bruce this is sheila

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Scheherazade - Chapter 1 - Cerusee - Batman (Comics) [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

Alfred angles himself so he can stir the diced pancetta, sizzling away in the pan, and watch Jason at the same time.   “You’ve never shared the particulars of your…missing years.”

“Yeah.”  The rhythmic thunk thunk of the knife against the wood falters. “The missing years.”

“I wish you would.”

Or, the one where Alfred drags the tale of Jason’s death and resurrection out of him piece by horrifying piece.

D’you ever think about the fact that Jason when Jason died, even though he didn’t save Sheila, he saved hundreds of thousands of refugees? 

Batman had no reason to be in Ethiopia. He lost Joker in Lebanon. He and Jason went to Ethiopia for Sheila, not for the Joker. Without Jason, there’s no telling that he would have showed up so soon, and the tainted supplies would have gotten out.

Just…Jason Todd, hero to the end, even unintentionally

anonymous asked:

Do you think it bothers Jason that people in universe think of him as the "bad robin"?

I certainly don’t think it makes him feel good. 

Jason did nothing wrong. 

Like, here’s the thing. Tim, his friends, absolutely no one has any reason to think that Jason was a bad Robin based on his actual death. Jason was faultless. He was betrayed by a woman he trusted and led to his death. He was murdered.

He did not disobey.

He was not angry and did not rush into things.

He was not being overly violent. 

All of those are completely disconnected from his actual death. They were used by DC before and after to a. make his unlikable so they could kill him off and, when they got backlash for murdering a child, b. retroactively shift the blame off them and Bruce’s negligence or culpability (limited, but ultimately there because Jason was a minor and Bruce placed him in the care of Sheila before flouncing off) and blame Jason.

We’re left with Bruce victim-blaming him and/or using him as a cautionary tale, like Jason’s death had anything to do with his behavior. We have to assume, from what is presented and because at no point does Bruce seem to know that Sheila led Jason to his death (she got buried beside him I believe), that Bruce assumed Jason had run off and got himself killed. 

Tim starts victim-blaming Jason very early on (immediately after his introduction) and never stops. This is fact, there’s not real way to avoid it. 

Nearly every DC writer has bought into Jason as the bad Robin who got himself killed. 

I don’t think Jason quite knows that they think he got himself killed, maybe, but he knows that they think of him that way. He probably assumes it was for the behavior that got him benched. 

Being replaced destroyed him in Lost Days when he found out. By the time Jason would have learned of what Bruce had actually made of his legacy, he had probably hardened his heart. 

Jason did not believe that Bruce loved him, and based on what happened after he died, from his perspective, who can blame him?

anonymous asked:

I don't think tumblr will let me post links & I don't have an account. The interview was on CBR for the second chances trade. Collins talked about some of the problems with editors. They gave him crap for wanting to have Batman knocked out with a hit from a blunt object to the head & the Mime story's art failed to follow his direction ruining a joke. For the Anon asking about Catherine's maiden name I believe it's Johnson & was mentioned by Shelia.

Ohhh, I found it here!

I had a whole storyline developed that was later ignored that had to do with Jason’s father and Two-Face. I frankly don’t remember exactly where I was headed, just that the book dropped my concept and went in a direction that ultimately led to the fans voting Jason’s death.

Very interesting. I still doubt that storyline involved Willis working with the cops, considering Gordon’s ignorance on the subject, but it’s a shame it wasn’t pursued. 

I’m curious as to why Collins refers to it as a concept for Jason, one that would avoid the path of his life being put to a fan vote. Was it intended to become a centerpiece of his characterization, or did it merely avoid the darker turn that Starlin wrote? If Willis was intended to still be alive, was he supposed to be redeemed in Jason’s eyes through the events that Collins planned, or was he going to become more explicitly an example of what not to be? I have a feeling that, even if he’d lived up until this storyline, Willis would be dead by the end of it.

