#bubs writes fic about jpt

[theunavenged]

Mommy Dearest

As the president of the Catherine Todd Protection Squad, and Founder of the AK!Jason Needs All of the Hugs organization, I am hereby giving Cathy a small bit of redemption from how she was portrayed in Arkham Knight: Genesis, therefore allowing Jason to get lots and lots of hugs and kisses as a kid ❤️ (Abusive Willis gets no redemption. Sorry bud.)

Also on AO3 (please comment & kudos if you enjoy!)

cw: domestic violence, child neglect, drug use/addiction, swearing

It was crying again. More like shrieking. Cathy rolled over in bed and wrapped a pillow around her head. She could fucking geld Willis for this. How hard was it to just pull his dick out and come on her back for a couple of weeks until she could get back on the pill? Too hard for her imbecile husband, apparently. 

As soon as she realized she was pregnant she wanted to get rid of it but Willis wouldn’t let her. That was when he hatched his idiotic scheme to sell a fucking newborn to a bunch of mobsters to pay off their drug debts. Dumbass. Now they were stuck with this 12 pound nightmare that never, ever shut the fuck up.

Willis kicked her in the side, so hard that she almost tumbled off the bed. He grabbed the pillow off of her head, yanking it out of her hands. “If you don’t shut that goddamn baby up then I will,” he growled before slamming the pillow back down in her face and rolling back over in bed.

He always threatened this. Last time she told him to go for it and he’d backhanded her so hard he knocked her to the floor. “Do I look like a fucking nanny? Deal with it!” She still had that bruise on her cheek.

She sat up on the side of the bed and rubbed her sunken bloodshot eyes, trying to find the willpower to stand up. It was December in Gotham and their gas was shut off because they’d smoked up the last payment (and the payment before that, and the payment before that, etcetera, etcetera…) Now they were making do with a couple of space heaters, but she was still freezing her ass off. The absolute last thing she wanted to do right now was crawl out of the warmth of her blankets to go beg a damn baby to stop crying.

She fantasized once again about taking a pillow and smothering it. But as much as she despised the thing she’d never actually do it. She was a good Catholic girl, and she didn’t want to burn in hell for murdering a baby. What does it want from me?? It wasn’t like she knew anything about raising a kid. She was only 19, practically a kid herself. None of her girlfriends who she could’ve turned to for advice even talked to her anymore—they didn’t want to associate with a junkie. Her sister had a brood, but she was on the other side of the country, wrapped up in some evangelical cult her nutjob husband sucked her into, and Cathy would rather suffer with her screaming kid than hear one more time about how she needed to embrace Jesus to be healed of her sinful addictions. She wished she had her mother to help her, but her parents cut her off when she dropped out of high school to run off with the dreamy Willis Todd, who was a decade older than she was, who’d failed out of high school and was too stupid to pass his GED. Worst mistake of my life, and she’d made a lot of them. She also didn’t have the luxury of delivering the baby in an air-conditioned hospital with a nice nurse to send her home with how-to instructions. Nope. She had the thing on a hot roof on a sweltering mid-August night, with Willis telling her to "push," while all she wanted to do was push him and his brat off the building. 

It was somehow shrieking even louder now. How the hell did it have this much energy? She could barely afford to feed herself, much less a kid. And as if everything else she had to deal with wasn’t enough, the damn thing wouldn’t breastfeed. Maybe it could tell that milk was poisoned. She hadn’t changed her lifestyle when she got knocked up or after it was born—why should I when I didn’t want the thing in the first place? Her drawn face softened, smoothing away her angry scowl. For some reason the thought of the baby going hungry made her sad all of a sudden, and for a moment she actually felt sorry for it. The kid didn’t ask to be born. And it certainly didn’t ask to be born to two dirt-poor fuckups. When she stopped by the kitchen to grab her cigarettes and an ashtray she’d make it a bottle. Maybe that would make it happy.

