#changed up jasons scarring for ease of drawing

[uncharted-constellations]

It’s been a minute, (both post wise and design wise) so decided to update the fam + a couple additions compared to last time

#batman #batfam #dc #art #my art #redesign #again im not tagging everyone lmao #but yeah for main changes other than just tweaking the faces and hairstyles a bit #changed harper up to look a little more like her live action actress #not that ive Watched that show but the actress was v pretty #changed up jasons scarring for ease of drawing #gave cass some punky streaks #gave damian a little bit of a mohawk like i have in his ‘adult self as nightwing’ art #i dunno i like drawing those two a little more alt #but yeah it was mostly just fixing some facial proportions and hairstyles to make em all a little more distinct from one another #apologies for not posting ive mostly just been doing stuff for dnd #none of which is polished #also i should specify its helena wayne-kyle not helena b #did also fix her age

[dessarious]

Old Scars and New Beginnings Pt27

Inspired by @ozmav Maribat AU

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“Is Miss Marinette feeling better?” Alfred’s voice pulled Bruce out of his thoughts and he couldn’t help but wonder what better even meant in this case.

“She’s responsive and calm for the moment. I believe it was the loudness that set her off earlier. We’re going to need to keep track of everything that triggers her. I have a feeling it’s going to be an extremely long list.” Her parents had made her afraid of everything but helping people it seemed.

“I’ve already set up a shared document that everyone can read and add to. I’ve texted it to everyone’s phone. It has columns for both triggers and things that keep Miss Marinette calm.” Bruce pulled out his phone to find the link and found that the boys had already added their own notes.

“Penny and I can help with that if you give us access.” Jagged was frowning at an entry Dick made about reacting poorly to being touched by unknown males.

“Do you know why she has an issue being touched by men?” The man’s face hardened at Bruce’s question and he wasn’t certain he was going to get an answer.

“Her parents told you she slept around right?” Bruce just nodded. Jagged looked like he was on the verge of murder. “Before they stopped her business she got a call about a quote. They gave her an address to go to. When she got there…” He had to pause and take deep breaths. Bruce wasn’t even sure he wanted to hear where this was headed. “When she got there a man was waiting for her. She managed to subdue him before he could do more than give her a few bruises thank god, but ever since she’s been skittish around men she doesn’t know.”

“And why would that make her parents think she was sleeping around?” Alfred asked the question. Bruce was too furious to talk. He couldn’t even see straight at this point.

“When the police got there the guy said he’d just answered an online ad. Someone set it up with Mari’s name but there was no way for them to trace who actually posted it. Everyone just assumed she’d set it up and chickened out at the last moment, or was trying to get sympathy. There was a lot of bullshit going around at the time.” Bruce could only glare at the wall.

“Her parents actually believed that?” Alfred’s voice was deceptively calm but Bruce knew the man about three seconds from hopping a plane to Paris. Bruce didn’t want to waste the time but he could make a phone call…

“By then everything was already so messed up. I don’t know what they believed or said to her but she changed after that and not just with the way she acted around strangers. She wouldn’t go anywhere alone. She insisted on other people being present when she opened any type of correspondence. Text, e-mail, didn’t matter what it was. She wouldn’t look at it by herself. It’s like she felt she needed a witness for everything that happened in her life. I wish I could say she was wrong.”

“Any thoughts on who set her up?” Bruce eyed Alfred warily. If Jagged had a name that person very well might disappear in the next few days. As much as he didn’t advocate killing there were certainly times to look the other way.

“Plenty of thoughts but no proof. If I knew for sure I would have fed them to Fang a long time ago.” Bruce let out the breath he’d been unconsciously holding. The more he found out about Marinette the more certain he was that he’d done the right thing. There was no way even his kids could be worse than what she’d already had to deal with. He was dreading having to tell Selina about this though. If there were many more things like this in Marinette’s past he wouldn’t be able to stop her from burning Paris to the ground. He wasn’t even sure he’d try to stop her at this point.

“I’ll make sure Jason knows to tell Syd she needs to back off anyone who tries to crowd her.” Alfred looked amused and Jagged actually laughed.

“I thought you didn’t want that kid around Mari.” Bruce frowned at Jagged.

“That was before I knew she’d need a bodyguard. No one messes with that girl and if she’s with Marinette, she’ll get the same protection.”

“Master Bruce is quite right. Miss Sydney is very capable. For now though I have a surprise for Miss Marinette if you think she’s well enough for it.” Bruce raised an eyebrow at Jagged but the man just shrugged.

“What kind of surprise?” Bruce knew that Alfred wouldn’t do anything to intentionally upset the girl but at this point they didn’t know what even half of those things were.

“A good one.” Because that was helpful. In the end Bruce had to trust Alfred’s judgement. He just hoped he wouldn’t regret it later.

When they walked into the room he was shocked to hear Marinette giggling. Selina was recounting some story involving Dick and Tim but he couldn’t pay attention to it. As far as he knew this was the first time Marinette had relaxed enough to laugh. Now he really hoped Alfred’s surprise didn’t set her back. He froze in the doorway slightly afraid of what Selina would do to him if he startled the girl. Jagged had no such reservations.

“What’s so funny?” Marinette turned and immediately drew in on herself huddling closer to Penny. Any signs of laughter wiped away in an instant. He hazarded a look at Selina but she just looked concerned.

“I was just filling Marinette in on some of the insanity she agreed to be a part of.” That was the understatement of the century. Forget their other lives, all his kids were disasters anyway. For all she’d been though Marinette was probably the most normal, even if it turned out she was a superhero.

“Miss Marinette.” Alfred had stepped past him but Bruce simply stayed where he was. He knew he made the girl nervous, hell she still hadn’t called him anything besides Mr. Wayne yet. The furtive looks she shot at him didn’t go unnoticed by anyone. “I’d like to show you something.”

“Okay.” Her voice was soft. Anyone else would have asked what it was but she just accepted it. Maybe her parents had punished inquisitiveness as well. Just the thought made it necessary to calm himself down. Alfred took her hand and led her to a door opposite the bathroom and closet.

“This house was originally set up for occupants to have suites of rooms, generally two or three.” She’d tensed as they neared the door and Bruce thought Alfred was talking to try and calm her down. “Your room is connected to a second that was originally used as a sitting room. I decided to convert it for your use.” He opened the door and reached in to turn on the light. Bruce couldn’t see Marinette’s expression but he heard her surprised gasp.

The room was split into sections. Around the large window were a couple of cushioned chairs to take advantage of the view into the gardens. It would be a good place to draw, read, or just get lost in thought. Next was a section that was obviously meant for design. There was a work table with a sewing machine as well as shelves and drawers full of fabrics, threads, buttons, and who knows what else. Last was an area obviously meant for study. It held a desk, office supplies, her school books, a laptop, and finally a new cell phone. Even for Alfred it was impressive that he’d managed to set this up in one day.

“Well, what do you think?” The question came from Selina and Marinette turned just enough for Bruce to see tears in her eyes and a hurt expression on her face. She didn’t answer, but rather just kept shaking her head. Everything in him screamed ‘abort’ but he needed to understand her reaction.

“Marinette.” She looked at him and there was so much raw pain there. He was going to ask her what was wrong but it seemed like such an inadequate question. He also wasn’t sure she’d give him a straight answer. She’d looked hurt. Why would… the answer hit him fast and hard. He walked over and knelt down so he’d be at her eye level. “This room is here for you. Everything in it is yours. I know your parents wouldn’t let you design or use electronics, but those restrictions don’t apply here. Do you understand?”

The poor girl looked so confused. It was too much too fast. She’d been denied everything she loved from her passion to her friends to her parents affections. She couldn’t wrap her brain around the thought that she could have any let alone all of it back. He really should have pressed Alfred more about this surprise. He didn’t have the first clue on how to backtrack from this either.

“How about we start with one thing at a time okay?” He made his voice as gentle as possible and it seemed to help.

“Okay.” The response was just rote at this point but he’d take it. He stood and held out a hand which she hesitantly took. He led her over to the desk that was obviously meant for school. This would be the most familiar, the easiest to accept.

“These are all the things you need for school, though I’m sure Selina will be happy to take you to get some more personalized supplies if you want.” She shot him a scared look at the last part. Was she afraid of taking up Selina’s time, or frightened that the words were a trap? This was exhausting. She kept eyeing the phone and laptop like they were going to bite her. “You’ll need the computer for school, but you don’t have to only use it for that. If you want someone with you at first when you use it to make sure everything you’re doing is acceptable you can ask any of us, alright?”