You didn’t create Jason Todd, but I’m curious how much of the character’s development was you and how much freedom you had?

I’m afraid I don’t remember. I just know that I was asked to do a reboot. Starting over was definitely not my idea. I may have come up with the Jason Todd as juvie notion. It seemed that if Batman was going to essentially fire Dick Grayson because he didn’t want to put Robin in harm’s way anymore, then the only way he’d take a new Robin on was if the kid might die or otherwise go down a criminal path if he didn’t.

Did you ever think that Todd would become this significant character? I mean, he was killed off, but he came back. He’s in the New 52.

No. I would much rather have written the Dick Grayson Robin.

Collins didn’t seem to have much enthusiasm about creating the new Jason, but he did seem thoughtful about it. 

It’s interesting how he frames Batman’s rationale in the present, considering how Batman justified it to Gordon in Batman v1 #410. “This child is older than both of us, not to mention tougher.” 

Jason was obviously struggling when he met Batman, but it was only through Jason’s demonstration of skill, compassion, and strong sense of justice in #409 that he decided to intervene. Bruce mentioned later on that he felt like he was saving Jason from a criminal life, but it’s made far more nuanced by the fact that Bruce respected Jason’s life experiences and was impressed by his quality of character as well as his abilities. 

But frankly, it wasn’t my version of Jason Todd that was really hated, but the one that followed.

Haha, I do wonder how drastically perceptions of Jason changed when Starlin’s grittier approach was introduced. In both iterations, he was clearly rough around the edges, but I can see why that adult, cynical audience would be quicker to judge Starlin’s version. 

And yes you’re right! Her full name was Catherine Johnson. Jason Johnson… 

Anyway, thanks for pointing out the interview and Catherine’s name! 

Hoodlum | Chapter 1: Father and Son

Summary:

Hoodlum: a person who engages in crime and violence; a hooligan or gangster.

Jason Peter Todd was born a hoodlum. His father was a one; like father, like son. Once a Crime Alley kid, always one.

He was born to be an enemy. 

Or AU where Jason climbs his way out of hell which results to his resurrection.

Mentions of sexual and child abuse. 

First fanfic I’ve written for a long while.

Vaguely inspired by these songs: Daddy by Kumira and Enemy by Seungrae

Word count: 3006.

Chapter 2

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

‘I’m sorry,’ Is all the boy thinks of. 'Thank you.’

His gloved calloused hand reaches upwards, as he falls down the black hole.

'Alice,’ He vaguely recalls. 'Alice in Wonderland.’

An invisible force, invisible arms and legs wrap around his body and drag him down. He shifts his shoulders and arms as best as he can, he can hear loud cracks– broken ribs and broken arms.

He can feel a burning heat radiating off from the bottom of the hole– his fucking ass is about to be lit on fire. On any other given day, he’d joke about it with Bruce and even Dick, if he ever saw them again.

“Bruce!”

His throat burns. Something makes it’s way up through his esophagus and up to his tongue. His taste buds relish the iron flavor. He coughs violently before letting the blood leak out and raspy voice to scream once more.

Alfred!” He screams out.

Dick!” He’s never called for Dick before, it’s his first time. And not in that way, ya nasty.

Dick never comes home, and when he does, it isn’t to visit him or Bruce. It’s always to visit Alfred or maybe he’s there to pick up some things he had forgotten.  They spoke a couple of times, with the jobs they both have, it was only natural that they would have teamed up together at least once.

The boy recalls the first time he ever worked with the young man, Dick had been neutral at the least but afterwards Dick gave him his original Robin costume and number. Told him that if Bruce becomes too much for Jason, he would always be welcome to his apartment and talk.Another time that they worked together. 

He clearly remembers what Dick had called him in a fond voice, “little wing,” and then proceeded to cover his eyes from seeing the indecency of the situation. What Dick didn’t know was that it wasn’t new to him at all, but for some reason that simple small act activate a small warmth from the boy’s chest.

