My little spinoff of the neglected Batfam idea.
Rather than being the 2nd youngest, reader is actually the same age as Jason, just a few months apart. Brought into the family years before him, being the 2nd child Bruce took in.
A bio child, and while I have my own ideas as to how it occurred, I'll leave those aside for this post.
Do keep in mind I'm not a huge DC fan, so I only have baseline knowledge of the Batfam and literally nothing else lol
Dick and Bruce aren't too interested in reader, as the troupe goes. But Jason is! There's a bit of tension at first as he assumes they're going to be a prissy spoiled brat, as Bruce's bio kid.
They don't get to be the closest of siblings, given he's busy with being the newest crime fighting vigilante. But it's the most reader has had in a long time, and at least Jason TRIES to be there for the occasional big life event, despite being a teenager like them. It's more than the adult family members of theirs do.
Then he dies. And neither Bruce or Dick even remember to tell reader when his funeral is. Even Alfred didn't mention it, assuming the death of their family member would be the one thing they speak about, even if it's just to mourn.
Years later and the butler still curses himself for assuming. He knew better, and yet still tried to have faith in the two.
That's the final straw. They missed the funeral of their only family. They had to ask Alfred where his grave was in order to say their goodbyes.
Perhaps due to low self esteem, they don't hate Bruce, or Dick, or later Tim. Of course Gotham is more important than the feelings of one child.
But they aren't family. They're just housemates.
Which is perhaps why, the first chance they get at 18 (technically 17, but nobody in the city cared enough about legalities to actually follow through with checking their ID) they get the hell out of that manor.
Discarding every connection they had to that family. Phone tossed aside, new one with a new number obtained. Even throwing out any contact with Alfred.
And as a result, they miss that Jason is revived just a year or two later.
Not that his first thought is finding them. He was just brought back from the dead, the man has other things on his mind, okay?
But once his thoughts of vengeance have settled down, he starts settling in to the new normal, only to look around and see a sibling is missing.
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Queer secondary adolescence and Stolas
(I keep forgetting to put this up here)
Ok, so Stolas being teen dad is one of the reasons I get annoyed when people say he's too horny with Blitz. Or that his relationship is too dramatic and teenager-y.
He's a queer guy who never got to be a teenager, didn't get to have a first boyfriend, or explore who he was. Or do any of the normal stuff most straight teenagers get to do.
His family stuffed him in the closet, forced him to have child, and gave him an abusive wife as jailer.
(He around 36, with a 17 year old daughter. 36−17=19 when Octavia was born. Likely married at 18).
He's got some chatting up to do.
Up till now his whole life's been about Via, and mitigating Stella's abuse to hid it from Via.
That's left him barely hanging on, taking an increasing amount of antidepressants; and singing lullabies about not being sure he'll make it till Via's grown up.... 🙁
There's this thing called second adolescence that alot of queer people experience, when they come out later in life.
It happens when they're weren't allowed to do normal teenage things at the right age. So things like having crushes, go on first dates, have extremely anxious dramatic relationships. As well just be a normal horny teenager.
Stolas got to do none of that. So he's doing it now.
He's also pretty obviously an autistic guy (separate post ), who didn't get well socialized as a child.
Blitz appears to have been his first and only really friend.
Stolas is not great at social cues. (He's so happy to be able to help with his special interest, but does realise his tone is upsetting Ozzie).
Even with Via he struggles to understand her. She needs to tell her dad flat out what she needs.
When she tries to be subtle, and snark he assumes it's just her being a moody teen. And that she'll enjoy loo loo land when she loosen up a bit.
Because of this lack Stolas mostly fills in gaps in his social experience with masking.
Such copying Gabriel hairstyle from helluva novella to get ready for his first ever date.
Following Blitz's lead of what to do in an uncomfortable situation.
And trying to match the energy of how Blitz first came on to him.
(He's definitely getting better at it from Blitz reaction).
There's also an idea in CBT called reparenting your inner child. Which about giving yourself some the support, and experiences you missed out on because of abuse.
Stolas needs to go through his secondary adolescence as part of his recovery from his abuse.
So let Stolas be a little horny weirdo. 😛
PS this one will brake you heart. Stolas is standing fully in both these pictures.
You can see how much he's grown by her light switch.
Kid hasn't even reached his full adult height yet when he had to have a kid.
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DANCE WITH THE DEVIL.
synopsis: yan! hsr men as slasher movie killers… and “love interests.” [blade, boothill, aventurine, sunday]
words: 3.1k
cw: yandere themes: obsession, stalking. slasher elements, gore.
a/n: happy friday the 13th to all who celebrate
BLADE is already pretty much like Michael Myers from Halloween: large man, terrifying presence, unfathomable kill count, and cannot die. No matter what you do, no matter how many times you or the other survivors find a way to kill him, he keeps coming back, and with renewed vengeance every time.
The first time you’d been subjected to his knife was at a summer camp. Having gone there every summer for years growing up, you grew attached to the place and decided to pick up a role as a counselor in the summers following your high school graduation, and they passed peacefully. However, in the few months leading up to your college graduation, misfortune befell the small town where the camp was located. Someone’s grave had been dug up, and just weeks after that, people started turning up dead, their bodies littered with so many stab wounds that some were unrecognizable.
Given the ongoing investigation, the counselors and other camp staff requested that the summer camp not reopen, but the owners and even some parents insisted they stay open, and so despite your better judgment, you returned. You needed the money, and you knew how to defend yourself— if anything happened, you could keep yourself and your kids safe.
At least, that’s what you believed. When the man appears in the doorway of your cabin, his stocky figure silhouetted by the moonlight and leaving two red eyes gleaming down at you, you know there’s not a chance in hell you’re making it out of there alive.
You’d thrown yourself at him, yelling for your kids to escape through the back. He’s been merciless, sinking his knife into your flesh over and over again, but you persevered and fought back until you were sure every single one of your kids had made it a good distance away from the cabin. At some point you’d collapsed, from exhaustion and blood loss.
The doctors said it was a miracle you survived. They had your house guarded since he hadn’t been detained, but once word of his death by police gunfire got around, things calmed down significantly. You relaxed over the years, letting your guard down and believing that things could return to normal. Serial killings all over the nation popped up, but you worried not—after all, the killer you were concerned with was dead.
One of the survivors reached out to you five years after that fateful night, wishing to get together with the others who lived to get drinks and properly move on from everything. It was, of course, a set up; Blade had returned, and the man who invited you believed he’d be spared if he got the rest of the survivors together in one place.
He’d been the first one murdered that night.
Once again, you narrowly dodged death, just barely managing to get yourself to a hospital before you received one stab wound too many. Time goes on, and no matter how many times they put a bullet through his head, he manages to come back. The list of survivors has grown, but the list of victims is now countless.
You’re in your thirties when the police reach out to the adult survivors. There’s a new survivor: a five year-old girl by the name of Yunli. Her parents had been ruthlessly slaughtered, but he hadn’t touched even a single hair on the young girl’s hair. She didn’t have any living family, and so, you agreed to take her in.
Life is easier with Yunli in it. A bright, spunky little thing, she brings joy to your days and some semblance of a family that you’ve been too scared to seek out. It’s nice to have the sound of laughter filling your home.
That same laughter has you smiling tonight, the girl’s giggling floating down the hallway and into the kitchen, where you’re washing dishes. A quick glance at the microwave’s clock tells you it’s close to her bedtime, and she’s far more energetic than she typically would be at this time. You wipe your hands off on a dish towel and walk down the hall toward her room, wishing to find out what’s working her up at this hour and wanting to tell her to wind down before bed.
You knock lightly before turning the knob. You get the door open a crack before the sight on the other side of it leaves you frozen, horrified.
He’s in Yunli’s room, kneeling before her as she shows him the many dolls you’ve bought her. His knife is on the floor beside him, and the eyes that have haunted your dreams for years pierce into you, pinning you where you stand.
The girl seems… happier with you, than she had been with her parents. Perhaps he’ll have to be kinder to you this time.
BOOTHILL gives me Texas Chainsaw Massacre vibes in terms of how he kills and the brutality of it all, but not personality-wise. No, I actually think he’d be quite personable with that southern charm of his— so of course, no one would ever expect him to do anything unspeakable.
You and your friends are on a road trip when the car breaks down in the middle of nowhere. There’s nothing but fields of crops as far as the eye can see, and the only sign of civilization is a barn, some stables, and a few coops with two houses near them about a mile away from where you’re standing.
You all make the trek, hoping to be able to get some help from the people living there. Worst case scenario, if it’s all been abandoned, you can squat there and look for tools to help you fix the car. But to your surprise, when you knock, a kind-looking man with wild white and black hair opens the door, and after hearing about your situation, is more than happy to be of assistance.
He tows the car onto his property and takes a look at it, determining that the entire engine needs to be replaced. Given his distance from the nearest auto shop, he says he’ll leave for town Sunday afternoon and get the part on Monday morning. It’s going to be an all-day trip, so he likely won’t be back until early Tuesday morning.
You’ve got a couple days to get to know him, in the meantime. Your friends absolutely adore him, pointing out how good of a guy he is, some even pointing out how attractive he is. You scoff one night as he’s making dinner away from where you’re all sitting, as one of your friends starts a bet on if any of you will be able to sleep with him before all of this is over.
Sunday afternoon comes all too soon, though, and none of you get very far with him before he’s heading off in his truck toward the nearest town. You’re a bit shocked that he would so willingly leave a group of strangers in his house unattended, but you chalk it up to his kindness that seems to be boundless.
You should have been far more concerned.
You’re all woken up that night by the sound of a chainsaw revving, shortly followed by one of your friend’s horrible shrieking. The room devolves into panic and chaos as you watch her get torn to shreds by the very man who invited you into his home, now donning a mask of what you hope is animal skin.
You all flee in different directions, but he knows the property better than you do, and sure enough, your friends are picked off one by one until you’re the last one standing. You narrowly dodge some of the traps he’s set up and take refuge in the stables, struggling to keep yourself together as you hear your friend’s cries in the distance.
While looking for something to defend yourself with, you find a box hidden in a pile of hay. It’s locked, but you force it open, dumping its contents on the floor. A pistol, a few handwritten letters, and pictures of a woman and a young girl. You place the pistol beside you before your curiosity takes over, causing you to slowly go through and study the pictures.
In your distracted state, you failed to notice that he’d gotten into the stables. You jump to your feet when the chainsaw revs just a few feet in front of you. You turn off the safety and raise the gun, your hand steady and your shot clear.
He’s lost so much in his life, and it’s driven him to madness. And you, you remind him of something— someone precious who he lost to illness, to the cruelty of life.
He can’t lose you again. He won’t allow you to leave.
And that’s not something you’ll realize until he’s staring at you from the barrel of a gun you believe is loaded, laughing for a reason you can’t understand.
AVENTURINE stepped right out of a Scream movie. He’s a classic Ghostface-type killer, phone calls and everything. He’s certainly got the charisma needed to make the intimidating phone calls, and I feel like he would enjoy stalking and toying around with his prey a bit before going in for the kill.
You could probably argue that he’s not the type to want to make things messy, but I feel like in this case, he would be using this as an outlet, meaning all his kills are brutal and gory. (Creative, at times, too. The police will give him that.) There’s just something so comforting about being covered in blood, the warm liquid almost serving as a warm embrace.
For him, there aren’t any better targets than his close friend group. He knows all their darkest secrets, and has no problem using his knowledge to torment them and easily back them into a corner, too panicked to see him coming until it’s too late. These people have always been fake, anyway, and he knows they’ve always looked down on him. Can you really blame him for taking out the trash?
And then, of course, there’s you. You’re not a saint by any means— no, you’ve got your fair share of skeletons in the closet, and each secret you divulge to him because of the trust you foolishly placed in him is sweeter than any death he could imagine giving you. Maybe that’s what draws him to you so much; where everyone else wears a mask, there’s something about you that’s genuine, and it’s a side of you that you’ve entrusted to only him.
So when the killer finally shows up on your doorstep, he’s the one you turn to. As you’re on the phone with the killer, responding to his taunts in an attempt to figure out where exactly he is in your house, you’re texting Aventurine on the side and sending him what you believe is your last goodbye.
