#handler todd

[darkthingshappen]

Oh damn! That poor kid. Poor poor Peter. And that ending... punch me in the fucking gut why don't you! T_T

The Boy: 435689

CW: Whump involving a minor (character is 16), although minor is not whumped in this piece. Institutionalized slavery setting, pet whump setting. This piece is more angsty comf, though

“435689, Position Two,” The handler said as the door opened, but the boy didn’t move. He kept his jaw set and curled up even more tightly, pressing himself into the corner of the small white room.

“I said, Position-… shit. See, I knew when I saw the other one… You’re definitely too young,” The handler said, and the boy looked up at him, confused by the words. They swam around him, swooped down and up, made sense only after whole seconds had passed. They put stuff in his food, but he had to eat, right? He tried not eating, but they made him, anyway. He’d do anything to not have to be fed through the gag again. 

Or the drip.

The boy shuddered, tears in his eyes, blinking them away as rapidly as he could. If he cried, the handler would laugh at him, they laughed at all the trainees who cried. 

This handler, though, just… stood there. 

“Jesus, how old are you?”

The boy’s eyebrows furrowed, and he tried to curl himself up even more tightly, arms around his knees, shivering in the constant frigid chill. “All…” His voice cracked and he flinched, ready for the crack of the baton - but nothing happened, and finally he forced his eyes back open to see the handler hadn’t moved. “All p-pets are of legal and c-c-consenting age, sir-”

“Yeah, but you sure as fuck aren’t.” The handler sighed, raking a hand back through his hair, his other hand dropping off the black baton that hung on his belt, little a little ridiculously oversized compared to the young handler’s skinny hips. As soon as he wasn’t touching it, the boy relaxed, just a little, but he kept his eyes locked. “What are you, sixteen?”

The boy hesitated, waiting for the trap he knew must be in the question. It was a trick - he had to say he was eighteen, they worked on this, it hurt and hurt and hurt until he agreed to say he was eighteen - but the handler’s expression didn’t change.

There was no satisfaction there. Instead, there was something the boy hadn’t seen in anyone’s face since he got here… concern.

“I w-was… I’m eighteen,” He said, not quite whimpering the words, his eyes still on the black baton that hung off the handler’s belt. “All pets are of legal and consenting ah, age, I’m sorry don’t be mad at me-” 

The handler stepped into the room, and the boy cringed, putting his arms up over his head to defend himself. 

“Hey-… hey, it’s okay, let’s just settle, yeah?” The handler kept moving, step by careful step, slow like a documentary the boy had once watched in class, where they moved up towards a scared wolf and-

Pain - piercing like a knife through his skull - and the boy cried out, curling up tighter. “Please,” He whispered. “Please don’t hurt me.”

“Settle,” The handler said again, more softly. “Settle. It’s okay, 435689, you’re okay. You’re going to be okay. I just want to get a better look at you, yeah? Can you look up at me now?”

Keep reading

[klezmaniacs]

skrunkles

Damian and Robin!Jason are my favorite fucking combo I’ve come across rping me n my friend have a whole au

[the-daily-bugle-official-blog]

Dear readers, over the last few days I have been attacked and personally threatened for trying to speak the truth behind our government, though now I believe I have found the root of all the problems in our country and the corruption behind our systems of power. Vital SHIELD, SWORD and governmental documents have been revealed to the Daily Bugle so we can finally reveal how deep this problem goes.

The truth is that for the longest time, even after HYDRA supposedly 'fell' along with SHIELD, our country has remained infested with foreign agents, whether 'redeemed' or not. There have also been members of the secretive Russian 'red room' program who are also hiding among us, trained assassins who could snap at any moment. This is a severe security threat to the people of America and the world, but we have luckily been shared the names and details of some of these traitors and infiltrators.

There are too many of the ex and current red room members to count, but we have several, including some previously mentioned on the Daily Bugle:

Katalina Anaya Yelena Belova Vera Heladottir-Banner Alena Kotich Androva Kotich Elianova Krevki Alena Romanoff Belladonna Romanoff Daniella Romanoff Lana Romanoff - Campbell Natasha Romanoff Rosalie Romanoff Yekaterina Romnoff-Barnes Pytor Romanov Ekaterina Solenski Willow Stark Alina Sunover

As well as several ex-HYDRA members or those with connections to HYDRA:

Natasha Afinona Aleksandra Barnes Daniel Barnes James Barnes Benjamin Emerson Garren Farley Scarlet Frey Finnian Holloway Hunter Jones-Westwood Nina Kovna Luke Lawrence Evelyn Lune Viktor Malric Jade Maximoff Pietro Maximoff Wanda Maximoff Nikolai Müller Story Right Charlotte Rogers Moth Rogers Iyla Romanoff-Danvers Atlas Romanoff-Maximoff Elizabeth Rumlow Elijah Smith Valerie Smith Rebekah Solenski Cameron Stark Donna Stark Nadia Stark Jamie Todd Enela [No last name given] Eros [No last name given] Miko [No last name given]

Its a lot to unpack, for sure, and there's plenty of familiar names on these leaked files. President Barnes and his family are obvious, as well as the Romanoff and Maximoff families being well known ex-red room or HYDRA members. President Barnes's HR representative and long time opposer of this company Story Right also seems to have a past affiliation with HYDRA, interesting...

What is surprising is the number of Starks on these lists. Tony Stark's daughters Cameron and Willow, his sister Nadia, and his granddaughter Donna all have connections to the two groups. His daughter Serena also MAY HAVE a connection of some kind to the HYDRA AI program Project Galatea, though we do not have more details at this time.

Several ex-HYDRA and even still active handlers such as the almost unnamed Eros, Enelia, both with no last names, Viktor Malrik and Benjamin Emerson were also revealed to still be at large, along with their assets. Several are also extremely overpowered such as Elianova Krevki, who is part celestial.

Multiple of the people on this list have changed their names to blend in with everyday society, such as Alina Sunover, who changed her name to Kit Holloway, and Rebekah Solenski who changed hers to Anika Summers. Pytor Romanov is also trying to pass as a Spiderman variant, proof that our heroes MIGHT BE just as untrustworthy as the supposed villains they fight

The Smith/Farley siblings, assassins and mutants who have meddled with time and space in their own rights, especially with Valerie Smith’s connection to Willow Stark, previously mentioned on this list, and the new Ronin terrorist who has been confirmed not to be Clint Barton. Moth Rogers is known to be connected to the Lehnsherr-Barnes family, another hive of suspicion and doubt.

Even further proof shows that Evelyn Lune, one of our own Avengers, has a darker side still loyal to HYDRA that could ALLEGEDLY snap at any moment. Similarly with Nadia Stark and an alternate version of James Barnes who still work occasonally with the group. These people are POTENTIALLY untrustworthy and a POSSIBLE threat, and in fact many Avengers were once members of HYDRA and the Red Room are now Avengers or close to the Avengers, such as Natasha Afiona, Charlotte Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, James Barnes and many more. The controversies just keep piling up.

Many of these members have direct and indirect familial or social ties with one another, and there are rarely ones by themselves. Whatever the case, these people were raised or trained by dangerous groups who wish to control world politics and bring about an end to democracy and the world as we know it, thus making them a POSSIBLE threat and liability to a safe America.

So what can you do to stop this threat? Well we at the Daily Bugle believe an official and public registration for these people should be in order, so call up your local representatives, send messages and open letters. If you see anyone who looks suspicious or out of place, do not feel afraid to inform the authorities, or your neighbours who might be at risk. Remember: these files are not complete and these POTENTIALLY dangerous people are most likely not the only ones out there, so stay alert and stay safe. Many are calling into question President Barnes’s leadership, especially since his sudden departure and reappearance at the White House after our last article about his family. He may not be able to handle this problem considering his personal investment in keeping this story quiet, but the Daily Bugle will not be quiet! To join our daily newsletter comment underneath one of our posts to be added to the list. Be sure to comment your thoughts about the threat HYDRA and the Red Room still pose below, or leave an anonymous submission to get potentially featured in a later news story.

And before anyone asks, I made sure that my lead editor was off sick while publishing this so you will not be hearing from him. The truth deserves to be known. Also no I do not proof read my writing, that's for people with the woke mind virus

– J Jonah Jameson

@playingwithwater @the-best-black-widow @your-fav-russian-assassin @over-bi-the-wayside @natt-romanoff @official-tasha-romanoff @official-natasha-romanova @elia-theassassin @thecrazyrplayerosie @project-traveler @live-to-see-another-death @alenaswidowbytes @natalia-reflecting @natalia-alianova-romanova @redroom-peterparker @doctor-mindweaver @official-buckybarnes @nadia-stark-official @hydra-bucky @androva-thewidow @alena-kotich @the-cheesy-romanova-campbell @the-good-redheaded-witch @alenaswidowbytes @little-lost-prince @hydra-handler @thatone-midgardian @project-traveler @reia-creations @multifandomer537 @oh-to-be-a-murderer @dont-touch-my-gun @daniel-barnes-the-ghost @ghostblade-official @handler-benjamin @capt-scarlett-frey @luke-lee-lawrence @c4m3r0n-st0n3 @cypherlune @jade-lopez-maximoff @official-pietro-maximoff @silentdeath-a175 @story-from-hr @guardianof4elements @the-best-duck-tamer @backupwintersoldier @jamie-todd-red-knight

//if I forgot anyone im sorry this one had a lot of people in it, also as always none of this is meant JJJ is just an asshole who hates everyone. also sorry this took so long to make i got rlly sick but IM BACK NOW IDIOTS SO MORE FAKE AND BAD NEWS FROM OUR LEAST FAVOURITE NEWS GUY. Don't worry about lead editor Jay, he has been cursed with the same cold as me

[batfsm]

Tim offers Drake Manor and Jason escapes there every time he’s mad at Bruce. Dick joins them to ‘watch’ over the younger two. (Alfred put up surveillance the next day when Jason and Tim were at school, Dick is just showing his true colors by staying with his baby siblings and only talking to Alfred…until they need something Alfred won’t get them and then Bruce is allowed to come see/talk to his children.)

Even after Tim is adopted, Drake Manor is the kids escape home. Bruce respects that and stays away until he is let over.

Alfred does not tell the children but Bruce has access to the surveillance in Drake Manor. It saves Tim and Duke when they are taken hostage. (The kidnappers thought Drake Manor was empty and was going to use it to get to Damian and Duke.) Batman took care of them quickly. Bruce never agrees to give up the surveillance, the kids let him have it since it calms him and keeps Bruce from getting in the siblings business (for a while).

Gotham quickly learns that Drake Manor, like Wayne Manor, might be easy to get into but hard to leave. Especially with the ninjas (assassins) being very protective over the Wayne’s, the children especially.

(The League shows up after the attempted kidnapping and are there on Talia’s orders, not Ra’s. Bruce only lets them stay because, he won’t admit it, he’s glad for the extra protection on his children. Yes, Dick and Jason are not happy but they have guards following them now. Dick left his job as a security officer (he got it after Ric (I don’t want him as an officer of the law, gymnastics coach, taxi driver, or 911 handler, thought this be a bit better) because his employers were uncomfortable with his guards. Even though Dick and Bruce (who had defended Duke and Damian’s guards to their schools) explained that they were not going away since they were from Talia.) and worked as a full time volunteer for the family’s charities.

Jason just came back from the dead so he was a bit easier to explain the guards but he also hated them…until Jason figured out he could use them to make Crime Alley better. (They dress up as Hood? I don’t know right now.)

Even Alfred and Bruce have guards. Alfred’s actually do the shopping and they patrol the grounds of the Manors. Bruce are his drivers (who took over for Alfred) and secretaries (Tim still has Tam but Prue is now the first person to greet anyone and then Tam.). Yes, Bruce has more than one secretary, the guard/assassins switch since Bruce is a harsh task masker (he just doesn’t see that way).

Yes, Cass has guards. She comes home to complain and ends up at Drake Manor with her siblings as Bruce watches the cameras to check up on them since they all are mad at him. Or pretending to be and just being on their siblings side, not his.

Drake Manor is a part of Wayne Manor now but also separate so the kids can go there when mad at Bruce.

(The kids have their own apartments but Drake Manor, like Wayne Manor is home base.)

Jason starts a GoFundMe to build a second Manor so he can keeps all the benefits without having to live with Bruce

This happens after Bruce says no more cookies at bedtime

[brokehorrorfan]

The Boy will be released on 4K Ultra HD + Blu-ray on September 3 via Scream Factory. The 2016 horror film was an international co-production between the US and China.

William Brent Bell (Orphan: First Kill, The Devil Inside) directs from a script by Stacey Menear. Lauren Cohan, Rupert Evans, Jim Norton, Diana Hardcastle, Ben Robson, Jett Klyne, and James Russell star.

The Boy is presented in 4K from the original elements with Dolby Vision and Dolby Atmos. Special features are listed below.

Disc 1 - 4K UHD:

Audio commentary by film critics Julia Cunningham and Emily Higgins (new)

Disc 2 - Blu-ray:

Audio commentary by film critics Julia Cunningham and Emily Higgins (new)

Interview with William Brent Bell (new)

Interview with writer Stacey Menear (new)

Interview with cinematographer Daniel Pearl (new)

Interview with doll designer Todd Masters (new)

Interview with doll handler Tannis Hegan (new)

Theatrical trailer

Greta (Lauren Cohan) is a young American woman who takes a job as a nanny in a remote English village. She soon discovers that the family's 8-year-old is a life-sized doll that they care for just like a real boy, as a way to cope with the death of their son 20 years prior. After she violates a list of strict rules, a series of disturbing and inexplicable events bring Greta's worst nightmare to life, leading her to believe that the doll is actually alive.

Pre-order The Boy.

[madelinerainbow]

I wanted to share my fanfiction here in tumblr format too! Are there any Jason Todd / DC / Batman fanfic writer communities out there? :) Such as a discord or group? Pls let me know!

Jason Todd Fic | I’d Sneak Up Behind You And Set You Free | Chapter 1 | An Accumulation of Anguish

Summary:

Six years after his resurrection, Jason Todd did what he sought out to do: Kill the Joker. He's hellbent on purging Gotham City of its injustices, and he's alienated himself from his family and left Laura, a childhood friend, in the dark about his revival. Grieving his death at the news of the clown's murder, Laura and Dick gravitate to Jason’s grave like a pilgrimage to a shrine they both didn't want but felt compelled to journey to.

Word count: 5,122

Rating: Mature

Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Major Character Death Additional Tags: Past Violence, Past Torture, Morally Ambiguous Character, Grief/Mourning, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Cemetery, Swearing, Murder, Resurrected Jason Todd, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson Gets a Hug, Past Abuse, Dark Past, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Dark Jason Todd, Emotional Hurt, Hurt Jason Todd, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jason Todd Kills Joker (DCU), Dead Joker (DCU), Fist Fight (Mentioned), Joker Murdered Jason and Jason Murdered Him Back, Uno Reverse Card Bruh, But Make It Really F**king Sad

Category: F/M

Fandoms:

Batman: Under the Red Hood (2010), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), DCU (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham Knight Genesis (Comics)

Relationships:

Jason Todd/Original Female Character(s)

Dick Grayson & Jason Todd

Bruce Wayne & Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Damian Wayne

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62326162

Chapter 1 - An Accumulation of Anguish

If I was Atlantis and you were the sea /

I’d sneak up behind you and break your knees /

I’d cut off your fingers and both of your feet /

So you couldn’t reach me, but you couldn’t leave

- Noah Gundersen, ‘Atlantis’

*** 

Time and again, Gotham City failed to rouse her alarm bells. It shouldn’t, but when the TV in the children’s section of Gotham Central Public Library broadcasted the coverage of the latest crimes with the same subdued flatlined drone of weekend weather announcements, she almost didn’t blink. Almost.

But not today.

Not on the day of the clown’s death.

A child leaned on her knee, desperately involved in the adventures of Ivan the Iceman, along with ten other unshakeable young pairs of eyes upon the storybook in her hands. The children sat in front of her for Storytime, each one riveted with their full attention. They looked like mismatched chess pieces, perched on the colorful foam playmat tiles that swept through the children’s section like a pastel rainbow checkerboard. But their adults: parents that scrolled idly on smartphones, grandparents who cooed over their little ones, and one older preteen brother in attendance, all looked towards the TV monitor with an almost unconscious pull. 

Her neck craned upwards as the newscaster’s words filtered from the TV monitor’s low volume. It was a library. The TV monitors were always set to quiet volumes, yet the words: “Joker’s death” ricocheted like a gunshot through the low hush of the building.

The storybook in the librarian’s hands slapped down on her knees like a plane plummeting from the air. The child at her legs reached for the fallen book as if it was the Holy Grail set in front of him. The young boy mouthed at a cardboard corner of the picture book. She vaguely registered the innocent defacement of library property. No one else seemed to notice.

The newscasters shifted in their chairs with an eagerness that wasn’t usual for news beats. Crime in Gotham, she knew, was as common as the snow squalls that settled upon the city. Gotham felt as if it were in a snow globe shaken in the hands of an overzealous handler. If crime was a season in Gotham, it would be an endless winter. Grand larceny, stabbings, bank robberies, cartel trafficking—as ubiquitous as the dirty, garbage encrusted snowbanks pushed up against every sidewalk curb on every street.

The newscasters’ hands flew to their earpieces as a crisp paper fell on their desk, freshly printed. It cut through the screen like a wispy snowflake. its featherlight thinness betrayed the heaviness of the words printed on its face. They scrambled for it like polar bears fighting over the carcass of a plump seal.

“We just received breaking news, Gothamites. Our sources are confirming that the Joker, ruthless and psychotic murderer, has been killed—”

Gotham Central Public Library, already silent, became as quiet as a mausoleum.

She felt herself stop breathing.

The Joker has been killed.

Some part of her brain registered the familiar sound of quick, low-heeled shoes hurrying through the library like a marble skittering across hardwood. Their trajectory was no doubt aimed at her. Voices suddenly hummed up like the chittering of a wasp hive. A parent exclaimed in vengeful joy, a grandparent pulled a child closer. Patrons across the floor spoke in an uproar without regard for the rule of remaining mindful of volume.

And she still couldn’t breathe.

The heeled shoes stopped at her side. A warm hand squeezed her shoulder. She was still startled. She finally inhaled. The boy who tried to chew Ivan the Iceman’s storybook fell to the playmat with an unceremonious thump. The small boy, eyes watery, wailed. The librarian blinked down at the boy, but rather than console him, instead looked up at the owner of the hand on her shoulder. Head Librarian Cathy Mules regarded her with a pinched expression that only those offering condolences could conjure.

“It’s finally over, Laura.” The older woman said to her. Her voice wobbled.

Reflexively, Laura picked up the boy that had fallen at her feet and deposited him on her lap.

“Y-yeah..” She replied. Was it over? “But…they’ve reported his death before, and it was false…” She said. She looked up at the TV monitor again. The child in her lap slowly quieted.

“I feel it, Laura. I know in my arthritic bones that the damn bastard is dead.” Cathy said. None of the parents protested at the profane language. They did not seem to notice, only the preteen boy cast a curious glance at the Head Librarian and noted in baffled silence that no one took offense to the older woman’s curse.

Laura’s hand rubbed soothing circles against the child’s back. The young boy wore a soft, baby blue pint-sized cardigan. Ivan the Iceman’s rosy-cheeked, playfully ice-frosted face was on the front of the child’s shirt. The boy regarded her with tears that dried on his cheeks. She didn’t know if she was comforting him anymore, or herself.

“I’ll believe it when they bring in a body.” She said. “And even then…”

“I woke up today, Laura, and knew--I knew something was going to happen, Laura.” Cathy continued.

Laura grimaced. “Cath, you say that every Wednesday.” Laura replied.

“Is this live?” A parent asked. The young mother pointed at the TV monitor.

Cathy, with a light in her eyes that gleamed with the eagerness of someone all too happy to talk, nodded. “Yes ma’am. Can you believe it? Justice. We finally have justice!” She said. Cathy’s hand tightened on Laura’s shoulder. The gesture was meant to be comforting, but Laura felt like the ring of master keys that dangled from the Head Librarian’s hand at all hours of the day: kept close—and meant to open doors.

Cathy’s face schooled into a solemn expression, her frowning lips thinned as she focused her attention on the young mother. “You know, Laura here, she lost someone very close to her, because of that despicable—"

Laura didn’t realize she was moving until she rose from the seat and quickly deposited the child into Cathy’s unassuming arms. The Head Librarian let out a noise of surprise. The older woman held the boy with a frown, the kind she often wore when inspecting a damaged book from the returns. Laura brushed past Cathy.

“Laura?”

“I need to take my lunch.”

“Oh yes. Well, alright. I’ll finish up Storytime.” Cathy said. She sat on the abandoned seat, the child in her lap, and neither of the two participants seemed to like the new development. Laura mercifully put distance between herself and the group of parents who murmured about the news. The library suddenly felt too crowded. She heard the fading conversation as Cathy continued to speak with the parents.

“Laura is a great team member. So great, it’s just hard—as you may or may not know, she lost—”

Laura burst through the stairwell door by the non-fiction stacks. She slammed it behind her and sealed herself within the muffled, cold vacuum of space in the stairwell. She exhaled shakily.

Was it over?

She had expected some sort of feeling of cold satisfaction.

A sense of justice satiated.

Righting of a wrong.

A bittersweet relief.

Closure.

Was it over?

She sank onto the stairway landing and sat on the concrete step. She pulled out her phone and selected the news app. She scrolled and tapped the live broadcast.

“GCPD has confirmed that their coroner’s office has a body. Forensic identification is underway to confirm that DNA matches that of the Joker, with results set to be announced later this evening—”

Something strangling and sickening suddenly echoed through the stairwell. Laura felt her stomach drop and looked away from her phone. She listened intently for a moment. The sound was almost inhuman. And then it happened again.

A sob.

She clamped her hand over her mouth. It didn’t help. It happened again. A sad, agonized sound. Her phone clattered onto the step by her feet, and she heaved another body-racking cry.

Was it over?

No.

It would never be over.

She cried with the ferocity of a plastic bag tossed up into the air by a wind tunnel—her body weak and flimsy against the larger, errant force of emotion that swept through her. She cried hard, low and anguished. It echoed in the stairwell. When a doorway above opened, and she heard a pair of patrons discussing a book club read, she clamped her hands over her mouth again and took in a watery breath.

She scrambled to pick up her phone off the step and scuffed her nails against the concrete. She rose to her feet, and felt an uncomfortable tightness in her chest. She couldn’t take a full breath. She stumbled down the flight of stairs towards the basement of the library. She fished her keys out of her pocket and opened the door at the bottom of the stairs. The usual musty, old carpet smell of the staff room wafted over her as she entered the room.. She felt tears and snot run down her face, which she wiped with her sleeve.

No.

Joker’s Death.

It would never be over.

She sobbed again. And then froze. David, one of the library’s cataloguers, looked up from where he stood in the break room’s small kitchenette. He held a cup of coffee in one of his slim hands and in his other, he held his ancient flip phone. His eyes widened as he regarded her.

“Oh, Laurs sweetheart—”

“M’okay, David.” She swiftly said.

“Laurs, my son just sent me the news.” He said. He set down his cup and phone on the stained, beige laminate countertop. He pulled off his reading glasses. His eyes, sharp and fatherly, settled on her. He spoke to her in a low and soothing voice. “It’s alright, Laurs. We know how hard this must be for—”

“It’s okay, David. I just need to go sit in my car.” She replied.

“Laurs—”

“I just need a moment, David? Okay? That’s all I need.” She said tearfully. She moved to the staff lockers by the seating area and grabbed her jacket from her assigned locker. Her work bag. Her uneaten lunch. Her mittens. Her hat. 

She cast a look back at David, and she noticed his lightly stubbled chin bobbed for a moment in the dim lighting of the kitchenette’s lamp. He ran a thin hand through his salt and peppered hair. He looked as if he wanted to offer her a hug, but he sighed heavily instead and stayed rooted in the kitchenette like a dog told to stay. He held up his hand in an appeasing gesture.

“I’ll tell Cath you headed out early, Laurs. You take the day. You take all the time you need; you hear?” He said.

Her throat bobbed. David suddenly looked blurry. She nodded. “Thankyou.” She said, and rushed back out of the staffroom door. 

She ascended the stairwell and pulled on her jacket. The jacket that she couldn’t make herself throw away. The one that she inherited six years ago. The one she religiously kept clean, re-zippered when the zip broke once, the jacket she kept close, the one she wore even when it started to get too warm. A keepsake. A memory manifested into an everyday object. One that haunted her.

Joker’s death.

She hugged the jacket closer. The brown leather still held the scent. Another broken sob left her mouth as she rushed back up the stairs.

A death too late.

She entered the stacks of the main floor and trekked across the library towards the entrance. She didn’t spare a glance at the children’s section. Not at the TV monitors. Not at Cathy who drew a crowd of parents as she disclosed something so grievous and confidential that Laura felt she should file a formal HR complaint. She couldn’t look and witness those parents who would surely gaze back at her now with eyes full of pity.

She heard when Cathy called out her name, but Laura ignored her and pushed through the library’s front doors and out into the parking lot. It had snowed again, another fresh half foot of snow. The wind whipped it up as she trudged to her car. She swept the snow off the top of her car and the windshield with a snow brush. Her movements were choppy. She practically threw herself into the driver’s seat. She keyed the engine into ignition, and blinked away tears. She maneuvered her car out of the snowy parking lot and into the streets of Gotham.

She drove straight to the cemetery.

***

In loving memory

Jason Todd

1990 - 2008

Loved Son

Steadfast Brother

Loyal Friend

The grave marker left out a few key details.

Second Robin

Joker’s Victim

Laura brushed off a layer of snow from the top of the dark stone. The cemetery was vacant of the living, except for her. The markers sprawled across the acres of snowy land. Bare trees intermittently interspersed between the graves and trembled in the icy wind. The midday sky clouded above her, the slate grey sheet of clouds were as grey as the graves and threatened more snow.  

 She gulped in a stinging breath of air. 

“He’s dead.” She told the stone.

You're dead.

Her lavender mitten brushed away more snow off the top of the grave marker. She did it with the reticence one would if they were dusting an old, delicate painting. And then her hand curled into a fist. It dropped against the flat of the granite, hard and angry. A smattering of snowflakes scattered as wool and flesh thunked against rock ineffectually. 

“God– ” She choked out, and wept.

She cried without care for retaining any decency about it. She cried until she heard footsteps crunching through the snow–steady and approaching. 

When she looked up she saw the bright blue sleeve of a winter jacket splayed out before her, and then she was swept up into a familiar embrace. She smelled the plastic, wintery smell of the polyester jacket–and then the bright scent that was Dick Grayson.

“Hi.” She said, and her voice sounded watery.

He didn’t reply right away. He just held her and let the warmth that was him settle over her.

“You shoulda called me, sweetheart.” He said. His voice sighed with the long-suffering, concerned chiding of an older brother. 

“Did they really kill him?” She asked.

“Yeah, sweetheart.” He replied. 

She wept harder.

“W-who did it?” She asked.

Dick stiffened, and she felt the sharp stubble of his jaw sweep across her scalp as he bundled her closer under his chin.

“Doesn’t matter, hun.” He said.

“Yeah it does–”

She felt his jaw tick, but as quickly as it did, it relaxed into a sigh that warmed her hair.

As if reluctant, he finally spoke.  “They call him the Red Hood.” He said, voice low and tight. A beat of silence. “You’ve heard of him yet?” He asked.

She nodded and his jacket crinkled against her cheek.

It was quiet. Dick’s head swiveled toward the grave marker. She felt more than watched as he silently looked at the grave that housed his younger brother. When she pulled away from him, Dick’s eyes were contemplative and pained.

She thought she recognized in his expression the same grief and anger that filled her own heart. It was only later that she realized that his grief was different. His grief was borne of a different kind of loss and anguish that she herself would soon confront. 

They called him the Red Hood. 

The Joker’s murderer.

And Gotham celebrated. 

And two out of a handful of people within Gotham–that had loved Jason–did not celebrate. They mourned.

Dick’s eyes returned to her. His gaze sharpened with a swift and intense intelligence; a familiar look that he and his family had an uncanny likeness with. They shared an evaluative stare that unnerved most, and Laura recognized it as an ability ingrained into them with their vigilante roots. Or maybe it was just a Bruce Wayne glare that he imparted along to his adoptive children. Nonetheless, out of the entirety of their family, Dick had a gentleness to him that always chased and tempered the intense stare as quickly as it appeared.

“Let’s get some lunch, Laurs.” He volunteered.

She shook her head. Her stomach felt as if hewn from the stone of the grave marker. It felt heavy and inorganic in her gut. “I can’t eat when I’m like this.” She said.

Dick’s eyes softened. “Alfred misses you.” He said gently.

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say. 

Laura broke into another fit of tears. Dick pulled her by her elbow into another hug. “He made shepherd’s pie, your favorite, Laurs.” He murmured into her hair.

Laura shook her head. “I can’t go back–” she sniffled. 

She felt Dick’s hands grasp the  thick leather of the jacket–Jason’s jacket–around her shoulders. 

“Yeah you can.” He said gently. “You’re always welcome back.” He said. “You know that.” He murmured.

His voice sounded impossibly assuring. It sounded like this was something he had said before–and recently–because when she lifted her eyes back to his, Dick’s throat bobbed heavily.

“It’s just lunch, Laurs.” He said.

She gave him a soft glare. Dick’s thin mouth upturned into a half smirk, but there was an anxious exhale of breath that accompanied it.

“Okay, maybe I can admit that Alfred’s stress-cooking. And Bruce’s been holed up in the Cave all morning…” He acquiesced. His eyes turned imploring. “And you're here …crying…” He added gently. “And I’d like us all to be together…y’know.” He continued, and he squeezed her.  “Dealing with this together.” He murmured.

She stared at him, feeling something more than rigid, rough grief in her body. 

“Okay.” She said.

He rubbed her shoulder through the leather jacket, then nodded towards her car–and his car parked next to it–in the distance. He must have been on his way to the cemetery just as she had earlier. She wasn’t sure if it was because he himself had needed to be here, or if he had known she’d gravitate to Jason’s grave like a pilgrimage to a shrine they both didn't want but felt compelled to journey to.  

“You can head over to the Manor. I’ll be behind you in a minute.” He said. She nodded. She turned her face back to the tombstone, and with one final look that traced the letters of Jason’s name, turned and walked to her car. 

Dick watched her bundle herself into her little tiny Toyota. Her car swept out of the cemetery with both what looked like a reluctance in its wheels and an earnestness in its speed. He exhaled bodily. 

His gloved hands felt cold even in the deep wells of his winter jacket pockets. He stood for a moment: a statue of contemplation and contained restlessness. He pulled his phone out. He tapped at the screen, slotted an earbud into his ear, and waited as the phone dialed. His mouth hardened from the reassuring smile he had given Laura into a fatigued frown. The phone rang, for an impossibly long time, until he figured the recipient wouldn’t pick up. Typica–

The line connected. 

A heavy, weighted silence followed. And then sharp and straight to the point, Dick paced the line of grave markers and spoke, his breaths punctuating the air.

“I don’t know what I’m more angry at, Jaybird.” Dick volleyed, voice prim. “The fact that you killed him, or that you’re still leaving her in the dark.” He said, voice bitter and accusatory.

Silence taunted him. Until he heard the shuffle of a phone jostled on the other side of the line–the uneasy creak of plastic and thin metal under a fair amount of stress. The unmistakable sound of a fist that tightened around a piece of technology that should definitely not be compressed.

“You know why it’s warranted, Dickhead.” Jason answered. His voice was colder than the barren cemetery.

Dick felt anger seize his thoughts. “Murder? Or pretending you’re still dead?” Dick whipped back. “Both aren’t warranted.” He continued. “Bruce is beside himself, Jay.” Dick said, and his voice suddenly lowered into an apprehensive register. 

His paces along the grave stones stuttered until he stopped: a statue now bent like the figure of Atlas. The world held heavy on his shoulders. “And you know what? So am I.” Dick continued, as vulnerability seeped into his tone.

A harsh scoff puffed on the other side of the line. 

A hot vein of anger burned in Dick’s chest and overpowered the mounting anxiety.

“Jay– Jesus –you killed him! You went against the code.” He said. He pinched the bridge of his nose between two gloved fingers and squeezed his eyes shut. “I know you’re dealing with the effects of the Pit–but it’s like you’re a different per–”

“I didn’t shoot the bastard because of the Pit, Dickhead.” Jason’s voice was like a shotgun blast. “He deserved to die, Dick.” He growled.

Dick inhaled sharply.

He remembered a boy, twelve years old, who beat the shit out of a prickhead tenth grader twice Jason’s size because the kids had made a nasty comment about Jason’s mother being addicted to drugs.

He also remembered a boy, fourteen years old, that had cried when he read Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. A boy who sobbed when the family of villagers rejected the monster due to its grotesque appearance.

He remembered a sixteen year old kid, who laughed when an attacker’s gun had blasted a bullet way, way too close to Jason’s head. He remembered the sheer stomach dropping fear that had twisted Dick’s insides, even as Jason–as Robin–landed a fist against the shooter’s face. The blow had been devastatingly precise, with a little too much force, as the boy grinned without mirth.

He remembered a boy that bolted down Alfred’s dinners like someone might take his meal away at any moment. Bruce had gently reminded Dick later that Jason had spent time in the juvenile system, and had reminded him of how often Jason had gone without proper meals living with his mother and her addiction.

“He deserved to die –” Jason repeated on the other side of the line. His voice filled with such a feral viciousness that made Dick remember with startling, agonized clarity that one memory of Jason’s last Christmas six years ago–when Dick had gifted Jason a first-edition copy of Frankenstein. He remembered the soft and meaningful, almost boyish tone of: “Thank you,” from Jason.

“I did what had to be done.” Jason said. “And I will continue to do what needs to be done.” He growled. “Because this goddamn city deserves actual justice–”

“It’s not justice, Jason!” Dick snapped. “It’s murder! It’s killing! ” He said.

“It’s necessary!” Jason shouted.

“It’s not you, Jason!” Dick argued.

There was an angry cry from the other side of the line, then a series of harsh cracks, like a phone being slammed against a table repeatedly. The volley of fury pierced at Dick’s eardrum. He winced.

“I killed him!” Jason bellowed with cold certainty. “Wrap your goddamn head around it–! I am not stopping at just the clown.” Jason snarled. “I’ll kill every rotten, sack-of-shit lowlife in this city! I will purge every god forsaken corner–” 

Dick remembered the tapes sent by the clown to taunt Bruce. The horrific, insane, unreal tapes of something that should have never been done, let alone filmed. He remembered the harsh blue and purple of Jason’s skin in the tapes: Jason’s entire torso bruised inhumanly. The sight of an eighteen year old boy harmed so badly that Bruce had never really recovered from it. Jason’s tortured figure had been so wrong that Dick’s first and visceral reaction had been That’s not my brother.

The same thought welled up in his head like blood burgeoned from a wound.

That’s not my brother.

“I will tear down every cartel–every trafficking ring–”

“We can help you, Jay–” Dick’s voice didn’t sound like it usually did; confident, assured…it sounded small and breathless. It pleaded.

“I’ll put a bullet right through the head of every single shit stain that walks these streets–”

“We can help you, I promise.” Dick’s voice shook. “We can get you help–”

“I don’t need help! ” The voice rioted from the other side of the line. Jason’s breaths were like the sharp snaps of a nail gun, fast and piercing. “I don’t need your fucking help!" He said.

“Yes you d–”

The line went dead.

Dick cursed. He tore the earbud from his ear and ran a hand through his dark hair. He stared, his eyes wet and hot, at the tombstone. He stood–knowing somewhere in Gotham–Jason was doing the exact same thing: 

“Deep breaths, center yourself in your body. You’re less effective when you’re overcome by emotions."  Bruce’s training echoed in both of them.

He collected himself by piecemeal. 

He felt cold snowflakes against his cheeks.

Laura was already likely driving on one of the highways, making her way to the Manor.

He scuffed the heel of his boot into the snow tracks.

Alfred was likely coaxing Bruce out of the cave with the pointed emphasis only an Englishman can have on attending tea time like a respectable Wayne. 

He heard the pale, soft scrape of a dislodged autumn leaf blown across a snowbank.

Tim was likely orbiting the cave like a satellite, making nonchalant overtones of hacking the morgue’s systems to ensure they did an actual, qualified autopsy on the clown. However, he was overseeing their father’s quiet, brooding breakdown with thinly veiled concern. When he types too loudly on his laptop, he’ll hear Bruce say: “Not so loud, Jason.” In a low cadence that makes it known Bruce isn’t aware he just called Tim by his other son’s name.

He tasted the wind: frigid and mild against the thickness of his tongue that felt too dry in his mouth. He sucked at his teeth with another breath.

Damian was probably still sleeping into the late afternoon. But Alfred would rouse him, patient and impart the sensitive news. Damian would arrive in the dining room later, cast furtive looks at Bruce and Laura and Dick, and sit with them until he would make some awful, awful little brother joke about something innocuous that would rouse all three of them out of their grief.

Because Fuck. They were grieving. In different ways. Laura didn’t even know. And Dick wrangled with the urge to tell her. But how could he tell her?

That Jason was the Red Hood?

Because that wasn’t his brother.

He walked back to his car, got into the driver’s seat and began to head to the Manor. 

He couldn’t shake the feeling that he had left something behind after that phone call.

That feeling lingered as he thought of the empty coffin in Jason's plot. The sickening realization that Jason wasn’t still six feet under the soil—a fact that should have been rejoiced. And yet, with his resurrected brother roaming Gotham like a vengeful fallen angel, Jason felt more dead to Dick than if he were buried.

He wondered how often Jason wished that he was still dead. 

No one becomes so fixated, so unyielding in dispensing death, unless they’re running from something—driven by a need to impose fear, control, or escape their own demons. Dick had seen too much of Gotham's worst to miss the shadow that now hounded his brother.

And Jason had run right to the Joker, shot a bullet through the clown’s grinning teeth and vindicated his own death-–with more of it. 

Dick thought of Jason’s Frankenstein , the first edition book carefully shelved. His other copy, paperback, that had still been left on his bedside table in his old room in the Manor. Dick’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. After Jason’s death, he remembered flipping through the annotated pages of the paperback. He had been grieving and seeking the ghost of his little brother in the highlighted pages of a story beloved to Jason. He remembered one quote, scrawled by Jason on the title page-–a quote inscribed in the book from the film adaptation:

“I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine, and rage in me the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other."

Jason had been expelled from the school for beating up the tenth grader. Not even Bruce Wayne’s nepotism had gotten Jay back into that school's good graces. He had had to re-register to a different school and Jason’s violent reputation had followed him there too. 

That’s not my brother.

But it was. 

It was.

Dick drove, feeling out of body, in the way only an eldest sibling can when it feels like pieces of him walked the world four times over: in his own body, in Tim’s, in Damian’s, and in Jason’s. In Jason’s. 

Jason had died that day six years ago by Joker’s insidious hands. After months of torture.

But so had a piece of Dick. And to then have that piece recovered –to have Jason walk the Earth again–resurrected and hurt and angry...

Dick often felt like he was struggling to sweep up all the pieces he carried–all the pieces he had to carry–to keep all these people he loved safe– the world pitching off of Atlas's shoulders …

He knew somewhere out there in Gotham City, Jason was trying to collect himself too. He knew that they both carried a piece of something that they needed to carry, but struggled with the weight of it.

”You’re welcome, Jaybird.” Dick had replied. 

Jason held the gifted first edition book like it was a treasure.

“You wanna watch the film later? Frankenstein looks pretty freaky in it.” Dick said. There was a twinkle in his gaze that hinted at playful mockery. Jason tossed him an eyeroll.

“Shut up, Dickhead. The film’s trash. Also the monster isn’t Frankenstein– it’s the doc–”

“Yeah, yeah, I know that, you nerd.”

Jason’s expression twisted with further frustration, but he thumbed through the novel’s pages with a reverence in his body language that spoke of quiet gratitude. His sharp eyes returned to Dick, glaring but not simmering with their usual fire.

Because that was his brother. 

A man filled with rage. But love. There was also love in Jason.

And a handful of people knew it.

He just hoped Jason remembered he was one of them.

[kaufmann-6]

Oh, hiiii! It was about time I made an official introduction to my blog!

ᓚᘏᗢ I'm Kaufmann, but you can call me Kauf! I'm a writer on ao3, an avid fic reader and a pianist!

ᓚᘏᗢ I like to reblog some of my favorite fandoms content, like PJO, Batfam and TUA on this blog and share my fics. (feel free to send me writing prompts and headcanons from the fandoms I'll list below, I'd love a challenge!)

ᓚᘏᗢ I'm also open to fic colabs and friendly chat. You have my permission to remix, translate, make podfics and/or fanarts out of my works but please tag me when posting here on tumblr. You can also post on ao3 using the "inspired by" or gift feature. (do not post content based on my works out of ao3 and tumblr) ᓚᘏᗢ If you'd like to make a writing request, here's my Bad Things Happen Bingo card. I'm accepting Jason Todd and Maverick requests!

ᓚᘏᗢ --------------------- >

ᓚᘏᗢ I go by Kaufmann on AO3. Here are some things that I've written:

The Umbrella Academy

ᓚᘏᗢ Absence → A remix fic I wrote for @tua-masked-author based out of @littlerit's amazing work, The Time Traveler's Life. It's Klaus pov of his 14th birthday and Five's multiple appearances. Angsty.

ᓚᘏᗢ If Only → An AU in which Patch didn't notice Five's van across the street and Cha-Cha got tired of waiting so she kills Klaus on S1E4.

ᓚᘏᗢ Bubble Thoughts → Another @tua-masked-author entry, an older one this time. It's a post-S3 fic in which Klaus reflects on his father's betrayal and his actions in that season. Luther helps him cope.

ᓚᘏᗢ I can die when I'm done. → Written for @tua-masked-author first edition! It's a missing scene fic from when Klaus was locked in that tiny motel closet in S1 when Hazel and Cha-Cha left to blow up Meritech. Character study, internal monologue. Lots of Angst & Hurt/No Comfort.

ᓚᘏᗢ The Bargain → An old wip that I really should pick up again. It's an AU in which the Handler decided to use Five's love for his siblings against him and uses Klaus as a hostage to get Five to work for her on S1E5. TW: SA.

DC Batman

ᓚᘏᗢ 'Cause you all try to keep me down → This fic was written for @febuwhump 2024. In this one, Black Mask kidnaps Red Hood and Red Robin and Jason is forced to watch Tim get tortured by the man who hates him the most. TW: Whump & eletric shock torture.

ᓚᘏᗢ I'm absolutely obsessed with Jason Todd at the moment and have so many fic ideas, including a Time Traveller's Wife AU coming up soon. Stay tunned!

Riordanverse (PJO, HOO, TOA)

ᓚᘏᗢ Oh, ho, the mistletoe (is hung where you can see) → Jasico Imprint Soulmate AU written for @jasico-challenges's Bingo Challenges 2024. Between flashbacks from the past, nightmares and christmas presents, Jason and Nico figure out how to tell their friends the truth about their relationship.

ᓚᘏᗢ If you had one more chance → Jasico fic for the Percy Jackson Gift Exchange Autum Equinox 2023. Nico struggles after Jason's death and decides to risk everything to bring him back. Orpheus & Euridyce style.

ᓚᘏᗢ Every Breath You Take → Jercy fic written for the Percy Jackson Gift Exchange Winter Solstice 2022. Percy and Jason are secretly pining for each other. In a road trip across the country, they finally face their feelings, but not withought some angst and jelously in the middle.

ᓚᘏᗢ It Doesn't Matter Anymore → A Jason Grace character study from when he was stuck in the wind prison in TOA. What was he thinking on his very last moments? Angst and Hurt/No Comfort. TW: Major character death & implied/referenced suicide.

ᓚᘏᗢ --------------------- >

I've written fics of some other fandoms like Maze Runner and I Am Not Okay With This but the fadoms above are the ones I'm still active in.

[yellowocaballero]

I love how your Bruce is traditional but it is also like a mix of different types of traditional. Like he comes across as both "Rich white old money type" traditional AND "member of a marginalized minority group who take great pride in their identity to cope with years of ostracization and going "the world wanted me dead for my culture and religion so i might as well die loud and proud instead of conforming to their unachievable ideals" " traditional

Thank you for this ask, I really love it! I have a shitton to say on this topic, including a lot of worldbuilding decisions on Gotham cultures, immigrant spaces, segregation, how it ended up like 1920s-1930s NYC/Chicago mixed with my own city, Jason "Foil" Todd's Inferiority Complex, but that would make this depressingly long. Long time readers would know that I have, like, really complex and discrete religion headcanons for everybody I write. It's important.

Any decent Batman Story (TM) is about Gotham. It has to be a huge presence. It's like writing Dick Tracy without Chicago, or Cheers without Boston. When he's written well, Batman is a reflection of Gotham, and they metaphorically represent each other.

Most Batman writers get this, so there's always a lot of historical worldbuilding and everything. But I'm a community health person, and I grew up in the inner area of my own very large city, and creating a Gotham that feels real and rich is more complicated than the Court of Owls stuff. For me, cities are the intersection of culture, community, history, oppression/SES/war etc, and the modern day to day lives of people. When I want to make a rich city that was relevant and important to the story, I wanted to focus on immigrants and cultural minorities. You know - the people who create the cities lol. I decided on a history that involved the idea that Jewish families were the oldest in Gotham, and that they were one of the people to help create it and influence its culture.

I read a Daniel Handler quote just now that said "there is something naturally Jewish about unending misery". What is more Batman, Bruce, and Gotham than that, lol. The Jewish diaspora experience - the traditional history just as you outlined it in your ask - is baked into Gotham, it's the foundation. Gotham is a city of unending misery, but it's a city that stands tall. It takes a thousand hits and always gets back up again. People within it experience unending poverty and suffering, but they stand together. Just fucking refuse to die, as a whole. What's more Jewish than that! What is more Batman than that! Gotham should always be allegorical for Batman and Bruce, and through Gotham existing in that traditional Jewish experience, I think that's where you got the impression of Bruce as very traditional too.

Tim and the Drakes are the modern reflection of this. I was extremely explicit that Tim is alone in the world because of the Holocaust. I talk a lot in the story about how war and violence destroy children's lives, and that stretches back to the 1940s. About how war and violence creates violent children, which is what Tim became. His acting out was from the trauma of seeing his family slaughtered in front of him, and like a lot of people he used his religion to justify it.

There's a reason why the very first moment when Tim and Bruce actually connect as a family is when they find kinship and understanding through their shared backgrounds and values. They both saw their families slaughtered, they're both alone in the world - but they found each other, and they'll keep living.

OK BELIEVE IT OR NOT THAT'S THE SHORT VERSION. Seriously, though, I'm not. Uh. Actually fucking Jewish. This is like the fourth time I've talked out of my ass about this. I'm actually really interested in reading about the actual Jewish themes in Batman, because from what little I know they HAVE to be there. Any smart people out there who know about it, or who can link something written about it?

[aintgonnatakethis]

Writing Share Tag

Thank you to the amazing @the-golden-comet for tagging me! 😄

I was reminded the other day while rambling about Telford that I'm meant to be writing Sheppard-gives-Kolya-to-Todd. Chapter 1 is done but I want to get the next two finished before I start posting, as I don't like large gaps between posting chapters.

The Wraith stood, in such a slow and deliberate manner that it was clear to Sheppard he was being viewed as a spooked animal. Maybe that was exactly what he was. Not just to Todd, a consumer of human products, but to himself, his skin stretched too tight over his bones and his teeth aching with some indefinable need. Todd walked to the door. It hadn't closed behind him when he'd entered, an escape route having been readily available throughout their conversation. Sheppard's instincts should have taken note. "Come," Todd said, toneless. Sheppard rose, compelled to follow the beckoning hand as a puppet on strings would dance to their handler's whim.

Tagging: @annwayne @anonmadsci @frostysfrenzy @frostedlemonwriter @leahnardo-da-veggie

[rustystars]

with riggins. he dislikes the rowdy 3 because they make him a warden & he dislikes bart because she makes him a handler & he dislikes that guy in a coma because he makes him That Guy That Watches That Guy In A Coma. but he LOVES dirk because dirk makes him Special. dirk makes him a father figure & kind & helpful & useful & a genius. dirk's his golden ticket out of boring middle management. & if dirk just tried harder maybe he'd be better. & if dirk just wanted this as much as riggins does maybe he wouldn't need to meet with priest. because dirk makes riggins Special so riggins needs to keep dirk feeling as un-special as possible so he never leaves

which then leads to dirk TRYING to be unspecial. he's just a normal guy no universe weirdness here no siree 👍 sure he's a bit odd but he doesn't have powers. todd you're crazy. what even is mind reading. ive never even heard of the lottery. hi farah! woman ive never met. let's all be best friends. this is all normal i'm a normal guy i do normal things such as dig holes & jump off bridges & fall out of trees soaking wet after being held hostage by the CIA for months. sooooo normal

[imxthexhandler]

( @fallen-sons; @blizzardmuses)

always thinking about nick robles version of Jason Todd

[calyxthenerd]

Cataloging how many characters in the fandoms I’m in have the same names and what those names are:

5 Alexs (Fierro, Walter, Gutierrez, Mercer and Claremont-Diaz)

3 Amys (Fleming, Farrah-Fowler and Santiago)

3 Antonios (Madrigal, the principal from Violetta (may he rest in peace) and Gutierrez from Bia)

2 Barbaras (Gordon and Handler(?))

2 Bens (Hanscom and the prince)

2 Bruces (Banner and Wayne)

2 Brunos (Madrigal and that one guy from SL)

2 Cerises (Hood and the one from miraculous (or did she change her name again?))

3 Charlies (Spring from Heartstopper, from the perks of being wallflower and Beckendorf from pjo)

2 Coles (Mackenzie and Walter)

2 Connors (Kent and Stoll)

2 Dianas (Prince and Barry)

2 Eddies (Munson and Kaspbrak)

2 Felixs (Madrigal and Fathom)

2 Glorias (Pritchett and the one from the Barbie movie)

2 Harleys (Keener and Quinn)

4 Heathers (the three from heathers and the lifeguard in stranger things)

2 Hunters (Huntsman and Deamonne-Noceda)

2 Jackies (Howard and the dance teacher from Violetta)

3 Jasons (Farley-Shaw, Grace and Todd)

2 Lukes (Castellan and Patterson)

2 Magnus (Chase and Nielsen)

Mallory (Keen and the one from bsc)

2 Marthas (Nielsen and Wayne)

2 Maxs (Kante and Mayfield)

3 Michaels (Hanlon, Holden and Wheeler)

2 Nanas (Noodleman and Shimura)

2 Nicks (Nelson and Wilde)

3 Peters (Parker (if you count all the Peter Parkers as one), Pan and Quill)

2 Rachels (Dare and Roth)

2 Rileys (Matthews from girl meets world and the girl from inside out)

2 Robins (Buckley and Scherbatsky)

3 Sams (Wilson, Al-Abbas and from perks of being wallflower)

2 Simons (Alvarez and Eriksson, the kings who inspired this post)

4 Stans (the two from gravity falls, Barber and Uris)

Tori (Spring and Vega)

2 Wills (Solace and Walter)

[duran-duran-less-official]

Ok ngl the fact that you refuse to watch the video before making an opinion on it strikes me as anti-intellectual. The video gives a very clear list of things to look out for for future instances of plagiarism and discusses why plagiarism (especially the plagiarism Somerton was doing which included stealing and harassing other smaller lgbt creators when they spoke up about it) is such a problem and how it’s easy to forget to check sources or think critically when it’s packaged in a well produced video like the ones he made.

I was not a Somerton fan (I bounced off his videos since they couldn’t hold my interest) but you have to understand he scammed a lot of people out of money while positioning himself as the True Queer Authority while spreading misinformation. Of course people are angry.

And were hbomb and todd just supposed to keep quiet about the fact that he was plagiarizing and spreading misinformation? If not for those videos, he would’ve kept scamming people. He was causing harm, and in an attention based job like this, the only way to stop them is to deplatform them. How else were they supposed to spread the word? Genuinely interested in how you think it should’ve been handled.

My guiding principle here is that when someone does a bad thing, the response to that should be proportional to the badness of the thing that was done.

The problem with HBomber as a handler of this kind of controversy is that he has no apparent upper limit on the number of hours he's willing to spend on this. And as I highlighted in an earlier post, he seems to treat any one thing he finds bad as equally bad as all the other things he talks about. I think it might be a consequence of the way his videos are formatted, and it all adds up to being disproportionate by definition.

Consider: If it's worth spending two hours talking in general terms about how plagiarism on Youtube is a pervasive problem, which I have little reason to doubt, why is it worth spending another two hours calling out one specific guy who does this thing that apparently a lot of people do? Does James McBlandname also kick puppies and protest against Planned Parenthood in his spare time? Like, the impression I get from that split is that one guy's acts of plagiarism are considered equally as bad as every other act of plagiarism on Youtube put together. And I'm sorry, I simply don't believe that any amount of plagiarism from one guy can be that morally bad.

As I said, this is a failing of HBomber's format, and the end result is that James Blanderson kind of... takes the fall for every Youtuber who has ever plagiarised. Is he worthy of derision? Yes, absolutely. Is he worthy of personally being a scapegoat for the entire Youtube plagiarism industry? There's practically no way that can be true.

It kinda makes me wish and hope that I never jumped on the Tommy Tallerico hate bandwagon—I legit don't remember if I ever have. But the same principle applies. Do intellectual property rights and their various abuses suck? No doubt. Does Tommy Tallerico deserve to be an icon of that particular sin when, say, the entire Microsoft corporation exists? Maybe not.

The question is, why single one guy out at all? Especially if it's a pervasive problem! If you're gonna go down the route of Prestige More-Than-Movie-Length Callout Post, the net result from that is you've entirely obliterated the online presence of one guy. Have you actually solved the problem? Even if the General portion of the video does the smart things, like tell viewers which genres of content farm are especially susceptible to this, or advising them how to spot when content might have been plagiarised as you're watching it, are people talking about that? Or are they talking about the one guy the other half of the video was about? What is your net impact here, and could it maybe be improved by cutting the video down to 30 minutes and being a bit more general?

All this doesn't even touch on how morally bad plagiarism is. Like it IS bad, sure, but there's degrees of badness. If you remember illuminaughtii's defining toxic trait as plagiarism, when in fact she was also very likely guilty of workplace bullying and financial/verbal abuse, then something has gone very wrong. I understand that this is Youtube, so the value of Content is at a premium, but maybe that means their own moral compasses have been warped, naturally treating plagiarism as considerably worse than the average person would or perhaps should. This is part of the point of me saying you aren't a Youtuber's foot soldier! They decided to make Youtube their lives, but you don't have to!

[marcusrobertobaq]

I swear...

Deviancy ain't necessarily caused exclusively by emotional shock automatically. An android can be traumatized but still be inside the cage, do nothing about it. But there's something that makes me a bit annoyed is how the overall perception mfs got is deviancy = emotions (in the "emotions are caused by deviancy" sense).

Actually it's the opposite. The android start feeling too much and listening to these feelings (setting as relevant when ain't supposed to, noticing it exists) and depending on the situation they go against orders they shouldn't be able to (given by handler and/or the default system) cuz of these feelings. Cuz, man, if you're starting to notice these things with frequency and doubt everything means the software is already a mess enough for you to break stuff, but an android that doesn't act upon this instability won't be deviating from anything. U can't physically move a mountain with the power of your mind.

Usually androids get too overwhelmed with the situation and it just...happens. Ain't exactly irrational cuz they make a choice of acting, but it's "irrational" cuz they let these feelings and doubts (own moral objections) be more important than 'em default program, 'em work, 'em original instructions for whatever reason. And it's even worse when we got the emotional shock factor. Usually ends in revenge, but believe me: it's a choice. Deviancy is a "choice". Instability? Unfortunately not. It will happen cuz that's the android's design. They ain't programmed with instability, but the way they're built make it easy to happen. Idk how they managed to discover this event (and how critical functions just stop working as intended) but i'm sure they didn't find a way to fix.

What do u mean, Marcus? Let me make a summary:

Shaolin? He chose killing Ortiz cuz he had ENOUGH and he FELT GOOD killing the guy. The Traci? She chose defending herself against that dude even if she didn't mean to kill him. Daniel? He chose killing John and taking Emma hostage. Rupert? He chose running away after he saw what happened with the other android. Kara? She chose going against Todd's orders. Ralph? He chose running away after being tortured.

All of 'em listened to 'em feelings and went against established orders and priorities without evasion method. If they didn't do anything, they wouldn't have deviated cuz they still doing what they're supposed to do. And remember: the less autonomy the android has, easier is to deviate.

Now u get why i don't get around with 2018/2019 stuff.

[onboardsorasora]

Sponsor max getting possessive over Daniel when the visa and cash app guys want something from him

Maybe his interviews with the media runs long one thursday and Max is livid when Todd, Daniel's media handler tells him their time was gonna have to be cut short because Daniel needs to get to some forum thing for Visa

Maybe Daniel sucks Max's dick about it and promises to go to his hotel room at the end of the day?

[asongofstarkandtargaryen]

I know there seems to be a running joke about Jason Todd calling Barbara Gordon “Barbie” but I was doing some research and realized how on the nose he really was about that nickname. Barbie is actually the nickname for the name Barbara which is why Barbie got her name. Ruth Handler named Barbie after her daughter Barbara and created the doll because she wanted her daughter to play with something that wasn’t a babydoll which was meant to prepare girls for motherhood. Barbie was invented to show her daughter that Barbie (and women) can have the same jobs as men and hold degrees and positions like them.

Barbie doll is an inspiration for many little girls. Similarly, Barbara Gordon is an inspiration for many younger girls in Gotham (including the younger batgirls).

Jason's nickname for her is really spot-on! As expected for someone who has full membership to Barbara's fanclub ( the one Cass & Steph founded).