He doesn’t know why he calls for them. He doesn’t want to know why. He misses them.

Dick. Alfred. Bruce– I’m sorry. Thank you.

But he knows that they won’t come. He widens his hazel green orbs– the invisible force suddenly lets him go and he free falls to the bottom of the scorching pit.

His screams die out as he lands on his back, loud cracks exit his spine. His breath is knocked out of him; he’s broken.

But he gets up anyways, his skin blistering from the heat. His back and legs are numb and stiff.

He doesn’t know where is he, he doesn’t know where’s he’s landed– he needs to get back, back to Batman, back to Bruce, back to his dad.

“Jason?” A soft voice calls for him.

His heart drops, Jason turns his head actively, trying to figure out where her voice originated from.

She calls for him again and he picks up his green military boots in a quickened pace, following the source of her sweet voice.

Her voice is filled with concern and uncertainty, and he wonders what his mother, Catherine, is doing in this hole. He picks up his pace.

The hole he’s stuck in is very large, there are tunnels and hallways– like an ant colony, he thinks.

He takes a right, and then a left, and then another right.

A maze, it’s a maze– Pac Man, Jason suddenly recalls.

The closer and closer he gets to the voice, the closer and closer he gets to her, he runs closer and closer to the eternal raging fire of the pit.

He’s burning, his skin is set ablaze– oh god, the warehouse. He could feel the explosion and the fire, his mother’s screaming– the smell, oh the smell– bile runs through the bottom of his stomach and out of his mouth– it’s the smell of his burning flesh. Freshly cooked. Freshly burnt.

“Jason!” Her voice breaks him away from his memories, a cold hand set on his sweating neck.

It’s cold, cold like when he held her body when he had found her– she was dead, Catherine,
was dead and now he officially on his own now. Cold, cold like his first Gotham winter by himself where he realized that what he needed to survive could only be found if he spread his mouth and legs for creepy old men and women.   Cold, cold like when he stumbled upon his mother’s dealer being hold gunpoint in an alley one day and simply looked the other way when the trigger was pulled. Cold, cold like he was tied up and beaten to an inch of his life, and then blown up– murdered in cold blood.

“Mom?” He calls back to her, his gloved hands gently grabbing her frail ones.

There are tears falling from her honey colored eyes, and she puts on a sad smile.

“What are you doing here?” She asks, her voice choked up, small sobs escaping her mouth. Her hand moves and caresses his face.

He replies with a small frown.

“Mom, what are you doing here?”

She ignores his question and pulls him into her arms. It’s a stupid question and he knows. The things she made him do, the things she had done to him— they are sins that cannot be forgiven.

He’s a head taller than her now and she could feel how muscular he has become over the past years. She sobs even harder, her heart is swelling so fast that she can’t contain it. He’s grown up so much, so much better than he could have, he’s so healthy and—

“You’re so young,” She cries. “You’re too young.”

What is her little boy doing in hell?

He ignores her and tightens his grip on her hands. He began to gently drag her to the entrance. He’ll fight him if he has to, if it’s the only way for him and his mother to get the hell out. Before then, he was too young and too small to fight back, but he’ll win this time— he’ll beat him this time.

“We’re leaving this place, mom.” His voice is lower than she remembers.

He makes the last turn when something bigger and stronger than him pulls his back cape from behind and throws him into the air. His hand disconnects from his mother’s. He could never drag her down with him.

Jason’s body bounces from the cave-like walls, it reminds him of the caves of home. But this isn’t home, it isn’t home at all.

He lands on his stomach and pushes his arms to lift his body up. He looks at the perpetrator. He hears laughter and it’s different from the one he last heard. He knows this voice, this laughter.

The boy knows exactly where he is now. The someone whom he thought to be Satan himself has come to greet him.

“You… You actually thought you were pure? You actually thought you could escape that life? What a load of bullshit!” The voice laughs again. And how unbelievable for you to end up here instead of up there!”