“Okay.” She still seemed uncertain but the offer of a chaperone of sorts seemed to set her at ease. Maybe Jagged was right when he said she needed witnesses.

“This phone is for you as well.” He picked it up and put it in her hand. She actually started shaking. “All of our numbers are programmed in it as well as a few others Alfred thought you’d appreciate. The GPS is active so that we can find you just because Gotham is a dangerous city and if there’s an attack I like to be able to find everyone.” Again she relaxed slightly. Everything in her life had been monitored for so long she didn’t know how to react when someone wasn’t watching her. She began looking through the contacts and her face turned into a confused frown.

“Are Adrien and Chloe’s numbers in her so I don’t accidentally answer if they call?” The question was timid, like she thought she’d be punished for not understanding on her own. Because of that it took him a moment to process what she’d actually said.

“Why would you think that?” She hesitated and refused to look up. When she did answer it came out in a mumble as though she didn’t want to be heard.

“Because I’m not allowed to talk to them.” Bruce felt a headache forming. This situation was so surreal for him. He knew how to deal with kids who pushed boundaries and broke rules. He did not have any clue how to make a kid stop following rules that had been put in place by someone else. He gently put a hand under her chin and forced her to look up at him. The fear in her eyes made him physically hurt.

“You’re parents didn’t allow you to talk to them but your parents aren’t here and they no longer have a say in your actions. Their numbers, along with Jagged and Penny’s are in your phone so that you can talk to them. Whenever you want.” Her expression went completely blank. Shit, he broke her.

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Kofi

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#maribat #marinette dupen chang #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #selina kyle #jagged stone #penny rolling

[secondgenerationnerd]

Not Her Too

You know what we need? The Joker fucking up. Enjoy!!

----

           People assume a lot about Dahlia when they see her. Mainly because she can’t see them. How sad, they sigh. How pitiful, they whisper. What bullshit, she thinks.

“Gracie, I don’t know if you’re smart or stupid,” Dahlia laughs into her phone, unlocking the front door. The groceries rustle in the paper bag,

“Whatever,” Her cousin snorts, “My Dads say I’m brilliant.”

Between clicks of her tongue, listening to the way they bounce around the tiny apartment, Dahlia teases, “Those are two different versions of a similar lie.”

“Fuck you, Todd.”

“No thanks.” She sets the bag on the counter. “Any word from Tio Tim?”

“Yeah, Dad said everything went great. They’re over at Uncle Dickie’s place being weirdos.”

“What does that say about us then?”

“Well, with my other Dad and Aunt Cassie, I stand something of a chance. You on the other hand—”

“Remain as the prettier of us.” Laughing with her cousin, Dahlia shakes her head. “Alright, I’ll call you later.”

“Sounds like a plan. Love you, Dahli.”

“Love you too, Gracie.”

Setting her phone in the charging dock, Dahlia starts putting the food away. Papa hasn’t changed the lay out since they moved in. Makes it easier for her. Sure fingers run over boxes, can, and jars, running down a list in her head of what to make. Wonders if she should try to call her father to see if he wants--

A creak from the front area makes her slow for a moment. A insane heartbeat that she’s never heard before. Pretending everything’s okay, shrugging it off, she continues walking around the kitchen. Before she can reach the emergency button in the knife drawer, every muscle in her body tightens painfully, electricity pulsing through it. She can’t even scream. Dahlia collapses on the ground.

“Well, well, well.” She knows that cackle. Heard it in recordings for years. A gloved hand grabs her face, “Look at what I found.”

--

“Fuck you, Drake!” Jason laughs at his younger brother.

“I’m just saying you could do worse than—”

           “I am just happy with how my life is.” Jason assures him. “I’ve got a home. I’ve got you dumbasses for family. I’ve got my Llama. I don’t need much else.”

           Before one of his brothers can say something back, Dick’s phone buzzes. He reads it with a frown. Tim chuckles into his coffee mug, “Uh-oh, in trouble with the Missus.”

           “Babs is saying we need to turn on the tv.” He reaches for the remote.

           “What channel?”

           “Any.”

           The screen flickers to life and their hearts stop at that fucking high pitched cackle from the screen. Joker’s ghostly white face and bloody lips take up the entire screen. Soft groans from the background sound so, so familiar.

           “Hello to all just joining us.” The psychotic clown “I’m not typically one to redo performances, but this one was just too tempting.”

           He moves back from the camera. Curled on the ground, hands bound behind her, a teenaged girl groans. The soft brown curls cover her face until Joker slams his foot into her stomach. Clouded gray eyes widen as she gasps and Jason’s on his feet.

           No.

           Not her.

           Not her too.

           “Now, now.” Joker tuts, “You really need to help me here, kid.”

           “Go to hell.” Dahlia spats. Joker yanks her up with a fist in her hair, not even blinking as she spits blood at him.

           “That’s just rude.” He smashes her face into the concrete. “You remind me of your dad. He was just like this. Wonder if he remembers this.”

           Joker disappears from the screen. Coughing, Dahlia manages to sit up. Bruises cover her face and neck, blood dripping from her nose. Metal scraping along the ground makes Jason’s heart stop. More so the words that Joker says, “You and I are going to settle a debate your dad and I couldn’t. Which feels better: A or B.”

           As Joker brings the crow bar down, Dick turns the TV off.

           “Turn it back on.” Jason growls.

           The first Robin crosses his arms, “No.”

           “I said, turn. It. Back. ON!”

           “No.”

           “THAT’S MY DAUGHTER—”

           “So, do you want to keep wasting our time arguing or do you want save her?” The question cuts through his anger instantly, along with his brothers’ clenched jaws. Jason blinks until he continues, “Babs has already traced the signal. We leave now, we can be there in less than ten minutes.”

           “…He’s hurting my little girl.”

           “We know, Jason.” Tim pulls their spare uniforms from the cupboard.

           “I’m going to—"

           “Todd.” Damian’s even tone does little to hide the anger in his jade eyes. “Do you think any of us aren’t thinking about the same thing?”

           His brothers each give him the same look.

They’ve got his back.

More than that, they’re on his side.

--

           Sour breath burns her nostrils. Every tiny movement makes her want to cry. Another sharp blow from the crowbar hits her shoulder. “Now, now. We aren’t done yet.”

           “Fuck. You.” Dahlia coughs, leaving a metallic taste in her mouth. Another blow to her unbound legs.

           “Now, I would have though you’d be nicer by now.” Joker tuts. She mumbles into the concrete. Yanking her up by her hair, the pyscho tuts, “What was that?”

           “My Papa is going to kill you, puta.” She lunges forward, sinking her teeth into his nose. His yell of pain makes her bite harder, until he hits her again. His retreating footsteps give her her chance.

           A door slams open in front of her. She barrels forward into one of the henchmen. Tio Dick wouldn’t be impressed with her landing, but she’s thinking more about not dying. As she stumbles away, Dahlia brings her hands up then down to break the zipties digging into her skin. She uses the echo along the walls to figure out where Joker and his henchmen are. Her head starts spinning the more she tries to breathe.

Don’t pass out. If you do, you die. Dahlia repeats that to herself, listening to the henchmens’ yells as they search for her. Hiding behind what feels like wooden crates in a corner, she covers her mouth. Every breath feels like a stab, forcing her to fight back tears.

She’s going to die here. She’s going to die here. Maybe she’ll get lucky and come back. Like Tio Damian and Li-Li. Like Papa. Papa… He’s going to

           “Get back!” A henchman yells in pain.

           “Where is she?!” Dahlia looks up. Tio Dami?

           “Dahlia! We’re here!” Tio Dickie shouts, voice bouncing off the metal walls.

           “Dahlia! ¡¿Dónde estás?! ¡Estoy aquí! ¡Estoy aquí!”

           “Papá?” Dahlia whispers.

           “LLAMA!”

           Whimpering and holding her side, Dahlia pulls herself up. She leans against the wall as she limps towards the noise. “Papa...Papa…”

           “Ooo, lookit what the bat dragged in!” Joker cackles. Her father roars and she hears the familiar sound of fists against flesh. Forcing herself to take the next step, she focuses on the sound of her father’s hits. The way his voice cracks with the next yell.

           “WHERE IS SHE?”

           “Who?” Joker cackles, “Oh! The sightless bird? Ya know, I think she was around here somewhere—"

           “Papa…” She mumbles, mouth painfully dry. “Papa…”

           A body slams against metal walls, Papa snarling, “If you don’t tell me where the hell she is—”

           “Hood!” Tio Dickie. They’re here. They’re here for her. “Hood!”

