

the Robin pushed deep into the shadows of Bruce’s mind. the second failure. the one he craves to take back. the one he regrets accepting as Robin. he knew she wasn’t ready. he already lost one, and he saw signs in her that he saw in Jason.

yet she wasn’t like Jason. sure she was reckless. sure her lineage isn’t great. but she wasn’t given a chance. not like Jason was. It was always stephanie making the mistakes and messing up. he didn’t care that she was a girl, he cared that she was reckless and that she makes mistake over mistake, but that’s not fair. they called her childish, naive. but she wasn’t. she knew, she experienced the cruel truths of the world. she wasn’t naive. was she stupid? yeah. but she was still growing up. she has a long list of regrets. she just wished people would stop reminding her.

she can’t grow if people keep holding her back. she deserves more than that. she’s better than what they think.

so why do they look at her, remember her, as someone who never deserve the Robin name? she deserved it. she did. she helped. she was good.

even if she didn’t follow the rules all the time. but she tried to help. even when she messed up big time. she didn’t know. batman didn’t tel her anything. he kept secrets upon secrets. even though she was his sidekick. she deserved to know the secrets. she did. maybe if he told her—

there’s no point in thinking about that because stephanie as Robin never got a happy ending. it was predetermined in every. single. universe. her run as Robin was always limited. she was made to die. she wasn’t meant to be Robin. not like they were.

but god she wanted to be Robin. the light to Batman’s darkness. the sidekick people looked up to. she fell in love with this idea to the point where she sacrificed it all. she gave it her all, she grew up. she realized that Robin wasn’t fun and games. yet she still wasn’t given a chance.

maybe she wasn’t meant to be Robin because she wasn’t meant to be a sidekick.

maybe that’s why batgirl worked and Robin didn’t. yet the thought of what could have became of her if she kept being Robin is a thought that haunts her.

maybe she’d be the one to give Tim the mantle back. or maybe she would give it to Damian. maybe she would turn Robin into something entirely new.

but. she couldn’t, but it’s okay. because she can do it with batgirl. she’ll be the best batgirl the world will see. her journey won’t be stopped. This is who she is meant to be.

she’s not gonna let anyone take it away. not this time.

++ WIP

“i get it.” | s. brown.

she knew dick went through a difficult time when he was Batman. because of Damian. becoming Batman. having to take up a mantle he never wanted. she knew that. that’s why she didn’t let his distrust of her sway her.

because she would prove that she was better than everyone thought. which led to her gaining his respect. he saw himself in her. because she was someone who wanted to inspire joy. she didn’t live in the darkness like everyone else. and he was happy that she was batgirl when he was Batman. he needed that joy. it was important to him because it reminded himself of who he was. she helped with Damian in ways he couldn’t. dealt with him when he had episodes of anger. or when he almost goes off the deepend. she gave him a chance. so it was only fair for dick to give her one.

barbara was jealous. seeing stephanie in her former moniker. a title held dear to her chest. And seeing how free she was. it reminded her of herself and it hurt. it hurt to see stephanie using the batgirl name. and she wouldn’t be able to deal with if the name became haunted by death. Z which is why she didn’t want stephanie to have it. she knew her track record. her history. yet stephanie was stubborn. that stubbornness was annoying at first. yet she .. warmed Barbara up. and Barbara accepted her.

tim and stephanie had a lot of history. they both like to reminisce, but they hate how much there is. because it leaves unspoken words, arguments, and feelings. they learn to let those feelings go because they aren’t right for each other. b it doesn’t mean they aren’t friends. he didn’t want her to die. he didn’t want her to be a hero. stephanie did though. she was meant to be a hero. she tried the civilian life. she wasn’t meant for it. this is who she was meant to be, and tim knows that. but it doesn’t mean he isn’t concerned, or hurt that she’s back. he doesn’t want to see her die. not again.

[gilbirda]

Friendly neighborhood vigilante. Chapter 21

BatmanxDP crossover. JasonxJazz

[Read on AO3] [Read on FF.net]

Based on this post

First chapter || << Previous chapter || Next chapter >>

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“I’m so sorry.”

“I’m fine.”

“Your ankle is twisted.”

“Is not that bad,” Jazz said for the tenth time. And it really wasn’t, she had worse before, and it would be healed in a few days, tops. She wasn’t in top condition since she had to share her last dose of ectoplasm with him; but that didn’t mean she would let a sprained ankle bother her so easily.

“Are you sure you are okay? Jason is an absolute unit.”

“Hey.”

“What? You know it’s true!”

Dick nodded at Tim. “I almost broke my back trying to carry him piggyback once.”

“Really?” Jazz looked up from where Alfred was kneeling with the first aid supplies. She had already tried to insist she could deal with it herself and had been ignored twice. “Are there photos of that?”

“Sadly, no.”

“Damn.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?”

Jazz turned to smile at her boyfriend, not-that-secretly enjoying his slightly pink cheeks.

“Hmm?”

Everyone turned to look at Alfred when he hummed. The butler was frowning, eyes fixed on Jazz’s right foot — not in her red and swollen ankle he was about to bandage, but on one of her toes. It was crooked and stood out next to the other perfectly aligned ones.

Oh. Right.

“What happened?”

Jazz felt a bit crowded when the siblings leaned in to see her foot. She could feel their eyes scrutinizing her feet, and she never felt more self conscious before. She could have painted her toenails, at least, but she didn’t find time to do so before the dinner.

“I broke my toe a long time ago.”

Dick wore what she had come to understand was his “that’s nice” smile. She had seen him use it many times during gymnastics class, when he definitely had some comments to say but bit his tongue and said “that’s nice” instead. He had used it with her a few times, but she didn’t hold it against him.

“It didn’t heal fine.” Tim beat him to the comment. Jazz expected it, and sighed.

She gathered her thoughts as Alfred carefully twisted her foot this and that way, not upsetting her injured ankle.

“I was… eight? Ten? I think I was ten years old. I ran upstairs a bit too fast and stumbled with the last step and broke it.” She fixed her eyes on her feet when she continued: “I thought — It was just one toe. I thought I could power through and it would heal on its own.”

Someone tensed. From the corner of her eye she saw Bruce shuffle closer. She didn’t miss his troubled eyes as she ranted about her childhood back at the dinner table.

“Your parents didn’t take you to the hospital?” He asked, trying very hard to mask his horror and disappointment. Cute, but unnecessary.

“They would have, if I had told them.” Why did she get weirdly defensive, even after all these years? “But I knew I couldn’t afford the hassle of getting a toe splint and the bed rest. Danny — We had to eat. The house wouldn’t run by itself.”

Jazz had time to reflect and address how unfair it was for her to assume that role so young. She didn’t help either, trying so hard to be treated like an adult and shoehorning herself into the parenting position; but her parents gave up control to her too easily and faster than what should have been legal.

“So you walked around with a broken toe? For months?”

She didn’t look at Jason, but nodded in response. Memories of the pain coming back to her mind. It hurt so much. It really, really hurt, but she just couldn’t give up. Giving up meant not eating. Meant her grades slipping and having the school call her parents. Meant worrying Danny.