The boy doesn’t say anything to this man.

He’s not afraid. He’s had worse. He’s already meet Satan before. He’ll be fine. He will be fine. But in these green Kevlar padded tights, in this red armored shirt, the little golden ’R’ he bears suddenly feels like a curse rather than a blessing. His legs tremble, but his back straightens.

“You can’t fly, you’ve had broken wings to begin with.” The boy shuts his hazel orbs. He knows. He knows that.

“Wait a second,” The voice laughs again. “A street rat could never be a bird!”

He ignores him and looks up. There has to be a way for him to escape this hole, a way for him to climb up. A way for him to return to Bruce and Alfred.

“It’s hilarious to see you and your mother here, brat.”

The blood in the boy’s veins boil and his muscles tense. Honey and green eyes burn as he looks at the pathetic excuse of a man, a father, right in front of him.

“It’s nice to know that I dragged you and your mother down with me, Robin.

He ignores the name, and steps forward when he is immediately stopped by a large hand on his chest. Only one man had the right to call him that.

The boy looks up at the man. His dark hair pushed back lazily and strays curled away from his matching thick brows. His jawline is covered by coarse black hair and his dark eyes sunken. His tan skin rotten, his smile bare and taunting. He looks exactly like him.

“I’m not surprised to see you here.” The boy says, before his lips curve upwards. “It’s nice to know that you’re at the place I sent you to.”

The boy taunts back out of spite.

“You little shit.” The man laughs.

A fist comes straight for the boy’s face, but he knows better. He gently moves out of its course.

“Whoa, there,” The aged man laughs. “You sound and move just like the Bat!”

His eyes scan the room. Four men and three women; all of whom he knows. His mother’s dealer, his father, his first john, and another john whose number he can no longer remember. His mother runs to side as his real mother stands before him, and the woman who pimped him out watches.

Seven, he counts. Seven, he counts. His seven sins.

He hears footsteps, more sinners appear. He recalls the majority of them as his past johns and criminals that he helped imprison with Batman.

He shuts his eyes as they all jump on him, some one by one and others all together. His arms and legs are pulled and twisted from all directions as the blistering sensation spreads throughout his body. He screams and screams.

A crowbar slamming into the side of his face, his ribs, his legs. Just 'whack,’ and ’whack’ and 'whackwhackwhack–’

’–So this is how hell feels like,’ He thinks to himself as another part of him calls out to his family, calling for help.

His throat runs dry faster than he wants it to, and all he could hear is cracking– his bones cracking– and the only order is could smell is the burning of his flesh and the strong iron of his blood. He tastes the saltiness of his tears, his metallic blood, and the spew of his last meal mixed with his stomach acid.

They’re holding down his body, they’re pushing down on him, pulling him apart, kicking and punching him; he feels himself sinking further and further down hell. Both his mothers, Catherine and Sheila, are dragged and beaten down with him. He could feel them trying to over his body from the perpetrators, but he has grown too big for them to completely do so. Their cries and screams become one with his.

“Stop! Please stop!” He could hear them plead. “He’s just a boy, he’s just a little boy!”

If he never sold himself, perhaps he’d never be down here. If he died with his mother, either Catherine or Sheila, perhaps he’d never be down here. If he never was his father’s son, perhaps he’d never be down here.

His father was a hoodlum; like father, like son. His father was sent to hell; like father, like son.

But Jason was sure that he’d never end up here. But he wasn’t his father. He could never be, the blood bond was not there. Bruce was not his real father, no matter how much Jason wished for him to be. That perhaps somehow, Sheila and Bruce had some connection and got drunk one night and ended up having a one night stand. That perhaps somehow, he could have truly been saved; saved from the abuse from Willis, from the johns, from his madam, from the cold and life sucking Crime Alley, and from the Joker.

'I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Bruce. Thank you.’