           “WHA—" She can hear his breath catch. Another step, Dahlia, almost there. There’s a loud thud and pained laugh from Joker. Heavy footsteps run towards her. “LLAMA!”

           “Papa…Papa…” She reaches out for him, stumbling over her feet.

--

           As Dahlia stumbles, he lunges forward. Her whimper of pain as he eases her to the ground makes his teeth grit. Dark bruises blossom up her collar bone. Every breath she takes cracks. The fucker.

           “Dahlia?” He murmurs, pushing her hair from her face. Dahlia’s head falls against his chest, eyes drooping shut, “Llama. I’m here. I’ve got you…”

           “Papa…” She whimpers, “Hi, Papa…”

           “Ohhhhh, seems the little bird isn’t feeling too good.” Joker cackles. Damian presses his katana into Joker’s throat, drawing blood.

           “Redhood, she needs to go to the hospital.” Nightwing says. Jason fixes his gaze on the pyscho clown. His older brother grips his shoulder, “He’s not getting away with this. Not this time.”

           “We’ve got him.” Tim’s Red Robin voice used to piss him off. Now, Jason can hear the fire in his little brother’s voice. Hears the promise in it. Nodding, he lifts her up, like when she was little bitty.

           “Hold on, Dahli. You’re going to be okay. I promise. I promise.”

--

           He’s not sure how long it’s been. Time doesn’t pass normally here. He knows the nurses have changed shifts 8 times. Knows his brothers have called for updates three times. Knows the doctor has come by twice, taken her for tests too many times to count. The only thing keeping him sane is each beep of her heart monitor.

“‘People observe the colors of a day only at its beginnings and ends,’” The Book Thief isn’t his favorite book, but it’s the last one she had been reading. “‘but to me it's quite clear that a day merges through a multitude of shades and intonations with each passing moment. A single hour can consist of thousands of different colors--'”

Dahlia’s cloudy eyes fly open, hands reaching out in front of her, “Papa! Papa!”

The book drops from his grasp. He brings her hands to his face. Since he adopted her, touching someone’s face has always calmed her. Even with the scars and oddities of their family, their faces calm her. Frantic hands feel his face until she starts crying.  

“Estoy aquí, niña. Estoy aquí, te tengo,” Jason holds her close, kissing his daughter’s curls over and over, “Estás a salvo, Dahlia. Estás seguro.”

For a few minutes, Dahlia can’t speak as the cries wrack her body. He doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know what she needs to hear. So, he holds her. Holds her and holds her and holds her tighter with each fresh cry—a terrible mix of pain and sorrow and fear.

“I-I’m s-s—”

“No. Dahli, no.” He lifts her hand back to his face, holding it there. “You don’t apologize for jack shit. Not for a damn thing.”

“I tr-tried-tried to st-stay bra-ave.” She hiccups, nails dig into his arm. “I-I tried.”

“I know. I know.” He hugs her tighter. “You’re alive. You’re alive, Dahli, that’s all I care about.”

The teenager cries in her father’s arms for hours.

And he doesn’t let go until she’s ready.

--

           It’s been two weeks. Dahlia had finally been released from the hospital with many follow up appointments with a new therapist. Her family had visited every day, Grace asking what the other guy looked like. Alfred sent her favorite desert. Her aunts made Papa go home for a day to shower and eat. Aside from that day, which Dahlia had to force him to agree to, Jason hadn’t left her side. All their visits remind her why she’s lucky to be apart of their family. Remind her why she wants to go home. Jason had offered to find them a new place, but Dahlia shot him down. She grew up in that apartment. Joker doesn’t get to take it from her.

She had just one stop she wanted to make first.

The electronic beeps and creak of the security door make her straighten up. Even his sour breath and cackle can’t phase her. He’s seen the bruises.

           Good.

           “Well, look what the bat dragged in.” Joker cackles.

           “Wow, thought the infamous Joker would be more original.” She raises an eyebrow. “Whole world of blind jokes and you go with ‘look.’”

           “See someone got their daddy’s bite.” The metal legs of his chair creak as he leans back. “Where’s he at? Thought all the Boy Blunders would have their kids under lock and key.”

           Leaning forward, Dahlia removes her sunglasses. Grace told her once that her cloudy, unfocused gray eyes unnerve people in the best way. More creaks in his chair as Joker adjusts himself.

           “I was nine when Papa told me what you did. Younger than that when I heard his nightmares, but nine was when I learned about the monster in my father’s head.” Dahlia keeps her voice even. “Growing up, I heard all the stories and rumors about you. Heard all the things you’ve done—to strangers, to your enemies, to my family. I heard all the horrible things you did--”

           “Nice story, but get to the point, sugar.”

           “My point is that every story about you makes you out to be a monster. Which is a fucking lie.”

           “That so?”

           “It is. You are a psychopath sure, but you rely on fear to keep your power. That’s how you keep your hold over people.” Dahlia smiles softly. “That ends now.”

           His laugh, the one that’s haunted her family for decades, deoesn’y even make her flinch. “And they say bats have no sense of humor! Oh, you’re killing me—"

           “No, but my papa will.”

           “Your family doesn’t kill—”

           “See, you’re right to a point. But you messed up when you hurt me—”

           “Always take the weakest—”

           “I’m not weak.” Her even voice breaks, years of her family building her up spilling through. “You messed up by thinking that. Signed your own death certificate.”

           “I’m so sc—”

           Dahlia cuts his sarcasm short with a wave of her hand, “You’re going to rot here. For years and years and years. You will rot and die here. If you ever step foot out of thise building, you will die. Papa will make sure of it.”

           Metal creaks as he leans forward. “Bold talk for a blind girl, sugar.”

           She leans forward, “I don’t need my eyes to see through your bullshit.”

           Clicking her tongue, she walks to the door. The Clown scoffs, “Really? That’s it?”

           Dahlia doesn’t answer.

           “Hey! I know you hear me! Hear me better than anyone else!”

           The door opens and a guard’s gentle hand wraps around her forearm.

           “I’ll see you on the other side, sugar! Just you wait!”

--

           His leg bounces as he waits for her. Jason still can’t understand why she needs to see him. Looking up as the door opens, Jason sees Dahlia thank the guard. The bruises along her arms, face and chest make his heart ache. But she wears them with pride.

           “Papa?” Dahlia clicks her tongue, walking towards him. Jason opens his arms for her. She walks into them without hesitation. The shuttering gasp she gives has him hold her tighter.

           “You get what you need, Nina?”

           She nods, gripping his jacket tighter, sniffling, “Thank you, Papa. Thank you for letting me do this.”

           “Dahlia Noelle Todd, no one lets you do anything. You do what you want and always have.” Jason chuckles, kissing her temple, “I’m proud of you. You know that? No one could have done what you just did. Estoy tan, tan orgulloso de ti, mija.”

           “Te amo, Papa.”

           “Te amo tambien.” Jason holds her face in his hands. Where did that scrappy two-year-old go? The one who babbled to a stranger about her missing toy, who ran to his arms when he’d get home, who’d sit on the counter while he’d make dinner. When did this young woman take her place? Jason just smiles, “You ready to go home, Llama?”

           “Depends.” Dahlia takes his arm as they walk down the hall, pulling her sunglasses down, “Is Grace going to be there?”

           “Pretty sure she and Asha have a whole party planned for you.”

           “Can’t wait to see this dumpster fire.”

           Jason chuckles, “That’s my girl.”

#Jason Todd #dick grayson #Damian Wayne #joker #Tim Drake #dahlia todd #the red hood #nightwing #robin #Red Robin #sims 4 #not my poses or cc #all credit to their creators!!

[luckylq28-blog]

Soccer is all about footwork

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[ucflibrary]

November in the United States is Native American Heritage Month, also referred to as American Indian and Alaska Native Heritage Month. It celebrates the rich history and diversity of America’s native peoples and educates the public about historical and current challenges they face. Native American Heritage Month was first declared by presidential proclamation in 1990 which urged the United States to learn more about their first nations.

Join the UCF Libraries as we celebrate diverse voices and subjects with these suggestions. Click on the link below to see the full list, descriptions, and catalog links for the featured Native American Heritage titles suggested by UCF Library employees. These 20 books plus many more are also on display on the 2nd (main) floor of the John C. Hitt Library next to the bank of two elevators.

