#Gordon would have a field day with this

[erinwantstowrite]

Erin what about an AU where Peter gets taken in by Gordon because of his uncanny ability to detect crime (aka his spidey sense).

wait... you're onto something here... peter WOULD find the one cop in the city that's not corrupt and they both get attached...

but now I'm just thinking about it like this:

batman (appeared on a rooftop like usual): gordon.

gordon: what?

batman: who is that.

peter: hi batman 😁

gordon: found him at a crime scene. he's my new partner

peter, stirring shit: im his better version of robin

damian!robin: EXCUSE ME?

[rbbrbikerthorp]

A Tribute To Helmets

I grew up during the Apollo space missions, and whilst I didn't show a particular interest in NASA's exploits, I received a kid's space suit and helmet as a present. I vividly recall how different things sounded when I put the helmet over my head. I think that was the point when my kinky fascination for helmets began.

From my childhood, I remember watching an episode of the early Flash Gordon series (in monochrome) where Ming places a helmet on the head of one of his dissenting subordinates. Once the helmet was strapped on, the man became compliant, passive and drone-like.

At that moment I realised that something designed for safety and protection could also have very nefarious uses. Combined with visual and audio stimulation, the helmet could also contain electronic circuitry that can disrupt the natural processes in the brain. Helmets could also contain syringes, which can deliver chemicals and other substances directly into the head to suppress and indivual's throughts.

So here is my AI tribute to the Helmet, and how, when placed on the head it can strip away emotion, knowledge, purpose and individuality.

This man in his early twenties was just starting out in life. He had dreams of being successful, having the perfect suburban life - wife, kids and the kind of home people dream of. He had just agreed to join a multinational conglomerate, and as part of his induction he was required to take a medical. So on the appropriate day at the specifed time he turns up for what he thought would be a routine appointment.

On arrival, he was taken into a private room. He was asked to disrobe and was given a set of leathers and boots to wear, which, despite all his reservations he put on.

Once the leathers were zipped up and boots were on his feet, he was escorted to a room where a lab assistant placed a full-face helmet onto his head. He was then taken into a room filled with tech and video screens. The technician typed some commands into a computer and the helmet activated.

Isolated wearing the helmet, he was subjected to audio and visual stimulation; stripping away his own throughts and identity. Replacing it with a predetermined 'template', which the company would deploy as necessary. Thoughts of family, kids and friends replaced with absolute loyalty to the company.

'Physical' completed, the company has deployed him 'into the field'. Now a biker, his primary objective is to ride around and recruit candidates to join the company.

Meanwhile...

Some scientists are about to record the disruptive effects of their advanced helmets on three 'volunteers'. Once the helmets are fitted the volunteers will follow instructions and head to drone processing.

Elsewhere, two cyclists have been given new 'aerodynamic' helmets for a week to try.

Affixed to their heads, they will have no desire to ever remove their helmets - ever.

Sticking with a sport theme, the new coach has provided the team with revolutionary and technologically advanced helmets. These not only offer superior protection to the head, but also allow the coach a direct interface into the players' minds. It's going to be a successful season for this team.

There are worried faced amongst this army platoon - and they should be worried.

They will follow the General's orders to place the helmet on their heads. When they do their individual thoughts will become suppressed as they turn into droned soldiers. No more briefings, no reliance on old technology like radio transmissions, which can be hacked into by the enemy. The helmet will ensure all orders issued by the commanders are transmitted directly into their brains.

There are changes afoot in civilian life too. A new force for law and order is being created. One by one members of the police force are invited to undergo a routine medical.

Soon they will all be fitted with helmets; permanently connecting them directly to the company network, with orders transmitted directly into their brains.

There is to be a zero tolerance of crime - even minor misdemeanors. So they begin to 'clean up the streets'.

Chavs and scallies are rounded up and each one is fitted with a helmet...

Once the work of the helmet is done, a new 'drone' is sent out onto the streets as a 'recruiter' for the company.

They're also recruiting in colleges and universities...

And back in the boardroom, the executives are monitoring progress of the company's plan.

Each member of the so-called 'C-suite' has been given a helmet to allow speedier decision making and negate the need for laptops, smartphones and video screens. Directly connected to the company's network through their helmet, they follow the instructions fed directly into their brains - following them to the letter. After all each helmet ensures they are exemplary servants of the company.

Hope you enjoyed my AI tribute to the helmet. Depending on the feedback I might do a second helmet blog.

Oh, in case you were wondering which is my favourite helmet, it's my Arai Corser, pictured below.

[candychasse]

Hiii! I asked this question on the ‘Osana’ Reddit and you said you had more, SOOOO: What are all of your headcanons for the Male Rivals?? General Headcanons pretty pretty please :3

Haiii! Good to see you on here ^w^ & ofc!

(Also ignore the fact half of them don't get fun pictures or a gif I'm posting from the app lol xD)

General Male Rivals Head cannons!

Osano Najime

He is stupidly good at playground games (like rock paper scissors, go fish, etc) to the point where nobody wanted to play with him as a kid because they knew he'd win.

Favorite Pixar movie is inside out.

He actually is really good friends with Hanako. They both spend a ridiculous amount of money on blind bags together. And whenever Osano goes to the store he keeps an eye out for ones Hanako would like.

And Hanako has made him a friendship bracelet, which Osano being the tsundere he is, promptly pretended to hate it but still wears it as an anklet to this day.

Has helped organize fund raisers for local animal shelters and veterinary emergency rooms.

I feel like he has contact lenses and wore glasses in middle school. Whenever he's doing his judgemental stare his friends if he's put his contacts in that day.

He gets really into decorating and customizing his phone, like changes his whole layout, stick, phone charms, pop socket, app overlays, wallpaper, depending on what season it is.

Reads shojo manga but pretends to hate it.

^ his favorite is fruits basket

Amao Odayaka

One time he was at his great grandma's house making sourdough bread, and he accidentally slammed it on the old wooden counter so hard that he made a hole which the dough fell through to the cabinet shelf below. So not only did he break a counter he also had to scrap the whole batch. That memory haunts him and keeps him up at night.

Impulsively buys every apron he sees. He has a whole section of his closet purely dedicated to aprons.

Favorite movie is ratatouille, naturally.

He is uh, a little dense when it comes to social cues. He's nice don't get me wrong, just he isn't very good at getting sarcasm.

His favorite deserts to make are macarons and pound cake.

He has a love-hate relationship with the Gordon Ramsay show 'Hell's Kitchen' because he gets ridiculously mad at the condition the kitchens are always in. But he loves seeing the before and afters.

He runs the cooking club like a pirate ship tbh, he usually has to break up fights between the members. Except for Saki because she minds her own beeswax.

Kizano Sunobu

He has played many, many, roles in theater such as: The Wicked Stepmother From Cinderella, The Phantom of the opera, The Rat King, King George the third in Hamilton, and many more.

He can sing quite well, and took gymnastics lessons as a child so he could very much be considered a quadruple threat. (Singing, Acting, Dancing, and Acrobatics.)

Went to a preforming arts high school, but due to his family moving he had to transfer to Akademi.

His favorite animated movies are Leap! And Anastasia. Although he does have a love for old Disney aesthetics.

He has quite sensitive skin, being allergic to glycerin, so he has to be very particular about what products he buys.

Kizano plans on becoming a Broadway actor once he graduates, and because of that he is fluent in both Japanese and english, and is working on learning Spanish.

He really appreciates the club members who are stage hands, always making sure to thank them after every show.

While he is cocky, egotistical, and down right self centered at times, he does truly appreciate his club members.

He has some, interesting opinions on the other club leaders...

He likes and appreciates Amao, mainly because they both have an unyielding passion for their respective fields.

He hates and despises Asuo, because he finds him too relaxed and annoyingly positive.

He in fact does not know Oko exists.

Oko Ruto

Is very good at sewing due in part to the fact he likes to replace the button hole embroidery on his white shirts to a beige tone and the buttons to match his eyes, making it look like his buttons are eyeballs. Also because sewing comes in handy for occult/supernatural shenanigans.

Likes to visit graveyards to see if there's any intriguing tomb stones. Like funny last words, statues of the dead, intriguing ways a person died, ect.

^ he is very respectful though, only really approaching graves that are particularly old.

The occult club does more than just stalking students and summoning demons. they also practice ways to tell the future, speak to ghosts, birth chart and palm readings, and alien investigation night. (Held every other Tuesday.)

He watches BuzzFeed unsolved supernatural. Because weirdly enough true crime gives him the creeps but not ghosts and ghouls.

His favorite animated movies are, Spirited Away, Alice in wonderland, and Paranorman.

His father was a paranormal investigator, but has major Dale Gribble vibes so safe to say he runs an occult goods shop with tarot cards, oujia boards, future reading tea and eggs, and more now after being 'encouraged to retire'.

His mother is a practicing psychic who was actually brought in to help solve the murders at Akademi. She now runs an in store future reading service. Personality wise she's very much so like Jessica Rabbit, sweet charming, and a showman at heart.

Asuo Rito

This man seems like a golden retriever and he is, but sweet Lord does he not actually process his emotions. Everytime he gets upset over something he just throws himself further into training regiments.

Has like seven dogs currently and overall in his life he's had twenty.

Enjoys all sports but knows he should be focusing on just one, but he just can't pick. He enjoys track and field best, but that could just because that's what he wins the most medals for....

Took one martial arts lesson when he was ten and Budo accidentally broke his nose. Swore off martials arts ever since.

Speaking of which, childhood friends with Budo, although at first they didn't like each other because they were on opposing soccer teams.

He in fact does not know Kizano has one sided beef with him. He thinks of all the club leaders as his friends, except Kaga, he finds him creepy.

Favorite animated movie is the Incredibles.

Man is his and his teams own cheerleader, doing full on chants and cartwheels at swim meets.

^ has accidentally cartwheeled into the pool, DURING A RACE.

Mujo Kano

This man would make a better mortician than a nurse! He always gets hung up on fixing patients hair rather than filling out important paperwork.

Studying to be a pediatrician, specifically specializing in infants.

Has an unhealthy build a bear problem. He builds a bear every week and they have invaded his couch, bed, and shelves.

He is a walking disaster. Someone save him.

Osoro Shidesu

Chain smoker, no further elaboration.

He's weirdly stoic, like definitely not a party person, despite being a delinquent hooligan he reminds sorta like an old timey knight.

Rbf to the max, man came into this world with a scowl. There's not a single picture of him in his childhood where he doesn't look like a hell spawn.

Good at cooking in the same way a shady Denny's chef is good at cooking. Like cigarette in hand, cussing under his breath, while making the best funfeitti pancakes known to man.

It brings joy to his grinchy little soul to see a slug bug. Like in ironically giggles when he sees one.

Also thinks clowns are hilarious. In another life he'd be a shady circus owner.

He either has the cutest softest smile known to man, or the creepiest smirk ever.

Favorite animated movie, Up and lady and the tramp.

At his core he does believe in fairness. If a guy is harassing a waitress he won't hesitate to take him outside iykyk.

Hanako Yamada

Has gotten his arm stuck in an arcade machine after trying to just grab the plushie he wanted. The fire station was called and had to help get him out.

Wears keychains on his belt loops of his favorite characters like Keroppi, Hello Kitty and Mimi, and Happy from fairy tail.

Is actually not that social around those he doesn't know, personally I like to think he has some form of social anxiety which prevents from getting close to many people.

The reason why he dresses so cutely is that he figured that even if people stared at him, at least he'd know why rather than just being clueless.

Favorite animated movie is the toy story saga which he cries to every time he rewatches.

Really enjoys playing matchmaker with people he knows, for example in middle school he introduced his aunt to his homeroom teacher, leading for them to get married three years later.

Loves playing animal Crossing (and spending a ridiculous amount on leaf tickets in pocket camp)

Has an absurd amount of plushies, except he does know how to stack them properly to make it seem like he only has a few.

Is studying to be an architect or interior designer, he hasn't quite decided yet but he hopes to someday make homes that'll reflect his clients essence.

Has two pet hamsters, Hamtaro and Hamantha.

Megamo Saikou

Denser than cement when it comes to how much things cost. Not like business expenses because he's been trained for that, but he does think a loaf of bread costs twenty bucks.

Was a premature baby and had a heart problem causing him to be rushed into surgery nearly immediately after being born.

Would be studying to be a brain surgeon if he wasn't set in stone to inherit the company.

Actually rather appreciates the arts, such as art galleries and musical theater.

Favorite animated movie is sleeping beauty.

Likes to people watch, he finds it amusing to see how others live.

Is a horrible cook, like cannot make box Mac n cheese.

[latenightsundayblues]

Yknow smth funny? Gordon developing a smoking fetish after the whole bathroom ordeal. To cope. And making hoffman do it after sex. And never actually doing it himself just watching as a way of picking at the scabs barely growing over his own wound. And on second thought its not really that funny at all

Oh i just KNOW freud would have a field day with those losers

[edutainer2022]

Many thanks to @janetm74 for her deeply moving and insightful story Grief: The Compass, and for putting up with my ramblings about the symbolism of Grandpa's compass and its meaning to Scott, as well as to Scott and Virgil going forward (especially after the revelations of Recharge). I had this little dream-like sequence in mind since the very early days of my return to TAG fandom as a intro to a larger story. Scott Tracy is, of course, very much not okay. It might not be obvious from the start, but it's true. He needs to find his way.

TRUE NORTH

The wind was ruffling early blossoms in the trees and his hair, as he jogged eagerly across the front yard to the farmhouse. Soft spring grass was tickling his bare feet. Mom was inside, he knew. He was so excited to see her.

The quiet hallway was filled with a soothing scent of cinamon and ripe late summer apples. Mom was probably in the kitchen, baking an apple pie. His favorite. He followed the wiffs of delicious smells, but the kitchen was empty. Each utensil in its place, exactly as Mom liked it. He needed to find Mom. The sense of urgency increased, as he passed the sunlit kitchen to the backdoor, out onto the porch and across the backyard. He shivered once, then twice, as a gust of vicious wind threw a handful of fallen leaves into his face. Golden and red, just like Mom's hair. Mom wasn't out back either and he was anxious now. On instinct, he followed the well-worn path to the meadow, stretching behind their old farmhouse in Kansas. Rough edges of pebbles dug into his feet so they were probably bleeding, but he kept going. He needed to find Mom!

His frantic paces came to a halt at the very edge of the meadow, though. As far as eye could see was cast in a swathe of pristine white. Snow. He knew deep down in his soul Mom was across that expanse of white. But he had no clue which way to go. Where to start. He stood at a loss, shivering, at the very edge of ice, licking his bare toes, the freezing numbness creeping up from the ground to his heart.

Then he remembered! Grandpa's old compass that Virgil made a point to give him for the duration of a rescue, would show the way. Ever since their heart to heart in the Arctic, Virgil would  give him the compass before each mission so he would find his way home safely. Just like that day. He was home now, but Mom wasn't there. He dug into a pocket, and, sure enough, his fingers curled around a solid cool weight of the antique gadget. Grandpa's compass would show him the way to Mom! But something odd was happening. As soon as he opened the lid, the arrow went haywire, turning in place, never resting on any one point. Despair and exhaustion nearly choked him and his knees were ready to give. He couldn't get to Mom no matter how much he longed to! No matter how much he missed her!

He was about ready to step into the unforgiving snow and take his chances, when heavy hands landed on his shoulders, pinning him in place.

"It's not yet time, Bluejay!"

The husky whisper was close to his ear. Dad!

"It's too soon, kiddo! You have to let me go first. You can then follow in my footsteps, but not just yet! Not for a long, long time. How about we go home now, son, eh?"

He wanted to protest. Mom was there, all alone, across the field of snow. He could find her, even if the stupid compass was not helping! He needed to be with Mom! But the voice failed him, caught up on a blinding pain in his chest. Strong arms were already steering him back to face the farmhouse again.

Even from afar, he could see all his brothers standing on the back porch, watching him. Allie seemed so scared, baby blue eyes wide and full of tears, clutching the railing. Gordon was standing apart, hunched over, his face dark and lost - he appeared so small and so young. John was ghostly pale, his eyes a green sea of pain. Scott could swear his ginger brother was swaying with each gust of wind. But it was Virgil who made him gasp. Standing one step down the porch stairs, his best friend was glaring daggers at him - the always soft face contorted with fury and anguish, kind brown eyes brimming with liquid fire. What made Virgil so angry? Had he done something stupid? He hadn't lost Grandpa's Compass! Right! The Compass! He looked down at his hand, still clutching the brass shell, and the arrow had miraculously settled, pointing due North. At the center of the porch of their home. At Virgil.

He felt an insistent nudge to start moving, as the voice by his ear spoke again, soft, but urgent.

"Let's go home now, Bluejay! Just like that, one step at a time! Your brothers are waiting."

He tried once more to twist and catch the sight of Dad, but thought better of it as a sharp pain pierced through his torso again. He still needed to make it home and give Virgil back the compass, so Virgil wouldn't be so angry with him. So Virgil wouldn't go looking for him all the way by the desolate cold white meadow. He also needed to find out what made John so upset, and he certainly needed to hug the Tinies. He sneaked a peek at the compass again - it was pointing firmly Home.

[igotanidea]

Taken: Dick Grayson x f!reader x Jason Todd

Summary: he was in love with his brother's girlfriend.

Warning: bit of action,but nothing explicit, somewhat morally grey, angst, pain, hurt no comfort, no happy ending (sorry.....)

A/N: please, don't ask me for part 2, cause I don't think i could take it

***

Being around Dick Grayson was a threat to human life and Y/n Y/l/n was the perfect example of this. She was the youngest one ever to become a cop and as her first post assigned to nowhere else, but the shithole Gotham. The place where most of the officials were bought and on the call of different villains. Luckily, she was one of commissioner Gordon subordinate and that let her keep her objective side and not get bribed.

But that was also how she met Barbara. And once that happened, she was quickly acknowledged to Dick, who seemed to like her after the first glance. Y/n was fierce, never took anyone’s bullshit and knew how to take care of herself. With her quiet confidence, ability to listen, deep caring about people and sense of morality, especially when it came to the abused, Grayson soon found himself falling for her.

Not like he was going to tell her, at least not straight away.

Instead, he started hanging out with her more often and made her met the entire Wayne family causing a little teasing from his siblings and one serious conversation with Bruce who specifically warned him in how much danger he was putting the girl by getting close to the civilian. Dick only retorted something about Batman doing the same to Jim Gordon before rushing out of Bruce’s office. Yet, he was still convincing everyone that he and Y/N were just friends.

And even his vigilante instincts and observation skills didn’t make him see the slight relief on his younger brother’s face every time Dick denied allegations of the situation being otherwise.

But since the first day she got into Manor it was pretty obvious that she would become family friend, regardless of what Bruce may think about it.

Even if she only knew half of the story about Waynes.

***

What finally shifted the dynamics between those two was the moment when Y/n got into some serious trouble while working a work case and stupidly not waiting for her partner to assist her on the field. Her sense of justice and morality simply got the best of her and the girl found herself in the middle of the trap in a heavy crossfire.  Who knew how this would turn if Nightwing didn’t come out of nowhere and, to put it simply, saved her ass.

“Hey!” she yelled slightly agitated, cleaning her cheek from the blood “I was handling it and …..!” she froze the second Nightwing turned towards her and eyed her carefully with the blue orbs…. “No….” The sudden realisation and recognition hit her like a truck.

“Are you all right, sunshine?” he asked taking a few steps towards her, taking her hand in his ”Please tell me you’re not hurt….”

“I…..I….. I’m not.” She stuttered “I think so, at least, but how….why.... what….?”

“Sh.” He silenced her “not here, not now. Meet me at our place in an hour and I’ll explain it all to you, all right? I promise.”

***

And so he did. Explaining everything. Leaving her in absolute shock, but also making her ask whether she could somehow join the team an help them as one of the very few “clean” officers in town. It made Dick wonder but her wide open pleading eyes and pretty face made him relent. And that may have also been what finally pushed him to kiss her. He just couldn’t hold himself anymore, all those emotions held at bay for almost a year finally finding way out. And it just felt so good to not keep it hidden anymore. But it was also terrifying when he pulled out, not sure of her uptake on the situation, ready to apologise and ask for forgiveness. But before he could say anything, she grabbed his neck and pulled him back wanting more and kissing him like there was no tomorrow. And he knew.

She loved him too.

***

For three months they somehow managed to keep their relationship at secret. Even despite her now working with bat and spending even more time at the Manor. But it just couldn’t last forever. Not with all those people around.

"Y/N, can I talk to you for....." Jason started walking into her room without knocking, but the view in front of his eyes made him freeze.

She wasn't alone. She was with Grayson. In a very unambiguous situation. To put it simple - they were kissing and sure as hell wouldn't stop at that if Jason hadn't interrupted them. Dick was already shirtless, hovering over Y/N, his hands on her waist, lips moving over her skin causing little moan to fall from her mouth.

And she fucking enjoyed it.

She enjoyed him.

There was zero room for interpretation, arching back and nails digging into Grayson's back pulling him closer being enough to break Jason's heart.

"Jason!" she hissed pushing Dick away, the cutest blush creeping onto her face as she quickly tried to fix her top "how many times do I have to tell you to knock!"

"Sorry....." he mumbled, not really sure what else to say "Just wanted to......" his gaze landed on the floor, since all of a sudden he became unable to face her.

"Is everything all right, Jace?" her tone became a bit more concerned and he just couldn't take it anymore. But neither she nor Grayson could know that.

"You two are a thing now?" he smirked back to his usual attitude

"We are." Dick nodded, his love sick puppy gaze landing on her face and she reciprocated with the same expression.

"Make sure to keep it quiet then, will you? I really cannot blast the music on full volume to drown you out or I'll go deaf" Jace rolled his eyes and as fast as he could rushed out of her room.

His cheeks were burning, his hands and legs were shaking and there was only one thing on his mind.

He was in love with his brother's girlfriend.

***

Since there was nothing he could do about that feeling he just started to ignore her. Every time he saw her walking towards him, he remembered something important that caused him to escape the room, leaving the girl confused and a bit down. She had no idea what happened to the boy she knew and who was one of her best friends. After all, he was the one closest in age to her and since they shared the love for literature, they used to talk for hours. So she didn’t understand what changed. But when he kept on acting like that for a week she decided it would be best to just leave him alone for the time being. It was Jason after all, he had his moods and phases that came and went. Y/n was pretty sure he would reach to her if he wanted. After all, Jason used to say that she was the only one to really care about him and always support him.

If only the girl knew what was going on inside Jason’s head. That every time he saw her with Dick he was burning inside. Why was she with Grayson? The one who were always there for everyone, helping other people, taking care, making sure everyone was all right and barely having time for his own girl, neglecting her? Jason would never do such thing, he would spend every minute with her, cherishing her, loving her, keeping her close.

If only she was his…..

But she was taken, just because Grayson was the first to act on his feelings while Jason chickened out, hoping, like a silly schoolboy, that she would notice his longing, loving stares from the other side of the room.

***

A few days later, he unwillingly became the witness to one of their conversations. It was the middle of the Saturday and Grayson was duty-free, but apparently he got some serious call from someone in Bludhaven, an old friend (Kory?) and without much thinking, packed his bags and got ready to came for an aid. Once Jason heard what happened, he stopped by the door and peeking through like a maniac, carefully observed the situation unravel.

“I hate leaving you like that….” Dick whispered, wrapping arms around his girl, holding her close on full display for Jason, whose heart was breaking even more, if that was even possible. Todd could swear his heart was beating so rapidly, just because of the thought that she could be touching him, instead of his brother. His fist clenched involuntarily and he barely held himself from rushing inside and breaking that little scene.  

“I know, Dickie.” she hid face in the crook of his neck, pressing herself closer, not wanting to let him go “but you are a hero and people need you, I get that.”

“Say a word I’ll stay with you.’ He kissed the top of her head, caressing her back.

“I couldn’t ask that of you, Richard.” She smiled and looked into his eyes “that would be selfish of me.”

“You deserve to be selfish” Jason though biting on his lower lip hard enough to draw blood .”You deserve love and attention and not a boy who has time for everyone but you…..”

“I love you.’ Dick whispered, pressing his mouth to hers in the gentle kiss, tangling hand in her hair “I’ll be back as soon as I can, I promise, all right? And then we’ll do all those things on our list.”

“Love you more. And I hold you to your words, boy wonder.” She unwillingly let him go with a grin, but once he stepped out the door and was out of sight, her shoulders fell and she let out a heavy sigh. She did love him, truly, but sometimes it was tough and exhausting to act strong and not force him to stay with her.

Two hours later Jason found her asleep on the couch with an open book laying nearby. Judging by the force with which she was holding onto her body pillow she was imagining someone else in her embrace. She was imagining Grayson and it made Jason angry.

Grayson fucking left her.

He left that angel. That kind, gentle, compassionate and caring soul. The one who loved him with the love Grayson never deserved. He didn’t deserve her. That idiotic fucker.

If it was Jason to be with her, he would worship the ground she was walking on. She would never have to worry about a single  thing. He would never cause her any pain, nor let a single tear fell from her eyes.

 But she was not his to love and protect. All he could do at the moment was step forward and put a blanket over her so she wouldn’t get cold. Poor boy. And once the warm, soft material landed on her body she stirred in her sleep and smiled softly, causing Jason’s heart to drop even more. 

“I love you.....” he whispered brushing a strand of hair out her face and caressing her cheek, making her lean into the touch. She probably thought it was just a dream, not a reality.  

***

Dick might have been in Bludhaven for a few days, but it didn’t mean that his family wasn’t still patrolling, dealing with villains and getting hurt in the process. And since Y/N was staying at the manor, for safety reasons, of course, she quickly took it upon herself to patch all the wounds that any of the Waynes could endure.

Surprisingly, more often than not, it was Jason who got himself injured (blame the distraction), but her attempts to help him were dismissed in harsh words and by pushing her away. Just to protect himself from doing or saying something stupid he might regret.

“I don’t fucking need your help!’ he hissed, watching her gaze sadden and her whole body to cringe. “I can handle my own shit! Just... get the hell away from me!”

Without a second of hesitation he rushed out the batcave, followed with his family’s eyes.

“What is wrong with him?” Damian scoffed

“I might have an idea....” Tim muttered

“Tell me.” Y/N cut Drake off. “Tell me what this is about Tim. I can’t handle him being so .... hurt. I don’t want him to feel like he’s alone and no one understand him....”

“It’s really not my place...”

“TIMOTHY DRAKE!”

“Stop attacking me! God! How can you look so innocent and act so scary at the same time? “

“I swear if you don’t start talking....” she warned with the most stern voice she could produce

“Just..... I think you should talk to Todd yourself, Y/N.”

“Fine.” The girl shook her head. She was going to clear this shit out.

***

“Jace? May i come in?” the gentle knock on his bedroom door got him by surprise and when she entered, without waiting for the invitation he was sitting shirtless on his bed, trying to stitch the wound and holding an ice pack to his bruised ribs. Once her gaze landed on all of the injuries, he flinched, almost trying to hide himself.

“Go away....” his voice was far more begging and pleading than commanding and strong. He didn’t want her to see him like this. All of a sudden he realised that she would never feel for him the same way she felt for Dick. That with his scarred body and anger issues he never stood a chance.

“Jason.” She never listened and this time was no exception “Come on, stop it. It’s not the first time I will help you get yourself together. I’ve seen all those scars before. It’s all right. Safe place, no judgement. Let me.” Her soft hand reached for the needle and surgical thread and slowly, methodically, trying to cause him as little pain as possible started to stich his wounds. “You’ve been acting strange lately.....” the girl pointed out.

“not much more than usually.” He muttered “I am one hell of a strange person. Dead yet alive.”

“Stop it.” She cut him off, finishing the stitching and putting hand on his arm making him flinch again. “Sorry....” his action stung her. “Sorry, I am out of line, I won’t force you to speak to me if you don’t want. I never should have.....” she moved away, but never managed to get far as his arms wrapped around her pulling her close and his lips met hers.  He just couldn’t hold himself anymore. Not once he felt her touch and care. It was just impossible. She started the fire that no one could contain.

At first he was afraid she would push him away, ready for it even, since after all she had a boyfriend. But much to his surprise and joy, she did no such thing. If anything she kissed him back.

She kissed him back.

Could she.... could she possibly want him?

Jason was not going to wonder about it, instead focusing on satiating his hunger of her. He was starved of her, his mouth brushing over hers with desire, passion, wanting more and more and more. He was completely lost in the moment as he lifted her up, bringing her to his lap, hands sneaking under her shirt, travelling up, up to her shoulder blades, brushing over the clasp of her bra, palms pressing into her back, pulling her closer, closer.

It was so good, so perfect, having her like this, not fighting, not pushing away, but making her melt into him, feeling her body flex, touch him back, mirroring all his actions.

She was the only one for him. The only one he could ever trust, love, care about. He would burn the whole world for her if she ever got hurt. He completely lost his mind for her.

Her,

Her,

Her.

The things were getting so heated so fast, when he switched positions gently lowering her down onto the mattress. Shit. She was so beautiful and touch starved and abandoned by Grayson. And Jason was going to show her what it really meant to love a woman.

“Y/N....” he muttered hovering over her, completely blinded by desire, grabbing her wrist gently and pinning them above her head, kissing her jaw, neck, everywhere he could reach. “Y/N.” he nibbled on her collarbone getting a single, breathy moan, getting so hard for her. To tell the whole truth, he almost felt like crying when her hand tangled in his mop of hair, pressing him closer to her body. He never felt so wanted and needed in his whole life and her action got him completely lost. She accepted him. She agreed to everything he was doing to her, simply following his lead and he just wanted to make her feel so good. He whimpered once the warmth of her affection spread inside his chest and belly, right hand slowly peeling her shirt off, exposing her soft skin to him.

God! He had her. He finally had her.

He was lovesick, his own body acting without any control. He just wanted her to want him, need him, touch him and hold him. But it also made him bold. And reckless.

“You’re so beautiful…..”he whispered, trailing kissed up her stomach and between her breast, making her arch her back and squirm in pleasure. “I love you…..”

“You what?” those words were like a bucket of cold water for her, eyes opening wide as she became aware in a second. “Oh, shit, no, shit, fuck!” the girl hissed, taking him by surprise and breaking free from his grip pushing him away and adjusting her messy look.

“Baby?” he whimpered, confused and hurt

“You cannot love me, we… we can’t do this Jason.”

“But…..”

“I’m in love with your brother!”

“He doesn’t deserve you! He does not take care of you!”

“And what do you know about it? He loves me, Jason. And despite of what you say, he does care. Every fucking day. Even when he’s busy! You’re judging my relationship with him of silly little piece of information, but you don’t know shit about it!”

“So why did you let me kiss you?” he stuttered looking straight into her eyes.

“It was a mistake.” She said coldly, hating herself. She despised herself for those words, but what else was there to do. She couldn’t do this to Dick. She couldn’t do it to Jace. And most importantly, she couldn’t do it to herself. She might as well put a gun to their heads and pull the trigger. No matter what she would do, someone would end up getting hurt. Badly. And she would end up being the unfaithful one. Not fair. She had to cut it right now, even if her body kept screaming at her to let go and let Jason love her. He was so gentle and loving and slow and sensual. Showing that part of him she never knew. So different than his brother when it came to intimacy…..  Fuck!

“How…. How was it a mistake?” he was practically shaking at the moment. He bared his soul to her, hoping she was the one to trust, to take care of his poor, shattered heart. And the look in his eyes almost made her cry as well. But she had to be strong.

“We’re just friends, Jason.” She sighed, barely holding herself “nothing more. There won’t ever be anything more between us” she stood up from the bed.

“Please…..” he begged, grabbing her hand “please, don’t go. Stay with me. Let me…..”

“I’m sorry, Jace. I think we should just forget about what happened.” She yanked herself free and rushed out the door not looking back at him.

“I could never forget. And I won’t stop fighting for you.”

***

She was very well aware that his words were true. That Jason wouldn’t stop. But Y/N also knew that Dick wouldn’t ever relent. It seemed like she got herself in some serious trouble by loving two brothers, each one with different kind of love.

Dick and Jason.

Jason and Dick.

Fuck. Someone was going to end up broken hearted and she just couldn’t choose.

Therefore, she did the only thing that came to her mind.

***

“Hey, do you have Y/N somewhere around? I can’t reach her phone and she’s not responding my texts…..” very disturbed Dick showed up on the other side of the computer screen, reaching Tim.

“Dick…..”

“Is she all right? What happened Tim?”

“She left.”

“What?! What do you mean left?! How could she leave the house full of batman crew?! How could no one notice?!”

“She left you a letter.”

“A letter!? Shit, I deserve better. I’m going to find her! I’m getting back to Gotham right the second and I won’t stop until I search every inch of this city, country or planet!”

“Dick!” Tim yelled interrupting his brother’s monologue

“Why did she leave….?” Grayson’s voice broke. “I thought she loved me…..”

“She did, Dick. She wrote it on the envelope…..”

“I will hear it from her. Come on, Timmy, help me here.”

“Dick….”

“Yes?” Dick looked straight into Tim;s eyes in the camera and he froze. Something was wrong, terribly wrong and his younger brother’s face was screaming bad news “what are you not telling me, Tim?”

“There’s been a car accident and …..”

“NO!!” sudden scream came from behind and both Dick and Tim saw Jason falling to his knees onto the floor, clutching his head desperately, acting completely out of his mind “No,no,no,no,no.” he sobbed. “no….. this is all my fault, this is all because of me…..”

“No.” Dick became pale, sudden realisation of what Tim meant finding a way to his brain.

***

She wanted to be fair to both of them. That was why she left not one, but two letters, explaining why she couldn’t stay and destroy whatever frail relationship Dick and Jace managed to build. She also asked them not to look for her and in a haze, unnoticed, left the manor, planning to stay with her friends in Central City.

What she didn’t expect was that truck, speeding and running into the crossroad on the red light…..

And then,

breaks sqealing

glass breaking

darkness.   

[sprite-writes]

gunmetal blue

chapter 1/?

Dale Cooper/Reader

Summary: Agent Cooper is saddled with a new partner–against his better judgment. She’s a mess–aimlessly stumbling her way through the FBI with a past shrouded in mystery. Grappling with this change, and a puzzling case in a small town, Cooper’s lost. He finds the path forward in the last way he’d expect. 

word count: 2,605

A/N: woah new fic! this is sort of my side project while I work on cloudy day, but it'll still have semi-regular updates! super self indulgent because I love twin peaks, even if everyone had moved on LOL. hope u enjoy <3 as with all my writing, special thanks to @lightning-writes

 Dale wasn’t the type to be needlessly anxious. He was the farthest thing from an overthinker, he was a pragmatic man, he kept his sensibility about him. So, admittedly, it was out of character the way his leg had started to involuntarily bounce, brow sweat, and chest tighten. Gordan Cole’s office had never felt so small. 

He should have known something was wrong with the way Gordan had called him into his office, hands clapping on his shoulders, guiding him into the room like a lost child. Now, with the announcement hanging in the air, he understood. 

“I’m sorry, a-a new partner?” 

“That’s what I said, Coop! Is your hearing going too?” Gordon’s deafening volume usually has no effect on him, but this time he flinches. Dale shifts, and the leather beneath him squeaks. Gordon doesn’t even look up from his computer, skillfully avoiding Dale’s appalled stare. 

“Gordon, with all due respect, I don't need nor want a partner. Has there been something unsatisfactory about my work? Or-” 

“Did you say something about a factory? Anyway, It's not up to me. She was sent here straight from the higher-ups. All I did was sign the paperwork.” 

Dale sighs, his frustration thickening in his chest. His captain's eyes flick to him. 

“I would’ve fought it if I thought it was such a bad idea, Coop. Don’t worry so much, She’s a sweet girl and a—how would you say it? A damn fine agent.”  

“Isn’t there anyone else she could be assigned to?” he asks, and it feels like begging. Windom is 3 years behind him now, but that's three years he’s spent adapting to solitude. The idea of someone next to him on the field again unsettles him deeply, drudging up feelings he’s worked hard to forget. 

“Agent, I know how you may feel about this. What, with your past and all, but keep an open mind. I think this could be good for you.” 

Could be good?

“Sir–” 

A knock on the door cuts him off, the frosted glass door swinging open without hesitation. The interruption leaves him with his complaints still sticking to his tongue. 

“Gordon! I brought you coffee – you still take it with two sugars, right? Because there’s a cane’s worth in there.” 

His vision is crowded by a woman in an oversized blue FBI jacket—besides her abrupt entry, she’s also out of uniform. Her denim blue jeans hug her waist and fray at the knees, with a jarringly casual t-shirt. The unprofessionalism rubs him the wrong way. 

Two milky-colored coffee cups get dropped on the desk. Despite the breach of protocol, Gordon seems pleased to see her. There’s an affinity in his eyes, but she's a stranger to Dale.

“Well if it isn’t Miss Blue herself! We were just talking about you.”

“We?”

Her hair flicks over her shoulder, and her eyes widen. 

“Oh! Hi! Sorry, I didn’t see you there. I’m Blue.” She sticks out her right hand for him to shake– and it knocks straight into the two coffee cups, sending one tumbling towards Gordan and the other into his lap. 

“Shit!” 

He bolts up as hot coffee soaks his trousers. He vaguely registers Gordon's laugh as if an Agent didn’t just waltz in, wreck his office, and Dale’s drycleaning. 

“Oh hell, I’m so sorry!” she shrills, peeling off her jacket frantically. The cheap polyester of the academy-issued zip-up presses against his wool-blend pants, the woman’s feeble attempt to clean the mess. 

Dale’s anger alights, but he breathes deeply to tamp it down. Patience is a virtue, he tells himself.

She continues to dab at his pants, he pushes her hands away, taking the stained jacket from her, and tossing it on the chair behind him. 

“It's fine, it’s fine,” he tells her tightly, despite the heat of his emotions, and the mild burns. When it rains, it pours, he supposes. 

She looks up at him, clearly mortified. 

“My bad, Sir,” she says lamely, and her expression scrunches up more. 

“A hand, Kid?” Gordon asks and she’s more than happy to take her attention away from Dale. Gordon wipes his desk with a handkerchief, and with her hands free, she begins moving damp papers from his desk. 

“Well, I’ll tell ya, Blue, you haven’t changed a bit since they shipped you off,” Gordon says fondly. Blue grimaces in a subtle way that Dale only notices because of the daggers he’s staring into her. 

“I don't know about-” she begins. Gordon steamrolls her, likely not hearing a thing she said. 

“Well, I suppose this is as good an introduction as any. Dale, meet your new partner, Special Agent Georgia Blue. Blue, meet Dale Cooper.”

He wanted to be surprised, really he did, but with fate’s track record, he didn't know why he would expect any better. 

-

Dale goes home late that evening. With him, a stack of manilla folders all relating to one Georgia Blue. He recognizes a level of invasion here. He justifies it simply; Blue is an invasion of his space, so this grants him a degree of invasion to hers. He tries not to think about the morality of it too much, mostly because he knows if he does, he’ll be returning the files unopened. He lets his curiosity win this battle. 

It doesn’t matter anyways; half the documents are redacted, large blocky sharpie lines interrupting every other sentence. He skims over what he deems unimportant– her physical description, age, schooling��� when one thing catches his eye. Her bureau status, ambiguously labeled as ‘probationary warning: under review’ 

 The FBI files aren’t all. There are DEA reports, too, all titled Operation Architect. He whispers the words to himself, something familiar in the back of his mind, vague memories and mentions of this Operation Architect. From his understanding, it had been DEA business, just watercooler talk that had made its way down to his office. He reads what he can. 

January 10th 1988, SA Georgia Blue establishes contact with target, indefinite undercover placement to begin immediately.

Undercover placement? The rest of the paragraph is blocked out, and he’s left with more questions than answers. 

His day feels like a pill he can’t swallow. He had vainly hoped that by understanding who this woman was, it would give him some artificial control of the situation, maybe even make it easier to choke down. He doesn’t understand why the dread in his chest continues to bloom. 

He yawns, interrupting his thoughts. He supposes the rest of his investigation can wait for the morning, it wasn’t like the issue was going away anyways. 

-

There are a few blissful moments the next morning when Dale wakes up, where the nightmare of yesterday is just that - a nightmare. The redacted files are forgotten on his desk. He makes his bed and brushes his teeth, and it isn't until he’s halfway through shampooing his hair, while he’s mentally scaling down his to-do list for the day that he remembers his plans are meaningless compared to the derailment that is Agent Blue. That is, his new partner Agent Blue. Just rolling over the word in his mind causes a headache to bud. 

“Agents Cooper and Blue, partners, at your service,” he spits bitterly to himself. He gets shampoo in his mouth.

He’s bitter all the way to the station, questions and resentment swarming his mind.  

He doesn’t even bother to chirp his usual good mornings to the doorman. Anger fits him like a jacket two sizes too small, he has to squeeze his way into it.

Perhaps the comfort of familiarity would calm him, he thought. A warm cup of coffee and the sanctuary of his desk. That’s what he needed. 

“Good morning Dale,” Diane calls as he passes reception. He waves noncommittally. 

“Morning Diane, any messages?” 

“Not today, but Gordon wants to talk to you—he said to just come by when you have time.”

Dale sighs, and wonders what Gordon could possibly have in store for him this time. 

“Is that all?” 

“There’s just one other thing—I had to move your desk closer to the window to make room for the new girl – but don’t worry! I put everything back just as it was, and I was real careful too,” she smiles. 

His eye twitches. 

“Alright, Diane, thanks,” he mutters. 

His desk is a foot from the window now, approximately 3 feet from where he had it before. He recalls the day he requested it to be there—having carefully stood in each corner of the precinct to find the exact shade-to-light ratio to situate himself. 

It’s fine, he reasons, he’ll just squint. 

In the ideal 4-foot spot from the window sits a brand new desk, with his brand new partner. If she hears him approach, she doesn’t show it, eyes glued to her dark computer screen. It doesn’t bother him, not one bit. He had spent the last three years' worth of mornings enjoying his coffee in silence, and, new partner or not, he would like that to remain the same. Who cares if she ruined his wool pants–doesn’t mean she has to say good morning to him too. 

He sits down, much too close to the sun for his liking, and dives headfirst into paperwork. Still, he spares glances at her, in intervals, and mostly just wonders, why? Dale is a good agent, he knows this. His work and reputation precede him; a lone wolf, he thinks of himself. Then, out of nowhere, without warning, he’s saddled with a partner? An agent he’s never even heard of, who is apparently dipping half into DEA work. An agent who’s on probationary warning. 

Perhaps they want him to babysit, he concludes. A rookie agent with some kind of classified disciplinary infraction, and they want him to turn her around. The thought reheats his anger. He’s a federal agent, not an academy trainer, and he has half a mind to let Gordon know that fact. 

Five minutes into tense silence and deep thought, a hand smacks down on his desk. He startles but recovers smoothly.

“For yesterday,” Blue says tersely. His eyes follow her stony expression to her manicured hand. She moves and reveals a crumbled $50 bill she’d slapped on his desk. 

“Agent?” he asks, confused and exasperated. 

“For the pants, alright? Please, just take it.” 

He stares at the bill quizzically. 

“Ma’am, while I can appreciate the gesture, I assure you that it’s not necessary—“

She holds her hand up to stop him. 

“I don’t care. I’m not taking the money back.”

She returns to her desk, intentionally angling away from him, staring intently at the computer screen that he can now see isn’t even turned on. 

“...The power button’s on the back of the monitor.” 

“...right.” 

The computer screen comes to life, and she doesn't spare him a glance. 

Partners, indeed. 

-

When he finally has a moment to see Gordon, he’s gone over his speech 5 times in his head. Gordon, you know I respect you and your decision-making, but I am not a babysitter or some sort of camp counselor. I am formally requesting the reassignment of Agent Blue.

He says it again and again in his head, all the way to the door. He knocks loudly, in a way he knows Gordon will hear, and he gets back a muffled, “Come in!” 

He does. When Gordon catches his eye, his expression is uncharacteristically unreadable. 

“Close the door behind you, Coop,” he tells him. Dale shuts the door and takes his usual seat across from his boss. 

“I’m glad you had the time to talk, I’m sure you have more than a few questions after yesterday,” he says levelly. Dale notes Gordon talking quieter than normal, it gives him an odd feeling like he’s in trouble. 

“I do, Sir. I would like to firstly say that while I respect–”

“Now hang on there, Coop. First things first, I’m going to need you to return those files on Blue.” 

Dale freezes, and his puffed-out chest deflates. It takes him a moment to form a sentence again. 

“...May I ask why, Sir?” 

Gordon sighs and fiddles with the wires of his hearing aid. 

“You haven’t done anything wrong. This is all just a bit more complicated than I can tell you right now. I’m afraid I’m sort of left in the dark here, too. I’ll tell you what I can, but it’s not all that much. Anything else you learn is at the discretion of the bureau - and Blue. And I don't think either of em’ wants you poking around.” 

The situation feels much bigger than him all of a sudden, even though it felt like something he could hold in the palm of his hand just a moment ago. 

“Alright,” is all he can think to say. 

“I knew Blue when she was in the academy, and let me tell you, she is bright. A little prodigy in her class, a bit like you, I’d presume. Anyway, I met her through her field training, she was a NAT here for a little while. Wasn’t too interested in homicide investigation, though. No, she’d taken a real liking to narcotics. Nasty business, I always thought, but to each their own,” 

As he talks, he leans in close to Dale. Gordon’s inside voice is still quite loud, but Dale can tell he’s straining to lower it. 

“She graduated and went straight to doing investigative work with the DEA. If I know you, and I do, I know you’ve picked through her file already. Do you know what Operation Architect is?” 

“I saw the name, but I don't know much about it, no.”

“Neither do I, that’s DEA business, but I know she was on it, undercover for over a year. And I know it didn't go great. She was relocated here after the ordeal.” 

Dale was hoping for this conversation to be more enlightening. He still feels trapped in the dark. 

“I meant it when I said none of this was up to me. My boss wanted Blue assigned to you. I’d wager it's because of your good work, you’ve got a handsome reputation, but I couldn’t tell you for sure. Regardless, she's sticking around for a while, so make the best of it. She’s not quite how I remember her, but as long as she hasn't done a full 180 in a few years, I think you two could get along pretty well.” 

Silence weighs down the room. Dale lets the new knowledge permeate his skin. 

“Alright,” he says because there really isn’t anything else to say. 

“Alright,” Gordon parrots. 

Dale sits like he’s waiting for something else to happen. The crushing finality of it sits on his chest. All the determination he came in there with is withered away to nothing, just ashes of a once burning fire. 

There’s no shirking this now, he has a partner. Cooper & Blue, FBI. 

“I know this isn’t easy for you, and I wish there was more I could do. But to be completely candid with you, I don’t think it’ll be nearly as bad as you’re anticipating.” 

Dale nods absently, drained of anything else to say. Gordon understands. 

“You’re dismissed, Coop.” 

He gets up, politely pushing in the chair. 

Before his hand can touch the knob, Gordon grabs his attention again. 

“Well, one more thing, actually.” Dale tenses, and the dread in his chest that had gone numb begins to flare up again. 

“If I were you, I’d show her a bit of kindness. This line of work is messy, and I can't imagine what the hell happened for her to get sent here.”

Dale can’t imagine either. 

[lily-radiance]

Picture Perfect Psychopath

Doctor Jonathan Crane/ fem reader.

3.9k words

(So far, this is just a drabble, but I do have an idea of where this story could go. I've been watching The Dark Knight trilogy and got inspired. Reader works at Arkham Asylum as a psychiatrist, sharing the field of study with Scarecrow and old flame Harley Quinn. Likely not canon-compliant. Kinda merged various movies since I'm no comic book expert.)

Arkham Asylum is a cesspool of depraved criminals, as it has been for the past few years. Typical people who are suffering from mental illnesses and were sent away without care were obvious. This institution was the cheapest and easiest way to lock up the sick, even before the creation of the vigilantes. Everyone in Gotham City knew to keep their eyes on the ground and act as if crimes were invisible. If you cause a fuss in any shape or form, don't be surprised if you get dragged away in a body bag. You hated the mere thought of disregarding the pain of the city, but what could you do if no one would listen? Criminals, no matter the type, always have a story to tell.

“Bruce, the next time you interrupt my work for a house call, I'm stealing your Batmobile!”

You've been sitting in Wayne Manor for the past two hours, all because your friend wanted to “check-in” on the status of the newest patients. On any other day, you might have given him leniency, but he's been siphoning you for information without a decent break. Now, you not only have to write and submit a few dozen reports before sunset, all while juggling Bruce Wayne. The billionaire rolls his eyes but smiles, enjoying a day where he can loosen up and act as a person instead of a shadow.

“Nice try, but the garage is foolproof. I learned my lesson when you took my ride for a spin last year.”

You sip the cola in your hand, amused at the memory of speeding around the house and getting the vehicle caked in dirt. You apologized to Alfred when realizing the butler had to clean it afterward.

“Too bad, I was hoping to test the maximum speed,” you said with a chuckle, “I'm kidding, of course.”

“Sometimes, I worry about your coworkers. Do they know how much damage you can cause when bored?”

You glare at him from the couch. Work was something you liked to keep separate from life; he knew that very well. After all, if someone identified Batman successfully, then Wayne Enterprises would crumble in on itself.

“Do you know how much damage you cause when I'm not around to cover your tracks? Honestly, you may give Alfred a heart attack.”

The butler frowns at your humor before taking your empty glass. You notice the lipstick mark left over, reminding yourself to reapply the makeup. Psychiatric professionals do their best to look formal, and this habit has followed them since college. When you consider the many polished individuals at the facility, one is always at the forefront of your mind: Doctor Jonathan Crane. No matter the time of day, his appearance is that of near perfection, or you like to think so. Today, you have a briefing with him, and the idea has prompted you to dress to impress; the shade of cherry red on your lips is a testament to that.

“I'm always careful, (Y/N). I have Gordon, Alfred, and Lucius for that very purpose. You know Arkham is filled with lunatics and, more specifically, the worst villains.”

“We've had this conversation before, Bruce. I'm good at my job, and the people you lock up are kept in the deepest parts. Plus, I always hear exciting stories, which makes time fly by!”

He gives you a stern glance, not happy with your unbothered attitude. You drop the smile and sigh.

“I know you think I can't handle myself in that place. You get up close and personal with villains more often than I do. Every floor has a ton of security guards, not to mention cameras and passcodes in each room!”

Eventually, he gives up the protective demeanor. If you needed his help, he was the first in line. If not, he would be prepared for the future.

“Right, I know you're responsible and cautious, (Y/N). It's still the institution with the most significant number of patients in Gotham, so I want you to stay alert. Tim and the others are patrolling tonight if you run into trouble. Remember, the GCPD is conducting investigations on a possible new perpetrator.”

You nod to his speech, tapping your heels underneath the coffee table. He is about to give you another piece of information, but the sound of the front door opening and hurried footsteps is your cue to leave. Barbara Gordon, Tim Drake, and Jason Todd enter the room, waving a synchronous greeting in your direction. Your phone beeps in your jacket pocket, and you fumble the device when the caller is listed. Barbara notices your excitement and chuckles, watching as you answer the phone.

“Hello, this is (Y/N) (L/N); how may I help?”

“It's Dr. Crane, as you probably knew judging by how quickly you answered. The administration got caught up in other matters, so it's just you and me. Don't be late.”

The voice catches you off guard, your heart beating too quickly regarding the abrupt message. You lose your ability to speak, and like everything else, he's already caught a glimpse of it.

“Doctor—what about the meeting on security clearances? We still have much to discuss with the board; isn't this important?”

“I've already taken care of most of the concerns. Currently, my priority is talking to you about your individual endeavors regarding Arkham. Do you have an issue with this?”

As he asks, you know he's not looking for an honest answer. You swallow your pride, although tempting to draw on this further.

“No, Doctor. I'm on my way right now.”

“Good, I have high hopes you'll be fascinated by my newest work.”

You have nothing else to add as he hangs up, an annoying habit you wish didn't leave you bitter. Barbara steps over, raising a brow in examination. Your behavior, coupled with the alluring cosmetics on your face, indicates an attention to detail made to attract. The young woman tilts her head, examining your efforts, and pauses. She prevents your curiosity by grabbing a maroon scarf hung on the hat rack and placing it on your neck. As she wraps the fabric loosely around your collar, she discreetly whispers, “In case whoever you see leaves a mark or can't keep you warm. It also matches your lipstick.”

The redhead winks at you, knowing that finding worthwhile men in Gotham is a rare treat. If only you knew who you were falling for, maybe someone else could have turned your head. The likelihood of your coworker getting obsessed with another pretty face was nonexistent, especially when he knew every method of pushing your buttons.

Gotham weather stands to be frigid regardless of the season, and the cold water on your cheeks proves it. Hurriedly, you head to your car, jumping in the driver's seat and turning the hot air on. You flip the sun visor down, using the compartment mirror to double-check your appearance. You smile, wink, and perform other expressions to understand if this is too much. It's not like you dressed yourself in fancy attire, but the makeup sensation tells you this is different—the scarf clings to your shoulders, adding an extra layer of comfort.

The City appears as dreary as ever, with gray clouds looming over the skyscrapers. You knew this landscape was not as picturesque as the Bahamas, but it was familiar. In this place, you felt like a necessary presence, that your actions were genuinely helping people live. Others complain that they think soulless thoughts and have no purpose in a city of thugs, but they don't see the possibilities. No, you appreciated the constant ebb and flow pattern because it meant everything was up to chance. Unlike Harvey Dent, you had no interest in flipping a coin to decide your fate; if you wanted something and could achieve it, why worry about the downfall? Bruce told you to avoid trouble, and maybe if you tried harder, you could, but curiosity always took control. The night turned Gotham into a place of both dreams and nightmares. When the streets glow amber and the windows shine with the moon, the law is subject to change.

Rain slams against the windshield, the downpour forcing you to drive at a snail’s pace. Common sense doesn't stop other drivers from taking risky turns; some cars cut in front despite your right of way. You honk your horn at the reckless speeding, internally regretting this venture. At least twenty minutes have passed since you left, and yet you're still running late. Luckily, most security guards let you pass immediately, while one or two demand identification. If you weren't so anxious, you would see the multiple faults that made Arkham’s reputation. People were lazy, some slacking without a care. Others were too busy dealing with life changes to support this institution.

The repetitive sound of your heels clicking on the tile floor draws someone's attention. Unfortunately, you can barely avoid this girl regularly, so it makes sense that she would be another obstacle.

“Woah, pudding, you getting ready for the runway or something? I haven't seen you wear red in a long time. It makes a girl wonder, what's the occasion?”

Harleen Quinzel stands in her cell, dressed in a jumpsuit that does her no justice. Her usually dyed hair is unkempt and faded, now a dirty blonde with pigment spots. Despite her living situation, her personality is still bubbly. She holds a bent cigarette and takes a drag, then tosses the leftovers underneath her boots. The woman approaches the metal bars, wrapping her hands around two and leaning through the gap. A stream of smoke is exhaled into your face, the delinquent playfully puckering her lips.

“I have a critical meeting with Dr. Crane, and it was supposed to be with the rest of the board until something got in the way. I'm running late, and if I don't get to that office in time—”

Harley raises her index finger, pressing against your lips to stop your words.

“That does sound like a pretty jumbo deal, dollface! From one doctor to another, rescheduling an administrative meeting is unnecessarily convoluted!”

She moves her hand to cup your jaw, tilting your face in multiple angles to glimpse your handiwork. A smile spreads across her lips, her tongue licking the front of her teeth. It makes you nervous, and she knows it.

“I mean, he said he ‘took care of it,’ but I don't know if that necessarily means it was rescheduled. The board could have discussed several possibilities, so I can't guarantee anything.”

You don't know what she's trying to prove.

“Something tells me your lover boy isn't inviting you for a simple coffee. No, with a mind as unpredictable as his, I bet you'll leave here with more than a headache. That is, if you leave at all, dollface.”

Her voice digs further into your mind, higher-pitched as she giggles to herself. You adjust the scarf to distract yourself, but she won't let this topic rest.

“Harley, as much as I appreciate what I assume is a concern, I know what I'm doing.”

“Sure you do, pudding. You think he's all sweet and charming, right? Doctor Jonathan Crane, who wears a nice suit and never gets his hands dirty? He probably compliments your work and swears to get back to your questions. I'll even bet he holds your hand a little too long when he shakes it, and you don't say anything because you want his hand on yours.”

She sees the blush rising to your cheeks and continues to torment you. You can't breathe clearly, not when your lungs burn like this.

“Oh, I bet you want him to do all sorts of things to you. When he holds your hand, do you imagine it somewhere else on your body? Do you think he'll have you by the waist while his other hand traces your neck? Will he squeeze your throat and bruise the pretty skin, rubbing his tongue up and down? Will you let him devour you as I did? I bet you'll have his handprints on your thighs for weeks, the dirty little secret that you keep to yourself?”

She plays with the ends of your hair, curling the strands around her fingers. You haven't been this close to her in years, and your proximity reminds you why. Getting close to villains is a quick path to insanity. You step away from the cell, regaining your focus. A pair of footsteps echo down the stairwell, slow and precise. When you turn, your coworker is impatiently waiting, a scowl etched onto his features as he stares between you and Harley Quinn. The blonde enthusiastically waves at him, earning a glare.

“Come along; we have lots to discuss and little time to waste. I thought I clarified that I wanted you in my office five minutes ago.”

You follow his figure, a knot in your stomach at his unusual mood. The doctor could be a pain when it came to protocols, but you two got along reasonably well. He gave you criteria to follow, and more often than not, he liked to debate your findings. You hoped this was a quick conversation, but then it didn't make sense that he instructed you to take a ferry for something he could have said on the phone.

“Yes, I had to drive through the rain and rush in traffic. I wasn't counting on the weather to be so awful or for Harley Quinn to pull me aside.”

He waits by the top of the stairwell for you, watching as your heels tap the concrete. It amazed him: the concept of walking on elevated stilts that could snap like a twig. You don't miss how he scans your legs or how the muscles in your calves tighten. He extends a hand, presenting the cordiality that made you admire him in the first place. You hesitate with trembling fingers, muttering a quiet “thanks” as he holds your palm. He's warm, and it gives you too much satisfaction. Instead of letting go, he merely continues walking, carefully trailing his fingers over your radial pulse. Each thrum of your heartbeat is now in his possession of knowledge, tipping him off on your anxiety. The door to his office is down a corridor, only accessible to visitors and himself.

“Had you considered wearing gloves, Doctor? You might want to invest in case the temperature drops. If you can't use your hands, I suppose the mind is sufficient, but exhausting yourself unnecessarily is no good to anyone.”

You sit in one of the two chairs, removing your scarf and placing it in your lap. Crane takes his place behind the desk and falls into the chair, folding his hands on the flat surface.

“Believe me, if I could grab a few extra layers, I would have. I was visiting a friend when you called, and since you requested I hurry, there was no point in going home to change. I've lived in Gotham for a long time, and a storm isn't enough to stop me from doing my job. Anyway, you said there was something you needed me to examine?”

He slides a manilla folder towards you, numerous papers spilling from the seam. You take the hint to inspect the documents, flipping through the pages and absorbing the content. MRI scans, coupled with test results and psychological jargon, cover the sheets. You wrinkle your nose in focus, recognizing the highlighted areas of the brain as the amygdala and the frontal lobe. The human brain structure separates information based on its importance, using the amygdala for the fear response and the frontal lobe for rational thought. If one of these locations is compromised, whether by neural chemicals or injuries, the body cannot regulate its reactions to stressful environments. You continue reading, wholly fascinated by the hypotheses listed. The last few pages are still being worked on, primarily blank except for messily written notes. While your train of thought is still understandable, you remove a pen from your coat pocket and begin scribbling. He stares in amusement, pride blooming at your coinciding wonder.

“Doctor Crane, this is beyond incredible! If you were to develop this drug, who knows what group might want it? Not to mention the possibility of designing a formula with the opposite goal of annihilating fear entirely!”

He doesn't bother to hide the smirk on his face as you supply him an ego boost. Initially, he worried you would have an adverse reaction given your good-natured spirit, but those doubts were put to rest by the sight of your smile. The longer he allows himself to relax, the more his eyes are drawn to your lips. Red was a beautiful color on you, contrasting the dim aura of this hospital. As you revel in this energized state, you do not anticipate the foreign sensation of his mouth against yours. Recognition dawns on you as the scent of his cologne lingers, and the papers fall to the ground. You cautiously lean into his touch, grasping his shoulders to bring him closer. The fabric of his shirt bunches as you dig your fingers into the material. He has no qualms with your proximity, but he recognizes the trepidation in your movements for what it is: the worry that you'll scare him away. It's ironic, and it tells him that the only way to disprove your doubt is to make sure you know that this encounter isn't based on the heat of the moment.

He kisses you harder, pushing his tongue inside your mouth. You gasp in surprise, allowing him additional access, as well as the ability to overpower you. Never had you thought that the absurd fantasy of him kissing you would come to fruition, and certainly not in his office over research data. This was supposed to be a dull day of filing paperwork and overhearing business, not the instance where your co-worker, technically your boss, would be sharing saliva. His lips travel to your cheek, then your jaw, trailing down your neck. He has to remove the scarf and unbutton your collar to reach the desired location. You tilt your head back, moaning as he grows closer to your carotid vein. Similar to your earlier encounter, he locates your pulse, biting and sucking the skin as your heart rate increases. You admittedly have no idea what you're doing, but you do know that the image of him making out with you is extremely hot.

Yet, rational is a demon that you cannot leave behind. You're a scientist through and through, which means taking time to analyze the effects of this situation is necessary. Gently, you press against his chest, halting his actions and putting space between you. He looks down at you quizzically, adjusting his glasses that had fallen from the bridge of his nose.

“We could keep going with this course of action, not that I would complain, but maybe we should consider what we're getting ourselves into. I mean, we work together, and if we pursue a relationship, that could cause an entire slew of issues. Let’s cool our jets and think about this objectively before getting too deep.”

You feel a new weight on your chest as you try to analyze his expression. Most days, you could guess his emotions based on small talk, if he even spoke to you. Unfortunately, he's again acting like a blank slate, unreadable as the silence grows longer. Somehow, this enigma of a human specimen has become a magnetic field, drawing you in despite your better judgment. It's not that you don't want to see where this night goes, but the idea of committing to him, especially in the workplace, sends a chill down your spine.

“I see what you are getting at, (Y/N). It's not a problem if you want to think this over. Honestly, I prefer my opinion, but I see no fault in mulling it over. We wouldn't be scientists if we didn't leave decisions up to logic, would we?”

He seems calm enough, and that takes some of the pressure off. You breathe out a sigh before stretching your neck, still a bit unsure of what to do. Another beat of awkward silence follows before you work up enough courage to face him. Blue eyes catch your thousand-yard stare and dart back to the ground.

“It's getting late. D-do you need anything else from me, Jonathan?”

He is not expecting you to refer to him by his first name despite the circumstances. The sound of your hesitancy is still cute, and he wasn't expecting his name to sound so good on your tongue.

“No, I have everything I need. Do you want me to drive you home? The weather is still raining cats and dogs. Not only that, but Gotham is dangerous already, and I wouldn't want you to get hurt.”

The offer seems adequate, and you know precisely the dangers lurking outside. If not for crime and insanity, you wouldn't have a job, but that doesn't mean you want to get caught up in legal shenanigans.

“I drove to the docking bay with my car, so assuming you drive, that would leave one of us without our respective vehicles…”

“You're partially correct. I take a taxi to get around town most of the time so that I won't abandon my car here. Then again, if I drove your car, I would still have to call a cab at one point or another.”

His analysis has you pondering the options until you decide to wing it. You've already made out with your boss, how much worse could it get?

“Screw it, I'll call you a taxi myself. If the weather gets too bad, you can stay at my place for the night.”

You pick up your scarf from the chair, throwing it around your neck in preparation for the cold air outside. The hallways are still empty, and for once, you're glad since the quiet gives you space to think. All that's left is to descend the stairs, pass security, and get the hell out of there. You place your hand in your pocket to grab your identification card but pause as your co-worker is two steps ahead of you, already swiping his badge across the checkpoint. That's right, he has a higher security clearance than you; no wonder he's always early to the office.

“There ya’ are pudding! How'd that meeting go—”

Harley Quinn wastes no time in asking questions as soon as she sees you approach. The doctor next to you gives her a scowl like last time, but the reason behind it is different. Before, he was irritated by her peppy attitude, and now it's jealousy. The blonde’s expression turns into a frown, but covers it with her usual distaste for nitpicky professionals. You would find their disagreement amusing if not for your fresh taste of humanity from the critical doctor, his shell still rough around the edges. You let your mind wander, barely recognizing the arm around your shoulder until you feel the support of his body against you.

These moments are the ones that make your heart race and your mind split. You know this guy, right? He has to be one of the good men in this rotten city. If not, what would you do anyway?

If you like this check the updating version on ao3: Click

[gumnut-logic]

Okay

Have a little FishTank with a background of pissed off Scotty.

Many thanks to the amazing @onereyofstarlight for all her help on this and for putting up with my crazy as usual :D

It was supposed to be something and this is what happened. I hope you enjoy it anyway.

-o-o-o-

Virgil rolled his shoulders as he stepped out of the elevator and into the comms room. He wasn’t surprised to find Scott’s commander persona firmly and concisely flaying someone via hologram at the main desk. Virgil had no doubt that several heads would roll after this incident.

But he would field Scott later. Besides it was fair to let the person responsible reap their rewards.

A pissed off Commander Scott Tracy was a weapon of precise destruction.

For the moment, Virgil had two aims. He rolled his shoulders again. Maybe three. Some paracetamol wouldn’t hurt alongside the coffee.

Both would be needed to tackle his main priority.

His little brother Gordon.

Those four words made it hurt even more.

Because Gordon was his little brother and when some asshole threatened the Fish - no matter how adult his brother would ever be, he would always be their Little Fish - and then had the nerve to physically assault Gordon…

Virgil beat down his anger. Anger wasn’t what he needed right now. Scott had enough to cover the entire family and then some. What Virgil needed was to be calm and centred so he could be there for Gords.

Because despite having the military background, the tough exterior, and a strength of will that continued to stun Virgil with its ferocity, Gordon was…

Hell, he was Virgil’s little brother and while Scott eviscerated those responsible, Virgil had to make sure he was okay.

Beyond the obvious physical injuries.

The anger had to be stomped on again.

He jogged down the kitchen stairs and grabbed the paracetamol out of the medical kit stashed under the sink. He chugged it down with some coffee, probably hotter than it should be for the meds, but he needed both so that’s what he worked with.

Gords was lying on one of the loungers by the pool. It was odd to see him out there but not actually in the water. The sling holding a broken arm, the concussion, and black eye, hidden by convenient sunglasses, were reason enough.

As with all of Gordon’s injuries in the field, Virgil was fully prepared to find a way to enable his brother to get back into the pool as soon as possible.

It was a survival instinct, after all. A Fish out of water tended to be flammable and explosive - Virgil liked their villa in one piece and minus the pranks born of boredom or frustration.

But it would be a couple of days at least before Gordon could be let into the pool this time. The broken arm was fine, it was the head injuries that weren’t conducive to swimming.

Virgil stared out at his little brother a moment while downing the remains of his coffee. Food was likely out of the question, but Gords might be able to manage a light drink, get some simple sugars and energy into him.

Turning back to the kitchen, he rustled up some tropical fruit juices, coconut cream and ice, dropping a splash of cranberry into the mostly yellow and orange concoction. A small smile and Virgil dug out one of his brother’s little cocktail umbrellas to give it the Gordon-pizazz it required.

He even made one for himself, put both of them on a tray, along with a small bowl of brightly coloured barley sugars.

Holding the tray steady, Virgil stepped softly out onto the patio and bee-lined casually in his brother’s direction.

The dark sunglasses glanced up. “Virg, I’m fine.”

Virgil ignored him, sliding the tray onto the small table next to Gordon. Not saying anything at all, Virgil grabbed the nearest empty lounger and dragged it over, dumping himself into it with a sigh.

He claimed his drink and fiddled with the umbrella. They reminded him of his fish brother, they really did.

And the drink was cool on his coffee-blasted throat.

Nothing was said for a long moment.

“Scott toasting the GDF?” Gordon didn’t even look at Virgil.

“More like roasting, after skinning and gutting.”

“Perhaps we should put warning labels on our uniforms. Warning: Commander will go medieval on your ass if you ever lay a finger on any member of International Rescue.”

“Family.”

Gordon groaned. “Way to serious a perfectly good pun, bro.”

Virgil shrugged and his shoulders ached. “It was a serious incident.”

“Yeah.” The word was mostly breath and ever so resigned. His brother looked away, out towards the sea.

“How are you feeling?”

A sigh. “As I said, I’m fine.”

Virgil sipped at his drink. “You don’t look fine.”

Gordon shifted where he sat. “What do you expect?”

“No expectations.”

His brother scoffed and turned back to looking at the ocean. There was nothing but breeze, birds and the waves for a very long moment.

“No, I didn’t expect it all.”

“Expect what?”

“The good guy to be such an asshole.”

Virgil didn’t comment, sipping his drink and waiting…

“They are supposed to help us. Supposed to be us. I didn’t expect him to do that. I would never put my life above so many. I’m in this because I believe in what we do!” Gordon’s uninjured arm was pointing and gesticulating not unlike their biggest brother inside. Virgil was often struck by how Scott and Gordon were so similar, yet so different. “We are the ones with the skills, the equipment and the vow to do everything we can to help people out of dangerous situations. There were families, Virg! Little kids! And he was willing to sacrifice them all.”

“You did good, Gords, you know that.”

“I should have done better.” Gordon’s good hand balled into a fist. “I should have seen it coming. Should have seen beyond the uniform. Should have hit him harder!”

Virgil turned on the lounger and let his feet touch the concrete so he could reach over and place a hand on Gordon’s leg. “You did everything you possibly could. None of us expected betrayal, much less from the GDF.” He drew in a breath. “It will be fixed.”

Gordon scoffed. “Of course, it will be fixed. With both Scott and John on their asses, they’ll be lucky there is any GDF left by the time they’re finished.” Gordon wilted just a little. “I hate it when you guys have to do that. Scott doesn’t need any more grey hairs, and Johnny shouldn’t have to skirt the law. I should have handled it better.”

Virgil stared at his little brother. “What John does with the law is not your responsibility.” Though Virgil would need to check on his space brother. John was as pissed as Scott. Maybe they should have a movie night tonight with all the junk food to go with it. Drag John down, corner Scott, and get the lot of them to sit down and take a breather. A few hugs would definitely not go astray either. Some reassurance that Gords was still here. “And Scott is going to kick ass regardless. That GDF officer had no right to intervene on our rescue and then to put his life above all the others he was meant to save…” Virgil let the sentence hang and he fought down his rage and outrage again. He swallowed. “You did what you always do, Gordon.” His eyes latched onto those dark sunglasses. “You did us proud.”

The sunglasses stared at him a moment. “You okay?”

“I will be.” Once his brothers were okay.

“Virg?”

Virgil slid off the lounger and onto his knees, holding his arms out a little. “C’mere.”

Gordon rolled his eyes, but smiled as Virgil enveloped him in a hug.

It was for Virgil as much as Gordon.

To find a GDF officer on the train carriage had been a blessing at first. The man had taken charge, liaised with IR, and set people at ease. But once IR made it onto the scene and Gordon, and the rescue rig, arrived to start getting people out, the man has changed.

Sure, it was a perilous situation and yes, the train could have dropped any moment despite Two securing it with grapples. But nothing excused the man’s conduct.

He had thrown fellow passengers aside and demanded to be rescued first. Gordon, of course, said no. IR had its priorities and not only was the man a trained GDF officer, but fit and healthy, and, if the emergency became more dire, he would be more likely to survive a more physical rescue attempt. Unlike the elderly and the children on that train.

And hell, the man had taken a pledge to serve and protect.

None of them had expected anger from the man, much less physical violence. He grappled with Gordon, determined to board the rescue rig first.

Gordon was well trained and an expert in self defence. However, the dynamics changed when you were hanging over an empty chasm that ended in certain death.

Gordon was thrown from the train and it was one of the worst moments in Virgil’s life. Yes, his brother was tethered, thank god, but the carriage was precarious, moving with the sudden change in weight distribution, and tangling with the safety line. Both Gordon and the rig had been dragged down with the train, forcing Two to compensate. Alerts screamed as the grapples securing the carriage strained with the sudden shift.

Virgil’s voice still ached from his yelling his brother’s name.

And the lack of an answer.

It had been Virgil who shimmied down the rescue rig cable, desperate to locate Gordon with John worrying in his ears.

He had found his brother upside down with a massive dent in the side of his helmet, faceplate cracked, unconscious.

Virgil retrieved and secured him in the rescue rig.

Then it was Virgil who had to face the rogue GDF officer. Virgil, who was considered the gentle giant who wouldn’t hurt a soul.

Virgil, who physically picked up the yelling man and, despite his struggles, strapped him into the rescue rig in a very specific unable-to-move way. Hence the aching shoulders and the bruises.

Twenty people were rescued from that train, the very last barely making it out as gravity and wind finally took their toll and John was forced to release Two, or lose them all.

Most of them were injured in some way, but none as much as his little brother.

The GDF officer spent the rest of the ride strapped in the rescue rig in Module Two.

Virgil managed to not say a single word to the man the entire time.

Gordon woke up swearing, halfway to the hospital, and didn’t let up until the doctors let him go under Virgil’s supervision several hours later.

Debrief had been explosive. Scott livid, John tight lipped and furious, Virgil…

He pulled his little brother in just that little bit tighter.

“Oof, Virg, I’m okay.” But Gordon didn’t let go.

Virgil released him a little, but rested his head on his brother’s non-injured shoulder and closed his eyes.

And tried to convince himself of Gordon’s words.

-o-o-o-

[buds-and-baubles]

dc disability related headcanons:

• wayne enterprises under wayne medical, and the martha wayne foundation (and similarly under neon knights) works to make all care for disabled individuals affordable (or free to those who cannot pay) for everyone, as well as design high quality medical aids like wheelchairs, feeding tubes, hearing aids, etc.

• like the above, queen industries and kord industries would do much of the same and collaborate. unsure on if lexcorps would be involved as lex might want to help but his motives are a little shaky.

• hartley rathaway (pied piper) would also use his wealth to do much of the same, considering he is disabled himself.

• on the topic of hartley, i personally have it that he was born with severe deafness and uses hearing aids (but not all the time) as well as ASL. i did my best researching medically and looking up thoughts and opinions of the d/Deaf community but pls lmk if i got anything wrong based on what we know about hartley.

• barbara gordon (oracle) would work with others and utilize her tech abilities to create a variety hi-tech wheelchairs that are affordable (or free to those who cannot pay) and effective. her oracle wheelchair is customized to her needs and even has a compartment that acts as a utility belt (as she can very much still kick ass in the wheelchair and lives in gotham so it's kinda necessary to have).

• each batkid would use being legally adopted/knowing the wayne family to sponsor various disabled causes that personally impact them.

• my concept of wildstorm to dc transfer of semi-retired the authority also would sponsor many causes, disability care and activism amongst it.

• many atlanteans due to living in the ocean i imagine are colorblind due to the difference of environment to the surface. we do have the canon example with garth (tempest), who based off what his color blindness is described as, has blue-yellow tritanomaly color blindness.

• after researching for jack drake and bruce similarly regarding 'fixed' disability of spinal injury, it is highly likely the location of their injury never made them lose function of their legs. intensive physical therapy was required and there are still bad days but i feel this is the best alternative than curing it or making it never happen.

• i have a personal idea that in some scenarios after losing his spleen + the impact of vigilantism on the body + surviving the clench leads to tim developing arthritis and he becomes a cane user (which his bō staff can act as a cane) and he splits his time between working in the field or working on comms and computers with oracle. undecided if it's main universe but it's beloved nonetheless to me!

• to the people who hc jason with hearing aids, being a cane user and or having a service dog.. i see you and ily.

feel free to add on if any of y'all think of anything or give me other disabled dc characters whose names i don't know!

[drbatsponge]

As many of you may not know at the time of writing this, May 18th, which was yesterday, is the day that marks Cassandra Cain's first appearance in DC Comics.

So, to celebrate 25 years of the character, I have decided to review each of Cassandra Cain's quote on quote "first appearance" comics.

Essentially these comics cover her origins and her first outing as Batgirl.

All of these comics take place during the No Man's Land event.

The comics in order are:

Batman #567

Detective Comics #734

Legends of the Dark Knight #120

Batman #569

Due to Tumblr's image limit you'll only be able to see images for part one of this review, for a review that has more images, please use this link to Amino here:

We'll start with Batman #567 and TEC #734 since both share Cassandra Cain's two-part origin story: Mark of Cain.

Cassandra Cain's origins are very unique in the sense that the character appears first before she ever even dawns the costume, as the costume is currently being worn by someone else, specifically Helena Bertinelli who does have a cameo appearance within this two part story as Batman can be seen confronting her at a cemetery at the beginning of part one.

Cassandra is later shown, and it's established that she's one of Barbara Gordon's couriers that deliver information and supplies throughout the post-earthquake rocked Gotham City, she brings Barbara an apple as a gift for teaching her how to pronounce words.

It's then shown Cass has trouble pronouncing the simplest of words, due to her father depriving her of speech during her developmental stage of life.

Speaking of Cassandra's father, David Cain, Cass eventually runs into him trying to assassinate Commissioner Gordon via sniper rifle, and prevents him from doing so by surprising him and blocking his field of view.

Part one ends with the two having a confrontation where Cassandra finally utters the phrase that Barbara was trying to teach her prior before pushing David out a window.

Throughout the story various little snippets of Cassandra's childhood are shown.

We can see that nothing was wholesome about her childhood, her upbringing was nothing short of cruel, her father having her kill a man at such a young age, which of course left a lasting impact on her.

Overall part one of this story does a very good job at introducing us to Cass and pulling at your heartstrings with her origin.

While part one doesn't have much dialogue, which is obviously intentional because of the character in this story, it has some stunning visuals from the artist Damion Scott and what few bits of speech we do get is enough to serve the story.

I would say Kelley Puckett hit it right out of the park with getting us invested in his at-the-time new character to the Bat Mythos. I would give part one a perfect 10/10.

Moving on to part two, we begin where the first part ended and we have Cass and David continuing to plummet from their dive through the window earlier. Luckily Batman catches David at least, but Cassandra decides to let go of her father last minute, however she still survives, Batman seemingly catching her and bringing her to a cemetery later on. Most likely the same cemetery that he had found Helena at prior.

There, Batman discerns that Cass never learned how to communicate properly and the only language she knows is violence, fighting.

Cassandra and Batman then have a dispute about who should go after David, Batman bringing up the fact he was hired by Two-Face to kill Gordon.

Batman says he can handle both David and Two-Face, but Cassandra disagrees.

Eventually the two go after both separately, Cass taking Two-Face and Batman taking David.

Cass successfully subdues Two-Face by what we later find out is her taking his coin.

Cass even makes it in time to help Batman with David.

The end of the story shows Barbara handing over an old photo of a Batgirl over to Cass, while Batman instructs her to call the other Bat-Family members.

Overall, part 2 is pretty good, I wouldn't say it's as great as the first part of this story, as it does decide to focus more on action instead of any actual fleshing out to Cassandra's backstory, but nonetheless it's still a solid conclusion to the previous story.

As a rating, I would give it a 9/10.

Now moving on to what you could call part three of Mark of Cain but isn't exactly labeled as such is Legends of the Dark Knight #120. I say COULD, because the story itself isn't exactly all that much connected to the prior parts other than beginning where part 2 ended, but it does further Cassandra's story nonetheless as this is the comic where she officially dawns the Batgirl suit. Before that though, she meets the entire Bat-Family, especially hitting it off with Jean Paul Valley, AKA Azrael.

Batman then has a chat with the previous owner of the Batgirl suit, Helena Bertinelli. Essentially Helena kind of has a meltdown before having a falling out with Batman, which I wouldn't say isn't exactly justified, it's implied Batman pushed her too far here and I don't necessarily blame her for wanting to distance herself. Regardless, Batman collects the suit from her and decides instead that it belongs to Cass.

This is not before she's given a lecture on honoring the symbol of the bat, of which Batman already trusts she'll honor, Nightwing on the other hand not being so sure. Oracle makes him second guess his opinions though and then Cass suits up, now Batgirl, and glides out with the Bat-Family into the city.

I'd give this story an 8/10, my only main problem being with it is the art, for some reason the artist here didn't study anatomy, giving Helena and Cass in this story weirdly skinny wastes. 💀 Nonetheless the artist isn't terrible in other areas.

Our final story, Batman #569, or as the official story is called: I Cover the Waterfront, covers Cassandra's first outing as Batgirl.

It starts out with Cass beating up a bunch of thugs who are trying to rob a gas station, for well, gas.

She quickly dispatches the thugs, the gas station owner, Jimmy Sanchez, inviting her into the station to celebrate.

Even trying to offer her a grape soda, but Cass declines as she much prefers to not hear Sanchez constantly ramble on about things, wanting quiet.

We then cut to what we can assume is a scene prior with Batman briefing Nightwing, Oracle, and Cass about a shortage of gas, which they need for generators to power their infirmary unit within the city they call M.A.S.H.

Cassandra is clever and knows where they might find some gas, suggesting there's some in Amusement Mile.

Batman agrees to let her go get the Cass, Barbara remarking how eager Cass is to please the Caped Crusader.

We can assume that Sanchez has the gas, as we cut back to him and Cass, Sanchez yet again going on another long ramble, talking about how the thugs who attacked him earlier used to be good kids.

Cass again, doesn't like the noise and leaves. Later finding out that the thugs have returned and their leader has a rocket launcher. Before Cass can intervene though, Sanchez comes out and threatens the thugs. Cass leaps into action to save Sanchez, fighting the thugs, but to no avail, eventually the leader regains his footing and blows up the gas station.

Cass, thinking she has failed, attempts to kill the gang leader, but is stopped by Sanchez going on another one of his rambles. She listens this time though, as the man reminds her not to give up so easily, so she lets the thug live.

Batman soon arrives and it's revealed that this whole thing was an elaborate distraction from the real stash of gasoline that Sanchez had hidden in a safe location, showing Cass that she hadn't failed at all.

I would say that this story is a decent first outing for Cassandra Cain as Batgirl, and reevaluates what her character is all about, someone who doesn't give up so easily, someone who isn't a killer. I would give this story another perfect 10/10.

Well, that's it, that's all the stories reviewed for my little anniversary special for Cass here.

Probably one of the longer blogs I've written if I'm completely honest. 😅

But as always stay tuned! Same bat-time, same bat-channel!

And Happy 25th Anniversary Cassandra Cain!

[mindblowingscience]

Researchers in the emerging field of spatial computing have developed a prototype augmented reality headset that uses holographic imaging to overlay full-color, 3D moving images on the lenses of what would appear to be an ordinary pair of glasses. Unlike the bulky headsets of present-day augmented reality systems, the new approach delivers a visually satisfying 3D viewing experience in a compact, comfortable, and attractive form factor suitable for all-day wear. “Our headset appears to the outside world just like an everyday pair of glasses, but what the wearer sees through the lenses is an enriched world overlaid with vibrant, full-color 3D computed imagery,” said Gordon Wetzstein, an associate professor of electrical engineering and an expert in the fast-emerging field of spatial computing. Wetzstein and a team of engineers introduce their device in a new paper in the journal Nature.

Continue Reading.

[stories-of-the-nrm]

Time Doesn't Heal All Wounds Part 6

Dr. Pine: Well Dr. Jones what do you think?

(Dr. Jones shakes his head.)

Dr. Jones: Not good at all. In fact, I'm amazed he's even still alive with how much is missing. The only think we can do is to continue keeping him in an induced coma. We then need to consider if he'll have to be put on a ventilator.

Dr. Pine: I see. Well since he isn't exactly a human, I don't think we'll be able to ask anyone regarding a living will.

Dr. Jones: Yes this is still an engine. Either way, this is a situation that has never happened before. This would change the entire medical field.

Dr. Pine: Indeed. In the meantime, I'll notify all parties involved and update them on the situation.

Dr. Jones: Sounds good.

(We cut to Scott's hospital room.)

Dr. Pine: Thank you for your patience. I do have some news to give.

Gary: What is it, Dr. Pine?

Dr. Pine: We're going to have to transfer him to another part of the hospital. Given the results of the tests we've given his brother, he's in critical condition.

George: What will happen then?

Dr. Pine: We'll have to switch medications and put him in an induced-coma. It's the only way we can safely manage his pain for a long period of time.

(The men move in a way that indicates how concerned they are.)

Dr. Pine: We're going to need to wean him off this medication. It would be dangerous to switch the types of medication he's been given right away. Especially since we're not quite sure how he'll react since he isn't fully human.

Gary: We understand doctor.

(A nurse and Dr. Pine carefully adjust Scott's medication levels.)

Narrator: Many hours pass before Scott finally starts to wake up.

(Scott's breathing changes as his eyes flutter.)

Scott: Wha-wha's?

George: Easy there, old boy.

(A nurse applies an oxygen mask.)

Nurse: This is oxygen. This will help you catch your breath.

Gary: That's right, Scott. Just take deep breaths.

(Scott starts to open his eyes.)

Scott: H-help.

(Gary and George try to soothe him.)

George: I know this is scary. The doctors are doing their best to help you. You're going to be taken to another room.

Gary: That's right, Scott. The doctor will have to put you in a coma.

(Scott looks nervous.)

Scott: A. Coma?

Dr. Pine: It's a very delicate process. We want to limit your suffering the best we can given that this could take months to resolve.

(Scott tries to breathe.)

Scott: I. Un-der-stand.

Dr. Pine: Now because this is a delicate process, I have to do my job to make sure a plan is in place. Since you are in this hospital, you will be treated with the same human rights all patients are given. Do you consent to me doing this?

(Scott nods.)

Dr. Pine: Do you consent to having our medical team do whatever it takes to keep you alive regardless of the cost during this process?

(Scott takes a second to think about it but, then nods.)

Dr. Pine: We contacted your brother and have updated him about the situation. Do you consent to us continuing to update him on your condition?

(Scott takes a deep breath.)

Scott: I want him to know.

(He takes another deep breath.)

Scott: I also want these two and my owner to know.

(Dr. Pine writes this down.)

Dr. Pine: Thank you for answering these questions. I'll update everyone involved. Now you just do your best to relax.

Scott: Thank. You.

Time Skip

Narrator: It was the day of the transfer. He had asked Gordon to be by his side.

(Gordon's holding his brother's hand.)

Gordon: I simply can not understand how we got to this point.

Scott: It's. My boiler. And my. Firebox.

Gordon: I know that much. But how can such a reputable company lose control over this project?

(There's a long pause.)

Scott: Pridham's. They don't. Know why. They won't. Answer my. Boilermakers.

Gordon: Alright. Save your breath then.

(The medical staff starts to prepare the induction process.)

Scott: Gordon. Please visit me. On my. Birthday.

(Gordon takes in the sight of his brother looking drowsy.)

Gordon: I will. I will make sure you are never alone during this entire process.

(Scott smiles.)

Scott: Thank you.

(Scott's eyes flutter closed as he goes under. Gordon looks at the medical team.)

Gordon: What will happen now?

Gary: We will call Sir Topham Hatt once we get any news about the parts.

(Gordon sighs.)

Gordon: I owe you both a lot of favors. I wish I can be here myself.

George: We understand, Gordon. We'll make sure our boy's ok.

(Gordon stands up and can only nod. He pats Scott's now limp hand.)

Gordon: I will be sure to visit you when I can. Godspeed, brother.

Tagging: @bluy1206, @werbitssft, @klein-sodor-bahn, @theyellowroseofsodor, @juniebugsss, @tornadoyoungiron, @pxmun,

@nelllia, @pxmun2, @thefedoragirl, @roosinii, @etherealcaprifandoms, @jessica-sv509510,

@jayde-jots, @thatcheeseycandle, @jordeynnotgordon, @be-kind-and-rewind-again, @hardchildpainter, @asktheoriginalorder,

@onyx-and-friends, @that-mr-e, @sustysteel198, @monika-396, @fabianvalencia561, @gordon208, @savannahlee-d29,

@bladexjester, @sketalya, @agent-7-at-your-service, @i-heart-ukrain3, @engineer-gunzelpunk,

@ladychandraofthemoone, @milkagaisme, @rushingexpress, @toast-com, @rumivi,

and @monstersteam.

[blinktwicebaby]

Whumptober 2024

Day 6- unhealthy coping mechanisms

Fandom- thunderbirds

Also posted on ao3 here :)

* *

Drowning was a natural system, one that every animal on the planet was susceptible to in some way. Even whales gave up at the end of their lives and fell to the bottom of the ocean, water flooding their massive bodies and stopping them from going on anymore.

Sometimes land animals lost their way and fell into the water, screaming and thrashing until their tired bodies couldn’t keep their head above the water. They gave up because they had to, sometimes with hours of panic before their airways were blocked with water for the final time.

Sometimes they just went down too deep and couldn’t come up again in time to take a breath, doomed to their watery grave with only a couple of minutes at most with the certainty that they were going to drown.

Of course it wasn’t entirely grim. Other creatures in the water took the provided nutrients and they got to live on, at least until the water eventually took them too. From huge sharks to the tiniest microbes, the creatures in the water always won.

Gordon had seen three people drown.

He’d seen them struggling for their last gasps for air, taking in water where they’d desperately needed oxygen.

He’d seen the hope in their eyes dwindle to terror and fade to a blank, dead stare void of whatever identity they might have once had.

It happened twice in his stingray years; the first was a man named Thomas Uggins who tried to detonate a bomb underneath a cruise ship. They were supposed to bring him on board and arrest him, but he chose to drown himself instead of face the music. He died with a smile on his face that flittered almost immediately because of the current, his lifeless body drifting like a plastic bag.

The second was a teenaged boy barely younger than Gordon at the time, Gregory Axle, who’d fallen off a boat and been hit by the propeller. It cut partway into his neck and he bled out before Gordon’s team could reach him. He’d been face down in the water, the red still streaming from him. If he’d just managed to get his mouth out of the ocean, even a little bit, he’d have lived.

Neither of those had been a result of negligence, and there were plenty of brain damaged people in the world to prove the fatality of a life that a near drowning could inflict. It seemed that in some instances, death really was the much kinder alternative.

That’s what Gordon told himself at least. The sanctity of his work counted in lives opposed to livelihoods.

What about the crippling debts some families faced after emergency medical interference? Would they have preferred their loved ones deaths? Gordon didn’t think there was anything wrong with a family regretting a life, or mourning the person they’d once loved. Was it worse to live with the fact that he knew he was the one doing it to them?

Of course, most of the people he’d ever saved went home with a bad cough or a sore throat, at worst uncontrollable vomiting. Worse than the few who’d drowned, he also remembered the names of those few he’d doomed to new, harder lives.

Harriett Field. A girl who was pushed from her friend’s boat when she was 8. They’d abandoned her in the water and Stingray happened upon her by coincidence. Gordon did an hour and a half of CPR before she was put on oxygen in the ambulance, and she was still alive. She lost all conscious mobility in her limbs and was fed through a tube, and that was because of Gordon.

Johnathon Sanders. He’d had an allergic reaction while working on an electricity rig and Stingray was called out urgently. Gordon pulled him from the water, his lips purple and twice the size of his head, and given him an epipen. Water had trickled into his lungs and now he couldn’t breathe without assistance from a machine that cost thousands of dollars a month to run.

Anthony Pearson. He broke his back when his sail knocked him into the water so violently that he shattered his hips. He was still adjusting to a life without legs or function in his right arm two years later.

Felix Sellerman. Ahndeep Singh. Hillary Bethany Phillips. Roger Biller. Nancy Derwent. All of them were still adjusting to their new lives. Did they wish they’d drowned, or did they still know how valuable they were?

No. Even with the cost, the loss of limbs, the crippling medical situationships, it was better to be alive than whatever the condition of drowning made them.

The third person he’d seen drown had been a woman, Amanda Sorelli. He said she was a woman, but she’d only been 19.

He dived into the family’s 25 metre pool the next morning and ran his usual practise; a 1km warmup followed by intensive. The sun was peeking over the horizon, the orange and pink sky blotted with grey clouds that wouldn’t reach the island for hours.

His intensive swim consisted of all 4 strokes on repeat. Where his focus was usually on form, he decided that he was well overdue for strength training. Every recovery was fast, and every push was hard.

Kick off, six butterfly kicks, freestyle, stop at the other end. 20 laps, 30 seconds from one end to the other per lap. Kick off, split stroke, breaststroke, 50 metres with a turn, 20 times. Kick off, butterfly, one breath per lap. Kick off on his back, 6 butterfly kicks, lowest number of arm rotations per lap, if he didn’t match it or beat it he added two more laps.

He didn’t time his swims unless the pacer clock was needed. What he didn’t have was a real clock to tell him how long he’d been in the pool for.

The rain started tinkling down on him lightly, completely unnoticed. When it pelted down, disturbing the water and blowing light waves, he noticed but kept going. It was nothing compared to the ocean conditions he’d endured hundreds of times before. Not even the thunder brought him out. It eventually disappeared, fading into the background without his notice.

Freestyle. Two laps without breathing. Three laps. Four- his head started spinning partway through the fourth lap on his five lap pace and he threw his arm over the lane rope dividing him from the rest of the pool- the zone his brothers dubbed ‘the fun part’. His mouth didn’t quite clear the water when he took in a huge gulp of air and it delved into his lungs mixed with chlorinated pool water, piercing his lungs without any warning.

He curled into the lane rope and coughed harshly, his lungs hacking up the water with difficulty. He held onto the lane rope for dear life. When he finally recovered, his cheek was touching the water, his mouth sucking in air only a centimetre above it. He thought briefly of Harriet Field, brain dead but alive. She was quickly dismissed for Amanda Sorelli, who was simply dead.

“There’s a mission off Italy” someone called from the diving block.

Gordon kicked his legs lazily underneath him, hands still firmly on the lane rope. He’d had a go at everyone in his family at some point for doing the same, but this was different.

His chest felt frozen, like he’d been sitting outside on a freezing night. He could feel heat coming off his face and he was still heaving from the near drowning he’d given himself. It took him a moment to register what Alan had said and he shook the water from his hair. It probably didn’t improve his hearing at all, but it had become such a habit that he was convinced that it did.

“A mission?” He asked monotonously.

“Yeah, off Italy.”

Alan was sitting on the diving block with his bare feet hovering above the water kicking back and forth, a towel draped around his shoulders. The rain had reduced to a light spray that made his hair shine, but didn’t penetrate it to the roots.

“I’ll be in Thunderbird 2 in 2 minutes.”

“Scott’s taking this one” Alan said quickly, his lips curled into his mouth as he anticipated Gordon’s reaction.

As expected, he kicked his way to the diving block with venom in his eyes. He tried to pull himself out of the water, but immediately he fell back in with a splash.

He grabbed the rope instead and stared up at Alan with that same nasty look, completely ignoring the fact that his arms had just given out on him.

“He’s taking Thunderbird 4?”

“It’s an underwater rescue, so yeah.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me!?”

He sounded angry, but more than that he sounded hurt.

“You’ve been out here all day. Virgil saw you jump in before 5:30 this morning.”

“And!?”

“You’ve been swimming for 12 hours.”

Ah.

His eyes dropped shamedly and his mouth went under the water. Tiny ripples moved under his nose with every breath and his muscles started screaming at him for stopping. He grunted, the sound muted into bubbles.

“Come on” Alan said, reaching his arm down towards Gordon.

Defeated, Gordon took the hand and let Alan pull him up out of the water. He sat on the edge and Alan threw the towel from his shoulders around Gordon’s.

He felt heavy out of the water. With every effort, he lifted his legs and swivelled around so he was sitting on the dry side. Alan tugged him up and they stumbled back inside just as the rain decided to fall harder.

12 hours. Had it been enough?

“Was it a good swim at least?” Alan asked, opening the door for him.

“I don’t know yet.”

Alan laughed. “What does that even mean?”

“I’ll know the answer the next time I have to swim out to someone.”

Alan stiffened and his entire demeanour changed. His shoulders slumped sympathetically and his head cocked to the side, his fingers flexing and unflexing. Suddenly he couldn’t meet Gordon’s eyes.

“It wasn’t your fault. You did your best-”

“And it wasn’t enough” Gordon interrupted harshly, “I need to be better.”

Alan gaped at his brother.

“You’re an Olympic gold medalist! If you couldn’t get to her in time, no one could. Your best is THE best.”

“Yes, but I need to be better. Amanda Sorelli is dead… because of me.”

Water was still dripping from Gordon’s hairline. It might have been on purpose because his eyes looked shinier than they usually did.

Alan sighed. There was no getting through to him, and he knew it. Tracy stubbornness was next level.

“Scott said he’ll ban you from the pool if you keep beating yourself up.”

“Not beating myself up.”

Alan pulled a face that suggested he strongly disagreed with Gordon’s assessment. Gordon didn’t see it though because he kept closing his eyes tiredly, exhaustion pulling him from the adrenaline of his 12 hour intensive swim. He was dragging his legs and hardly seemed to notice.

He needed a shower, but there was no way he’d last through one alone.

Alan deposited him onto the shower floor and turned the stream of water away from him. He got it to a warm temperature before he turned it back. Gordon hugged his knees and closed his eyes. He might have fallen asleep, but once Alan had rinsed him and run shampoo and conditioner through his hair, shut off the water and draped a huge fluffy towel around him, he came to enough to stand up and hobble back to his room with Alan’s help.

Alan pulled pyjamas on over Gordon’s swimwear and dumped him on the bed. He’d probably get a rash, but that would be his problem.

He seemed to fall asleep somewhere between standing and lying down because his legs were dead weight as Alan slid them under the covers. He pulled the quilt over his older brother’s shoulders and watched him sleeping for just a little while longer.

He’d been so close to saving Amanda Sorelli. If he’d been a little bit faster, he would have made it and she might have come out of it unscathed. She also might have suffered irreversible brain damage, Alan reflected, and really which was worse?

But the answer was simple in his eyes. This could go on for days or weeks, with Gordon killing himself in the pool, unable to stand the fact that no matter how hard he trained, he would never save her.

Gordon didn’t know that Alan knew his phone’s password, and even though this might reveal the fact it was worth it. He turned off Gordon’s 5am alarm and put the phone on charge before leaving the room, aware that he’d have to do the same thing all over again tomorrow.

[bekkathyst]

Hello! I just found your foraging videos and feel HUGELY inspired. 😍 Could you recommend any other blogs or resources about foraging? Even if it's not specific to my area (eastern-ish North America), just seeing what's out there would be an enormous help! 🥰✨

Hey! I'm so sorry it took me so long to answer this! I meant to do it way sooner but it slipped my mind.

I have a ton of recs though!

First of all, buying field guides about your specific region is a massive help! (But something I feel the need to warn about is if you're buying one from Amazon, just google the author first and make sure they're a real person with credentials bc there's been a huge rise in AI-generated garbage being published there and I genuinely think it's going to kill someone one day)

But since books with walls of text and scientific words can be intimidating, I think the best way to begin to learn and kind of just dip your toes into the foraging world is by learning from educators online! (Especially if you're a more visual learner like I am!)

Here are some of my favorites who are either US-based and/or whose content is in English. You can find these people on TikTok and most of them on Instagram and Facebook as well. Some also have books published!

Alexis Nikole aka BlackForager TikTok | Instagram

Samuel Thayer TikTok | Website

Gabrielle Cerberville aka ChaoticForager / Mushroom Auntie TikTok | Instagram

Whitney Johnson aka Appalachian_Forager TikTok | Instagram

Gordon Walker aka FacinatedbyFungi TikTok | Instagram

Jess Starwood (I took one of her mushroom classes when I lived in California and it was amazing! We even had a mushroom-centric feast in the forest at the end. She has a book about mushrooms out that I've been meaning to buy but I haven't had the chance yet) Instagram | Website

I feel like I'm forgetting some so I'll reblog with updates when I think of them!

Now that being said - when talking about foraging I want to note that it's important to listen to and follow the wisdom of the people indigenous to the land you're living on. They're always going to be the most knowledgeable about the land and how to protect it. Also if you can find a list or resource about which plants in your area are endangered and off-limits, it's good to have that handy.

And finally! You can check out my TikTok for more of my videos, if you enjoy them and like the perspective of a regular-schmegular person just foraging the things that are traditional to the area they're in and learning more as they go :) I'm finding that a lot of what I forage here in Austria is really similar to things you can find on the east coast of the US. I'm also going to launch my Patreon this week where I will have recipes, some foraging videos, and more stuff crystal-related (which is actually what I'm known for on here) haha!

I hope this helps! I think a lot of people feel overwhelmed when they first want to get into foraging but it's so human and normal and starting small and working your way up is the way to go. At the end of the day, it's all just knowledge that you accumulate over a long period of time!

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Phantom Grin

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: Bruce Wayne visits his son's grave on the night of his resurrection. Will it change Jason's fate, or is it all simply inevitable?

Chapters: 11/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Alfred Pennyworth, Barbara Gordon, Tim Drake, Cassandra Cain

Relationship(s): Jason Todd/Original Character

Additional Tags: Canon Divergent AU, Jason Todd Has Chronic Pain, Jason Todd is Disabled, Barbara Gordon is Oracle, Resurrected Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne Get Along

Chapter Eleven: Bat or Bird

ason spent the next few weeks at Barbara's because Bruce was out of town following a lead. Barbara didn't mind him training at odd hours. Most days, Jason kept his appointments and said his prayers. Other days, Jason lay in bed with no desire to do anything. Barbara allowed him his space as long as he followed two rules: Make his appointments and answer his phone.

"Jason!" Barbara yelled from the kitchen.

Jason rolled his shoulders and wiped the sweat from his brow. He met her in the kitchen and looked her in the eyes. "Where's your phone?" Barbara questioned. Jason patted himself down to look for his phone, and she held it out for him.

"Sorry, I didn't—."

"Bruce called you an hour ago... He's still free to talk, but you've gotta pay more attention," Barbara chastised him. He nodded and took his phone from her.

Jason apologized and called Bruce back from his room. "Jason, are you—?"

"Hi, Dad. I'm sorry, I didn't have my phone on me," Jason interrupted, "Something wrong?"

"No... I just wanted to check in on you. How've you been?" Bruce asked.

"Honestly? I'm doing alright today... I just have a lot on my mind," Jason whispered, "Dad... Can I ask you something?"

"Okay," Bruce replied.

Jason heard clicking as if Bruce were typing something. "If your gut feeling went against common sense-. Generally speaking... Would you trust your gut or—?"

"Is it something that can be looked into? If it can't, I'd say go with your gut," Bruce whispered, "Do you need me to come back?"

"No, actually, that was the answer I needed... Not the one I wanted, though. What are you doing?" Jason asked. "Are you working?"

"Um, no, I'm just doing a regular search... You know I'll be back in time for your birthday," Bruce reassured him, "Anything special you want me to bring you back?"

"Nothing this time... But maybe consider letting me come with you next time," Jason suggested, "I'm doing better. I really am."

Bruce stayed silent. "Dad, you haven't even seen what I can do yet," Jason whispered. He lay back on the couch. "I need you to trust me. I'm not even asking to be Robin again. I'm just asking to be something."

"You are something. Jason, you're my son. I just don't want—."

"I was Batman's son too," Jason whispered. Bruce sighed.

"I'm sorry, but I've gotta go. I love you, Jason," Bruce replied.

"I love you too," Jason muttered into the phone before hanging up.

"Jason, I wanna talk to you after you get cleaned up," Barbara whispered. Jason nodded, and he showered and washed his hair.

Although he understood Bruce's hesitancy to put him back into the field, Jason felt hurt. He tried not to get angry or offended, but he couldn't help but feel stifled. He got dressed and met Barbara in the living room. "You're bored," she stated.

"It's not your fault. I just want to be useful again," Jason whispered. Barbara took her glasses off and set them on the table. "What?"

"If I let you open your birthday gift, will you promise not to use it until your birthday?" Barbara asked. "I'm serious. You have to promise me because I shouldn't have done this in the first place."

"I promise," Jason whispered. Barbara grabbed a box from behind the couch and handed it to Jason. He carefully removed the wrapping paper while holding eye contact with Barbara. "Before I open this box, how much trouble could you get in if my dad found out?"

"Don't worry about it. Just open it," Barbara whispered. Jason looked down and opened the box. He pulled out a costume and a mask. "I'm not sure if you remembered a conversation we had before you—. I didn't give you two things. I didn't give you a cape, and I didn't give you a symbol. It's time you start to make choices for yourself. It's time you decide who you are, Jason."

"Barbara," Jason smiled as he looked the costume over, "You really—. Thank you, but why would you stick your neck out for me like this?"

"Because I care about you," Barbara answered. She pointed to the top half of his suit. "It's heavy because it's insulated and bulletproof. The utility belt is basically the same, with a few updates... And Jason, please be careful."

Jason smiled faded, and he nodded. "Barbara, what's the catch? I know there's gotta be a catch," Jason questioned.

"I've seen you these past few weeks. I think it's time that we all start giving you your space. You've more than earned it," Barbara explained. Jason folded his costume up neatly and put it back in the box. He walked over to Barbara and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "What's that for?"

"Not asking where I'm going tonight... And for believing in me," Jason whispered.

"I won't ask where you're going, but I will ask you one thing," Barbara whispered, "Jason, are you about to do something dangerous?"

"Nothing dangerous... Just stupid," Jason answered, "Really stupid... But on a scale of one to ten for danger, I'd have to say it's a two." Barbara narrowed her eyes. "I won't be out super late. Actually, I won't be out late at all. I'll be back before eleven."

"Okay," Barbara whispered, "Do you want me to order anything special for dinner tonight?" Jason shook his head.

"No, I'll find something out there," Jason replied as he slipped on his shoes and took his keys off the hook on the wall. It was nice to have his own little secret, but something told him that he was about to make a huge mistake.