The masked boy could feel his body go limp– limp? Limp?! He wasn’t a quitter– Bruce, Bruce raised him better!

Robin, Boy Wonder, was Dick Grayson. Robin, Boy Terror, was Jason Todd.

And he’d be damned if he didn’t fight back, if he didn’t show them how terrible he was! That’s right, he was a street rat with fake wings,  pretending to be a bird, pretending to be someone he wasn’t, but he was better than this.  He was better than his father.

Bruce raised him better than this!

“Oh, fuck off!” He roars from the deepest and loudest voice he could get and it shakes the very walls and floors of hell.

Crack, crack, crack! Goes his bones. He gently tears off Catherine and Sheila and roars once more.

“Fuck off! Fuck off, you bastards! ” He howls. His muscles are torn and feel as if they were that wet cloth that Alfred uses when he cleans his wounds for him; twisted in opposite directions. He can hear his muscles tearing apart, ripping away.

He bellows and lifts himself from the stone floor. He grabs the first person he sees, his first john. His fists connect with his pathetic pale face, his lanky figure flies a foot away from Jason. He doesn’t stop for a second before throwing his fists to the next person in line; his father, the other johns, the dead criminals. The blood flowing inside of him is hot and boiling, his heart pumping like a loud drum.

He used to be afraid of them, too weak to win against them, but Bruce raised him better. Bruce taught him to be better, faster, stronger.

His body doesn’t stop moving, he’s flying in the air, kicking and punching. The blood in his veins are in flames, his skin blistering and bursting as he fights. These bastards, these assholes, all of them deserved to die! They deserved this hell, this punishment, and they deserved more pain. Fuck these guys! Jason doesn’t stop until his gloves are drenched in red. They all go down one by one, bloodied and defeated until there’s only Sheila, Catherine, and him alive and standing.

Batman never taught him to kill, but it didn’t matter since they were already dead anyways. So fuck it anyways. Fuck these guys.

Something twitches in his soul, in his heart, an instinct. A single golden feather softly floats down in front of him. His tired arm reaches out to it. The second he touches it, the golden color withers into ash and fades.

He could grow wings and fly Shelia and Catherine out.

His hazel orbs look over to his mothers, a painful expression sat on their faces. Catherine opens her arms to him and Jason walks over to her. Shelia rubs his back as Catherine guides him to the wall of the cave and they both gently lift him up.

He does not have wings. He cannot carry them out of this pit. A street rat could never grow wings; it is not in their biology.

He trapped here; they are trapped here. His hand slips, but his toes that resided in his green military boots stuck on to the wall, he was getting higher and higher.

Bruce didn’t raise no quitter, and so Jason keeps on climbing.

The blistering heat cools as he climbs higher and higher, his body getting sorer and sorer, and he wonders if he will even make it out to the top.

But Jason wasn’t a quitter.

Tired, exhausted, and quenched; he keeps on climbing. Bruce took him rock climbing once. He had fallen down multiple times but Bruce had always been there to catch him. Bruce encouraged him to do it again, to never give up.

His thighs and biceps are giving in now, heavy and strengthless, but he has to keep on going. He’s going to get out. He’s going to live. He’s going to live, he’s going to return home, he’s going back to Bruce and Alfred and Dick. The world fucked him over and he’d be damned if he didn’t do the same to the world.

Entireties pass by, he’s worn out. He wants to go home and sleep in his bed. He wants to snuggle himself in the red satin sheets and thick blankets that lie on his bed. He wants to dunk his heavy head on the fluffy pillows that he begged Bruce to buy for him, and he wants it to envelop around his sore neck and give him peace.

He wants for Bruce and Alfred to bid him goodnight before he heads off to bed. He wants to wake up refreshed and to head to the kitchen to help Alfred like he usually does and eat breakfast with Bruce as he reads the morning paper and blab to him about his vivid dreams that he had the night before.

He wants to get ready for school and go to class to see his AP chemistry teacher, Mrs. Hei, and listen to her lessons with her down-to-earth and laid-back personality.

He wants to go see his counselor, Mr. Bodin, who’s bright, joking and understanding personality guided Jason’s academic and personal decisions; his second mentor and second father, secrets told to him that he could never tell Bruce or small insecurities he could never bother Bruce with. He wants to tell him about a new book that he had found in the Wayne Manor Library and suggest it for their book club to read next.

He wants to see his school therapist, Mrs. Nadia, who’s understanding and compassionate personality helps Jason who treats him like a friend and an elder sister figure.

His green tattered fingers grip onto the small curves and indents of the walls. He does not have wings but he will climb his way out of here. He will climb back home. He will return to Bruce and Alfred, and he will finally try to connect with Dick and maybe Bruce will allow him to join the Teen Titans.

He’s gonna go to graduate as valedictorian from Gotham Academy and he’s gonna get a full ride to Harvard. He’s gonna grow up and become his own hero, like Dick had, and he’s gonna return home to see Alfred and Bruce on weekends and holidays. He’s gonna grow up, he’s gonna grow up, he’s gonna

It doesn’t matter anymore. He’s dead.

Jason wakes up in the dark, gasping for air; his body bloodied and broken, confined in a small space.

Bruce was not a quitter and neither was Jason.

Like father, like son.

No One’s Son

“It’s going to hard to learn a great many things about me,” Jason said. “But I’ll give you one for free-“

…..

Catherine sat down next to her toddler, gently pulling him onto her lap.

“Jay, daddy isn’t going to come home anymore…. It’s just you and me.”    

…..

“Mama?” whispered the dark haired boy, shaking her too still shoulder. There were empty syringes on the floor, and a strange empty stare in Catherine’s eyes.  

“Mama!”

…..

Bruce smiled as he caught his ward’s quiet ‘yes!’ upon seeing his grade.

“Very good, I’m proud of you. Now come on, time to pack. The flight to Sarajevo leaves in two hours.”

…..

“Well, I’m off now, be a good boy, do your homework, don’t stay up too late,” the nightmare smiled as it drew on its gloves. “Oh, and tell the big man I say- hello …”  

“br’ce….. sorr…”

…..

The blonde haired woman gasped and trembled in his arms, her body bruised and bloody from the explosion.

“He tried… To save me… Such a good boy… must have really… loved his mother…”

…..

Bruce stared in horror at what lay before him, then bent and carefully gathered the broken child into his arms.

“Jason, no…”

…..

Ra’s al Ghul leaned down, to meet the eyes of the shaking teen.

“What have I done? Why, I’ve given you life….”

……

Jason turned away. “-I’m no one’s son.”

Debris

Disclaimer: Batman and associated characters are the creative property of DC Comics.
Warnings: Angst, injury, language, near death
Rating: T
Prompt: ( ephemeraltea​​ ) Fic prompt: if Jason had survived and the events immediately following.

A/N: Tea, this holds the record of the longest amount of time it has taken me to fill a prompt. I am SOOOO sorry. It has been over a year now since you gave this to me. You were on your previous account! That’s how terrible of a friend I am. You all should throw me under the bus in shame.
But in case you don’t want to do that, I’ll fill out this prompt now! Just for you! And anyone else who feels the need to have angst via Jason Todd feels. Which, c’mon. That’s everyone.

“Robin, respond!”

The motor was roaring, the dry wind of the desert whipping at his exposed face. The motorbike he stole wasn’t nearly quick enough. He reached up enough to roughly smack the side of his cowl, clearing the fuzz from the radio receiver only briefly.

“Robin! Respond to me!” 

Keep reading

archiveofourown.org
Meager Advance - Loxare - Batman (Comics) [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Sheila Haywood
Characters: Jason Todd, Sheila Haywood, Joker, Bruce Wayne, random thugs
Additional Tags: Sadness, lots of sadness, Batfam Content War 2017
Summary:

Jason walks into the warehouse to help his mother. Jason does not walk out.

i really think a lot of the problems jason has with the rest of the family could be solved with a short conversation

like, we know talia had spies in gotham to keep tabs, so she probably knows that dick wasn’t at jason’s funeral. and when she was training him, she probably told him, in the same way she told him about tim

but little does jason know that it’s not that dick didn’t want to be there, it’s that he was in SPACE with the titans and bruce never called him to say “hey dick your little brother’s dead the funeral’s on tuesday bye”

he knows tim replaced him but what no one told him is how tim admired him and wanted to make him proud, and didn’t become robin to be the new jason todd, but because bruce was going to get himself killed

(i mean c’mon guys tim used to talk to jason’s memorial)

and, idk, stephanie in general?? like, jason would be/is pissed that bruce got another street kid killed, made another member of the dead robins club, and never gave her a memorial. dick moves, bruce. but maybe it would help if jason knew that bruce did care for her, but thought she was too much like jason - which is canon btw. acting like robin!jason isn’t always a bad thing, but bruce thought she was going to die just like jason, and he’d have to bury another kid, and he freaked out

of course this wouldn’t completely cure jason of his murderous rage thing he’s got going on, but i think he’d feel better knowing that not everyone believes that he was the “bad robin”

on the flip side, no one knows that jason went in the warehouse to save his mother. bruce has probably figured it out, but dick and babs and everyone else? from the way people talk about how impulsive and dangerous jason was, they probably think he just wanted to beat up the joker. no one except bruce knows that jason, almost beaten to death, still tried to save his mother - the lady who betrayed him to the joker!- in his last moments

EDIT: just realized that shit, not even bruce knows that sheila haywood gave jason to the joker. sheila didn’t tell bruce when she was dying, and jason hasn’t spoken about it, at least not on-panel

so yeah man, idk, i just want the batfamily to sit down and have some group therapy

Watch on brokehorrorfan.com

The truth is still out there, according to the new trailer for The X-Files revival. David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson are back as Mulder and Scully for the six-episode miniseries, which will premiere on January 24 on Fox.

Other returning cast members include Mitch Pileggi (Walter Skinner), William B. Davis (The Smoking Man), Annabeth Gish (Monica Reyes), Sheila Larken (Margaret Scully), and Bruce Harwood, Tom Braidwood and Dean Haglund (The Lone Gunmen).

The show will also feature newcomers Joel McHale, Annet Mahendrureturn, Robbie Amell, Lauren Ambrose, Kumail Nanjiani and Rhys Darby.

creepie-treattricker  asked:

Creepie swam around in the ocean once more all alone, but something seemed odd with Creepie this time. She did not have any kind of diving gear on herself and instead had a tail instead of legs. Since it was summer, every time Creepie went diving with no diving gear, she could become a mermaid for as long as her tail did not get dry.

“New swim gear?” a figure behind her asked, and a shadow gave way to the slate-blue skin of a familiar shark. “What’s with the tail, sheila?” Bruce inquired with a chuckle.

anonymous asked:

( the symbol thingy won't show up, but I'll finally try one of these memes for Karen (red-headed-aussie). For the hugs? <:3)

Send a ✮ & I’ll generate a number ( platonic edition )

23. Sleepy hug

Maybe it was his own fault for not giving the time to actually sleep. But as the human swam closer towards him and Bruce opened his pectoral fins to give an embrace, his mind wandered somewhere else as he held her; slowly feeling himself- and Karen in the tow- sink slowly below the surface. The great white snapped from his thoughts after he felt the human girl struggle and immediately, flicked his caudal fin again, raising Karen’s head above the water. 

“Ah! Sorry ‘bout that, sheila!” Bruce said after a great deal of profuse apologies. He blinked, shaking his head in a vain attempt to stay awake and focused.