#NotYourPrincess: voices of Native American women edited by Mary Beth Leatherdale and Lisa Charleyboy Whether looking back to a troubled past or welcoming a hopeful future, the powerful voices of Indigenous women across North America resound in this book. In the same style as the best-selling Dreaming in Indian, #Not Your Princess presents an eclectic collection of poems, essays, interviews, and art that combine to express the experience of being a Native woman. Stories of abuse, humiliation, and stereotyping are countered by the voices of passionate women making themselves heard and demanding change. Sometimes angry, often reflective, but always strong, the women in this book will give teen readers insight into the lives of women who, for so long, have been virtually invisible.   Suggested by Emma Gisclair, Curriculum Materials Center

 Ceremony by Leslie Marmon Silko More than thirty-five years since its original publication, Ceremony remains one of the most profound and moving works of Native American literature, a novel that is itself a ceremony of healing. Tayo, a World War II veteran of mixed ancestry, returns to the Laguna Pueblo Reservation. He is deeply scarred by his experience as a prisoner of the Japanese and further wounded by the rejection he encounters from his people. Only by immersing himself in the Indian past can he begin to regain the peace that was taken from him. Masterfully written, filled with the somber majesty of Pueblo myth, Ceremony is a work of enduring power.  Suggested by Sandy Avila, Research & Information Services, and Rachel Edford, Teaching & Engagement

 Embers: one Ojibway's meditations by Richard Wagamese

In this carefully curated selection of everyday reflections, Richard Wagamese finds lessons in both the mundane and sublime as he muses on the universe, drawing inspiration from working in the bush—sawing and cutting and stacking wood for winter as well as the smudge ceremony to bring him closer to the Creator. Embers is perhaps Richard Wagamese's most personal volume to date. Honest, evocative and articulate, he explores the various manifestations of grief, joy, recovery, beauty, gratitude, physicality and spirituality—concepts many find hard to express. But for Wagamese, spirituality is multifaceted.

Suggested by Mary Lee Gladding, Circulation

 Facing East from Indian Country: a Native history of early America by Daniel K. Richter

In the beginning, North America was Indian country. But only in the beginning. After the opening act of the great national drama, Native Americans yielded to the westward rush of European settlers. Or so the story usually goes. Yet, for three centuries after Columbus, Native people controlled most of eastern North America and profoundly shaped its destiny. In Facing East from Indian Country, Daniel K. Richter keeps Native people center-stage throughout the story of the origins of the United States.

Suggested by Jason Delaney, Information Technology & Digital Initiatives

 Hidden Cities: the discovery and loss of ancient North American civilization by Roger G. Kennedy

In Hidden Cities, Roger G. Kennedy sets out to recover the rich heritage of the earliest North American peoples and to trace their influence on the leading citizens of a young United States, including George Washington and Thomas Jefferson, whose missions of exploration and inquiry brought them face to face with the remnants of the past.

Suggested by Megan Haught, Research & Information Services/Teaching & Engagement

 Indian Killer by Sherman Alexie

While a serial killer stalks and scalps white men in Seattle, John Smith, an Indian adopted into a white family, becomes dissatisfied with his life, and, as the killer searches for his next victim, John descends into the madness of Seattle's homeless. 

Suggested by Sandy Avila, Research & Information Services

 Interpreting Native American History and Culture at Museums and Historic Sites by Raney Bench

Interpreting Native American History and Culture at Museums and Historic Sites features ideas and suggested best practices for the staff and board of museums that care for collections of Native material culture, and who work with Native American culture, history, and communities. This resource gives museum and history professionals benchmarks to help shape conversations and policies designed to improve relations with Native communities represented in the museum. The book includes case studies from museums that are purposefully working to incorporate Native people and perspectives into all aspects of their work. The case study authors share experiences, hoping to inspire other museum staff to reach out to tribes to develop or improve their own interpretative processes. Examples from tribal and non-tribal museums, and partnerships between tribes and museums are explored as models for creating deep and long lasting partnerships between museums and the tribal communities they represent. 

Suggested by Richard Harrison, Research & Information Services

 Ishi in two worlds: a biography of the last wild Indian in North America by Theodora Kroeber

The life story of Ishi, the Yahi Indian, lone survivor of a doomed tribe, is unique in the annals of North American anthropology. For more than forty years, Theodora Kroeber's biography has been sharing this tragic and absorbing drama with readers all over the world.  Ishi stumbled into the twentieth century on the morning of August 29, 1911, when, desperate with hunger and with terror of the white murderers of his family, he was found in the corral of a slaughter house near Oroville, California. Finally identified as an Indian by an anthropologist, Ishi was brought to San Francisco by Professor T. T. Waterman and lived there the rest of his life under the care and protection of Alfred Kroeber and the staff of the University of California's Museum of Anthropology.

Suggested by Larry Cooperman Research & Information Services

 Love Medicine by Louise Erdrich  

The first of Louise Erdrich’s polysymphonic novels set in North Dakota – a fictional landscape that, in Erdrich’s hands, has become iconic – Love Medicine is the story of three generations of Ojibwe families. Set against the tumultuous politics of the reservation,the lives of the Kashpaws and the Lamartines are a testament to the endurance of a people and the sorrows of history.

Suggested by Rachel Edford, Teaching & Engagement

 Ojibwa Warrior: Dennis Banks and the rise of the American Indian Movement by Dennis Banks with Richard Erdoes

Dennis Banks, an American Indian of the Ojibwa Tribe and a founder of the American Indian Movement, is one of the most influential Indian leaders of our time. In Ojibwa Warrior, written with acclaimed writer and photographer Richard Erdoes, Banks tells his own story for the first time and also traces the rise of the American Indian Movement (AIM). The authors present an insider’s understanding of AIM protest events—the Trail of Broken Treaties march to Washington, D.C.; the resulting takeover of the BIA building; the riot at Custer, South Dakota; and the 1973 standoff at Wounded Knee. Enhancing the narrative are dramatic photographs, most taken by Richard Erdoes, depicting key people and events.

Suggested by Richard Harrison, Research & Information Services

 Reservation Blues by Sherman Alexie

In Reservation Blues, National Book Award winner Alexie vaults with ease from comedy to tragedy and back in a tour-de-force outing powered by a collision of cultures: Delta blues and Indian rock.

Suggested by Rachel Edford, Teaching & Engagement

 Smoke Signals directed by Chris Eyre

Though Victor (Adam Beach, Flags of Our Fathers) and Thomas have lived their entire young lives in the same tiny town, they couldn't have less in common. But when Victor is urgently called away, it's Thomas who comes up with the money to pay for his trip.

Suggested by Megan Haught, Research & Information Services/Teaching & Engagement

 The Education of Little Tree by Forrest Carter

The Education of Little Tree tells of a boy orphaned very young, who is adopted by his Cherokee grandmother and half-Cherokee grandfather in the Appalachian mountains of Tennessee during the Great Depression. "Little Tree" as his grandparents call him is shown how to hunt and survive in the mountains, to respect nature in the Cherokee Way, taking only what is needed, leaving the rest for nature to run its course. Little Tree also learns the often callous ways of white businessmen and tax collectors, and how Granpa, in hilarious vignettes, scares them away from his illegal attempts to enter the cash economy. Granma teaches Little Tree the joys of reading and education. But when Little Tree is taken away by whites for schooling, we learn of the cruelty meted out to Indian children in an attempt to assimilate them and of Little Tree's perception of the Anglo world and how it differs from the Cherokee Way.

Suggested by Athena Hoeppner, Acquisitions & Collections

 The Marrow Thieves by Cherie Dimaline

Humanity has nearly destroyed its world through global warming, but now an even greater evil lurks. The indigenous people of North America are being hunted and harvested for their bone marrow, which carries the key to recovering something the rest of the population has lost: the ability to dream. In this dark world, Frenchie and his companions struggle to survive as they make their way up north to the old lands. For now, survival means staying hidden … but what they don’t know is that one of them holds the secret to defeating the marrow thieves.

Suggested by Emma Gisclair, Curriculum Materials Center

 The Way to Rainy Mountain by N. Scott Momaday  

The paperback edition of The Way to Rainy Mountain was first published twenty-five years ago. One should not be surprised, I suppose, that it has remained vital, and immediate, for that is the nature of story. And this is particularly true of the oral tradition, which exists in a dimension of timelessness. I was first told these stories by my father when I was a child. I do not know how long they had existed before I heard them. They seem to proceed from a place of origin as old as the earth. "The stories in The Way to Rainy Mountain are told in three voices. The first voice is the voice of my father, the ancestral voice, and the voice of the Kiowa oral tradition. The second is the voice of historical commentary. And the third is that of personal reminiscence, my own voice. There is a turning and returning of myth, history, and memoir throughout, a narrative wheel that is as sacred as language itself.