“At the time I was dealing with a lot of pain. It wasn’t until we discovered the long lasting effects of ecto contamination that we realized that the pain Danny and I experienced for the best part of our childhood and adolescence was the ectoplasm changing us from the inside out. I thought it was just growing pains. So I just… ignored it all and moved on.”

It truly was how she lived her life, huh? Ignore the pain and power through. That’s how she dealt with things when she was a kid, how she did during highschool. How she managed to just adapt and give up her dreams so she could become Danny’s pillar and support during the preparation to be King. How she came out in one piece after fighting at his side for so long.

She had always been such a hypocrite — advocating for staying in touch with your inner child, to address mental health, while ignoring her own. Nagging and pushing Danny to not let things accumulate and talk about them with her or with his friends.

And when it was about her? Power through. Ignore. She would have time to work through it later.

A soft touch on her shoulder brought her back to the moment. She breathed out slowly, looking into the eyes of the one person she knew would poke her until she admitted she wasn’t as fine as she thought, and sit with her as she worked through her thoughts.

“I’m okay.” She told Jason with a little smile.

And truly, she was.

Someone cleared their throat, and Jazz jumped, feeling her cheeks burn. Oh, Ancients. She hoped she hadn’t been staring at his eyes for too long.

By the quiet snickers and how the group that had formed around her dispersed, she assumed she did. How embarrassing!

“In any case,” she tried to get back some of her dignity, “that’s the story why the toe looks weird. It healed wrong but,” she shrugged, not really wanting to dwell on that.

“Well,” Alfred continued after a brief tense silence, “we may not have recent pictures of Jason at hand, but I know where the old albums are stored. If you want to see.”

Old albums? As in, Jason when he was a kid?

Jazz perked up at the thought — he must have been such a cute kid! — but looked to check on him if it was okay. Jason was very private and he didn’t talk much about his days at the Manor.

He looked… relaxed? He was lifting an eyebrow and looking at Bruce with a little smile. “I didn’t know you kept the pictures.”

The other man looked a bit tense. “I keep all the pictures of my kids.”

“Awww,” Stephanie leaned over where she was resting over Tim and Bernard’s laps on the other sofa, arching her back to look at Bruce upside down. “Even mine?”

“You are not one of my children, as you like to remind me every day.” Bruce said with a tired sigh, but that made it obvious he was joking.

“Damn right.”

Jazz giggled, a numbing cream Alfred was applying on her ankle tickling her a little. She stayed put as he bandaged her ankle with practiced moves, with just enough compression to support her injured ankle but not enough to cut her blood flow. Jason mentioned that Alfred usually patched them up after patrol.

“Thank you.” She said to the butler when he was done, a conversation about “baby pictures” and half hearted threats flowing around the room.

Alfred smiled at her, softly patted her foot and then gathered the first aid kit stuff and left quietly.

“Picture time!”

Jazz had little time to prepare before Dick dropped a thick album on her lap and sat down on her free side, opening the album on the first page.

The pictures were old and some were shaky and off-focus. They had this homey feeling that reminded her of the days before her parents became obsessed with the portal and family time took a backseat in their lives.

They watched her thumb through the pages and answered questions about the pictures — mostly Bruce, Dick and Alfred — and tried to not crowd her too much. Jason kept himself distanced from the situation, maybe to give her space too, maybe to be able to watch her react to the stories and the pictures of a faraway past. Jazz was polite and showed genuine interest, laughing at the memories with the rest of the group.

Soon they got to the pictures that featured the second addition to the family. Everyone breathed in relief when any reaction from the estranged family member was overshadowed by their guest’s high-pitched squeal.

“So cute!” She murmured, hand hovering over a picture with a much younger Jason covered in bandaids and glaring daggers at the camera.

“It was shortly after he arrived at the manor,” Alfred supplied the information, “and young master Jason didn’t like posing for pictures.”

Her cheeks colored pink, eyes fixed on the picture of a frowning child with curly hair. They watched in silence as she went through the pictures of her boyfriend, wondering what she was thinking. Back then Jason was a completely different person, did she notice the differences? Did she mourn the kid that he was? The man he could have been?

Jazz turned the page and a pile of pictures slid down the album. Jason was the fastest, picking up everything before it hit the floor.

They were Batman and Robin pictures.

“Oh shit,” Tim grumbled, trying to reach for the pictures, “forgot those were there.”

Jason moved his hand, and the pictures, out of his reach.

“I thought I told you to remove them, Master Timothy.” Alfred’s disappointment was perceptible, but his worried glances at Jason’s face minimized the impact.

Everyone held their breath as the man looked at the pictures, smiled, and showed the one at the top of the pile to everybody.

“I forgot how ugly the old uniform was.”

Jazz yanked the picture from his hand and held it close to her chest. “Don’t say that!” She reached for the rest of the pictures. “I liked it.”

“But that’s because you were a groupie.”

“You were a Robin fan?” Bernard jumped at the opportunity to keep the mood light.

“A me fan!” Dick smirked, flipping his hair like a diva. “Our dearest Jasmine was the club president for years!”

“Just two.” She grumbled, face red as a tomato. “And yes, I may or may not have been a Nightwing fan —”

“But you said—”

“I know what I said!” Jazz huffed, keeping her eyes on the pictures. The Robin in those pictures was Dick, given the wavy hair parted on the side. And the giant smile on his face, showing his dimples. “This is so embarrassing.”

“And yet you keep looking.” Did Jason focus on messing with her to ignore everything else? He was as calm and collected as he had been during the whole evening.

“Robin pictures have always been very difficult to come by. Good quality ones, at least.”

Tim smirked, pleased. “Some of my best work, if I do say so myself.”

“These are yours?”

“Yep,” he popped the ‘p’, “although I didn’t catch Dick until his last few months as Robin.”

Jazz hummed in response, eyes still focused on the pictures. “The resemblance is uncanny.” She murmured.

“With?”

“Danny, my brother.” She smiled up at Dick. “He dressed up as Robin one Halloween. Costume was really good, my parents bought the good quality stuff.” She chuckled. “I threw the biggest fit ever — Danny didn’t even like Robin! He thought he was lame and not as cool as Superman. But it was what my parents got him and everyone at school told him he could pass as the real thing; and well, he caved and didn’t give it to me.”

“You wanted to be Robin?” Dick asked, amused.

“Yeah! I was sooo mad. ‘Girls can’t be Robin, Jazzypants’” She scoffed. “Of course my parents weren’t helpful.”

Stephanie hollered, not looking up from her phone screen. “Yeah, girls can’t be Robin. That’s absurd.”

“In the end I went as Wonder Woman, since I didn’t have time to get another costume.”

“You don’t like Wonder Woman?” Jason asked her.

“No, I like her just fine. It’s just—” she sighed, leaning on the backrest of the sofa, gathering her thoughts. “Robin, for me, was more than a celebrity. I was… Growing up, I felt so helpless. Everyday I ended up exhausted and wondering when it would end, counting the days until I turned eighteen and I could take my little brother and leave that house. I think —” her voice got tight for a moment, but she cleared her throat fast, “ — I think that I was a huge fan because Robin was such a capable hero while being a kid like me. If he could do so many amazing things then I could, too.”

Jazz was suddenly pulled into a muscular chest, arms squeezing her so hard she was about to beg for mercy when Dick finally let her go. “That was so nice to hear, my dear number one fan.”

She chuckled, unsure of what to say, feeling everyone’s eyes on her person after such an embarrassing speech. She patted the man’s forearms a few times before moving out of the hug.

“I don’t think I’ve ever shown you guys a picture of my brother. The one with the costume should be somewhere in my childhood house — I remember taking pictures that day — but, here.”

She pulled her phone out and went to the gallery app, quickly finding a selfie of her with Danny. It was at the Nasty Burger and was a bit old, about a year old, but it was safe to show it. No Realms business.

“Tim, he could be your clone.” Bernard murmured, eyes on Jazz’s phone.

Jazz giggled. “Doubt so. We would know”

“What?”

“What?” She answered Tim, a nervous smile on her lips. The other narrowed his eyes, pondering her words, but let it go.

“I can see what you mean about the resemblance,” Dick moved on, “and I’m sure you could have passed as Batgirl, with the red hair. Babs’ is a bit darker, but it’s close enough.”

“I thought about it the next year but Danny said he was ‘too old for trick or treating’ and I also didn’t see the point of spending money on an expensive costume and, well, life happened.” She sighed, going back to the pictures, maybe looking for one of Batgirl. “I should have insisted, who knows. Is in the past now.”

“I mean, if you want the suit, it’s in the basement.”

She gave Dick a look, raising an eyebrow. “No, thank you.”

Dick opened his mouth to insist but he choked with the words, watching Jazz pick the next picture on the pile, showing a much younger Robin. It was Jason, of course, who was pictured running and flying around Gotham’s rooftops.

Everyone watched Jason. Jason watched Jazz.

“You look weird without the white streak,” she smiled up at him, lifting a picture where the kid wearing the bright colored uniform was clear and in frame, placing it next to his scowling face. “Yeah, I think I like you more with the punk hairstyle.”

“It’s a death souvenir.” He said, trying to act nonchalant, but everyone noticed the slight tension in his jaw as he watched her reactions.

“Oh I know. I knew it wasn't dyed since that day in the elevator.” At his incredulous look she added: “I told you. I know death, buddy.”

He rolled his eyes, but picked up the pile of Robin pictures in her hands. Eyes somewhat distant, the now young man went through the pictures without really stopping at any of them.

"These are really good." He commented.

"Thanks…" All Tim got in response was a grunt.

Jazz leaned in to look at the pictures too, one of her hands softly placed on his without drawing attention to the gesture. Jason didn't comment on it either, choosing to continue looking at the pictures.

"Hm." He finally said. "The short pants were a mistake."

Bruce exhaled slowly, realizing he had been holding his breath. Jason looked calm enough, even after everything that happened. Was this a sign that things were going to get better?

“If you hated them so much then you should have changed them,” Jazz’s voice lacked actual bite, and her glare was playful.

“Didn’t have enough time to change anything.” He stopped at a picture where the little kid looked more adolescent. Maybe it was taken the year of his passing. “And I knew Dickolas would flip if I changed the outfit. He hated me—”

“I didn’t—!” Everyone jumped at Dick’s outburst. He shrunk in his seat. “I didn’t hate you,” he started again, softer, “I was mad at Bruce. I shouldn’t have misplaced my anger like that.”

Jason considered his brother for a few seconds, ignoring everyone’s stares, and nodded. Without any other comment, he turned towards his girlfriend and asked:

“What did you think about the second Robin? Wasn’t he also a child hero?”

Bruce didn’t know what hurt more; that he spoke of that child like he was a stranger, or that “hero” was obviously not Jason’s first choice of words.

Jazz snorted and looked down at the picture of a serious-looking fifteen year old Jason Todd wearing the Robin costume.

“I hated him.” She answered in the middle of a tense silence. “He wasn’t as funny.”

Bernard was the first one to break into incredulous giggles, shortly followed by Stephanie. The rest watched in horror, waiting for the trainwreck to happen, unsure what to do at their guest’s statement.

Jason blinked once, twice, and joined the laughter as he grasped Jazz’s face with one hand, squishing her cheeks.

“You are weird.”

“And I’m right. You weren’t as funny.” Her words were almost incomprehensible since she couldn’t move her jaw.

“What are you talking about? I’m hilarious.” He leaned in, pulling her towards him so their faces were very close. His smile wasn’t kind but the corner of his lip twitched with amusement. “You love my death puns.”

Jazz rolled her eyes. “I’ve heard every death joke under the Sun. You are not special.” She said as best as she could articulate.

Everyone saw the young man’s eyes travel down her face to her lips, and what was once a tense silence became charged with the obvious attraction between the couple. If there was ever a doubt they cared for each other, it was gone now.

But instead of kissing, he let her go and leaned back to his lounging position. Jazz chuckled and let her body fall so she could let her head rest on his shoulder. She picked up the picture, admired it for a few seconds and gave it back to Dick to put it with the others in the pile.

“Thanks for showing me these,” she gestured at the album. Whatever else she was going to say was drowned by a big yawn she hid behind her hand.

“I think—”

“You guys could stay the night.” Bruce interrupted Jason. He smiled nervously. “I mean, it’s late and,” he vaguely gestured towards Jazz’s bandaged foot. “Alfred could give you a lift tomorrow.”

It was easy to see through the attempt, even for those that knew Bruce the least.

“Everything is as you left it. Your room—”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“Or I can prepare a guest room immediately.” Alfred manifested out of thin air, having left during the picture time to tend to his duties.

Jazz looked up at her boyfriend’s face, worried. She picked his hand but stayed leaning on his side, maybe hoping her weight kept him grounded. Jason was very tense, and she could feel his breaths grow quicker and shallow.

“You can show me your room another day.” She muttered, unsure if it was the correct thing to say.

He looked down at her eyes, searching for something. Exactly what he wanted, she didn’t know; but Jazz held his gaze with determination, letting him know she would follow his lead with whatever option he chose. If he really didn’t want to stay, she was fine with riding back to their apartment with her injured foot.

Jason clicked his tongue and breathed deeply once. “My old room is fine. Just for tonight.”

Goodbyes were brief and hasty, the mood ruined after the uncomfortable exchange. Tim left with Bernard and Stephanie, since the couple was giving her a ride home, and Dick decided to stay the night as well. Duke made a tactical escape to his room with barely saying good night. Cass disappeared for a moment and came back wearing her pajamas, picking up Jazz’ bag and discarded shoe to bring back to Jason’s old room, leaving a spare pajama set for Jazz on the bed by Alfred’s orders.

Bruce watched all happen from his loveseat with a worried face. He glanced at Damian as he passed by with Titus behind him, both coming back from the dog's last walk of the day.

“They are staying the night?” His son asked when he approached, watching Jason pick up the young woman in his arms.

The older man smiled at her blushed face and embarrassed antics at being carried like a princess. “It seems so.”

Damian considered the situation and nodded, his thoughts concealed. Bruce was positive his youngest’s opinion of the new addition to the family changed during the evening; but he didn’t know how Damian felt regarding having Jason back. His son didn’t deal well with change, even less when it was regarding family dynamics, and he was worried about the whole situation.

For the moment everything seemed okay — Damian nodded again and went upstairs to his room without asking anything else.

And so, Bruce was left alone with Alfred.

“I like her.”

The butler hummed at his master’s words. “Shall I prepare a new suit, Master Bruce?”

That finally made the man laugh. “She’s not a vigilante, Alfred.” He said when he calmed down. “I wouldn’t drag her deeper into this life than she already is.”

Alfred gave Bruce a look, lifting one thin eyebrow, like he knew better but was biting his tongue.

---

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Just a normal link to support me

[the-mocking-robin]

It's late and sleep ain't happening yet so...

Damien and Jason thoughts.

Specifically just before he gets dipped in the Lazarus pit.

(Going by UTRH: Lost Days canon, mostly.)

So. Jason. Fairly recently clawed his way up from a grave. Unresponsive save for when he's in danger and has to fight.

Talia's been researching this for weeks now, and Ra's is genuinely terrified Jason's cursed or a demon or something because people don't just die and decide they're tired of their graves. Something is wrong and neither of them have an answer and there's a baby they need to prioritize.

Talia... Is tired. She needs to bond with her son. So she just lets Jason hang out while she holds baby Damien.

And it's the most response he's shown when Damien starts to cry. Talia's there, of course, and knows he just needs burping. He's fine. He's a baby experiencing the first of many small discomforts.

Jason lingers and watches until Damien burps and settles down. Then he's back to his thousand yard stare off into the distance. Unresponsive. Barely aware.

Until the baby cries again.

It happens every time. Damien cries and Jason appears like a ghost to watch him. He watches whoever is tending to the baby and only leaves when Damien goes back to sleep or finishes whatever baby thing he's doing at the moment before napping.

It's not smart to bet your baby's health on someone who is possibly so brain damaged he can't speak or reliably feed himself. It's not smart to have what could arguably be a zombie around your baby.

She's made a lot of decisions her father and their staff might consider questionable. But she's got good instincts.

So she starts small. Gives Jason a warm bottle and leaves the room for a few minutes. She expects Jason to just hold the bottle. Damien is already propped up for feeding.

What she gets is Jason cradling Damien and somewhat clumsily guiding the bottle to his mouth. His hold on Damien is firm and careful, but the bottle seems to give him trouble.

It's not smart to let a cursed man hold and handle your baby. But Jason proves, even half alive, he's fiercely protective and no one but Talia is ever able to take the baby away from him.

After Jason is healed in the pit, he still comes to Damien when he cries. It feels very natural to care for him. Talia tries to ask if he's had children under his care before. He doesn't answer. It hurts to think about.

After he trains under (and kills) Talia's best assassins, he gives one last goodbye to toddler Damien, who is dangerously close to taking his first steps. He expects to never see this kid again, for better or worse. Gives him one last hug (which Ra's has never approved of) and leaves for Gotham as Red Hood the next day.

A few years later, Damien shows up in Gotham as the new Robin, and Jason watches from a distance as Bruce struggles with another kid making violent choices.

It's hard not to be fond of the little assassin and how ridiculously seriously he takes himself.

And harder still to not mourn the kid's lack of childhood.

[hiswordsarekisses]

FROM DARKNESS TO LIGHT

~ Teri's story

The occult, ESP, and psychic phenomena have been popular subjects in America in the last two decades. The New Age movement is also a part of that. Yet many people have not experienced the supernatural, so they assume it is all a product of overactive imaginations. That is what I would have believed, too, if it had not happened in my own life.

My early childhood was mostly happy. My parents and my younger brother and I lived in a small town in Florida in the early 1960's. We lived in a nice country home with a small yard. Mom didn't work, but when I was six and my brother was five, she started taking us to the babysitter every day. We both began to have horrible nightmares. I was afraid to go to sleep and my brother would sneak into my room to get away from the terrifying man he saw in his room. Mom blamed my brother's nightmares on his asthma medication. Young as I was, I had the feeling that something was very wrong. "Something bad is going to happen between Mom and Dad," I whispered to him one day. "Yeah," he answered.

Just before the next Christmas, Mom began to pack up all our things in front of our father. She showed no emotions at all as she coldly said to my Dad, "I'm leaving you. I'm taking the children." I will never forget the look of shock and betrayal on my father's face. We drove straight to the house of the man Mom had been seeing, and the three of us moved in. Not long after that he and Mom were married.

For a wife to leave her husband in the manner my mother did was very unusual during those times. Since the courts always presumed that a mother was the better parent for her young children, my father had almost no legal ability to get custody of his children, or even have many visitation rights. From then on, he was known as our 'real father' in a society where a step-parent family was not common. Meanwhile, my new stepfather forced us to call him, "Dad."

When we first moved in, my stepfather Bruce seemed nice. But this did not last long.. He began to have uncontrollable fits of rage, which became worse over the years. He was a very big man and I was terrified of him. He could be extremely nice one moment, and the next moment extremely cruel. My mother had never been a very affectionate person, but after her divorce and remarriage she began to change. Even her family members noticed she had changed, but they had no idea how much! Both my mother and stepfather could be very nice to us in front of other people, but that was not how it was as soon as we were not in public or in front of their friends They were complimented often on the nice, quiet children they had. No one knew that my brother and I were too afraid to speak!

Mother told us almost every day that our real father did not love us. After a few years of that, she forced us to tell him we did not want to see him again. That was very painful for me, because I did not want to do it, but my mother was filled with hate toward him, and seemed obsessed with finding ways to hurt him. I understood even at my young age, that she made us do this in order to hurt my father.

My mother also demanded total perfection of us children, and we were never able to live up to her standards. If we made the slightest mistake, we were accused of doing it on purpose; and if we protested, we were accused of lying and locked in our room. One time, my brother was locked in his room for three days without food or drink until he decided to "tell the truth." The "truth" of course, was only what my mother or stepfather wanted to hear, and we had to guess which version of the "truth" they wanted. My stepfather very much agreed with my mother's accusations, and so we were both screamed at so much we were afraid to talk above a whisper.

My brother bore the brunt of most of the attacks because he could not control his asthmatic wheezing and coughing when he was sick. Consequently, he was yelled at constantly for his difficulty breathing. Almost daily my mother and stepfather threatened to send him to Shiloh Youth Camp for delinquent boys and me to an insane asylum because I "was crazy." Once, I privately asked our elementary grade school bus driver if the boys' camp would accept girls; I wanted to be sure my brother and I would be able to stay together. We were so young, we believed every wild story or threat they told us.

Even before we moved in with my stepfather, he and my mother consulted mediums (psychics who will talk to the spirits for you). When I was older, they took me with them sometimes. My mother and stepfather loved to talk about the thrills of their astral projections and the power of the mind. My brother and I were fascinated by all they told us. Looking back, however, I could see that the more they became involved in their quest to become 'higher beings', the more they became abusive and paranoid. The most dramatic personality change was in my mother, but I did not want to admit that to myself because I clung to memories of an earlier, nicer Mom.

