thinking about what would happen if the hand and the league of assassins ever came across each other,,,
Coudda Shoudda Woudda Part 3
Okay, so Jason’s alive but ranaway to the League of Assassins because he’s angy. This changes things, because in my scenario, Batman didn’t fire Dick for getting shot by Joker, and even when he decided to retire Robin, Jason’s adopted so there’s no firing anyone. This means Batman will habe no qualms taking in another Robin.
Tim is still stalking, but this time Bruce is sad, not angry, that Jason’s went missing, so he doesn’t have the same motivation and need to be Robin.
Plus I still don’t want Bruce taking him as Robin if Jack is still alive because Jason is still beaten up by Joker, and it would be extremely unethical to expose another man’s underage son to that kind of danger without him knowing.
So Tim will only remain Actually Just An Intern this time unless Jack also died alongside Dana. Only then will Bruce consider taking him as Robin.
Otherwise, it’s gonna be Stephanie.
Jason remembered there were four season but he felt as if he was living in a fifth one, suspended in space and stuck in a time warp. He was cold. He had never been so freaking cold before in his life. His blood felt frozen, his heart beat slowly, barely pumping it through his numb body. With bones broken and muscles torn he crawled with the strength he left in his spirit for a way out. Feeling the cold tendrils of death creeping up on him, lingering at the edge of his consciousness, as though they were waiting for him to reach out a hand. His eyelids were getting heavy and growing weary, so damn fatigued. His breath came in labored gasps as he lay there. Where? Where exactly was him now? Impenetrable dense darkness surrounded him and there were no scents or sounds to give him a clue. He tried to focus perceive any sounds, intensity, patterns, frequency of any vibration, anything to explain the reason behind his limited sense of perception. He used his hands to try to gain a sense of his environment, but all they met was air. Even beneath him nothing existed but air, which made no sense.
He tried to reach back in his memory to understand what was happening to him, but his mind wash abnormally blank. Where fond memories should be, instead there were holes, gaps, vacant spots that are only filled with dried up dirt and burnt ashes, the soil for what used to be there. Now he could heard them. Distant voices calling his name. Familiar voices he recognized. His name. What was it again? Ja…Jason.. Jason Todd. Discerning grief, frustration, mysery and rage. But he can’t find his own voice. He was left with motionless lungs, frigid fingers and toes. There was a huge figure cradling him, rocking his body back and forth in his arms with desperation. A man he knew. What was his name? Bru…Bruce. Bruce stroked his raven locks, asking him with a surprisingly soft broken voice to calm down because he was going to take him to a hospital. Jason could detect the feeling on the man’s face. He hated the feeling of powerlessness, impotence, as if no matter how much he pushed himself, he knew he couldn’t get in time. Bruce’s calloused hands were covered in Jason’s blood, and anguish like he’d never known washed over him. Tears were mixing with the blood flooding in his lap, as his eyes clouded over. Jason with fallen limp body, chest stopped rising, lungs not pushing for oxygen any longer. Bruce held his son tightly mumbling comforting words, a promise about taking him home.
Jason thought grief was a tricky thing, in his years with Bruce he never showed him such raw emotion. He probably only allowed himself to be expressed in his most private and vulnerable moments. He had given his whole life to upholding justice and keeping the civilians safe, because that had always been what he believed in. But as a parent…His back and heart had never felt heavier.
There’s too many feelings to be sorted now, too many feelings Jason didn’t want to sort out. He was too confused to think clearly. There were blurry flashes of green hair, yellowish-brown eyes, a damn infuriating Cheshire grin, and that fucking crowbar already raised to strike him. One time. Another. Harder. Faster. Swearing under his breath, aching, pressure, throbbing pain on the side of his head. The pain was moderate at first, intensifying until it pierced throughly his whole body to the very core. The familiar maniac laughter he could hear echoing in his head. He couldn’t get away from the wicked laugher of that stupid clown. The weight of the world is hammering against my chest, his mind plagued with thousand of memories and thoughts. What was real? The people he trusted him shockingly stabbed him in the back. He was walking around in circles clueless, helpless and restless, like a fool wandering into a storm. A castaway. Now he was unjustly sentenced to a living hell. Fucking limbo.
He clenched his fists, knuckles white and shaking with untamed fury, endless wrath. Jason was furious. At the fact that the same piece of shit who should have been put down for what he did to him had been given the opportunity to traumatize innocent people, maybe children. What the hell Bruce? He let that insane murderer free while his body hardened, lifeless and the door was slammed shut on his tomb. Vengeance. He wanted vengeance with his very own hands. He would enjoy punching the clown so hard he wouldn’t be able to breath, old lungs struggling for air. Pinning him down to the floor where he can’t move, where he felt powerless, trembling with fear. Kicking him time after time until pale skin turned blue and dark. Take his sweet time torturing him and then he would kill him slowly and painfully. He would enjoy that.
His funeral. Bruce could have done a million things as he was left alone for a couple of minutes, bidding his goodbye to his son. He could have sobbed for his lost son who died in his arms, he could have screamed at the universe for taking his family away again. He could have yelled at himself for failing. He could have prayed that at least Jason would find peace now. But he just stood there, in front of the casket, stone faced and unmoving. Nothing. Perhaps then Jason would have forgiven him. Maybe he didn’t want to forgive him he thought to himself. No.
It was a rainy and gloomy day at the Wayne cemetery. Indeed a fitting weather considering his he lived his life. Not many people attend the service, not surprised as he didn’t have many friends. None of their acquaintances had ever bothered to get to know the rough around the edges of Jason Todd. Barbara sheds tears with rough mournful cries. Dick knelt down. Dick’s pained expression and the fresh wave of tears cascading down his sculpted face is one of his last memories.
They whisper a muffled goodbye as they place lilies at his feet. Fungal mold begins to grow surrounding his remains, vines replace nerves and veins. His chest hurts but there wasn’t a beating heart where it should be. Numbness.
He died young and tragically some would say. Pathetic was the word he would use. He died young, weak, naive and credulous. They’d thought him weak, harmless prey, another piece of rubbish in an alley called ‘Crime.’ He would show them what this piece of trash could accomplish. He was reborn with such mighty and brute strength. He would become a great unstoppable soldier.
Jason’s head was a sea of emotions that he had to try hard not sink under. He was given a chance, newborn opportunity. And he couldn’t lie at the bottom of the sea now, he was the captain and he would never go down with the fucking ship, not with the waves, and not even with the lifeboat that was struck.
He continue punching, his knuckles having gone past the point of feeling to just a sense of motion now. Ripping through the air, developed muscles strained and trembling. Things were under my fists, cracking, breaking and now the voices whisper in his ear encourage him to go on. He couldn’t stop. It had started off with a scream, like he was finally letting out something that had been simmering inside and it was escaping out through his throat, down to arms and exploding from my fists.
Release. Anger. Wrath. Revenge. Payback.
Jason Peter Tood had died pathetically.
But Red Hood was a survivor and victor.
He was ready to go back.
TALIA AL GHUL IS FUCKING FANTASTIC BUT SOME IDIOT WAS SCARED OF HER POWER AND DECIDED TO MAKE HER A R*PIST AND DESTROY HER ENTIRE CHARACTER
The Al Ghul Family 2/2:
[Dusan al Ghul: son of Melisandre and Ra’s; father of Mara; grandson of Sensei]
[Mara al ghul: daughter of an unnamed woman and Dusan; grand-daughter of Ra’s and Melisandre; great-grand-daughter of Sensei]
[Talia al ghul: daughter of Melisandre and Ra’s; grand-daughter of Sensei; mother of Damian]
[Damian al Ghul Wayne: son of Bruce Wayne and Talia; grandson of Ra’s and Melisandre; great-grandson of Sensei]
The Al Ghul Family ½:
[The Sensei: father of Ra’s; grandfather of Dusan, Talia, Nyssa; great-grand father of Damian,Mara, Hannah (deceased)]
[Ra’s al Ghul: son of Sensei; father of Dusan, Nyssa, Talia; grandfather of Damian, Mara, Hannah (deceased)]
[Sora al Ghul (deceased): first wife of Ra’s]
[Melisandre al Ghul (deceased): second wife of Ra’s: mother of Dusan and Talia; grandmother of Damian and Mara]
[Nyssa Raatko: daughter of an unnamed russian woman and Ra’s; grand-daughter of Sensei; mother of Hannah (deceased)]
1) I haven’t seen that comic
2) They’re equally competent in different ways. Pitting them against each other is dumb and a tired, sexist trope
Othell Flowers continues Batober with this awesome piece! Damian’s training! Prompt: Pride.
don’t know why but I almost cried writing this one hdjkkd
Exploring Damian Wayne - Batman’s True Son
RA’S AL GHUL
ALL GADGETS/POWERS/ABILITIES AVAILABLE TO USE
IN-COMICS CANON POWERS/ABILITIES & SUCH TO TAKE ACCOUNT OF
SPECIFIC GAME-PLAY MISC. THINGS
SPECIAL INTERACTIONS WITH OTHER CHARACTERS
Imagine if the reason Damian didn’t like Jason was because Jason was the only one of his brothers to have stayed with Talia and had gained her love and affection in that time. Talia often compared Damian to Jason in skill set, but Jason, who was there for a short period before leaving to Gotham in a fot of Pit madness, often compared Damian to Bruce and emphasized how he thought Damian would be a better person than Bruce in many ways. When Jason left, Damian was alone in a world where the only thing he was meant to be was an heir to something he didn’t want to rule as a demon. Damian was angry that Jason left and once he came to Gotham, showed that anger to Jason. After a while of Damian being in Gotham, he broke and asked why Jason left. Jason then told him everything, from his childhood to meeting Brice to his death at the hands of Joker and hos time with the League. Damian began to visit Jason’s grave after that, reading and rereading the words on the tomb because he didn’t know of Jason violent death. Damian eventually asked about what Jason’s relationship with Dick was like before his death and that was the day that Damian’s perfect image of Dick was shattered, he couldn’t understand why Dick hated Jason, why he was so cruel to him, or why he was such a horrible brother willingly. The thing that bothers Damian most is that he now wishes Jason hadn’t remembered his past, hadn’t gone into a fit of pit madness, that he stayed in the league with him and Talia. He wishes Jason never returned to Gotham, but he would never tell him that, not wanting to loose the first person in the batclan he considered a brother.
She deserves better. I hate that her character got demolished by one stupid retcon.
DC keeps going back and forth with her character, villainizing her and making her seem like a r*pist or an abusive mother, then making her a good guy in another story without any explanation whatsoever.
We don’t tolerate Talia al Ghul slander here :)