Suggested by Rachel Edford, Teaching & Engagement

 The Small Shall Be Strong: a history of Lake Tahoe's Washoe Indians by Matthew S. Makley

For thousands of years the Washoe people have lived in the shadows of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. At the center of their lands sits beautiful Lake Tahoe, a name derived from the Washoe word Da ow a ga. Perhaps because the Washoe population has always been small or because it has been more peaceful than other tribal communities, its history has never been published. In The Small Shall Be Strong, Matthew S. Makley demonstrates that, in spite of this lack of scholarly attention, Washoe history is replete with broad significance. The Washoes, for example, gained culturally important lands through the 1887 Dawes Act. And during the 1990s, the tribe sought to ban climbing on one of its most sacred sites, Cave Rock, a singular instance of Native sacred concerns leading to restrictions. The Small Shall Be Strong illustrates a history and raises a broad question: How might greater scholarly attention to the numerous lesser-studied tribes in the United States compel a rethinking of larger historical narratives?

Suggested by Megan Haught, Research & Information Services/Teaching & Engagement

 There, There by Tommy Orange

As we learn the reasons that each person is attending the Big Oakland Powwow—some generous, some fearful, some joyful, some violent—momentum builds toward a shocking yet inevitable conclusion that changes everything. There will be glorious communion, and a spectacle of sacred tradition and pageantry. And there will be sacrifice, and heroism, and loss. There There is a wondrous and shattering portrait of an America few of us have ever seen.

Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions & Collections

 Tribal Strengths and Native Education: voices from the reservation classroom by Terry Huffman

In 1889, Sitting Bull addressed the formal, Western-style education of his people. "When you find something good in the white man's road, pick it up," he intoned. "When you find something that is bad... leave it alone. We shall master his machinery, and his inventions, his skills, his medicine, his planning, but we will retain our beauty and still be Indians." Sitting Bull's vision — that cultural survival and personal perseverance derive from tribal resilience — lies at the heart of Tribal Strengths and Native Education. Basing his account on the insights of six veteran American Indian educators who serve in three reservation schools on the Northern Plains, Terry Huffman explores how Native educators perceive pedagogical strengths rooted in their tribal heritage and personal ethnicity. He recounts their views on the issues facing students and shows how tribal identity can be a source of resilience in academic and personal success. Throughout, Huffman and the educators emphasize the importance of anchoring the formal education of Indian children in Native values and worldviews — in "tribal strengths.”

Suggested by Megan Haught, Research & Information Services/Teaching & Engagement

 When My Brother Was an Aztec by Natalie Diaz

In When My Brother Was An Aztec, Natalie Diaz examines memory’s role in human identity. Each section filters memory through specific individuals and settings. Bigotry against Native Americans is confronted throughout the collection, and the speaker’s wrestling with identity is carefully woven into each poem. Faithfulness to and departure from tradition and culture are ever-present. Each poem is stitched into the reservation’s landscape, while many consider Christian identity. Natalie Diaz experiments with form, from couplets to parts, lists to prose poems, and explores the terrain of poetic predecessors, yet strikes out into new territory, demonstrating her adventurous spirit.

Suggested by Mary Lee Gladding, Circulation

 Whereas by Layli Long Soldier

WHEREAS confronts the coercive language of the United States government in its responses, treaties, and apologies to Native American peoples and tribes, and reflects that language in its officiousness and duplicity back on its perpetrators. Through a virtuosic array of short lyrics, prose poems, longer narrative sequences, resolutions, and disclaimers, Layli Long Soldier has created a brilliantly innovative text to examine histories, landscapes, her own writing, and her predicament inside national affiliations. “I am,” she writes, “a citizen of the United States and an enrolled member of the Oglala Sioux Tribe, meaning I am a citizen of the Oglala Lakota Nation―and in this dual citizenship I must work, I must eat, I must art, I must mother, I must friend, I must listen, I must observe, constantly I must live.”

Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions & Collections

#featured bookshelf #ucf library #native american heritage month #booklr #reading

[lydiastormborn]

title: keep the door open for me (2/2)

ship: jaykyle

summary: a chance meeting after years leads kyle to strike up a relationship he’d have never expected to have with jason todd. and, to his own surprise, he’s more than just a little willing to keep it.

a/n: set in a pre-flashpoint continuity with some stuff taken from new 52. maybe kyle and jason aren’t as hopeless at developing and managing a relationship as one could think. (maybe.)

[on ao3]

It’s early in the night and Kyle’s wandering through the streets of Gotham, trying to get through to Jason without success. Koriand’r told him -- sounding a little too smug and amused as for Kyle’s tastes -- that Jason is currently back home, but he’s not picking up and Kyle is trying not to read too much into it. Jason is most likely busy since it’s patrol time -- it was probably stupid of Kyle to jump on the first occasion he had and come, but it’s been over a month and he might have gotten a little impatient. Now it leaves him walking around aimlessly. He’s starting to think that maybe he should go to Jason’s apartment -- wouldn’t that be weird, though? -- when a phone in a telephone booth he passes starts ringing.

Kyle stops, stares at it for a moment -- he had no idea they still work, to be honest -- and picks it up because well, it’s pretty obvious this call is for him.

“It’s kind of hard to hack someone’s comm when they don’t carry comms,” a mechanical voice says, sounding amused. “You Lanterns are such problems sometimes.”

“You could’ve hacked my phone,” Kyle says dumbly, the first thing that comes to his mind. The voice on the other end laughs.

“Careful, I may just do that next time,” Oracle states. “So, why do I find you on the streets of Gotham out of costume? Looking for someone?” And before Kyle can answer, she continues, “Namely, someone tall, with a mean right hook and taste for classic literature?”

Kyle gapes for a moment. “How did you know? Has Ca--Black Bat said anything?”

“I can put two and two together, especially considering you’ve been trying to call Jason’s personal phone for over half an hour,” Oracle answers. “But should I be interested in what Black Bat could say?”

“I…” He sometimes really, really regrets opening his mouth.

Oracle chuckles. “Relax, Kyle, I’m just messing with you,” she says and he isn’t sure if the use of his name is meant to put him on ease or on the contrary. “Hood is with Red Robin on a case in Bowery right now, they should be wrapping it up in…” she pauses for a moment, Kyle hears tapping of the keys, “...twenty minutes tops, if nothing goes more wrong than it already has.”

“Thank you,” he replies because it does save him the trouble. But he has a feeling this conversation isn’t quite over yet.

Oracle wastes no time and gets right to the business. “Listen, as much as I may have eyes and ears everywhere, I actually reluctantly get into things that are not my business. Whatever you and Jason have going on, it’s between the two of you. I just hope you know what you’re doing. I’d hate to see him get hurt.”

This is probably not the best moment to say that Kyle is more than a little clueless about where he and Jason stand right now. A lot could have changed in the span of a few weeks. Maybe it will turn out that he needn’t has come back here… but he hopes it won’t be the case.

“That’s not what I want to happen, either, “ he says sincerely. Then, he adds, “You’re protective. In a kinda scary way, but still.”

“I’m the oldest one around here,” Oracle reminds him. “Not counting the big man himself and Agent A, of course. Looking out for everyone, even if they wouldn’t necessarily appreciate it, is kind of a part of what I do.”

“You’re good at this,” he reassures.

“Flattery will get you anywhere,” she teases. “And one more thing: please try to keep a lower profile this time around. Vicki Vale had a field day coming up with theories about why would a White Lantern stick around Gotham.”

Kyle hangs up, tips of his ears bright red.

…

He indeed finds Red Hood and Red Robin in Bowery, apparently in the middle of an argument.

“What part of ‘keep property damage to minimum’ you didn’t understand, Hood?”

“I keep telling you, Little Red, crashing that car was necessary to stop those low-lifes.”

“Yes, you keep repeating that, but now I’m talking about other five cars that ended up destroyed, too. Along with the storefront of that pawn shop.”

“But they used to sell drugs to kids there, so they had it coming, really.”

“If you wanted to shut them down, I’m sure you there were plenty of other ways in which you could have handled it.”

“Bodily harm included?”

“Interrupting something?” Kyle asks from where he has perched on a railing of a balcony of the nearest building.

Both of them whip their heads to look up at him; in moments like this one, Kyle really hates that stupid helmet because he wants to see the expression on Jason’s face.

“Kyle-- I mean, Lantern,” Tim corrects himself, as if they aren’t the only ones in the alley. Not counting tied up criminals in various states of unconsciousness, of course. “What are you doing here?” His face falls as he speaks. “Please don’t tell me there’s a cosmic threat approaching Gotham. I didn’t drink enough coffee for this kind of an alert.”

Kyle laughs at Tim’s grim, resigned tone. “No, nothing like that. Actually, I’m…”

“Actually, Kyle is here to save me from you and your complaining ass,” Jason tells Tim as he fires a grappling hook and stands on the outer edge of the same balcony as Kyle. To him, Jason whispers, “Good timing, I was afraid I’d actually have to stay and deal with clean-up.”

“Well, I don’t think --” Kyle starts and blinks. Suddenly, Jason isn’t standing, leaning on the railing, he’s hanging off it.

“What the hell, Tim!” he shouts.

Tim, pulling on the line around Jason’s ankle, says, “If you think you can just get out and leave me alone to deal with this mess, you have another thing coming.”

“No one actually died or got hurt!” Jason yells back. “Gravely, at least. The parties responsible are just waiting for the cops to take them in.”

“Property damage,” Tim repeats grimly, with emphasis.

“It’s goddamn Bowery, no one cares!” Jason calls. Under his breath, he mutters, “That little shit.”

“Do you want some help…?” Kyle asks, amused, peering down at Jason.

“No, I’ve got an ace up my sleeve,” Jason tells him. Louder, he says, “Okay, how about this: if you handle this without me, I’ll take take the brat out of your hair the next time Dickie decides you two need some uncalled for bonding time or whatever.”

This gets Tim to pause in his relentless pulling. “Okay,” he finally decides. “But you better not bail out, I’ll call this favor in even if you’re in space,” he warns, pulling the line away and freeing Jason’s ankle.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jason agrees and immediately jumps back on the balcony to start climbing up the fire escape. “Thanks, Red, I knew there was a reason why I didn’t kill you back in time.”

“It certainly wasn’t for the lack of trying,” Red Robin says dryly. He tilts his head slightly and Kyle thinks he’s squinting at them. “But really, what are you two up to?”

“You don’t need to know everything,” Jason calls instead of goodbye as Kyle mouths “sorry” and flies up to the rooftop.

“Let’s get further away from here,” Jason tells him and goes running to jump on the next roof. Kyle gets him, but it doesn’t change the fact he feels a pang of irritation as he follows him. By the time Jason decides to stop and Kyle catches up with him, landing softly on the rooftop, the helmet is already discarded and he can finally stare at Jason’s face.

“Hey,” Kyle says and isn’t he eloquent.

Jason, however, smiles at him. “Hey yourself,” he says back and steps closer. “I thought I wouldn’t actually get to see you this soon.”

“Yeah, well, I got some free time and thought I’d drop by,” he states casually, like he didn’t have an internal freak out just an hour ago. “Is this a bad time?”

“Couldn’t be better,” Jason answers and leans in to kiss him. Feeling relieved, Kyle puts his hand at the back of Jason’s neck and presses in closer. It’s a good kiss, maybe their best one, if only for the fact it comes after a long time and tells Kyle that Jason is apparently still interested in this thing they had, and should probably talk about.

But there’s time and place for everything, and middle of the night on a roof is probably not that. Oracle would most likely agree. (Kyle has half-mind to feel self-conscious about cameras all over the city; better late than never.)

Pulling away, he grins. “Missed me, huh?”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Like a goddamn crowbar.” Kyle sighs as Jason nudges him in the side. “Wanna call it a night and go to my place?”

“Very. I think I could use a shower.”

“Get in line, pretty boy.”

On their way, they buy Chinese take outs from Jason’s favorite place and spend two hours watching some silly movie on Jason’s second-hand couch and laughing -- it’s something Kyle wouldn’t have expected, but it’s nice. And if their makeout session after that ends up in the bedroom, he definitely isn’t going to complain.

...

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Kyle says in the morning, his arms wrapped around Jason as they idly lay in the bed, dimmed Gotham sunlight streaming into the room. “Would it be wrong to say we’re dating?”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he winces; Kyle knows his lack of filler is atrocious, but he’s been getting hang of it lately. The question is out there now, though, and he waits for Jason’s reaction. His body went tense and, from where his hand is resting on a scar across Jason’s chest, Kyle can tell his heartbeat picked up. (Earlier he was tracing his hands over Jason’s torso, drawing patterns without even realizing until Jason asked, in a choked voice, if he wanted to get out of the bed and paint or something. That’s the story of Kyle found Jason is ticklish.)

“Dating, huh?” Jason finally mutters, his voice a little tight, but then he exhales slowly and squeezes Kyle’s hand. “I guess I wouldn’t mind dating you all that much.”

Kyle hooks his chin over Jason’s shoulder and grins, wide and stupid and happy, unperturbed even as Jason tells him to close his mouth because he’s drooling all over his arm.

…

Leaving this time around is harder than before, but it also weighs less on Kyle’s mind, as the certainty settles in. (He has a boyfriend, would you believe it.) He feels… lighter, in a way, and it must show because even Carol comments on it.

“It seems like some time on Earth indeed is good for you,” she tells him when they arrive on a sixth planet in the last two days, looking for a fugitive on a special request from the Guardians. Kyle should have expected it wouldn’t be as easy as it sounds.

“Yeah?” he asks, distracted as his ring scans the crowd down below.

“You’re more relaxed, I’d say.”

“Well, that’s what time off from work is supposed to do,” he answers, a little unsure as to where Carol is going with this.

She smiles at him. “Sure. But really, Kyle, do you think you can hide the fact you’re seeing someone from a Star Sapphire?”

Kyle groans. “Carol, we have work to do.”

“Come on, don’t be like that. Are they a superhero? Do I know them?”

“No, I mean, we have work right now, I found our guy -- oh, he realized,” Kyle comments dryly and starts descending. Carol keeps up with him easily.

“Alright, we’ll talk about your mystery person the other time,” she says, readying her ring.

“That sounded creepy, can you not?” Kyle asks and only receives a laugh in response as she dives into the crowd. “Okay, thanks, great talk.”

...

“When Roy said you guys are in Brazil, I expected something less… mundane than this. Weren’t you here on a job?”

Jason, sitting on a bench next to Kory, rolls his eyes as a new song starts playing in the background. “Not my fault you’re late. We already wrapped it up.”

The inside of the bar seems as dingy as it looked outside, but at least the seats are nice, Kyle decides. He’s surprised, but nevertheless pleased at a hard kiss Jason greets him with. Roy whistles loudly from the other side of the table and only laughs when Jason flips him off.

“That was a little intense,” Kyle says when they part. “This time wasn’t even the longest we went without seeing each other.”

“Yes, but I’m still disappointed you had to leave unexpectedly,” Jason answers, idly running his thumb over Kyle’s knuckles. “You didn’t get try my casserole.”

“A loss I mourn, but the universe called,” Kyle replies. “I’m sure it was great.”

“Yeah, well, ask Cass or Tim because they were the ones who came over and ate it by themselves.”

Kyle chuckles, feeling only a little bad for tuning out the conversation between the Outlaws as he leans into Jason’s side to have an arm wrapped around him from the back, content on staying this way for foreseeable future. He’s willing to admit he’s pretty tired after the recent space endeavors and there’s comforting familiarity to be found in Jason’s body heat and smell after all the times he’s accidentally fell asleep on him. Kyle would even go as far as to close his eyes and take a nap, if it wasn’t for the fact they’re in a bar and Jason doesn’t actually seem relaxed at all.

Tilting his head to look up at him, Kyle asks, just loud enough to be heard over the noise, “Are you okay?”

Jason’s face confronts in a weird way; at this angle and lightning, it’s quite easy to see the bags under his eyes. “I should be asking you that. Haven’t you just come back from saving the universe or something?”

“Same old, same old,” Kyle jokes and sighs. “I’m just tired, like, exhausted kind of tired,” he admits quietly. “Think we could wrap it up earlier?”

“Sure,” Jason agrees, already standing up. “We left the ship quite far from here, though. Hotel okay?”

“Honestly, I only care about there being a bed,” he answers. Normally, that kind of reply would get a laugh or at least a twitch of lips out of Jason, but his face remains closed off and now Kyle is starting to get worried. They say goodbye to Roy and Kory and go outside; Kyle stretches and inhales deeply, walking beside Jason into a busy street.

“What happened?” Kyle asks after Jason finishes his second cigarette in the span of ten minutes and seems to have more or less unintentionally scared off other people from walking too close to them.

“I told you, nothing--” Jason starts before snapping his mouth shut. And it’s only a testament to how far they came that, after a moment, he speaks up again, quietly, “I almost killed the guy responsible for the operation we took down today. He was one clever scumbag, mixed up in human trafficking even when he still lived in the States, but he didn’t cover his tracks as precisely as he thought.” Jason shakes his head. “On some level, I realized we had enough evidence to link to him and make sure he doesn’t get out, but what I did after I nailed the fucker was to pull the trigger. Only reason he’s still alive is because I ran out of ammo.” He chuckles darkly. “And I honestly think I regret not having that one bullet more than that my first instinct was to kill him.” Another pause as Jason kicks a stray stone on the ground, and then, “Old habits die hard, they say.”

“Jason,” Kyle says, stopping almost in the middle of the street. They talked about this once before, but tonight (Kyle berates himself for the comparison, even if it’s fitting) Jason is like a bomb seconds away from exploding. Kyle is starting to wonder if there’s something else that set him up off maybe he’s not the only one who had a couple of hard weeks. “Listen, Jason, you know that --” he starts, reaching out to touch Jason’s arm, but he shies away stiffly. Jason glances at him and shakes his head.

“No, I don’t -- the look on your face, you know? I’d much prefer it you were repulsed, or angry. Disappointed even, I deal with that plenty. Pitying or understanding are usually fake and piss me off. But you look at me like… you believe I could do better. And that fucks me up, Kyle.”

“It’s because I know you can, Jason. You have been, even before I came into the picture,” Kyle answers, letting his arm drop to the side. Someone’s bag knocks against his elbow, but he barely registers that. “I know you.”

Jason’s shoulder shake and he says, “Ah, hell, I just. Sorry, I can’t do that right now.”

He walks away, disappearing into the crowd further down the street. Kyle doesn’t remember the last time he’s felt so lost.

...

The next evening, Kyle goes to the very same place they visited the night before and orders a beer, debating whether he wants to get drunk in a nondescript bar in the middle of Brazil or not. Jason hasn’t returned any of Kyle’s calls or texts after disappearing on him yesterday. He only knows from Roy they dropped him off in Gotham, so he should be okay, probably. It doesn’t stop Kyle from regretting how things played out, though.

The universe knows they have their arguments and confrontations -- usually about something small and trivial, and even if it’s something more serious, Kyle can’t stay mad at Jason for too long. Yesterday, however, was more about Jason not letting Kyle to get through him and he really hates that. It also worries him.

He just got on Earth, but maybe he should cut his vacation short. (And Kyle hates himself for thinking that because avoidance has never worked out for him in relationships.)

Just as he finishes his first beer and starts to pick up the specifics of Brazilian Portuguese, his phone starts ringing. It’s embarrassing and a little sad how quickly he goes for it, but it’s not Jason; there’s only a green mask on the screen, no caller ID or whatsoever.

Kyle immediately feels sober as he picks up.

“Lantern,” Oracle’s distorted voice greets him. “How fast can you make it to Gotham?”

“Minutes,” he replies, already getting up. “What happened?”

“Hood assisted Batgirl in intercepting a shipment of illegal drugs and chemicals. I’m a little fuzzy on the details right now, but there was a fight and a fear toxin involved.” Kyle’s stomach sinks a little. “She asked me to call you. Will you come?”

“Five minutes tops. Tell me where exactly.”

That’s how Kyle finds himself flying over Gotham docks in the middle of the night, which is vastly different from how he was on his way to get drunk on the other continent just minutes ago. He regrets not asking Oracle for more information because his brain is so not helping with worst case scenarios right now.

He eventually spots Batgirl’s long, blonde hair in a narrow space between warehouses. Kyle lands next to them, immediately going to scan Jason’s unconscious form with his ring. He isn’t wearing the helmet, only domino, and other than superficial cuts and bruises, he doesn’t seem to be physically hurt.

“What happened here?” he asks, noticing Batgirl’s fingers clinging to the inside of Jason’s wrist, right over his pulse point.

“I... “ Batgirl bites her lip, not looking at him. “I asked Jay to tag along for tonight because he seemed to be in a shitty mood after coming back from the job with the Outlaws. Figured some action at the docks would cheer him up. Of course, since neither of us are really silent and sneaky types, we went in hard and flashy, a surprise fight. It was going well and it probably would’ve went well, but they brought fear gas into the picture. We weren’t sure they worked with Scarecrow, but, well, it figures, right?” She laughs, but it sounds strained. “Anyway, Jason didn’t have the helmet tonight and he didn’t get his filter mask on fast enough. Because he was too busy kicking me away from the source.” She scrubs a hand over her eyes. “As you can guess, it quickly went south after that. It took me some time,” is what she says, but Kyle hears, too much time, “to knock him out hard enough to administer an antidote. It… wasn’t pretty.”

Yeah, Kyle can only imagine; he’s been a witness to Jason waking up from his nightmares several times and it always broke his heart a little. The fact that Batgirl had to deal with Jason under the influence of fear toxin on her own… He swallows and checks the vitals the ring gives him, relieved to find out that Jason is stable, the effects of the antidote starting to kick in. He supposes Batgirl was lucky it worked; he’s heard enough of Scarecrow to know the man likes to play around with his formulas. They could have not been sitting here right now.

“Did you administer it for yourself?” Kyle asks, ever vigilant.

Batgirl blinks at him. “I only really get a whiff of the gas, but yeah, of course I did. But just after contacting Oracle, so that’s why I’m still… jittery.”

Kyle thinks it’s the only reason, but he chooses not to comment on that. Instead, he finally asks, “Why did you have Oracle call me?”

She opens her mouth to reply, but then she glances down at Jason’s still -- or, not-so-still form. He’s stirring into consciousness, slowly but surely. Kyle watches his eyelids twitch, mouth pulled down.

“Kyle?” he murmurs eventually, voice rough, most likely from screaming.

“I’m here,” Kyle says softly, suddenly grateful when Batgirl gives Jason’s hand one last squeeze and straightens up, speaking on the comm as she walks away to give them some semblance of privacy. “It’s okay, Jason, I’m here,” he repeats, pulling Jason’s head into his lap and gently running his fingers over his face.

Jason exhales shakily, the sound going straight to Kyle’s chest and pulling at his heartstrings. He gently removes the crumpled domino and Jason’s hazy teal eyes blink up blearily at him. Kyle smiles, albeit weakly.

“Hi,” he says.

Jason blinks at him a few more times, his eyes a little more focused as he states, “You… really are here.”

“Yeah, well. You gave me quite a scare, you know,” Kyle says. It’s an understatement. “Batgirl, too.”

“Ah.” Jason shifts a little and calls quietly, “Steph?”

Batgirl is next to them in a flash, sounding almost normal as she asks, “Yeah, Jay?”

“Did I… hurt you?”

Stephanie’s face confronts in a way that tells Kyle she wants to cry, but she composes herself quickly. “No. Sorry to break it to you, but you still haven’t kicked Team Batgirl.”

Jason snorts. “Good,” he says. “The shipment?”

“Nightwing will take care of what’s left as soon as he’s done with the hostage situation in Burnley,” she replies.

“Okay.” He cracks his eyes open for a moment longer to look at her. “‘s not your fault, Steph. Lay off.”

She bites her lip, but nods. Kyle looks her over.

“You should take the rest of the night off,” he tells her.

“That’s what Oracle said as well, so I guess I will do that.”

“Will you be alright getting home by yourself?” Kyle asks.

Batgirl waves him off. “Yeah, I’ll go as soon as N shows up.” She glances back to Jason, who Kyle thinks is asleep again. “We can bring him to the Cave, you know. Unless…”

“It’s fine, I’ll take him to his apartment,” Kyle says, not missing a beat.

She nods again. “It’s probably a better idea.” After a pause, she adds, “Thank you. For coming.”

Looking down at Jason, Kyle answers, “Yeah.”

…

When they get to his apartment -- and after Kyle successfully manages to disable the security -- Jason is more or less conscious. He groans when Kyle steers him into the bathroom, but starts taking off his gear to change into something casual. Kyle doesn’t make him shower because it seems Jason isn’t quite up to that and instead reminds him to wash his face. He discards his uniform as well and goes to get some water and meds.

By the time he’s done, Jason is already in the bedroom, laying on his stomach, face pressed into the pillow. He isn’t asleep, though, Kyle can tell.

“Here, drink this,” he says, putting a hand on Jason’s shoulder after sitting down next to him on the other side of the bed.

Reluctantly, Jason raises up a little and glances at the tray. “It’s just water,” he states flatly. “I swear there’s another clear liquid substance in my kitchen.”

“I’m not gonna indulge you tonight. Come on.”

Somehow, Jason summons enough effort to roll his eyes before taking the water. He chooses two of three pills Kyle brought and drinks the whole glass at once only to flop back on the mattress bonelessly.

“You should get some sleep,” Kyle says, filling the silence with the most obvious statement.

Jason mutters something vaguely affirmative into the pillow. After a moment, he turns his head to Kyle and asks, without opening his eyes, “Will you stay? I… sleep better when you’re around.”

Oh, Jason, Kyle thinks, sliding his palm from Jason’s shoulder to card fingers through his hair. “Of course,” he says and watches the tension he didn’t know Jason was still harboring bleed out of him.

They’re silent for a few minutes before Jason speaks again. “’m sorry about yesterday. Running away and leaving you .”

“Okay,” Kyle says simply; they still should talk about that, but obviously not now. So instead, Kyle says the first thing that comes to his mind, which is, “You know, I think Batgirl has us figured out after tonight.” At this point, it’s probably easier to name people who don’t.

Jason snorts sleepily. “‘s okay. Steph ain’t a snitch.” As if gathering his thoughts, he adds speaking slowly, “We were off to a rocky start… but she’s great. You can trust her.”

“You say that, but put yourself in my shoes,” Kyle comments, trying to lighten the mood with a joke. “I’m still not convinced Batman wouldn’t have my head if he knew we are dating.”

Jason raises his hand in an attempt to pat Kyle’s arm, somewhat succeeding. His next words are slurred, probably because both exhaustion and drugs are kicking in again.

“He wouldn’t. You make me happy.”

His hand in Jason’s hair pauses and Kyle is momentarily too stunned to reply, but Jason is already snoring lightly, deep in sleep.

Kyle, however, remains awake for a long time.

…

He must have fallen asleep at some point because the next morning, Kyle wakes up, curled up comfortably on Jason’s bed with a blanket thrown over him. Blinking awake the remains of sleep, he realizes the other side of the bed is empty -- he was tired enough to sleep through Jason getting up.

“Jason?” Kyle calls, coming out of the bedroom and peeking into the bathroom, but it’s also empty and uneasiness is starting to creep in. Stepping further into the apartment, Kyle calls again and this time, he hears a noise from the kitchen. Relieved, he walks in, but stops short at the entrance.

Instead of Jason, he finds Dick Grayson eating waffles by the table and staring back at him, looking almost as surprised as Kyle feels.

“Oh,” Dick says finally, brushing some whipped cream from his mouth. “Now I know why Jay was so stubborn about me not staying here.”

“Um.” Kyle clears his throat. “Say, can I walk out of here, so we can pretend this very awkward encounter never happened?”

Dick chuckles. “Would be a waste of waffles I brought,” he says, pushing out the chair across him with his foot. “Come on, Kyle, sit down and eat something.”

Lingering, Kyle does as asked, but he isn’t feeling particularly hungry. He looks at Dick’s face and asks, “Is Jason okay?”

The man blinks owlishly at him and rushes to answer, “Oh, yeah, don’t worry. Damian and I came to check up on him earlier to make sure the toxin is out of his system completely. But he still seemed to be on edge, so I suggested they take a walk. It kind of felt like it’d be either fight or flight otherwise and I really wanted to avoid that.”

Kyle thinks he can relate to that. “So it’s better to order him out and let off some steam?” he asks dubiously.

Dick shrugs. “I call it ‘giving a way out that doesn’t end in blood or tears’, but I’m a little surprised he didn’t actually protest that much. Guess he really needed to take his mind off things for a while.”

“You think so, huh,” Kyle mutters, can’t help himself from sounding bitter. If Jason was acting like that, they probably wouldn’t had an honest talk anyway, but still.

Perhaps sensing that, Dick slides the plate with waffles to him. “Comfort food really helps. And they’re from Stephanie’s favorite place, and she’s a waffle expert, so.”

Kyle caves in and takes a bite, and then another. Apparently content, Dick leans back in his chair and fixes him with a curious look. “So, you and Jason. I guess I finally understand what Babs and Cass were alluding to a few times.” Kyle has half-mind to bite his tongue and not ask about that particular statement. Dick continues, “How long has this been going on? Since that Blackgate breakout?”

“Pretty much,” Kyle admits after a moment. He likes Dick, but he’s starting to wonder if he should feel at least a little wary, since he’s talking to Jason’s older brother.

“Huh, that’s… over six months, right?” Dick wonders. It gives Kyle a pause as well because he hasn’t realized it’s already been that long since Jason re-entered his life in a completely different light. “You realize you are his longest relationship, right?”

“I’m aware,” he says rather dryly. “I hope you’re not going to comment on my relationship history now.”

“What? No.” Dick shakes his head. “I’m not that much of a hypocrite, despite what Jason claims sometimes.” Kyle finds his expression a little hard to decipher. “It’s just… I’m surprised, but a lot of things make sense now. I’m happy for you.”

He actually sounds sincere and Kyle sighs. “Well, you may want to hold that thought,” he tells Dick. “Jason and I need to talk about some of the recent… events.”

“Ah,“ Dick says, munching on his waffle. “You know, Jason isn’t the easiest person to understand. Character-wise, sure, but also because of what he’s been through. I think… he doesn’t believe that good things that happen to him are going to last, that’s why he tends to sabotage himself. Hurt or leave those close to you before they can do that. It used to give us a lot of grief when we first started reconciling.” Dick smiles bitterly. “Jason has come a long way since then, but it’s not a kind of mentality he’ll ever completely let go of, I think. Some things run deeper than his death, even before he came to live at the Manor.”

Kyle knows all that, on some level, even though Jason still rarely opens up about many parts of his past. “So what do you suggest?”

“I don’t think it’s my place to suggest anything,” Dick answers, raising an eyebrow at him. “What do you want to do, Kyle?”

It’s a good question. One Kyle doesn’t know how to answer, but he starts talking anyway.

“He makes me mad, when he’s being unnecessarily stubborn or mean. And he’s so extra sometimes.” Dick snorts quietly in agreement. Kyle nibbles at his waffle before continuing, “He makes me mad when he downplays how injured he really is or that he’s not okay, and when he jokes about his death and resurrection, even though I know that’s how he’s coping. He makes me feel worried and afraid sometimes because he’s already died once, and I know he has you guys, and Roy and Kory, but...” He swallows, thinks briefly about Alex. “And I don’t really know how it’s supposed to work in a long shot, with him here and me up in space… But I want to try out his cooking, listen to him talk about the books he’s reading, laugh at him for accidentally drinking my paint water again. I want him to know that he’s good enough and that I’m going to stay with him as long as he lets me.” Kyle exhales deeply. “Wow, that last sentence was corny,” he says, but doesn’t take it back.

He isn’t looking at Dick, but he can hear a gentle smile in his voice as he says, “Well, there you have your answer.”

“I suppose I do,” Kyle mutters. Just then he glances at the man across him. “You’re almost annoyingly good at this, making people open up and talk to you.”

This gets a laugh out of Dick. “So I heard multiple times, both from heroes and criminals alike. It’s a useful skill.”

A moment later, there’s a sound of the front door opening, followed by the the voices.

“As far as antiquarian bookshops stand, this one was unexpectedly decent.”

“Drop fancy words, brat, it’s just a second-hand bookshop. And don’t act so shocked that you can find something interesting in worse parts of Gotham, too.”

Dick stands up and squeezes Kyle’s shoulder in an encouraging way. Damian shows up in the doorway, not even phased by Kyle’s presence, and makes an annoyed tt sound when Dick ruffles his hair. Jason hangs back, only making a brief eye contact with Kyle before he turns his gaze to approaching Dick, looking at him with a mix of suspicion and uncertainty.

Kyle doesn’t know what they say to each other because Damian comes to stand in front of him, his back straight and chin held out. He looks very serious as for an early teen, although the fact he’s shoved his hands into the pockets of a hoodie is such a sulky teen thing to do.

“Yes?” Kyle prompts him after the staring becomes uncomfortable.

“Todd is a difficult and stubborn individual, but know that if you break his heart, I have the means to make you disappear, Lantern rings or not,” Damian tells him without preamble. After a pause for emphasis, he adds, “Also, I’d like to see some of your artworks, particularly sketches. We can compare tools.”

“Okay,” Kyle says because he doesn’t know how else he could reply to that.

Damian nods at him, apparently satisfied, and walks out of the kitchen. He and Dick say their goodbyes after that, leaving Kyle with Jason -- