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deadsetobsessions · 23 days

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Once more the hallucinations hit, and once more I am here writing it out.

My brain is fucking terrifying and I want out, so bad. This came to me in the form of a nightmare.

Also, please don’t take the timeline into consideration, because I have no idea what’s going on. Again, nightmares and dreams tend to not have the best coherency when it comes to plot and timelines. The reincarnation doesn’t have a name, I was too busy feeling terrified. Shit in parentheses was how I experienced the nightmare. Everything else is just me adding sprinkle sprinkle.

——

Ra’s al Ghul.

Talia al Ghul.

Two names that she had been aware of, in the peripherals of her hyper fixation. Two characters meant to enhance the story of the Dark Knight. Side characters, on a good day. Perhaps, a main antagonist on a better day.

On a bad day?

Main characters. Real, living people. Real, living, breathing assassins.

Unfortunately, they’re her new family. One she remembered coming into, bathed in a pool of blood and screams.

She was not a baby.

She is now, a baby. The first of Talia al Ghul’s children. The eldest, once Damian al Ghul was born.

Swaddled in emerald green and gold silks, she was presented to a man with silver streaked hair and a receding hairline. He too, was robed in green and golds.

“A daughter, Talia?” He rumbled, the smooth Arabic flowing out of his mouth failing to hide the acrid disappointment. The child, past the haze of confusion of suddenly being deported from her own adult body into one of a helpless child, felt a stirring of irritation. It’s good she learned the language, because now she knew exactly how Ra’s felt about her. The child grumbled a displeased sound. Not that she would have ignored the fact that her grandfather was Ra’s al Ghul. (He smelled like moth eaten fabric and blood- but I think that was because my cat accidentally scratched me.)

“My apologies, father.”

“Do not tell the young detective of this. Had it been a son, perhaps things would have been different. No, a daughter would only hinder him.”

Talia bowed, hands tightening on her daughter. “May I raise her, father?”

“A resource is still a resource. Go ahead, Talia.”

“Yes, father.” Talia took the dismissal and bowed before leaving.

On her way back to the room with the reincarnation’s crib, Talia al Ghul stroked her daughter’s head.

“I wish you were born a boy, my daughter. I am sorry my beloved will never know of you.”

The reincarnation looked at her new mother. She’s young, the woman-child realized. A teenager.

“You’ll have to be useful, my daughter. Your grandfather is not so kind as to keep the useless. I… do not wish for your death,” her mother muttered.

Great. She got new life and it’s already in danger.

——

She learned to swing a knife. Swords. She learned and devoured the teachings. She learned to be useful.

But then they asked her to take the life of a man who did her no wrong.

Her baby blues clashed with her grandfather’s Lazarus green.

She was still young. A child.

“No.”

“No?”

“He did no wrong.”

“He failed, granddaughter.” Ra’s smiled down at her, patronizing. Cruel. “Perhaps you possess your father’s heart, and you are foolishly sentimental, as women and children tend to be. But in the end, you are an al Ghul and you will obey. Plunge in your blade and I will reward you.”

The reincarnation looked at the man kneeling in front of her, resignation and a hint of pity in what little she could see of his face.

She’s already died before. What did she have to be afraid of?

“No.”

They tried to beat the weakness out of her. It didn’t work.

——

The reincarnation stared at the mirror, left alone in an opulent cage of gold and emeralds and precious stones that meant little to her now.

Her hands traced her back, small fingers finding purchase in soft skin. Her mouth opened fruitlessly, noise refusing to escape. She still felt the burning magic, the brand her own blood had carved into her skin and soul because she refused to kill. The chains her grandfather had shackled around her with magic and cruel amusement.

She had killed him, in the end. Obey, or be punished. Her body had moved without her permission, the reincarnation a prisoner in a body that refused to do as she commanded. The knife swung, a life taken, her hands dipped in red.

She learned a valuable lesson that day.

There were things worse than death.

“This is an order, granddaughter.”

The Magic had flared a searing heat at her neck, forcing her to kneel on broken legs. Ra’s loomed above, authority in his voice. She was bound to obey, regardless.

“You will never speak another word of affection, you will never speak another word to anyone unless I allow it. Perhaps this will teach you of your folly, and your place in this world.”

The loss of her freedom and the fear that came with it was a bitter and devastating lesson.

——

Ra’s al Ghul was so much worse than what little she knew of him.

She was right to be afraid for herself.

Her mother had worried, when she’d withdrawn and refused to speak to her. Even if she could, the reincarnation would not have wanted to. The reincarnation had felt furious, back then, when she thought of Talia. Her mother who refused to protect her. Her mother, who claimed she loved her but refused to see the chains Ra’s wrapped around her neck. She who plied the reincarnation with a supportive hand but forced her into the fighting pits.

But, as the reincarnation stumbled out on bruised and used legs from Ra’s al Ghul’s meeting chambers where he had allowed his business partners to partake in her, she realized that Ra’s was a monster in a human’s body and her mother was a victim of his making.

The lesson Ra’s taught her that day was that if she was not useful, if she did not kill, he would take what was left of her and make use of her.

Hate flared in her heart, and the beginning of Ra’s downfall began the day he let her go from the chambers alive. Injured, but alive. Injured and violated, but alive and furious.

——

She carved her hate and rage and helplessness and fear in the bodies of the people he bid her to kill. Her silenced screams were expressed in the way she splattered blood, the way she covered herself in it. A killing machine first, a stress reliever second, and a child… wasn’t on the list of things she was allowed to be.

His enemies were felled, one after another. He gave her his approval, something she detested.

But still, she continued, bodies racking upwards, tens turning to hundreds, hundreds edging into thousands.