“Do you want to be forgiven?” The disguised voice on the other line croons into your ear. “Do you think you should be?”
You’ve just pressed send on your message when a hand seizes you by the back of the neck and throws you to the ground. The impact of hitting the hardwood floor distracts you from the sound of a phone buzzing nearby. You scramble backward, attempting to get to your feet as you do, but the masked man grabs onto your foot and sinks his knife into your calf, ripping a pained screech from your throat.
He drags you back toward him before settling on top of you, his legs straddling your waist rather suggestively. He sinks his blade into you and drags it across your skin slowly, the scorching pain leaving you writhing and crying out in pain.
He flees once he hears sirens in the distance. The police find you on the floor of your living room with four stab wounds and multiple cuts. Aventurine shows up not long after them, disheveled and worried and flashing the police the text you sent him. They allow him to ride in the ambulance with you, admiring his intent to endanger himself if it meant saving you.
You’re so frazzled that you don’t even notice he showed up at your house way sooner than he should’ve, as though he was already nearby. You just blindly turn to him for comfort, clutching onto him for dear life. It’s cute.
He runs his hands through your hair soothingly, shushing you and gently rubbing your back as you sob into his shoulder. You shouldn’t worry so much, dear. He’s here now, and he’ll make sure no one else lays a finger on you ever again.
You don’t realize your grave mistake until you’re standing in Jade’s basement, her brutalized body at your feet and a metal pipe in your hands. You can defend yourself all you like, but it’s far too easy for the masked killer to evade your swings and land his blade in your shoulder, your stomach, your thigh. All places that won’t kill you, of course.
When you finally collapse to your knees, sobbing hysterically and succumbing to your fate, the killer unexpectedly drops to his knees beside you. He wraps his arms around you and presses his chest to your back, trapping you in his hold. You shudder as he runs his blade along your face and neck, smearing your own blood across your soft skin.
“It’s okay,” he coos, and the familiar voice makes you freeze. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”
The mocking laughter that follows makes your heart drop, and the rest of your hope vanishes.
SUNDAY is definitely involved in some Children of the Corn type of shit. Some supernatural slasher stuff where there’s a cult behind everything, and he’s at the head of it all.
Ena is not a kind god. Countless generations of Oaks have tried various methods of worship and offerings, but none work quite as well as the human sacrifice. This is something Mr. Wood had taught him from a very young age, explaining to Sunday their history as he methodically cut up whichever poor soul had wandered into their humble, hidden town that week.
As head of the Family, he’s exemplary. No one has ever wielded a blade quite like he has, his hand always steady and unflinching. His blessed hands bring prosperity to the land that has never been seen before, Ena’s favor raining down on him and his people. He is as revered as their god at this point, and there is nothing his people would not do for him.
The road trip you make every year to your parent’s house for Thanksgiving was a long one, and a sudden downpour along the way has you rolling to a stop in the nearest town. You plan to just take shelter at a restaurant and grab a bite to eat while you’re there, then fill up on gas and be on your merry way once everything clears up.
Everyone is so kind, though. The locals in the restaurant make conversation with you, asking about your life and cooing at you once you explain that you’re on your way to visit your family. You spend most of your time talking to the people at the table next to you, a man and his sister, and you get so lost in conversation that you haven’t even realized night has fallen. You pay your bill and are ready to head out when the man stops you.
“You should stay the night at one of the inns,” he advises, a delicate hand placed on your shoulder. “There are still storm clouds, and it could start pouring again at any moment. It would be unfortunate to have to travel through that, especially at night.”
You check the forecast, and to your dismay, he’s right. With his help, you check into a hotel across the street, and you thank him for his assistance before you turn in for the night.
Your peaceful sleep is soon disrupted by a rag being held over your mouth and nose, startling you awake. At this point, you’ve already breathed in the chloroform, and you barely have time to register the formless figures around your bed dressed in shades of white and navy blue before you pass out.
You wake up in an underground cellar, stone walls encasing you in cold nothingness. There are four other people in the room with you, also bound and gagged and staring back at you with wide-eyed terror. There are screams of pain echoing down the stairs from somewhere above you all, the sound of synchronized chanting doing little to mask it.
It’s not difficult to guess what fate awaits you.
Young children dressed in extremely formal clothing bring you all food and water. They’re sweet to you all, terribly so. You’re not sure how long you’re down there, but the time you have left is counted down with each person that is taken out of the room. There are new people brought into the cellar, but once the original four you were with are gone, you know your time has come.
The next time the shapeless people in robes descend the steps, they reach for you. You’re injected with some kind of sedative before you even have the chance to lash out at them, and the blindfold they place over your eyes seems pointless, since you black out, anyways.
When you wake, your arms and legs are bound to some kind of marble slab that you’ve been laid on. You’ve been stripped, and your skin is covered in some kind of oil. It’s cold, and the vulnerability of being exposed just makes your situation all the worse.
Your breath hitches and your pitiful, muffled cries for help stop when you feel something sharp prick your skin. Sunday lightly applies pressure to the knife in his hand, carving beautiful patterns along the surface of your skin. With his free hand, he traces a gloved finger over the beads of blood the blade leaves behind, his touch so devout it’s downright sinful. The sight of you brings him pause, the knife stopping all too suddenly.
It is the first time he has hesitated during a ritual.
Perhaps… you’re not meant to be sacrificed. No, surely something as divine as you is meant for much more than that. Perhaps Ena has lured you here just for him, a reward for his unwavering faith, steady leadership, and all he has done for their people.
“As the highest among us,” Mr. Wood had said the day he named Sunday the new head of the Family, “you have first pick at reaping Ena’s blessings.”
Ena is not a kind god. But perhaps, just this once, they would allow him to be selfish.
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"the public education system is intently evil and all teachers are abusive because it was the worst experience ever for me personally"
guys, look, I'm legitimately sorry that happened to you. that's fucked up. it shouldn't have happened, and it shouldn't be allowed to happen again to you or anyone else. I'm sorry.
public school was hard for me too, at times, and I'm still suffering the consequences for the harsh grading, the arbitrary deadlines, the hours of completely useless-to-me homework. I could name a few teachers who have been pretty fucking terrible. the fact that nobody considered getting me evaluated for ADHD has had an impact on my self image and academic success that I can't erase.
and also.
I grew up in an area where education, in particular, is incredibly progressive-leaning. educators are working really hard to create and try out education philosophies and practices that prioritize kids and their learning, rather than teachers and what they think kids should learn.
My sex ed was comprehensive, and came entirely from school. My gay sixth grade teacher taught me about HIV/AIDs in a useful, accurate way. In high school, I learned about the way orgasms work & I was prepared not to feel shame for normal stuff.
I learned that Communism was not what the USSR actually practiced, and what it really means. I learned about atrocities and, specifically, the genocide of indigenous people committed in/by the US. I learned about the military industrial complex, the school-to-prison pipeline, and I learned about manifestations of racism specific to my local area. I learned about Stonewall, and the intersection of the civil rights movement with gay rights and disability justice.
My creative writing teacher taught us about LSD, and the real reasons we shouldn't do it, after a hilariously ineffective assembly run by some local cops. He spoke gently, carefully, and emphatically about his friends and his own experiences. Later in the semester, he read us a story he wrote about two gay men finding each other in a deeply homophobic environment.
My sci-fi teacher made me feel safe & seen as a kid with "weird" interests. My US History teacher helped me research and put together a 10-page paper on the modern relevance and mission of Feminism. My government teacher made me feel appreciated for the work I put into the class, and the thought I put into what I said in it, even though he disagreed with a lot of it. My sixth grade teacher bought me books to read with his personal money, whichever ones I asked for. My third grade teacher made me feel safe. My science teacher in middle school made me excited for and passionate about science, and saw and nurtured the effort I put into her class.
A lot of stuff sucks, absolutely. But I am seeing new teaching methods being tried out all the time, and I am watching teachers get really excited when I teach their students about the roots of modern graffiti in US black history & to question property laws, and just...
There's hope. there are so many people doing so much work to make things better. so many people agree with you on what education should be, and are trying so fucking hard to put that into action, and so many public schools- not just teachers, but whole schools and even districts- are really doing that work. so much is getting better.
I had more to say, about necessary childcare and trusted adults and outside contacts and time away from abusive family. But like. Please just sit down and listen to more people on this, and please talk to educators and education professionals about what's really going on in this big huge world of philosophy, science, and practice.
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I Don’t Know If Peri Can Be What Dev Needs Him to Be
So leaving off the episode with Irep (I guess that’s what they are going with) and I think I have just enough context to gage what Dev and Peri’s problem is. And some people have already pointed this out, it’s not wish fulfillment that Dev needs, and in a way Dev is starting to see that too. Well it’s more like he can’t understand why he isn’t happy with Peri which is why he has picked up the habit of constantly comparing Peri to Cosmo and Wanda. And come to the misguided conclusion that rule free wishes will make him happy. When he asks “why can’t you do this Peri?” When comparing him to his parents, what he is really saying is “why am I not happy with you, like Hazel is happy with your parents?” But let’s back up to Dev’s Birthday, the opening of the episode gives some pretty interesting insight.
Dev acts like a normal freaking person around Hazel and was starting to extend that to Cosmo and Wanda
Cosmo makes an attempt to cheer Dev up about his Dad being absent and Dev gives a shy but genuine smile at the effort.
Hazel has a pretty thoughtful gift for Dev, and Peri has an..interesting reaction to it
No one has pointed this out, but I thought his facial expressions in this opening were odd, like why does he look slightly sad about it? And you can’t say it’s resting bitch face because here is his resting face in the next scene
Speaking of this frame, it doesn’t seem to register to Peri that Dev is pretty down and is actually pretty oblivious to it, while Hazel picks up on it right away and cheers him up with her second thoughtful gift
And while waiting to receive it Peri….passive aggressively checks his nails..ok. It’s a pair of Rocket Boots, a lavish but thoughtful gift that Hazel wished up. And Boy is beyond freaking happy about them ,and Peri’s reaction to this is
“That should keep him happy for about ten minutes”
To criticize the gift? Dude what is your damage? I then had the thought “wait..is he jealous of Hazel?” But then I thought “no Peri wanted Dev to make friends of course he isn’t jealous..even though dev is never this happy or open with him like he is with her”
After the fight Dev had with Hazel and Peri trys to cheer him up by trying to offer him a distraction Dev losses his temper at the line “go ahead, make a wish” and blows up on Peri
“News Flash! I needed your help an hour ago!! I wish you would leave me alone!!”
Dev is furious because Peri let him down but got set off by the line “go ahead, make a wish” because he knows it won’t make him happy, all of his wishes have been things he can already get without magic. For real Peri is just slightly more convenient then online shopping for someone like Dev, and when he actually needed him he was distracted by his parents and wasn’t there for him
“I…as you wish kid”
I found this so heart breaking, you can tell in the first shot this wish hit him like a slap and looks so rejected and sad in the next shot. You can tell he really wants to help Dev and wants Dev to like him but Peri’s way of Godparenting IS NOT HELPING! Dev didn’t need shallow wish fulfillment. He needed Peri to help him emotionally for his Dad not being there at his Birthday. He needed Pari to be the adult and protect him from the psychotic banshee his Dad hired. HE NEEDED A PARENT!! I don’t think Dev is able to identify those feelings just yet though.
With that being said, Peri is a young adult doing his best, but the role of the Godparent (like the actual title godparent) is to give guidance and to take over the parenting role when the actual parents no longer can. And I am not sure if Peri can give that much of himself
I will say this about Peri though in the latest episode with Irep Peri really seems to be willing to go the distance for Dev, and I was NOT expecting Peri to literally snatch Dev away from Irep he basically went MINE! And let Jorgan blast Ireps ass back to the anti-fairy world and then
Leaves Dev to sulk on the ground….sigh, I mean if he is willing to go THIS far for Dev maybe he is willing to go further who knows.
Oh! We do learn this interesting tidbit about Peri
“It’s a good thing I was jealously spying on Dev- I mean passing by! I was normally and confidently passing by”
HE WAS JEALOUS OF HAZEL!!! Just like he was jealous of Irep! Wonder if they will expand more on this. Not gonna lie, it would be interesting if Hazel gets Devs trust back first and we get to see more of this jealous side before Hazel and Peri become friends
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