#Sisters of the Resistance

[mariannedonley]

Jina Bacarr October Featured Author

I discovered early on that I inherited the gift of the gab from my large Irish family when I penned a story about a princess who ran away to Paris with her pet turtle Lulu. I was twelve.

About Jina Bacarr I discovered early on that I inherited the gift of the gab from my large Irish family when I penned a story about a princess who ran away to Paris with her pet turtle Lulu. I was twelve. I grew up listening to their wild, outlandish tales and it was those early years of storytelling that led to my love of history and traveling. I enjoy writing to classical music with a hot…

[musicalangel12]

Sisters Yvette and Gabby reconnect after World War II, bringing back memories of their time working for the resistance as part of Catherine Dior's networ of spies.

[somnoir]

Bats and Phantoms - Part 3

Part 3 | Masterpost

Cassandra and Jasmine

Jazz has always been concerned for her siblings. Why wouldn't she? Dan was a former world ender, Danny was ghost king (or was it crown prince?), and Ellie was almost always everywhere. In all honesty, if was overwhelming.

But she'd be damned to not love them no matter what.

Visiting Gotham to see if Danny was okay was... Well, she just had to. Somehow, her brother's have caught the eye of vigilantes and that was obviously bad.

Her phone buzzed and once again she's plagued by Dan's messages.

Younger-Older-Bigger: Should I stalk Nightwing???

Older-definitely: No. Please don't.

Older-definitely: We already have to worry about Danny getting stalked by a crime lord

Younger-Older-Bigger: Yeah but I'm not a crime lord

Older-definitely: NO

Older-definitely: STOP

Older-definitely: DAN

Younger-Older-Bigger: ᕙ⁠(⁠ ⁠ ⁠•⁠ ⁠‿⁠ ⁠•⁠ ⁠ ⁠)⁠ᕗ

Why? Why did they have to be like this? Weapon training was somehow the automatic bonding activity for the Fenton/Masters siblings. Dan and Danny liked to fight with sword a little too much and Ellie was all to happy to throw daggers at people. Jazz preferred her lazers and blasters (though her aim was wonky at first, it got better... She promised.)

So here she was, in Gotham... Making sure her brother wasn't being seduced by a crime lord. But of course, she was a Fenton born and bred and raised. Gotham apparently had literal alarms that alerted the entire city of a massive attack. Her phone even got an alert from... WE warning. Wayne Enterprises?

Okay... Apparently Scarecrow was running amok and plaguing the streets with his fear toxin. Oh, Danny was going to go feral.

(A couple blocks away, Danny Fenton was high on the fear and giggling to himself. Yes.)

And also Gothamites carried gasmasks around. What a wonderful day to leave hers behind.

She's already cough, closing her eyes as she desperately tried to stay sane. Her liminal and almost half a state should have made the effects different from her but apparently she wasn't ghost enough to feel euphoric.

Stumbling into the closest building she could find, she's desperately gasping when a gasmask was pressed against her face. Jazz can barely register the dark haired girl with asian features who was hurriedly hauling her to her feet and away from the door.

It takes a minute before she's registering the girl, blinking when she saw her making gestures. Again, it takes her another minute to realize it's sign language.

Thank God she had paranoid siblings who took those classes in case they couldn't speak. But with her brain filled with feat toxin, she's clumsy in signing back but there's some mild surprise in the girl's eyes. But Jazz is conscious enough to notice the tense way the girl stood, how her stance was prepared for a fight. Maybe that was normal Gothamites behavior...

At least, she was communicating with someone. Someone who's really pretty too. God, was the fear toxin making her dopy? That can't be, right?

Cass had seen a pretty redheaded girl fall to her knees, and yet she had more resistance to fear toxin than local Gothamites. It was almost interesting really, but she's not going to dwell on it when this girl was choking for air.

Words don't easily process for her but her body moves without much thought, signing to her if she was okay. The girl, clearly disoriented, looks confused before realization bleeds into her strangely bright eyes—then she's clumsily signing back.

She says her name is Jasmine, like the flower, the princess—call her Jazz, she insists.

And she replies that she's Cassandra—like the character from Rapunzel, like the girl from Greek muths—just call her Cass tho.

When Jazz is in her arms, Cass can feel some muscles through her clothes. This girl wasn't as frail as she look. No. This was a trained fighter, someone who knew how to defend themselves without a problem. Cass should be wary, but at the same time she was worried.

She knows she should be going out there and helping but Oracle had immediately told her to help the civilians in the area. Batman, Robin, Red Robin, and Spoiler were handling the situation but the civilians had to be protected at all costs. She might not be able to help as orphan in that moment but she could as Cass Wayne.

The commotion gets worse once Scarecrow's henchmen start raiding the place with every weapon they could get their hands on. She fights to the best of her abilities, watching, predicting, but what she didn't predict was a loud blast tearing through the place and shattering the window.

Cass can see a blast of green spark through the air before directly hitting the Jonathan Crane. The man is blasted into a wall, groaning before he's knocked out.

Her eyes dart to where the blast came from.

Jazz, the strange girl she has just met, was holding a strange gun.

(In the distance, Danny was still very much high and was not aware that one of his maniacal invention had actually worked in his sister's favor.)

Part 4 | Masterpost

[deadsetobsessions]

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

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

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

——

Ra’s al Ghul.

Talia al Ghul.

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

On a bad day?

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

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

She was not a baby.

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

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

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

“My apologies, father.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

She was still young. A child.

“No.”

“No?”

“He did no wrong.”

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

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

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

“No.”

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

——

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

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

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

She learned a valuable lesson that day.

There were things worse than death.

“This is an order, granddaughter.”

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

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

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

——

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

She was right to be afraid for herself.

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

“You have become a sharp tool, granddaughter.”

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

She did not understand.

-

The girl came back. Water. Food. Kind.

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

The girl had given the weapon her own sound.

“Cass—n- ra.”

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

“Cass.” Cassandra pointed to herself.

-

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

Cassandra did not want to.

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

The girl came.

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

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

-

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

Sometimes, she hates Talia for being- for-

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

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

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

She wished…

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

She hated him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

Tim had never had a friend before!

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

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

His new friend nodded, looking interested.

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

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

“Are you sure?”

She nodded.

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

——

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

“Do you have to go?”

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

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

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

——

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

The reincarnation stood behind her mother, eyes cast downwards.

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

Damian al Ghul cooed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

Perhaps… she could use the pits?

Her mind turned and turned.

——

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

“Ukhti?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

——

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

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

——

Another mission.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

Then, someone new joins.

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

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

Her memories roar. A child.

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

——

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She smiled, and patted his head.

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

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

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

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

——

She found it.

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

“What…?”

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

“It’s you!”

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

——

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

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

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

——

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

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

Shhhlk!

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

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

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

Damian sighed as father stepped in between them.

“Who are you.”

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

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

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

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

Damian sent the Flash a derisive look and ignored him.

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

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

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

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

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

His sister glanced back and ignored them.

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

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

——

[carrythatwayt]

I mean. He has a point.

More Buck: Wife Material; Study Him; Bothered; Just Like Me

[sunlit-mess]

Please be really really careful with alcohol, since borderline personality disorder often carries addictions with it. I'm sure you're aware already, so I don't mean to come off as offensive, just worried, 'cause my sister with borderline has to deal with it and a number of her friends she met through terapy as well, and I'm sure you don't need anything like that on top of everything else. Wish you well!

gotta say, u caught me-

[local-lamppost]

Maddie and Caitlyn and Piltover

Probably the most jarring twist of the Act was Maddie and Caitlyn's relationship. It seemed very sudden, until you take a look into the few lines from her in Act 1 and realize they all centered around Caitlyn. That Maddie was the first Piltie to 'dedicate her heart' to Caitlyn with Noxus. Maddie likes Vi because Caitlyn vouched for her and deems her 'one of the good ones' because of Caitlyn.

Let's talk about Maddie: she's an average young Piltie. She's Cait's age, give or take, and feels hurt both by the recent Zaun attacks and Marcus' betrayl. Caitlyn is the first person after all this that is trying to do something to fix the mess. Cait's a Kiramman, an inspiration, a fighter, and kinda sorta pretty. Maddie was starry eyed by Cait and couldn't see any problems with her actions or flaws because of this. When given the option to have Cait lead, she jumps at the chance.