The red in her ledger became ichor and guilt. Her language became violence and obedience.

“You have become a sharp tool, granddaughter.”

She was a genius, after all. And now, she could not disobey. A blade that Ra’s believed will never point towards him. She kneeled. She obeyed.

“Thank you, grandfather.” Her words were only allowed to come out- without searing, terrible pain- when she was thanking him. She tried not to do it as often as he wanted. He thought he broke her when he read the obedience she carved into her body language.

But she never bowed. Never. Not to him. Never.

——

“My weapon could learn much from your granddaughter,” David Cain sat across from Ra’s, wine in their stupid goblets. How she detested the green and blacks he’s seen fit to dress her with. She’s dressed provocatively, not of her own choice. She doesn’t have much of those- doesn’t have much in ways of choices- these days.

She was twelve, and Ra’s al Ghul deserved to die.

“Her combat is a higher form of what my daughter has achieved. How did you do it?”

When Ra’s began to reply, she slipped away.

She found the girl. She found… the cage- the black box- the child was placed in. The child flinched from her when she opened the metal box, fear only easing as the reincarnation kept her body language neutral and kind. (It was pitch black, and about the size of like, a closet. No light. Only from whatever door the box had.) (Cass’ hands hurt from banging on the walls to be let out)

David Cain’s daughter, her mind whispered, the memories of another life once more making itself known.

“Cassandra.” She whispered, regretting it immediately when pain wracked her body. She fell to her knees as the punishment for disobeying an order slammed into her.

The girl looked at her in concern, but did not move closer. The reincarnation stared at this girl and saw a reflection of herself.

David Cain would be here for a month. She will free Cassandra in those days.

——

The weapon stared at the girl in front of her, kneeling in pain.

She did not understand.

The girl came back. Water. Food. Kind.

The weapon felt warm. The girl was quiet. No sounds. Good. The weapon knew the girl understood. The weapon thinks that the girl is a weapon too.

The girl comes back, again. This time, she makes a sound. It hurt her, but she did it again. The weapon understands when the girl points at herself and repeats the sound. The sound means the girl. The girl expects something from the weapon.

The weapon makes the sound, flinching to see if the owner will come to punish it. The girl purposefully sits, relaxed but vigilant… and protective. Of the weapon?

The weapon relaxed. It repeated the sound, pointing at the girl.

The girl smiles, in pain. But approval. The weapon feels- the weapon is warm, like under the blanket. Approval.

The girl teaches her to make sounds but the weapon communicates without it. It does not like the sounds, does not need them, but the girl seems to think it’s important.

The weapon likes the girl, so the weapon learns. They still understand through no sounds, through reading each other.

The girl comes back, silently. Secretly. The weapon does not notify the owner. The weapon feels- does not want to.

The girl- the girl with the sound- she says a different sound. Her body tells the weapon that it’s important, this sound.

And when the girl points at herself and says her own sound, then points at the weapon and says that new sound again, the weapon begins to understand.

The girl had given the weapon her own sound.

“Cass—n- ra.”

“Cass,” the girl said, and Cassandra understood.

“Cass.” Cassandra pointed to herself.

The owner wanted- wanted Cassandra to end a life. Cassandra watched the owner kill and gesture to the dead thing.

Cassandra did not want to.

When Cassandra is placed back into the pitch black box, she waited for the girl.

The girl came.

“Don’t want.” Cassandra clung to her, reading the welcome and the sadness in the girl’s body. Cassandra tucked her face into the girl’s shoulder. She is cold. The girl is warm.

The girl hugged her back. The girl understood. Sadness hardened into lines of determination. Cassandra felt… light. Felt hope.

Cassandra slipped away from the place, water in her pack for the dessert and money to run from the country. The girl stayed behind, seeing her off. The girl tells her to never come back.

Cassandra did not want to leave the girl behind, but the girl could not go.

“Be free, Cass.” The girl had whispered through the pain. “For the both of us.”

——

Her grandfather knew. He allowed David Cain to break her, not kill because she was of use to him still, as a lesson. She found that she hated his lessons. But, she hated his attention more.

And still, she could not regret. How could she, when Cass trusted her with what fragile hope she had?

So, she lets him beat her, and provokes him with smirks and fearless eyes because the longer he’s focused on her, the more time Cass has to run.

Then, he gets too angry, and insults Ra’s, whose eyes grew cold. Her grandfather gestured and while she usually hated the command that followed that gesture, she could not feel that hatred now.

She got back up, legs broken and arms twisted once more, and attacked David Cain.

Ra’s would not follow Cass. Not when she was not his business to deal with, and not when David Carin’s fury amused him so.

David Cain would not follow Cass. Not while she still drew breath. The reincarnation stood, and threw herself at one of the best assassins of the century.

She tore his throat out with nothing but her teeth. She felt, for once, not like a monster. Not even when Ra’s nodded in approval and ordered for David Cain’s broken body to be cleaned up.

——

She’s been granted a mission in New Jersey, once her months of discipline- of torture- ended. She does not get ordered to find Cassandra. She’s fourteen now, and as silent as ever. Her mother had adjusted to her silence by then- long ago, actually, taking it as a quirk her daughter had developed. She hadn’t been a terribly vocal child, after all. Talia praised her for being useful even as a woman- the self degradation something the reincarnation had no doubt Ra’s had insidiously trained into Talia- and for being loyal to Ra’s.

Sometimes, she hates Talia for being- for-

Never mind. She couldn’t afford to hate anyone else.

She killed her targets early, determination and wistfulness urging her movements into sharp . Then, she made her way to Gotham and slipped into the city of darkness- where her father was.

She watched as he hid in the shadows almost as easily as she did. She watched as he flew and glided with the younger Robin. (He was younger than her by a year. She checked.) He was free. They were free.

She wished…

As she turned away, she saw a child tumbling from the edge of a roof. It was an instinct she’d thought Ra’s had managed to bury after the months he’d spent making sure she killed only children.

She hated him.

She caught him, swooping in and tucking him against her side as she plucked him from the air and plopped him back onto the crumbling roof of Gotham’s slums.

“Oh, thank you! So much- are you a vigilante?” The boy asked, looking at her masked face. It’s a good thing she wasn’t exactly dressed like a regular League operative.

She shook her head. Her eyes fell onto his camera, faint memories rising once more. She had an inkling-

“I’m- uh- Tim!” The boy introduced himself nervously, edging away from her silence. “Thank you for saving me…?”

She nodded. She pointed to the camera, tilting her head.

“Oh- you… want to see it?” He clutched his camera closer. Oh, he did have some sense of self preservation. She wondered why a seven year old was allowed to roam these streets… but she did worse at seven.

She held her hand up and back up. The boy hesitated, and then showed her the camera. “Uh- I took pictures of Robin and Batman!”

They sat on that roof for hours, and she let Tim Drake tell her stories about her father and his son. Ward. Son.

She could tell that Tim didn’t have anyone to listen to him.

She didn’t have long until she had to go back or risk severe punishment, but… she could make time for Tim, to listen to him.

She wondered if Cass managed to escape completely. She wondered if her sister all but in name and blood learned how to smile.

——

Tim had never had a friend before!

She listened to him! And gave him hugs the one time he was brave enough to ask! And she seemed to like Batman and Robin as much as he did! No one who didn’t like them would listen to his endless rambling otherwise, right? (Tim was super skinny, like ribs poking out skinny. He looked like a sickly Victorian child and he was kind of cold)

“And then, Robin went like this,” he pantomimed the awesome punch Dick Grayson did on a Joker goon. “And the guys got knocked out just like that!”

His new friend nodded, looking interested.

“Sorry, am I talking too much?” Tim asked anxiously. He didn’t want to make his friend hate him!

She shook her head, and gestured for him to continue.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded.

His new friend was so cool! She even taught him how to throw a punch and to fight!

——

When she had to leave, she prepared Tim for it.

“Do you have to go?”

She nodded and placed a hand on his head, ruffling his hair. Her other hand held a duffle bag with an assortment of weapons she carefully kept from him. (One of the blades still had guts on it, which, ew.)

“Try not to fall off anymore roofs, little photographer.” She said, smiling at his shocked look before leaping away.

“Wait, you can talk?!” He shouted at her back. She smiled a little wider.

——

“A son, this time.” Ra’s al Ghul’s voice echoed in his disgustingly flashy throne room. It rings of approval.

The reincarnation stood behind her mother, eyes cast downwards.

“Well done, Talia. I finally have a worthy heir.”

Damian al Ghul cooed.

The reincarnation was scared. But… she could not allow her younger brother to be trapped like she was. She’s fifteen now, a decade of slavery having worn her down and nearly broken her. But with her brother… no, she could not allow it.

She met her mother’s eyes and knew then that they agreed. Protect Damian, at all costs.

She ignored the sting of envy. So what her mother could not find it in herself to protect her daughter? So long as she protected Damian, it didn’t matter.

Maybe she didn’t matter. Maybe she wasn’t worth anything. Maybe- maybe- maybe.

She also ignored the seed of disgust she had for mother’s actions in conceiving Damian. She couldn’t do anything about it. Talia was also a victim.

A louder voice in her asked if she could really excuse that, when Talia had a choice and she chose to hurt and violate Bruce Wayne like that. She wondered if she could truly ever forgive Talia. She wondered if Bruce Wayne got therapy.

——

She stared at the tome in front of her, eyes blank. (Actually, she had no eyes. Like? Empty sockets, but then later she had eyes???)

The brand- the shackles- the chains could only be broken if Ra’s died. She wasn’t opposed to that. But if he died, so did she. She couldn’t even kill herself to get out, because the chains would be there even if she died. If she was revived- a high chance, thanks to the fucking pits- then the chains would still be there.

Perhaps… she could use the pits?

Her mind turned and turned.

——

“This is your ukht.” Her mother pointed at her. Damian stared up at her, and she melted. Her brother was too damn cute.

“Ukhti?”

She nodded as her mother smiled in joy. “Yes, habibi.”

She was better at hiding the pain, now. She was better at enduring it, too, that fucking burning feeling. She spoke more, but only to Damian.

It would not do for her brother to grow up not knowing how to receive verbal expressions of affection. Not like she did, in this life.

Still, it hurt to speak. But then, she had an idea, based on Cassandra.

She could not speak, but speaking wasn’t the only way of communication. She’ll teach Damian sign language- standard, as commanded- but also her own version. Yes, she could do it. It wouldn’t be hard.

She was a genius, after all, and creating languages wasn’t as hard as people seem to think.

——

Damian copied her, small fingers patting his hand four times.

She did it back to him. “I love you.” She tells him, with sounds and with motions.

He does it back, excitedly, because he had a secret with ukhti!

——

Sometimes, she dared not to touch Damian. She wants to ruffle his hair and give him hugs but the ichor on her hands reminds her to not get to greedy. She did not deserve it.

Not when her hands were stained with the lives of so many people.

——

Another mission.

She was twenty now, and not much closer to escaping her bonds. Though, once she hit her majority, Ra’s lost interest in her in that way. A blessing, even if she had to seduce his “business partners” into giving him better deals more often now.

She stops by Bludhaven. The Robin she watched so many years ago- six, by her count- had grown new wings and moved. She wanted to see if he could fly still.

He could. He flew as free- no, freer than his days as Robin.

She dipped away to complete her mission (nuclear weapon trading, really?) and swings back to see a spider trying to break the former Robin’s wings.

“No.” Nightwing whispered, staring upwards at the cloudy sky blankly. “Please, stop.”

She didn’t need to hear any more. She saw red, and dove feet first straight onto the spider’s head, knocking her out.

She picked up a near-catatonic Nightwing, and helped him to his apartment. She left Tarantula in the rain and felt zero guilt about it.

He changed mechanically, some kind of instinct keeping him from removing his domino, but it was a bit pointless considering she escorted him to his personal apartment.

She watched as Nightwing slipped into an exhausted sleep before leaving. She had a spider to squish, and traces to hide.

——

Dick wakes up, drained and exhausted. He… someone saved him.

He sees a scrawled note, handwriting impeccable enough to be a font, written with his pen. He picked it up from his table, and his eyes tiredly read the message.

“Don’t worry about Tarantula. Or your identity.”- A friend.

He remembered- the mask- the mask of the stranger that saved him vividly. He’d remember. And he’d thank them if they ever came back.

——

She was in charge of training assassins, these days. A year and a half later after Bludhaven, she was back in Nanda Parbat, and she’s devoured every magical tome she could get her hands on. They all say the same things.

Her assassins were trained well, and Ra’s praises her with more responsibilities as he followed the pit in his obsessions. Her mother began to splinter the group, not knowing that as Ra’s began his descent into madness, people looked towards her instead of Talia for leadership. They did not know that her unwavering presence by Ra’s side wasn’t voluntary but it is their true that she became his right hand out of pure skill. And flawless obedience, of course.

Then, someone new joins.

Someone with pit rage and empty eyes that goes rigid when she approaches.

Then again, most of the operatives freeze up when she walks towards them.

Her memories roar. A child.

He bowed, and her eyes followed the streak of white hair at the forefront of his skull.

She gestured at him to follow, and ignored the pitiful eyes the rest of the assassins gave to the kid- they act like her training was hard when she went easy on them (it was)- and led the kid towards the training rooms.

She knew who he was, even if her grandfather and mother didn’t think she knew.

Her… Bruce Wayne would probably appreciate his son being returned relatively sane.

But first, she had to beat the Pit out of him. Then, she could assign body guarding duties to him, in an attempt to protect him.

——

“Grandfather, I will take Damian’s punishment.”

“A whipping girl, granddaughter?” But he nodded anyways. He made Damian watch.

She kneeled and allowed the punishment. She couldn’t always protect him from Ra’s, but this she could do anytime. It’s not like she was unfamiliar with the torture. (The whip had barbs. Rusty. And they sprinkled salt.)

——

“I liked poetry….” Jason Todd tells her after a training session. “I think.”

“Sure. I’ll call you Grave, then.” Pain. But she was used to it.

He tilted his head, eyes going blank once more. She sighed. There went his memories again. (His eyes were blank and glazed. Like looking at someone you love and knowing they’re looking through you.)

——

“I would not trust her,” she says to the air, next to a Red Hood emerging from Talia al Ghul’s chambers. She could see it, the beginnings of Gotham’s new crime lord. But still, “Talia al Ghul is known for her lies.”

She pushed away from the wall. It was up to Grave if he listened. It was out of her hands now.

——

She’s twenty-five, and she’s helping Damian pack for his first meeting with Bruce Wayne.

“You must not tell him about me.” Because he’d come rushing here, and she had worked too hard to save Damian for her fool of a father to come and ruin all of that effort.

“I promise.” Her little brother said solemnly. Ukhti said it out loud, which meant it was important and she expected him to keep that promise.

The only other time he’d heard her speak was to tell him she loved him.

The reincarnation smiled and told him through their special sign language, to treat the current Robin with respect and to try his best to get the current Robin to pass down his title.

‘Robin is earned. They have different rules, over there. Try your best to learn those rules.’

Her brother was sheltered. She loved him, but he was spoilt and sheltered. Of course she was worried. Talia barely mothered him.

“I know. You do not have to remind me so often, ukhti.”

She smiled, and patted his head.

“Be safe,” she whispered. “I will miss you.”

Damian darted in for a hug. “Of course. Goodbye, sister. See you soon.”

She hoped not. It was hard enough to convince Ra’s that Damian would learn more under Bruce Wayne.

(She was locked in a small closet- like Cass- for about a week, because she brought up the idea first.)

——

She found it.

The answer to pit rage laid in an old, all but crumbling tome from Atlantis- answers “from a ghost.”

——

Bruce Wayne died. Months after Damian came to live with him. That- irritating- she sighed and worked with her mother to turn Ra’s al Ghul’s attention away from Gotham, lest he called Damian back in Bruce Wayne’s absence.

The little photographer caught grandfather’s attention. She stood vigil as he played chess with Ra’s. His interest in Damian wavered. Anticipation blurred in her veins.

She saved his friends. Her assassins. She let them go, telling them to wait for the little photographer’s plan. (Y’all miss girl had fucking bloody handprints on her pants like someone tried to grab it.)

The first few people who had an inking she might not be loyal to Ra’s… and it was them.

When her other assassins attacked Red Robin, she cut them down before they could touch him, helping him with a furious League of Spiders or whatever operative. She hated spiders.

“What…?”

“You’re a lot of trouble, little photographer.” She sighed. His jaw dropped.

“It’s you!”

“Go,” she cut him off. “Blow this place up. I left a surprise for you outside.”

——

“Owens?! Z?!” Tim trembled, exhaustion and shock and wonder hitting him at once.

“Heya, boss!” Z chirped. Owens helped Tim up while Z helped Tam. Pry walked around them, looking out for further threats. “The nightmare trainer let us go. She knew you, I think.”

Tim smiles, all shark teeth and zero hero. (In the background, the song zero to hero from Hercules 2, played in reverse.) “Tell me more.”

——

Damian grunted, bracing himself for the magical creature’s attack.

“Robin!” His father barked out, panicked. Damian hoped he’d survive-

Shhhlk!

He looked up and there stood his ukht. She bounded forwards, using the odd fauna of the magical plane to bolster her movements as she sliced the creatures apart with her swords, magic humming brightly as she cut through them… and the magicians attacking them.

“What- what are you doing here?” He asked. She greeted him, three fingers curled over her shoulder.

‘My question is,’ she signed. ‘Why were you here without a magical weapon.’

Damian sighed as father stepped in between them.

“Who are you.”

“Batman. Cease your excessive worry. I trust her with my life,” Damian snapped. He stepped around a shocked Batman, looked him in the eyes, and unsheathed his katana. He handed it over to his ukht, who took it with amusement.

‘See?’ His eyes seemed to say. Father tensed when his sister unsheathed her own blade and handed it to him.

‘Are you here for a specific reason?’ His sister signed to him.

“Uh, you gonna introduce us, little man?”

Damian sent the Flash a derisive look and ignored him.

“We’re looking for a magician. He set a squadron of demons loose into D.C. last night. He has a tower.” Damian added.

“Robin,” Father growled. “Who is this.” Damian shot him a look and turned back to his sister.

The reincarnation tilted her head. ‘Tower… it’ll have to be that way.’

“Could you take us there?” Damian asked. Truthfully, he could find the way himself. But he wanted more time around his ukht. She nodded and Damian straightened.

“I feel like we should be concerned that Robin’s friend just murdered a bunch of people.”

His sister glanced back and ignored them.

“Silence, incompetents. Speak another word against her, and Batman’s no killing rule will be applied creatively.” He hissed. (The fucking surroundings hissed with him y’all what the fuck)

He turned when his sister ruffled his hair (Superman muttered a super shocked “what the fuck.”) and Damian allowed it. He had missed his sister.

——

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sepia-stained-sunset · 1 year

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Damian, wearing an extremely worn out black shirt with a faded red logo on it: [looking smug]

Dick: What's got you looking so happy, Dami?

Damian: [still smug] I stole this shirt from Cassandra, meaning I've gotten even with her for stealing my hoodie

Cass: That's not mine, I stole it from Jason :D You're still behind, baby brother

Jason: Oh, that's not mine either. I stole it from blondie

Steph: Yeah, I'm pretty sure that was Tim's originally...

Everyone: ...

Damian: [panicking] Wait-

Everyone, smiling evilly: Oh my god

Damian: No, no, you don't know for sure-

Tim: [walking in] okay, so Bernard has this crazy theory that- uh- that- uh...?

Damian: [trying to act casual]

Tim: Dames?

Damian: [trying to go invisible]

Tim: Why are you wearing Kon's old-

Damian: [trying to rip the shirt off and set it on fire simultaneously] wHat sHiRt????!

#clothes sharing in the Manor must be a nightmare #especially when the batkids' s/os get involved #Bruce is crying internally because Jason stole a shirt from him that Roy stole from him and now Ollie is walking around wearing his clothes #Dick has worn plenty of Selina' s clothes which means Starfire Babs and Wally have also worn Catwoman' s stuff by extension #Babs has a shirt originally owned by Harley Quinn that no one knows how she got her hands on #long post #batfam shenanigans #batfam shitpost #batkids #tim drake #damian wayne #batsiblings

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generic-doomsday-villain · 3 months

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these specific scenes made me lose my shit so i made them into looping gifs

#first one is named andfrederickkruegerisnofriendofmine.gif and the second is named pinball.gif btw #i was debating making and sharing a sped up version of The Thrust #jason looks like a wasp trying to escape a plastic cup #gmod ragdoll sound effect #also absolutely no credit needed if you use/share them anywhere. i just wanted to share #jason voorhees #freddy krueger #freddy vs jason #fvsj #fvj #a nightmare on elm street #nightmare on elm street #anoes #friday the 13th #ft13th #(i think i can add those tags since it has both freddy and jason in it)#slasher #gif #looping gif

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aroaceleovaldez · 8 months

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once again thinking about the worldbuilding in the riordanverse of "names are power" / "belief is power."

The Tri were only able to become immortal through convincing enough people to worship them that it became true. Monsters and immortals only exist through continued belief, and if enough people believe that they're dead or gone then it becomes true, like Pan. Their varied forms exist and manifest as they're believed in and called upon. Names call attention and epithets summon aspects. They're acknowledgement. Belief. Putting a name to a concept creates it as an individual.

And that's so fascinating when you start applying it to demigods. How much of their abilities are based on belief in themselves, in expectations of each other, in their parents' expectations of them? We've seen mortal figures who became immortal in some form or another because they were remembered. Even the lares - ancestral house gods, who persist because they're remembered. They have a legacy.

At what point does a demigod achieve that status? Rumors and whispers about them so persistent that they slowly become true. "I heard that Jason Grace is the son of two gods, does that make him a god?" "I heard Percy Jackson defeated a titan single-handedly. That he can create hurricanes without breaking a sweat. That he can control blood." After awhile, after enough rumors, does it become impossible to tell where they end and the legends begin? Isn't that what being a demigod is; half-legend?