The mediums often spoke of the spirits guides that surrounded my mother and stepfather. Apparently, these 'spirit guides' attached themselves to us when we were with the medium, and followed us home to stay with us. You could actually feel their presence, and strange things kept happening. Doorknobs would move when no one was near them, and our cats would follow something around and meow at it. Although my brother and I were both scared, my mother and stepfather always laughed, insisting that they were friendly spirits, who were just playing jokes'. They themselves also experienced the presence of their various 'friends', and were not alarmed.

I knew nothing of Jesus or God, except what my stepfather taught me. However, when I was eleven a friend from school invited my brother and me to a Baptist revival where we heard the gospel for the first time. I wanted to go to heaven and not hell, and so that night I prayed to Jesus for the forgiveness of my sins. As I knelt down, I felt the sweet touch of a different spirit, but I didn't know then that it was my first encounter with God's Holy Spirit. My brother and I were baptized in water during that same night, but we agreed not to tell my mother, because she would be furious. Sure enough, when she did find out I believed in God, she overwhelmed me with many questions I was too young to answer. Mostly out of self-defense, I abandoned my new faith, and did not speak of God again.

The abuse got worse and worse for my brother, who one day told my mother he was thinking of suicide. There was a few days of peace after that, until my Mom found a way to blame my brother's distress on my father. Later, when my brother was eleven, Mom threw him out of the house and told him to go live with his (curse words in front) father. I was devastated. My brother and I had fought like brothers and sisters do, but we were very close. I felt he was the only family I had. Suddenly, I comprehended the magnitude of the hatred in that house. Losing my brother forced me to make a decision: I had to survive or let the hatred destroy me. I decided I would become a survivor. However, I was to pay a price. My mother and stepfather turned the full force of their rages upon me once my brother was gone.

In spite of my best efforts, the rejection I suffered turned me into an angry child who hated her parents (meaning, my mother and stepfather). I was convinced the world was ugly and that everyone hated me. I did not like the person I was becoming and I longed to be free of the hatred. I studied many of the major religions for awhile.

When I was twelve, I began to see what the mediums saw in the spiritual realm, even at home! My stepfather was very excited, since all the mediums he took me to had very positive things to say about me. They told him that if I chose to, I could become a very powerful medium and help many people. Thrilled that I seemed to be a gifted psychic, my stepfather made sure that I was given all the literature I needed about spiritualism. With his encouragement, I explored hypnotism, ESP, numerology, palm-reading, and auras. Eventually, I decided to concentrate my studies on astrology and what was then called white witchcraft, which is the practice of removing a hex or curse or invoking good fortune on someone. Like him, I was very interested in helping people.

Of all of my 'supernatural' experiences, there was one that puzzled me the most. One morning I woke up filled with an overwhelming appreciation for God's creation---even though I no longer believed in God. This was not my usual angry state of mind, and I wondered at the joy and peace I felt. As I tried to get out of bed, an invisible hand pushed me back. Suddenly I saw the incredibly beautiful underside of a white dove, made completely of light, flying by at great speed. A gentle voice in my mind whispered, "Father, Son, Holy Spirit." I knew' the vision was from heaven, but I honestly had no idea what the words meant. Later that summer when I attended a Catholic Church with my maternal grandmother and heard the same phrase during mass, I at least understood that it had something to do with the Bible. My Mom bought me a Bible at my request, and my stepfather did not object to my reading the Bible because he quoted parts of scripture sometimes. However, he was an atheist and he could become hostile at the mention of God or Jesus, so I did not tell him everything about the vision. For some reason, I had difficulty reading my Bible, so I eventually gave up reading it. Afterwards, I did not think about the strange vision much.

My stepfather's mother practiced a kind of witchcraft meant to hurt people called "black witchcraft" or the "black arts", and my stepfather was afraid of her. He firmly believed she was determined to destroy him. After several incidences of her placing hexes', or curses upon him, he rallied his family behind him to "return her hexes", explaining to us that he was weary of her influence in his life. She soon became ill and was hospitalized. Before her death, she sent me a letter telling me that I was "her favorite." On the night she died, I was awakened from a dream with a very loud knock on my bedroom door. In the dream I had seen an image of Jesus at a door, knocking, and I heard a voice warn me, "The devil knocks, too. Don't let him in." But in reality the knock was so loud that my mother and stepfather heard it too, and ran down the hall to my room. That same night, I felt a cold chill enter my room and witnessed objects move around. This 'poltergeist' remained in my room for the next few years. I did not tell my mother and stepfather about all of this, because they had become unconcerned once they realized that the knocking was just another spirit.

My stepfather began to include me a little in helping those who asked him for help, and I was successful in the tasks he gave me. I liked the power and recognition, and felt I had found my purpose in life. But the more I worked to increase my powers, the more I was tormented by an irrational sense of dread. I compulsively charted my astrological signs every day.

You would think that my success in my 'powers' would improve my relationship with my parents. But it most definitely did not. Mother was becoming even better at twisting everything I said, did, or didn't do, into some evil motive. My brother visited once or twice and said he felt sorry for me, but he also told me of how my father still spoke of the day I told him I did not want to see him when I was younger, and so I was too afraid to ask my Dad if I could live with him. However, I knew I couldn't take the pressure much longer. I needed help but I had nowhere to turn. If I ran away, who would believe me? Bruce and Mom kept up appearances well, and I had no bruise marks to show for their abuse. But because of their constant cruelty, and because of the fearful experiences I had in the occult, I began to mentally feel like I was 'cracking up' by the time I was fourteen years old. I was afraid I might really go insane as my parents had said I would. Desperate, I found a quiet place and prayed for help from a God I didn't really believe in.

I was an excellent student and loved school. It was my only refuge, even though I did not fit in well at all socially. In junior high school I was in the special classes for the smarter students, and I will never forget my science teacher, Mr. Smith. He taught at college level and I was one of the few who could keep up. Our last assignment was to explore the theory of evolution ourselves and come to our own conclusions. I took the challenge to heart!

As I studied, I decided that there had to be a God. My conclusion was based solely on logic. I realized that there had to be an intelligence behind the intricate perfection of natural phenomena, mysteries we humans have not yet been able to decipher. Random chance could not explain these things, and so there had to be a Creator to orchestrate it.

When I was fifteen I thought it would be fun to use my powers on a boy at school to make him become my boyfriend. But even as I did this, I felt ashamed for trying to control someone. Wavering between spiritualism and Christianity, I prayed for God's forgiveness, sincerely asking Him to show Himself to me. Not more than fifteen minutes later, I met a Pentecostal girl who listened to me boast about the powers of one of the popular psychics of that time in America. When she asked me if I had ever heard of the Holy Spirit, I was very astonished!

Miraculously, Mom let me spend the night with this total stranger. When I did tell her about Donna's church, she seemed happy I was exploring 'new power'. Donna and her friends were sincere and loving Christians. I challenged every statement they made about the Bible. I often shouted at them that I didn't want to hear their nonsense, but they remained patient and did not reject me.

The nights I stayed with Donna and went to church with her, I was tormented by very severe headaches and a loud, fast talking voice in my mind, arguing against the existence of God and repeating the teachings of spiritualism. At first I thought it was just my own mind reacting to the confusion inside, but as I began to argue with that voice in my head, I realized it was not my own thoughts! I remembered the vision from heaven and the other gentle voice whispering, "Father, Son, Holy Spirit," and I thought hard of the possibility that Jesus was more than a great teacher.

The more I attended the meetings with Donna and her friends, the more I became convinced that I was in the middle of a spiritual battle. I realized I had to make a choice between the powers of darkness and the light of God--and I wanted more of God. Just before one of the meetings I made my decision, and as I sat there preparing myself for this step of faith, I heard singing. It sounded like a choir of thousands of people praising God with the most beautiful song I had ever heard. I looked around to see who was making that music, but realized that no one else in the room could hear it. Then I looked up on the walls for speakers since the sound came from above my head, but there were none! It became clear to me that I was hearing angels sing.

With joy in my heart, I went forward to the altar and asked to be prayed for. I told them I wanted to be free from the demon that harassed me, and that I wanted to be baptized in the Holy Spirit. They prayed over me in the name of Jesus for the spirit to leave. I felt something change inside, and then in my mind I heard a voice beg with fear, "Please don't let them make me leave. I will be good to you from now on, I promise!" But I thought back, "NO", and then I felt it break apart and leave! Then as they continued to pray, I was baptized in the Holy Spirit and prayed in another language. Afterwards, I had no trouble reading my Bible!

Of course my mother and stepfather were furious. They decided not to let me have any contact with my new friends. They kept me a virtual prisoner for the next six months, while they tried everything they could to break me, and get me to stop being a Christian. I would not have believed their level of hostility could rise any further, but it did. I was careful never to preach to them. In fact, I avoided them as much as possible, but they went out of their way to provoke a confrontation. They would ask me a question, then explode in anger when I answered. Bruce's rages lasted for up to five hours, as he cursed me and my friends with every vile curse he could invent. When he tired, Mom took over. I had removed all my occult books and studies from my room, and told the poltergeist to leave my room in the name of Jesus. Soon afterwards my Mom became very angry because the spirits complained to her that they could no longer get into my room. So she burned my Christian books and hid my Bible, forcing me to read their books instead.

But God enveloped me with a new strength and love that was not my own. As the Bible says in II Timothy 1:7, "God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and love and a sound mind." Expressions of love to them made them even further enraged and more frightened.

Finally, Mom threw me out of the house and I went to live with my brother and real father. I was worried that my Dad would believe the lies she told him about me, but after the first month he said that what convinced him most was the cold, heartless manner in which my Mom parted from me. "Frances used to be nice when you kids were young," he said, "I don't know her now." Over the years, her family began to ask me and my brother questions, for she had become hateful to them too at times.

Bruce and Mom moved to the state of California and became part of a small cult called "Unarius." One of my cousins joined them there--and nearly died because she refused medical treatment for a condition that aliens from another planet were supposed to heal. Bruce lost large sums of money because he gambled on UFO landings which never came to pass, but to this day Mom denies what they were involved in was a cult.

After they joined the New Age Movement in California, my stepfather became a respected minister of a Universalist church. Occasionally, Bruce would send me letters full of threats, curses, and horrible predictions which never came true. One of those letters gave a burning sensation to the hand of the first person who touched it. He never could accept my forgiveness, and remained convinced that I hated him. He and Mom proudly wrote books and sent papers about their occult ministries to her relatives. Eventually, they sent a video tape to my mother's family of my stepfather's T.V. interview about the healing center' he was attempting to build. They saw the sad display of a once intelligent man, who now spoke in contradictions and twisted logic! A few years after making this tape, Bruce died of a heart attack. He left my Mom penniless and in great debt due to his failed healing center' project.

My stepfather believed and followed everything his spirit guides' told him, and he began this 'healing center' project because of what the 'spirit guides' told him through a medium (now called 'channelers' in the New Age Movement). One of their friends wrote to me, blaming his death on the medium which told him this advise, stating the medium must have not heard well from the spirits. She had no answer for me when I told her what she did not know: these 'spirit guides' were making similar promises through other 'mediums' years ago, all through my stepfather's life.

The New Age Movement is nothing new. It includes the basic teachings of spiritualism, which teaches that we are gods within ourselves and can control our own destinies. This is what attracts people to it. They rely on spirits for guidance on what to do in their lives. But I know from experience that these spirits are liars, and do not have our best interests at heart! Christians also rely on God for guidance, and I also know from experience that God does have our best interests at heart!

It is true that we have a "soulish" power within ourselves. However, throughout history man has proven he cannot be trusted with any power that is meant to be submitted to God. "Absolute power corrupts absolutely." Anything we don't surrender to God is automatically given over to the god of this world, whom Jesus calls "the father of the lie" and "the evil one."

We are created in the image of God, and our greatest power is the God-ordained power of choice. We have the right to choose between good and evil, loyalty to God or to Satan, eternal life or death. He gave us the freedom to reject Him, even though He never rejects us when we seek Him sincerely and with humility. "I count all things to be loss in view of the surpassing joy of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them but rubbish in order that I may gain Christ." (Philippians 3:8)

It has been almost twenty years since I decided to turn to God's ways instead of Satan's. I have never regretted this decision! I began a whole new life when I accepted Jesus and gave my life to Him. He has healed my mind of the terrible damage done by my parents and the occult. He has replaced hatred with love because He is the God of Love, and turned my sorrows into joy. God has given me a sound mind instead of fear, just as he promised he would, and so much more! It is because of God's love for you that I write this account for you, exposing the pain of my past for the sake of your soul. I have played with the fires of the occult and have been burned. But I am thankful that I have stumbled in the darkness and have known true evil so that I could recognize the true light, who is Jesus, and I can tell you about the difference between a life lost in the darkness of the occult, and a life found in Him!

How about you? Will you be a friend of God, too? God himself says, "They that diligently seek Me shall find Me." (Proverbs 8:17), or will you get lost in the twisted maze of the occult, and lose your soul in exchange for so little?

And Peter said to them, "Repent, and let each of you be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins; and you shall receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. For the promise is for you and your children, and for all who are far off, as many as the Lord our God shall call to Himself." (Acts 2:38-39) ~Harvestnet.org

Repost from Ursh Stark

[jadenoryuu]

Ho postato 2.629 volte nel 2022

Sono 1.451 post in più del 2021!

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Ho taggato 2.577 dei miei post nel 2022

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Tag più lungo: 137 caratteri

#danielle meanwhile has never actually experienced the holidays before so shes having a blast making her excitement everyone elses problem

I miei post migliori nel 2022:

#5

Today with Grafaiai. (◉ w ◉)

(I still need to check the tag, but since Devil works fast but fanartists work faster, I'm confident that there already are. (≧∇≦) )

67 note - Postate 2 settembre 2022

#4

Asking for a friend:

If Danny was bitten by a radioactive spider (and so didn't get any ghost powers), what would his hero name be?

Because I can't vision him using "Spiderman". 🤔🤔

86 note - Postate 18 gennaio 2022

#3

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Danny Phantom, Batman - All Media Types, DCU Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Danny Fenton & Bruce Wayne Characters: Danny Fenton, Bruce Wayne, Hal Jordan (Green Lantern), Clark Kent, Guardians of the Universe (DCU), Arthur Curry (DCU), Alfred Pennyworth Additional Tags: Mention of Freakshow, Batfamily (DCU), Batcave (DCU), Biological Parent Bruce Wayne, Fertility Clinic, Family Fluff, father-son bonding, ghost prince Danny, Green Lantern Rings (DCU), Episode: s02e19-20 Reality Trip, (mentioned) - Freeform, Attempt at Humor, Hurt/Comfort Series: Part 6 of The Dragon's Danuary Xover 2022 Summary:

When Danny popped up unannounced at the Wayne Manor, Bruce knew that trouble was brewing at the horizon. What he couldn't have imagined was that his second youngest child would bring along something that would put the boy on the radar of an immortal alien race. Bruce Wayne was still learning "how to dad" a little more each day, but if they called him, he would always answer.

@amorpho I was almost late! Pokémon Legends: Arceus came out and along with my job, they made me lose the sense of time... (╥﹏╥)

(This is also why Danuary Seventh Day will be also delayed, I'm still a bit behind with that...)

Anyway, this one-shot heavily leaned on the prompt of this post (shout out to @five-rivers for reblogging it, making me remember the original idea and also salvage this crossover with their addition), but I definitely had fun with this story!

Maybe one day, after I read the Batfam webcomic, I could continue this, what do you think?

Wish me good luck for tomorrow, my Muse needs some prodding!

(๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧

97 note - Postate 28 gennaio 2022

#2

So here I am, bored out of my mind at work, and my brain travels across the ether of zoning out...

And a Crossover idea stuck!

So, do you Phans remember that animated movie that came out in 2009 called "Astroboy"?

[I mean this one.]

It was my first contact with the Astro Boy series and while I never explored the latter further, the movie amazed me and made me care (read: fear, empathize and ache) for the protagonist in ways that any other movie couldn't along with the first "How to Train your Dragon". (That's an accomplishment since after reading/watching many things I unfortunately became somewhat desensitized to plots in general. (╥﹏╥))

That being said, let's get back to the topic:

You all know how the movie premise is that Astro is the robotic replica of Toby, the professor's dead son?

What if we spin a bit of Phandom in it? <(꒪꒳꒪)>

There could be three ways to do this:

The first two have more or less the same trope = (post-movie) Natural Portal Shenanigans make either Danny or Astro cross dimension and Astro has Toby's ghost following him along for fun and only Danny can see him because he's an halfa.

The third take is the Fusion AU =

Danny as Toby dies in the same canonical accident, but the two cores instead of blue and red are green and pink/magenta ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°).

Phantom as Astro. In this Danny and Phantom are two different persons, but instead of "normal" superpowers/weapons, he's half-robot/half-ectoplasm entity (it's different than being a ghost, I still stan that ghosts are the post-mortem manifestation of the deceased's soul and you can pry this from my specter's cold hands) (Meaning: Phantom is not Danny's ghost in this).

Jack and Maddie as Dr. Tenma. They form an amazing team and something so trivial as an absentee single parent in Astro Boy canon won't stop me.

Frostbite as Dr. Elefun. I contemplated briefly Clockwork for this part, but the "supportive wise mentor" fit better with our favorite Yeti than with our cryptid stopwatch, not counting that he has already medical and technological knowledge in DP.

Jazz as Orrin (the robot housekeeper)? This one doesn't fit as well as the rest of the cast, so maybe there's no Jazz or she's in another city as studying-abroad-big-sister.

Sam as Cora. Rebellious girl with wealthy parents, who fights for her rights? Sign her in. (Not counting the teased romance between her and Astro/Phantom, that's only a plus.)

Tucker as "himself" (AKA not any particular role, just one of the orphans of the Surface). Techno-Geek that repairs robots for the Robot Fights and bonds spectacularly with Phantom.

Dani as ZOG. I know it's strange, but hear me out: ZOG was revived by Astro's core and it still keeps part of that energy, making it virtually both Astro's sibling and child! Ring a bell? Plus ZOG is a little shit when it's able to, so it's only a natural decision, really! (≧∇≦)

Cujo as Trashcan. Yep, the trashcan dog deserves the puppy counterpart.

Now that should be everyone! ...Or should it? Oh! Right! The Villains:

Freakshow as Hamegg. Who would be a better showman/ringleader than the insane circus owner who controls robots ghosts?

Vlad Masters as President Stone. Of course it was going to be him. Old friend of the protagonist's father? Check. Power hungry? Check. Wants the protagonist for one of his machinations? Triple check.

Plasmius as Peacekeeper. Pink/Magenta core explained! Who would have thought about that? (≧∇≦)

Skulker as General Heckler. Vlad's second in command and enforcer of his commands, it feels only natural.

There are so many other characters to assign, though at the moment I can't come up with what to do with the robot trio of the Robot Revolutionary Front or Valerie Gray, but this discourse made me want to re-watch the movie, so I'll probably add something tomorrow.

What do you Phans think? Is this worth considering for Danuary? (≧∇≦)

109 note - Postate 13 gennaio 2022

Il mio post numero 1 del 2022

You know what?

Here it's half-past midnight of April 3rd.

I'll cross-stitch your Danno.

473 note - Postate 3 aprile 2022

Guarda ora l'Analisi del tuo anno 2022 di Tumblr →

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Lily of the Valley

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: Jason Todd dies and comes back to life. As the League takes him in, he navigates his morality and family values over the years.

Chapters: 24/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Talia al Ghul, Ra’s al Ghul, Damian Wayne, Barbara Gordon, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Sheila Haywood

Relationships: Jason Todd/Original Character(s)

Additional Tags: Immortal Jason Todd, League of Assassins Jason Todd, Protective Talia al Ghul, Good Parent Talia al Ghul, Jason Todd Needs a Hug, Good Sibling Jason Todd, Hurt/Comfort, Adopted Children, Resurrected Jason Todd

Chapter Twenty-Four: Pitcher Plant

Jason didn’t fight. He passively went along with his captors. They couldn’t kill him permanently, but Sheila didn’t know that. He wanted to know how far it would go before Sheila would stop things. Sitting on the floor bound in chains, he realized he had never seen Joker up close before. The theatrics behind his threats of violence bored Jason. He didn’t have the time for it. “Is this supposed to be entertaining? Am I supposed to be afraid?” Jason questioned. Joker stopped in front of Jason, striking him in the face. Jason glanced past Joker at Sheila who turned her back to him. Talia wouldn’t have done that. She would’ve ended it. Jason shook his head and laughed. “You call yourself a clown? You’re pathetic.”

Joker’s smile persisted, but Jason could see the hatred in his eyes. It wasn’t insanity that drove the Joker. It was ego, and Jason had every intention of playing on it. “You insolent little—.”

“Tsk, tsk… Are you mad because you’re stuck playing the part of the buffoon? Or are you upset because I think you’re funny? Do you not understand the part of the clown? I’m laughing. I’m laughing at you. Ha! Hahahaha! ” Jason shouted as he laughed. 

Without warning, the flustered clown picked up the first object available and struck Jason in the head. Jason’s head drooped and his ears rang. The boy’s head gently swayed side-to-side as he tried to get his bearings. “D’ya see th—? Ughh,” Jason slurred. He wasn’t talking to Joker. 

Sheila lit her cigarette, still turned away and trembling as she listened to Jason’s laugh. His disorientation made itself evident in the way his laugh seemed to drag. “Shut up!” Joker shouted as he hit Jason again. 

“ Ooooh, Mis’urr funny man… Tha—... Tickles ,” Jason panted as he spat out blood. The taste felt more familiar than anything he’d ever experienced. Jason licked at a loose tooth. He still had a baby tooth in the back of his mouth. “ Yer mis’rable… P’thetic. Des’prate fer ‘proval. ” The next hit broke his ankle. Jason groaned and spat blood onto Joker’s feet. 

“What? You don’t think that’s funny?” Joker sneered. “You don’t want to laugh any more?” 

Jason tossed his head back, his open-mouth smile sullied his perfectly-maintained teeth with blood as he choked on his laughter. “‘Is nothin’... M’ girl—. No… body hits like her,” Jason chuckled, “Y’hear him, Mom?” 

Sheila’s cigarette fell out of her mouth, and she covered her mouth. She heard strike after strike, tensing and jumping as she held her breath. Jason laughed until he couldn’t catch his breath. She could hear him groaning and crying but nothing hurt her more than what followed the silence. “Mom,” Jason sobbed. 

She stepped into the corner, shaking from head to toe as tears streamed down her cheeks. Jason felt death before but this was torment. His skin felt wet, but he couldn’t tell for sure. “Looks like you’ve lost some of your bite, Junior,” Joker grinned as he lifted Jason’s chin to meet his gaze. Jason mumbled something with his eyes half-shut. “Hm? What was that?” He patted Jason’s cheek.

“Womp womp,” Jason smiled as he spat in Joker’s face. Then, Jason stared into Joker’s eyes and saw something behind the thin veil of rage. Fear. The clown’s eyes darted back and forth, studying Jason. “Woooomp..”

Joker’s nose twitched and his lips tightened as he wrapped his hands around Jason’s neck. He forced Jason to the ground and choked Jason until the life nearly left his body. Jason smiled as he gasped for air. It was like all his years of death and dying prepared him for the darkness of this moment. Sheila slipped out and ran. Joker never even noticed. He was completely occupied with Jason. He climbed on top of Jason and beat his face to a pulp.

**

In the meantime, Talia searched for Jason at the hospital and then at Sheila’s apartment. She broke in, looking for a trace of her son. She panicked once she saw blood on the easy chair. Sheila came through the door, and Talia hid, waiting for Sheila to walk past. Talia grabbed Sheila’s hair, yanking her head back. “Where is he?” Talia asked. She wouldn’t allow Sheila to look at her, forcing the woman to her knees and pushing her face forward into the couch cushion. 

“Who?” Sheila asked.

“Where is Jason?” Talia questioned as she bound Sheila’s hands and blindfolded her. 

Sheila shook her head. “I have to get out of here. I can’t—. I couldn’t help him—.” 

“What do you mean you couldn’t help him? Where is he?” Talia questioned. Her mind raced with all the possible places Jason could’ve been buried. Damian and Saru returned from their trip, and Talia immediately took Saru with her, unaware that Sheila left Jason six days before and had been hiding out ever since. “Tell me where you last saw him, or I’ll kill you right here.” 

“He’s dead, lady. I’m sorry. I don’t know what to tell you. I gave birth to him, and I—. Maybe I deserve to die for what I’ve done to him. I left him at the warehouse—.” Talia left Sheila tied up and alone in her apartment. 

She searched every warehouse in the city before Saru met with her. “Miss… Jason can’t die. He’ll be alright,” Saru replied. 

“Unless they buried him,” Talia whispered, “I want you to search every coroner’s office in the city for his body. I’m going to stay here and dig until we find him.” Saru left immediately to find him. 

Talia tied her hair up as she dug at the ground around the warehouse with her bare hands. “I’m going to find you, ya amar. It’s going to be fine,” Talia whispered as she frantically clawed at the dirt. She dug for an hour before Saru called. 

“Unmarked… I’ll send you the information—.”

“No, tell me now, and I’ll meet you there,” Talia commanded. Saru obeyed, and Talia drove straight there. Talia started digging before Saru got there, and she dug until she heard screaming. 

“Jason,” Talia whispered as she pried the lid off the coffin. He clawed at the air, his hands as cut up as they were the day she met him. “Ya amar… It’s me.” Jason froze, staring wide-eyed at the stars overhead. Talia leaned forward. “Jason, let’s go.” 

“Is there a pit here? There is… Isn’t there?” Jason asked. He sounded far away. 

“Jason—.” 

“I can’t go home like this… I can’t, Mama. I failed. I trusted her, and if I—. I know better now. I have something I need to do before I can return to you,” Jason rasped, “But I need you right now. If you’d help me—. You have every right to say no—.”

“I’ll help you. Jason, why didn’t you fight back?” Talia questioned.

“I wanted to see if she’d stop it… I wanted to know if she loved me enough to say something. Please don’t hurt her. Let her think I’m gone. It’s better that way,” Jason whispered. Talia lifted him out of the pit, his body still battered and broken as she hoisted him over her shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

“I understand. I love you. Nothing changes,” Talia reassured him. 

“I didn’t—.”

“You don’t owe me an explanation. Jason, you had every right to do this the way you wanted to,” Talia interrupted, “I’m not angry. I’m worried. Can we deal with the worry first, Little one?” Jason made a soft noise. 

“One day you’ll be the only parent I remember,” Jason whispered. He said it to reassure himself.

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

Ghost in a Flower

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/qt5zXxR by WhumpKing223 She hears someone screaming through the walls. It is the first time that she has heard it, but she knows that it is not the first time he has screamed. She can tell. The sound of experienced, desperate screams is burned far enough into her ears that she would never mistake it for someone just learning the flavor of terror on their tongue. This victim has been suffering for a long time. Emily wonders, the first time, if all she's hearing is a ghost. Her own voice ringing through cold, dull, padded walls as she loses what little is left of her to a room that she never intended to wake up in. Then she hears the screaming stop. And the begging soon replaces it. His begging is out loud. Desperate. Screaming. For– Batman. Whoever that is. Bruce. Emily doesn't know any Bruce. Dad. Emily hears a young boy sobbing, desperate for his father to come save him, and it seems that, in the end, she cannot help herself. Words: 2155, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Series: Part 4 of OC Stuff Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham (Video Games) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con Categories: Gen Characters: Jason Todd, Original Female Character(s), Joker (DCU), Bruce Wayne Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Joker (DCU) & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Original Character(s), Jason Todd & Original Female Character(s), Jason Todd/Other(s) Additional Tags: If I write more then I'll update the tags as we go ig we'll see if I write more, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Hurt Jason Todd, Jason Todd is Robin, or was, Original Character(s), Major Original Character(s), POV Original Character, Jason Todd Does Not Die, Jason Todd Does Not Return to Gotham City, Arkham Asylum, Escaping Arkham Asylum, Arkham Asylum is Terrible, Jason Todd Gets A Hug, Basically OC rescues Jason from Arkham (and Joker) and takes care of him, Torture, Aftermath of Torture, Medical Inaccuracies, I'm just too dumb for this, Military Backstory, for the OC read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/qt5zXxR