Maddie is something of a trick with her introduction. She doesn't have a personal stake like Vi or Cait, isn't there to look after her new buddy like Loris (until told otherwise he is there just cause he is Vi's old man friend); she believes in combating Jinx. Peacekeeping in Zaun with gas and hextech weapons to go after one person, but oh isn't she so cute? Introduced in a halo of sunlight and being so sweet to Vi?

Maddie is a proud Piltie, who feels betrayed by Marcus and the Undercity, who wants to punish them and rebuild her home in topside. And yes, she feels betrayed by the Undercity, she consider's it a part of Piltover one way or another, and most topsider's are ignorant of why Zaunites are so upset with them. To Maddie, these attacks came out of left field.

What's interesting is that Maddie is anti-Ambessa, or at least pro-Caitlyn. You could see this as her being a moderate. She tells Cait that she can withdraw from Zaun and reestablish the council, but ends that statement by reaffirming Caitlyn as their leader, "The Enforcers, Piltover... I follow you". Cait and her military rule makes Maddie feel safe and proud in her city.

Onto Cait. Yeah, Cait's not necessarily using Maddie, but she is utilizing her. She's learned from her percieved mistakes/weaknesses and is keeping her work and personal life seperate. They have sex and talk about the state of the city, but Cait never talks about her feelings with Maddie as she did with Vi. Cait's an emotional person too. She was always quick to express herself to Vi, to Ekko, to her mother and father, to Jayce; but she is hurt and alone and can contribute both of those facts to her emotions (sans Jayce).

Begs the question of why Cait is sleeping with Maddie? But even that is simply her coping. It's her version of Vi drinking and fighting. It's stress relief and a quick way to at least make someone else happy. Cait also likes touch, so it stands to reason she'd find someone in her isolated state (Vi pushed away, father a living ghost, Jayce and Mel magiced away). Also, if Word of God is anything to go by, it's not out of character for Cait to find a pretty girl to fool around with.

Cait's main focus is still Jinx. Her mind is literally shown overlapping with her's. Maddie a tryst for the off hours, and even that's kept to the minimum as Cait would rather work than get any rest.

I do wish we could've gotten a scene of Cait replaying her interactions with Vi (think season 1 shower scene), but instead we have Maddie to contrast their relationship. Maddie is kind of the 'Piltover Approved' Vi; she's a red headed enforcer who loves her city, her council, the noble houses, and Caitlyn. She's safe and she's someone that Caitlyn doesn't have to put any excess energy into. Which must be gratifying for the surface levels of Cait's issues. Vi forces Cait to act better, to look inward and reflect, to consider other people and not just her own hurt (something season one Cait wouldn't have even needed another's help with).

The little detail of Vi not calling Cait a cupcake until episode 6 is also telling. At first it's likely Vi realizing the seriousness of everything, but it could also be that she disapproves of Cait's actions. Cait doesn't have that sweetness in her, or at least isn't allowing herself to act on it. When Vi does call her cupcake again it's not an endearment as it was by the end of season one, but a call out to what Cait has become.

Going forward, what's next? Vi and Cait aren't back together, but are together. They have to fight the Noxians (which was hinted at by Maddie herself) and help with the Arcane.

I kinda want Jinx to be the one to spell everything out to Cait; to tear her a new one. Jinx kept an eye on Vi during her pit fighter era, saw the drunk, broken mess that her sister became; a sister she is now on tentatively good terms with and will likely be a bit protective of after Isha. Something like, "I saw what happened to Vi after you guys split, she destroyed herself like you destroyed the city. I always thought I would be the one to break her, but you did a bang up job! Two of us have that in common, hurting Vi, but I'm trying now. So what does that say about you? None of this was Vi's fault, all she was trying to do was keep you from acting like me, ya know, deranged and violent? Huh, Vi-olent."

So in Act 3, Cait needs to be the one to get a kick in the ass and have that conversation with Vi. She needs to own up to her mistakes. How she was guilting Vi into the enforcers, how Vi was right about her loosing control and almost shooting a kid, maybe even for using Vi's affection for her against her. Vi will forgive her, she's Vi and has the self worth of a pebble, so long as Cait takes accountability and starts acting on any promises to change-again, why a shovel talk from Jinx could help set their relationship in the right direction.

[archivewriter1ont]

Bad Batch on Pabu Incorrect Quotes

Phee: I like my men like I like my coffee -- sweet and strong.