#pjo #riordanverse #analysis #i went a little prose-y there at the end but i am THINKING THOUGHTS #imagine being a demigod and knowing your EXISTENCE is slowing becoming warped because of others' perceptions of you!#Jason living on a pedestal his entire life and worrying so much that one day he's going to bleed ichor and his fate will be sealed #Percy recognizing that his powers are growing beyond his previous limits in ways that don't seem natural. don't seem right.#and he realizes what's happening and just has to hope the whispering quiets down and the rumors are forgotten so he can live a normal life #also the potential for demigod existential horror #becoming aware that You as a concept is slowly shifting. twisting. to match the perception others have of you #how TERRIFYING is that? like obviously it'd probably only go to an extent for most demigods cause half-mortal #but their powers? etc? SCARY #Percy being aware that his powers are becoming warped and trying to dissuade gossip about himself so it returns to normal #Nico who the more he's welcomed into the camps the more he finds himself being essentially declawed #his rough edges slowly worn away. his powers weakening and becoming less frightening. is it worth it?#and how difficult must that inherently make it for him to allow himself to be known?#and again. shaking Jason petrified that CJ is going to accidentally believe him into immortality. his worst nightmare.

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allthegothihopgirls · 1 month

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I love the asexual Bruce Wayne agenda and I totally agree with it. What I want to know though is how Bruce (asexual queen that he his) deals with his hormonal teenage boys?

Cause like Bruce never got the sex talk (I mean his parents died when he was young, and the family Buttler is Not giving his former employers son the sex talk) and that’s fine by Bruce. Cause he’s never felt these ‘urges’ that everyone talks about. Honestly, sex is overrated.

But, Batman prepares for everything. And one thing that people ALWAYS stress about parenting is having to give your kids the sex talk.

I just really want to know about the hijinks like;

Bruce: *Standing forlornly in front of a ‘Sex Ed’ PowerPoint* So, I understand that you probably have no desire for these… urges. That everyone talks about. But the parenting book (and society) decrees that to be a good parent, I need to give my children a proper education on sex.

Dick: *Very much not asexual* Yeah, no thanks dad this really helps!

Bruce: *Bewildered* How???

although the idea of bruce uncomfortably giving his version of a 'talk' is amusing, i don't think he'd give one at all. none of the boys would really give him any reason to, until he gets to tim at least (he's like, the only one i haven't fully projected my asexual agenda onto at this point).

dick's always been very responsible, so when he starts dating, maaaaybe bruce has like, a single thought contemplating whether or not to sit him down, but i think he'd get off with a "you know that you should always treat a woman right, yeah?" whether dick's actually dating women is up for debate but you get the point and a pat on the back. i believe that bruce operates predominantly under the 'if they have questions, they'll ask' mindset, so he trusts that if dick needs an answer to something, he'll come to bruce. (or just source an answer elsewhere)

i do also think that if anything, alfred would be the one to pull bruce up and ask if he'd adequately informed the boys of things 'one on one' (because he KNOWS that he hasn't). and even then, if bruce were to actually sit dick down, he wouldn't get so far as an introduction spent dancing around the topic because bruce is himself, mortified, before dick stops him and says that he doesn't have to give him this talk, because "wally already did" (much to bruce's disapproval).

as for jason, dying isn't great for a guy's love life. as i pretty much said previously, i don't think bruce would approach anything until it was absolutely relevant (when the boys are already in a relationship). so jason not getting a chance to really date before he died, means that bruce never had the opportunity to talk to him about it. i also believe he'd assume that jason already knows, with the crude jokes he makes, and the kind of people he grew up around on the streets. and obviously, by the time he comes back as red hood, he's too old to 'not know' and it's just presumed he knows his stuff.

i think tim might cause him a little bit (a lot) of trouble though. it definitely scares the shit out of bruce when he finds out about steph getting pregnant by her ex. it prompts him to fling fully into action mode to prevent tim ever being in that situation. that'd be the first time he's properly spoken to one of his kids about it, lots of emphasis on protection and what NOT to do.

however for any other talk pre-steph, i really do think he'd try to palm off the responsibility onto dick (he's very thankful that he's got kids old enough to do it for him), asking him to talk to tim. bruce would probably pull out all the cards "i'm too old" "he'd think it was less weird coming from you" "i don't know what you kids get up to, he's better off hearing it from someone who he can relate to" "i don't want to traumatise the kid" etc etc.

i do think the whole steph situation would be a bit of a reality-check for bruce though, and he'd have the realisation "that could have been any one of the kids" and he would be on his toes for a bit. especially with the amount of girls tim is rumoured to have relations with. him getting with bernard would be a big relief for everyone bruce i think.

once again when he gets with bernard, bruce is 100% palming off the responsibility of having that talk, onto one of his other kids. most likely jason. this is getting super far into my own personal headcanon territory, but literally none of them are straight to me, and i think jason would be the most 'comfortably' gay (mostly just his lack of care about the subject, being percieved as open-ness). bruce would 100% ask dick to talk to tim if it weren't for how private he tends to be with his love life in adulthood. (even getting him to just have the general 'talk' with tim was pushing it)

i don't think he'd ever talk with damian, the league definitely taught him (although objectively). i do think out of all the kids, he'd be the one to have questions though, mainly about the romantic aspect of relationships, as he struggles to wrap his head around the concept of 'love', (which really tests bruce's parenting abilities) i do think dick (having the bond he does with damian) would go out of his way to have a talk with him as he got older though.

as for cass, i don't think she would have ever been taught, with her irregular upbringing, as well as not going to regular school and all. but girls are new in the batfamily, and bruce doesn't want to touch that conversation with a ten-foot pole, so he calls diana in to do it for him.

final note, i also really do think a large contributing factor to bruce most likely never approaching the subject out of his own free will is just how private they all tend to be with their love lives. like i can see dick telling bruce that he's dating someone (as a teenager), but apart from a name and how he knows them, he's not really giving much else away. jason on the other hand just completely leaves it up for everyone else to figure out on their own (it lives entirely in my head that he's like this with his family, but is super close with his partner's family, which is a shock to everyone). if anything, tim's the only one who ever wants people to know about his relationships, for them to 'meet the parents' (bruce) etc etc. it probably all stems from bruce himself being a pretty secretive guy.

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riphimopen · 6 months

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SEVEN DAYS OF PENIS

#my video #a nightmare on elm street #freddy krueger #freddy vs jason #can you believe no one on youtube has made a freddy krueger cringe comp yet

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sher-ee · 15 days

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Also Jason Miller:

#criminal #jason miller #maga #fucking weirdos #donald trump has the best people #republican nightmares #republicans #donald trump #maga morons #vote blue #hillary was right #vote biden #democrats for the win #save our democracy #joe biden

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bakhtaks-blog · 1 year

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Pizzaman Freddy 🍕 Inspired by a doodle a friend made for me.

Bonus (inspired by this):

#art #comics #horror #slashers #freddy krueger #a nightmare on elm street #ghostface #scream #jason voorhees #Friday the 13th #pizza #I remember fastfood slasher was a thing on tumblr long ago so I know someone probably has done this #this is my take on pizzaman freddy finally living up to his design inspiration #also thatt's definitely me disguised as ghostface lmfao kæfdvmkdfævkdf #i actually like pineapple on pizza

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eyluvu · 23 days

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Leo my sweet sweet boy🩷

#leo canonically hugs the thing nearest to him when has nightmares im not ok #leo valdez #jason grace #the heroes of olympus #heroes of olympus

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rubydubydoo122 · 5 months

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I would like to think that for Jason, it’s not the crowbar he has nightmares about, but the countdown. It’s not the Jokers face that haunts him, it’s Sheila’s. He doesn’t wake up gasping because he died, but he wakes up gasping because he lived while his death still haunts him

#jason todd #sheila haywood #the joker #crowbar #he just tells people he has nightmares about the joker and the crowbar #because it’s easier than saying he has nightmares about the mom he went halfway across the world for #Jason doesn’t consciously blame Sheila but subconsciously he wishes he never met her

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martyrbat · 6 months

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detective comics #509

[ID: Bruce Wayne sleeping in his penthouse, his eyes squeezed shut as the narration reads, ‘Gordon's strained laugh sounds hollow, but it echos in the Batman's mind... and haunts his dreams...” Bruce awakens to a hand on his shoulder and before he can think, he's twisting it and holding it down. The panel expands, revealing the hand belongs to Alfred as he's almost toppling over! He cries out, “M-master Bruce—my arm!” as Bruce groggily realizes who it is. He lets go at once as Alfred moves to the end of the bed and holds his arm while stammering an apology, “S-sorry, s-sir... Sorry if I startled you.” Bruce looks at him with aghast as he cries out, “My god, Alfred—I almost broke your arm!” Alfred reasons, “You must have been having a nightmare, sir.” as Bruce sits up and puts his face in his hands. He weepily dismisses, “A nightmare—what kind of an excuse is that? Old friend... forgive me...” Alfred reassures, “Nothing to forgive, sir. Just bad nerves, sir.” END ID]

#THIS ONE !!!!#bruce and his neverending guilt complex #just immediately regretful and so apologetic as alfred is quick to reassure and dismiss it #holding his arm because of fucking course it still hurts but when bruce lifts his head he stops ....#always thinking of how he was a caretaker for bruce since he was a small child/infant and how many little things bruce does now will remind #alfred of those days #he likes his grilled cheese q certain way. he cries if he thinks he hurt someone. he blames himself for a lot. he gets bad nightmares #like so much has stayed the same as so much continues to change but the love and care thry have for each other is always there #(<- guy who is always number one in bruce is disabled and needs a caretaker but also in how the people around him know bruce loves and cares #about them. its not about not being loved its about how heavy his love is and how bruce will subconsciously use his love to harm himself #(from blaming himself to his parents murders and jason's future death to something as simple as this and how he'll beat himself up #for hurting alfred and not able to protect him as well from himself)#(like his mental illness is forever using his stupid bleeding heart against himself as a reason for why hes awful)#this is all fully sidetracked im just fucking wired today sorry lol #but while im talking and something more related to the panel itself::#after this line bruce looks up and says ‘the batman suffering from bad nerves? lets hope not. gordon can worry about the election but i #cannot afford to. still its not just the campaign. lately so many other things are pressuring me—mostly as bruce wayne’#and like !!!!#it wasn't about batman! it wasnt about his burdens and responsibilities!! alfred was telling HIM. BRUCE. that its okay #and bruce automatically ‘its not because batman cant behave like this’ like !!!!#batman is the priority in the sense of he thinks he needs it to protect people. even his family even alfred and every single stranger #he won't ever allow himself any grace even while sleeping because batman cannot afford those ‘slips’#just GOD 70s/80s batman makes me insane for forever and ever amen #c: detective comics | i: 509 #crypt's panels #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #alfred & bruce #‘awake or asleep—it scarcely matters anymore. the nightmare never seems to end.’#<- nightmare bruce tag <333

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morgansunflower · 2 years

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I'm Just Trying To Breathe

Jason Todd X Wife! Reader

Warnings:suggestive content, explicit language and angst

Words:1234

Jason has a panic attack. Batman comes to his son's rescue while his son desperately wants to be with his wife.

Based off of Batman:Wayne Family Adventures!

Jason's P. O. V

I can't. I have to get away. I step through the alleyway. I need to get somewhere safe. I need my wife. I need Y/N. My breath became rapid. No. No! No! Not him. I don't want to go back there, I don't want to think about him. Please don't make me remember him. I loose my breath as I get to my motorcycle. Fuck, I can't drive. I start to shake. I helplessly sit on the ground leaning against the motorcycle. I crouch up holding my wrist tightly. It's.. It's too much. I feel so scared. I hear his, laugh. The crowbar sliding across the concrete. I could never forget that sound. I can't do this. I can't go back. I feel my chest is tight. My hands are pins and needles. I see with him with his crowbar swinging to me. I jolt back seeing someone by me. I try to calm down. I don't want anyone to see me like this. See me so.. Broken.

"Jason look at me" I look at him still defensive with my arms.. It's not real.. I'm safe.. I don't feel safe "easy champ it's OK" he kneeled beside me "it's OK son. Let's take this off"

He takes my helmet off I couldn't look at him. This is too much. I can't do this. I can't go back.

"please look at me" he pleaded

"I-I can't... I can't" I look at Bruce feeling defeated.

"it's going to be OK, you're going to be OK" Bruce encourages me

Y/N's P. O. V

I stir in my sleep hearing my phone. I look Bruce! I quickly answered knowing at this hour it can't be good. Please be OK. Please be OK. Please be OK.

"Bruce? Is Jason OK? Is everyone OK?" my heart instantly beating fast as I am fully awake now.

-"Jason had a panic attack, he's stable and asleep now"

"I'm coming!" I said yawning moving my covers to get out of bed.

-"Y/N you have a 13th month old daughter and a seven year old son. You all need a good night's rest and first thing in the morning you should come here"

"o-OK" my heart is breaking I can't be there for him.

-"he's OK Y/N. I'm looking at him right now"

"I know.. Goodnight Bruce"

-"goodnight Y/N"

Jason's P. O. V

... I feel my head throbbing. What happened? I reach my hand to hold my wife but feel nothing. I open my eyes feeling whole body is heavy. I feel a thick comfortable blanket on me. I'm in my old room? What the hell am I doing here? I groan feeling my head pounding. I look seeing Bruce standing by me. Shit.. Now I remember what happened.

"you're ok son" he told me, touching my shoulder "you had a panic attack earlier this night... Are you feeling OK?"

"... I don't know.. Is, Y/N here?" I'm so tired.

"it was 2 a:M when I called her and I told her to stay home until later this morning" he informed me.

"good.. " I sigh defeated

"get some sleep allow your body to rest and I know you will be OK, by the morning"

".. I can't keep going through this.." I just want my wife.

"I know, but you're safe.. That's what matters" he said kissing my head.

I still forget he cares about me sometimes. It's around 5 a:m when I get out of the bed and begin walking slowly through the Manor. I feel so fragile. I'll close my eyes and be back there. I'd been fine for a few months. Then just one sound sent me back. I sit in the dining room upon Alfred's request. I look at my phone. Y/N had texted me.

(Y/N) ~goodnight babe see you when you get home~

(Y/N)~I heard you had a bad night I'll be there with the kids as soon as I can🥺🥺��🤗🤗🤗❤️❤️❤️❤️~

I texted back that, I love her. I inhale deeply placing my open palm on my head feeling, exhausted. She couldn't get here soon enough.

Y/N's P. O. V

I drive to the Manor with my children in the back seats. I pull up seeing my older brother Grayson. He smiled waving to me. I waved back parking the car and cutting off the engine.

"uncle Grayson!" Tyler exclaimed jumping out the car to hug his uncle.

Grayson picked him up off the ground and hugged his little nephew.

"hey lil' buddy! I've missed you kiddo" Grayson said rubbing his back.

I open my car door Grayson gave me a reassuring smile.

"I missed you too uncle Gray.. Is my dad OK?" he asked

"he's doing OK pal. He's just inside waiting on you! But first let's you and I eat some cookies before they disappear!" Grayson suggested.

"yes!!" Tyler exclaimed.

I step to get my baby out of the car seat. Grayson walked to me and places his hand on my shoulder.

"he's inside the living room right now. I can get little D/N" he offered.

"thanks" I replied heading straight for the door.

I went inside and walked upstairs to the family room. I look seeing my husband. He eyes were tired from lack of sleep and his drained expression breaks, my heart. He was depressed from having to relive his trauma. He looks at me and smiled softly in genuine relief. I walk to him sitting beside him. I pull Jason into a heartfelt hug, close to me. I lean back to kiss him deeply. He parts laying his head in the crook of my neck. I put my hand under the blanket, and under his shirt, rubbing his back. I hear his breathing begins to calm down in my touch. He takes a deep breath forcing his emotions to calm down.

"you don't have to talk about it. I only want to be here for you"

"can you let me lay with you babe?" he asked resting his forehead on my own, taking a deep breath.

I answered as I lay back onto the pillow that was rested on the arm of the couch. I pull him to me letting him lay on my chest. Neither of us got any sleep last night.

Bruce's P. O. V

I held my little granddaughter walking through the hallway. She had Jason's hair with a small faint white streak. She rested her head on my shoulder. She wore her Batman themed outfit. She was precious. I remember thinking I would never get the chance to hold her. When Jason was taken away from me I thought he missed so much in life. He'd never be with Y/N and they would never have the life I wanted for them. He still lives with his trauma but he's coping better than I ever could've hoped for. I feel proud. Y/N saved him. I step into the family room. I see both of them asleep together. I softly smile. I use one hand to adjust the blanket to lay more properly on them. D/N begins to softly coo seeing her parents.

"shh their sleeping" I coo to her "let's go sneak past grandpa Alfie to the kitchen and sneak into some cookies" I whisper "that sound like a plan?"

Requested taglist @too-strong-to-lose

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