With a sigh, she finally pushed herself off the bed and stood up. She didn’t want to have to deal with Willis if he woke up again—she already had one whining kid to take care of right now. She wandered like a stoned zombie into their tiny kitchen. Their elderly neighbor had shown her how to swaddle the thing—she said it was like being back in the womb or something—but she’d been tweaked out of her mind then and now she couldn’t figure out what the lady had done. Goddamn kid. She’d told Willis over and over that they could dump it at a fire station and be rid of it once and for all, but the idiot was still convinced he could sell it, and there was no talking him out of something when he made his mind up. She’d thought about crawling back home to her parents and begging for a second chance, but she didn’t think she could give up dope for that. And besides, Willis would track her down and beg her to come back to him, and she’d do it. She hated herself for that, but that was how it was. She wasn’t gonna pretend it would be any different than all the other times he’d dragged her back to this shithole apartment.

She lit up a cigarette while she prepared the formula for the bottle. She’d thought all babies had blonde hair, but this one had a head full of black hair, just like her pig of a husband. And its eyes were baby blue now, but she just knew they’d eventually fade to that empty, soulless blue shade of his. You know, the least it could do after I carried it for 9 miserable months was actually look like me. But all she saw when she looked down at it was Willis. A carbon copy of the man. And it would probably grow up to be just like Willis, with his temper and his drugs and his gambling and his whores—another dumbass deadbeat in this godforsaken city. This poor kid was fucked every which way. He’d have no more hope of escaping Gotham’s gravity than she ever had.

She screwed the nipple back onto the bottle, slid the lit cigarette between her lips, and wandered over to the crib and her wailing baby. But… it wasn’t wailing. It had stopped when she entered the living room. Weird. Did the thing drop dead on her or something? That was all she needed right now. A dead baby. She sat the ashtray down with her cigarette, switched on a lamp, and leaned over the crib. 

The chubby little thing was on his back with his stubby arms and legs in the air like a turtle on its shell, and he was smiling up at her, with two huge robin’s egg blue eyes, and although he’d dragged her out of bed at 4 in the morning, she couldn’t help but smile back.

“Aww,” she said gently. “I’ve never seen you smile before.”

She reached in and touched him on his tiny hand and he laughed, and that little laugh was the cutest thing she’d heard or seen in years. She giggled back at him then picked him up and held him against her heart, cradling his head against her shoulder. “Did you just want to be held? Is that it?”

He burbled at her in response, and something cracked inside of her. She suddenly felt like the worst piece of shit human being to ever walk the planet. This was her son, her baby boy. Hers. And for four goddamn months of his short life she had treated him like an unwanted piece of trash. Yet, here he was smiling at her, reaching for her like he knew she was his mommy, knew that she was supposed to protect him and love him unconditionally. He didn’t give a shit that she was a high school dropout, or that she was married to a loser, or that she was a 19 year old jibhead who looked like she was 40, or even that she’d all but neglected him for his entire life—he still wanted her, when the same couldn’t be said of her girlfriends, or her husband, or even her own family. 

The poor thing didn’t even have clothes on, just a diaper. He was probably freezing to death in here. She tugged a ratty blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped herself and her son in it. Tears suddenly welled up in her eyes and she hugged the tiny body against her chest like a teddy bear. “I’m sorry,” she cried as tears rolled down her sunken cheeks, cheeks that were spotted with angry red sores. She felt like a little girl again, and she desperately wanted her own mother to take her in her arms and tell her everything was going to be alright. She wanted her dad to take her away from this hell, to protect her from Willis’ rage. But that was a different life, a life she chose to walk away from so she could play house with a wannabe gangster. Now it was time for her to grow up and become the parent, the protector, the mama bear. She rubbed away the tears from her dark-ringed eyes with the back of her hand.

Her little Jaybird had drifted off to sleep in her arms, and she could feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest, and the soft yet steady beating of his tiny heart. Her own heart felt warm in her chest, warm enough to chase the frigid chill away. She lay her cheek against his soft head. He was such a fragile, helpless little thing, and he would need his mommy to protect him from everything this godforsaken city would throw at him. 

“Mommy’s gonna take care of you now, little one,” she whispered as she rocked him gently. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

And she meant it. It was a promise, an oath. One she hoped she had the strength to keep. For a moment she forgot who she was, who she was married to, where she was forced to live, or who she had become. Right then all that mattered to her was the little life nestled against her breast. Right then she swore that even if she couldn’t escape Gotham’s gravity, she’d do whatever it took to help her baby boy crawl out from beneath its weight.

She gave his black hair a tender kiss, and soon both mother and son were sound asleep.

[theunavenged]

A Mother's Struggle

The first fic I published on AO3! Re-sharing in honor of Mother's Day 💕 This started as a headcanon of mine (i.e. Jason only turned to thievery after his mom got into trouble with loan sharks) then evolved into a short story exploring my beloved Catherine's relationship with young Jason and her struggle with addiction.

Read on AO3 (please comment & kudos if you enjoy!)

Catherine held the burning cigarette between two trembling fingers, shaking free bits of ash onto the table below. The word was out: Willis was dead. The bastard left her with nothing but his gambling debts, and now the sharks were circling. Two of her late husband’s associates were standing in her kitchen, their appetites whetted for either cash or blood.

She looked up at the men, trying her best to hold back both tears and vomit. “I’ll get your money, I swear. I just need more time. Please.”

Vinny, the elder of the pair—a short man with a greasy black ponytail and a leathery face made for scowls—lunged forward and gripped the table with both hands, causing Catherine to jump back with a gasp and nearly spill from her chair.

“Do we look like we represent a charitable organization, lady?” he snarled, his upper lip curling to reveal crooked, nicotine-stained teeth. “We ain’t in the habit of offering leniency to junkies and degenerates.”

“Look around,” Catherine said, waving her hand at the dilapidated apartment. “I’ve got nothing to give you.”

She and Willis were never well-off but there was a time when this little apartment of theirs had a touch of class. She decorated it herself, kept it spotless—she desperately wanted her Willis to be happy and proud. She was a naive child back then, still wrapped up in a schoolgirl’s fantasy of having a “gangster” as a husband. But over the years their apartment’s upscale facade chipped away, much like that of their marriage. Now the home they had once shared was run-down and filthy. The plaster walls were full of cracks and yellowing from the years of cigarette smoke. The hardwood floors were covered in scuffs, scratches, and layers of grime. Rats and roaches brazenly scurried about from their holes in the woodwork. Most of the furniture and decor had been sold off to pay bills… or to feed her addictions.

“Please, you have to understand,” Catherine pleaded, her voice faltering now. “Willis left me with nothing. Not a dime. I'm a single mom with a kid to feed. Please give me a break.”

Vinny suddenly lunged at her again, grabbing her by the wrist. Catherine yelped as he yanked up her arm and ripped back her sleeve. The inside of her elbow was dotted with needle holes, marking her attempts to escape the pain of the present and return to those happier days when a well-kept apartment was her only concern.

“A kid to feed, huh?” Vinny scoffed. “Looks to me like you’re shooting most of his meals into your arm.”

Vinny’s partner laughed, and Catherine’s eyes darted toward the second man who hung back behind Vinny with his arms crossed against his chest. She didn’t recognize the tall, 30-something man, but those hawk-like features and twinkling, dark eyes of his sent a chill racing down her spine. Vinny had a reputation for his hot temper, but this other man with his calm demeanor and evident amusement for her situation seemed far more dangerous.

Catherine swallowed hard, hoping to hide some of her fear from these animals, but when she spoke her voice was a frightened squeak. “I’m gonna stay clean from now on, I swear. I’ll… I’ll go back to work. Whatever it takes. I’ll have your money soon, just please don’t hurt me.”

“Mom?” a small voice asked warily.

Catherine's heart leapt into her throat and she let out a strangled cry. Vinny dropped her arm, and both men spun around to face the interruption. Behind them stood a 10-year-old boy, hands stuffed into the pockets of worn, school-issued khakis, suspiciously eying the strangers. There was no hope in holding back her tears now, which trickled down her cheeks at the sight of her son. Why? Why did he have to come home now of all times? She slid out of her seat at the table and pushed past Vinny, hurrying toward her son. The scrawny boy, with his mop of black hair and icy blue eyes, was a shadow of his late father. Even his casual stance and mistrustful frown reminded her of the man she once loved. Catherine kneeled in front of the boy. She pushed a curl behind his ear and forced herself to smile at him, but the boy glared through her, his eyes still fixed on the two men.

“Jason, sweetheart,” Catherine spoke tenderly. She took her son's face in her hands—how drawn it had become over the past year, how little of his darling “baby fat” now remained—and gently turned it toward her own. When his eyes finally met hers and she saw the anger burning behind them, a shiver went through her. She tried to keep her voice steady, despite the fear and nausea and guilt and wistfulness all weighing down on her at once. “Why don’t you go outside and play until your father’s friends leave, okay?”

“Yeah kid. Listen to your mom and beat it,” the tall man seconded in a sinister tone as dark and cold as his eyes.

But Catherine knew that Jason wouldn’t listen. He never listened, at least not when it came to protecting her. Her son knew exactly who these men were, why they were there, and what they were after. Jason was a smart kid—he had to be. You grew up fast when you were thrust into this pitiful life of his. With a two-bit criminal father who preferred the company of his “whores” to his family, and a drug-addicted mother who was too weak to cope with losing the affections of her first love, Jason was forced to step up and take over the responsibility of providing for his family. A child, who should be spending his summers playing baseball or video games, was instead out on the crime-ridden streets of Gotham City begging for food and money so that he and his pathetic excuse for a mother wouldn’t starve to death. Catherine had to straighten up for Jason’s sake. Willis was gone for good this time, and her sweet son needed a mother more than ever now.

Jason glanced from Catherine to the tall man and back. Catherine stroked her son’s hair once more and tried to hold onto his gaze with a reassuring smile but she felt her lips start to quiver. Please Jason, just this once, she begged him silently. Let me take care of myself. But her fearlessly stubborn son would never turn his back on her, even in the face of danger—especially in the face of danger. Jason’s face darkened as he narrowed his eyes at the tall man and said: “Get out of my apartment.”

Catherine shrunk away helplessly, sitting back onto her calves, her shoulders slumped. Her worst fear was realized; they would hurt him for this. She squeezed her eyes shut but the tears still leaked out. “Jason…” she whimpered under her breath.

Read the rest on AO3→

[theunavenged]

Written by theunavenged (sulahnnehn) / @theunavenged

Words: 1859, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: Gen

Fandoms: Batman: Arkham Knight Genesis (Comics), Batman: Arkham (Video Games), Batman: Arkham - All Media Types, Batman - All Media Types, DCU

Relationships: Catherine Todd & Jason Todd, Catherine Todd & Jason Todd & Willis Todd

Characters: Jason Todd, Catherine Todd, Willis Todd

Additional Tags: Mother-Son Relationship, Domestic Violence, Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Swearing, Bad Parent Willis Todd, Good Parent Catherine Todd, (eventually), Baby Jason Todd, Jason Todd Gets A Hug, Catherine's POV

As the president of the Catherine Todd Protection Squad, and Founder of the AK!Jason Needs All of the Hugs organization, I am hereby giving Cathy a small bit of redemption from how she was portrayed in Arkham Knight: Genesis, therefore allowing Jason to get lots and lots of hugs and kisses as a kid ❤️

(Abusive Willis gets no redemption. Sorry bud.)

Read on AO3→

[theunavenged]

More AKJ headcanons! (continued from here)

He played baseball (was a pitcher) as well as ran track.

He loved running so the whole broken ankle thing was especially heartbreaking when he finally escaped from Arkham and could still barely walk. (I subscribe to @lananiscorner's headcanon that it was broken many times, not just once. All of those headcanons are great, btw!) He rehabbed his ankle himself while he was in Venezuela, and eventually has surgery on it (more injury headcanons here and here - I'll eventually make a post about them because they are extensive.)

One of his favorite memories was when Bruce and Alfred showed up to watch one of his track meets before he was even adopted 🥲

Jay's favorite Bruce girlfriend was Selina. She'd always take up for him when Jay would get in trouble for doing normal teenage boy things, like getting wasted at a high school party. (He called Alfred to pick him up, and didn't drink and drive! C'mon Bruce.)

Bruce bought him a car for when he turned 16 but he never got to drive it by himself because he was captured before his actual birthday 😭 He did, however, drive a few times with Bruce and Alfred.

I know nothing about cars so my husband (who never really liked AKJ but knows a lot about him because I talk about him so much and make him read my fanfic) suggested a red Chevelle like Tom Cruise drives in Reacher for Jay's car.

The Gloria story from post-crisis (Batman #424 I think) happens in my Arkhamverse, except Gloria is a trafficked Latina sex worker and her abuser is a wealthy white businessman.

It really shook Jason up when, after Batman & Robin discovered Gloria, she clung to him b/c she was so terrified of men (Jay being a teenager). Seeing how the system failed Gloria, an underprivileged and abused woman of color who desperately needed help but fell through the cracks while a privileged white guy got away with literal murder, was one of the catalysts for him going after Joker.

After the businessman died from a fall from his balcony, Robin told Batman that the man slipped (like in the comics), which was what actually happened. Jason would've thrown him off in a heartbeat, but he didn't out of respect to Bruce, and it always bothered Jason that Bruce never believed him. (Jason did beat the shit out of the guy before he fell, though.)

I try to make Bruce a little less shitty toward Jay in my 'verse than he was portrayed in the game and comics, but they still fight a lot.

After one of their last fights, Bruce said something to Alfred about Jason never measuring up to Dick, and Jason overheard it. This always haunted Bruce after Jason disappeared 🥺

As you can probably tell, my Arkhamverse consists of a mix between AK game lore, AK:G, and my brain 🧐

[theunavenged]

IT IS HIM Y'ALL

The sound quality is much better on this video. Listen with your headphones. Start around 2 minutes if you want to hear it the clearest.

"STOP STOP STOP"

"Let me out of here please"

Sobs "Goddamn you" (one of the most heartbreaking, imo)

"Not again"

"Somebody help"

AND

He’s continually yelling for his mom and Joker is laughing at him.

People in the comments say he yells, "Batman Please Help" but I couldn't make it out. Y'all decide.

And the entire time he's SOBBING.

I am not okay.

WAIT A MINUTE

IS THIS REAL???

The thought of baby boy crying 'mom' rips my heart into a million tiny pieces 😭

[theunavenged]

That laugh… it was sitting on a windowsill of his bedroom in Wayne Manor with his best friend beside him, their feet dangling as they plotted out their futures. It was eating chili dogs with Alfred when Bruce wasn’t around. It was the first time he suited up as Robin, the Boy Wonder, and his first patrol at Batman’s side. It was the tiniest hint of a smile on Bruce’s face when he mussed up his hair and said, “you did good, son.” That laugh was everything he’d lost, everything he so desperately wanted back. That laugh was home.

:’)

[theunavenged]

I made myself really sad :(

[theunavenged]

He learned how to manage the pain, the hunger, the fear, the darkness, the silence, the loneliness. The Joker broke his bones and his spirit, but Jason always refused to give the Clown what he wanted most: his sanity.

But inevitably, Jason failed. He let go of the only piece of himself he had left, willingly offering it up to the Clown, when he opened his eyes after a bullet had passed through his skull. Jason had begged for death, and the Joker finally granted him mercy by putting a bullet in his head, but even hell didn’t want him.