Tech: I like my women like I like my coffee, as well.

Phee: How is that?

Tech: *smirks* Black and hot.

Crosshair, Wrecker, and Omega: *gagging* We're right here, guys!!

Hunter: *gestures to Omega* There is a child present!

Echo: At least he’s getting better at social interaction. *sips tea*

[crocuta1]

Does anyone remember the calf1sh beach episode

[mariannedonley]

Jina Bacarr October Featured Author

I discovered early on that I inherited the gift of the gab from my large Irish family when I penned a story about a princess who ran away to Paris with her pet turtle Lulu. I was twelve.

About Jina Bacarr I discovered early on that I inherited the gift of the gab from my large Irish family when I penned a story about a princess who ran away to Paris with her pet turtle Lulu. I was twelve. I grew up listening to their wild, outlandish tales and it was those early years of storytelling that led to my love of history and traveling. I enjoy writing to classical music with a hot…

[musicalangel12]

My Books of 2023 - May 1st

1. Circus of Wonder by Elizabeth Macneal - historical fiction

2. The Space Between by Dete Meserve - mystery/romance

3. Clover Blue by Eldonna Edwards - historical fiction/coming of age

4. The Duchess by Wendy Holden - historical fiction/historical romance

5. The Last Piece by Imogen Clark - contemporary

6. Sisters of the Resistance by Christine Wells

From Goodreads:

Set in the thick of the Paris Resistance movement during WWII, this exciting novel tells of the deep involvement of Catherine Dior and two young women who risked their lives to support her efforts—perfect for fans of Kate Quinn and Jennifer Chiaverini. France, 1944: The Nazis still occupy Paris, and twenty-five-year-old Gabby Foucher hates these enemies, though, as the concierge of ten rue Royale, she makes it a point to avoid trouble, unlike her sister Yvette. Until she, like her sister, is recruited into the Resistance by Catherine Dior—sister of the fashion designer, Christian Dior. Gabby and Yvette are both swept into the world of spies, fugitives, and Resistance workers, and it doesn't take long for the sisters to realize that their lives are in danger. Gabby discovers an elderly tenant is hiding a wounded British fugitive, and Yvette becomes a messenger for the Resistance. But as Gabby begins to fall in love with her patient and Yvette’s impulsiveness lead her into intrigue at an ever-higher level, both women will discover that their hearts and even their souls hang in the balance as well. This page-turning novel is perfect for any reader fascinated by the role of women during World War II, whose stories are often untold, and introduces us to Catherine Dior, the fearless real-life Resistance hero.

[silvers-starrway]

S doesn't get to catch a break </3

[fullscoreshenanigans]

(Mystic Code Book Chapter 7 - Series Timeline; edit originally from this post)

Me whenever I remember Don, Emma, Gilda, and Ray spent more time with Zack than Lucas or Yuugo but I rarely see any Big Bro Zack works of him interacting with them </3

[kathjack]

Man I like this au x2

This is the first time in months I can draw without a time limit of one hour per day and with a pen instead of my finger/mouse and I think it shows because the anatomy looks less rushed and I actually took the time to draw hands, plus the quality remains mostly intact as there's no re-sends You can also tell I like Kevin and Bob, which is funny because I dislike original Bob a lot

Anyways the au belongs to @zleepysnails, some of these characters belong to @jacenotjason and I'm gonna go hide under a rock because I hate tagging people see you all tomorrow

Close up of the colored ones because I’m proud of how they turned out

Fun fact Bob's one comes from a hispanic ytp(h) about Donkey Kong, still one of the few ytph that aged well

[really-quite-tremendous]

Lawrence: From now on, we will be using code names. You can address me as Eagle One. Aldo, code name: Been There, Done That. Vincent is Currently Doing That. Ray is It Happened Once in a Dream; Agnes, code name: If I Had To Pick a Chick. Joshua is... Eagle Two. Adeyemi: Oh, thank God.

[covertblizzard]

i just want to know who gave aquaman the idea that he needs to send garth to land school? like he needs to be in the water once a day and he is like "yes land school is where he shall go" like does atlantis not have schools?

my favourite theory right now is that he hears bruce and barry and ollie boasting about their kids in school and how well they're doing and he was like "hmph, garth could totally do that too" and decided to send him so he could have something to puff chest about too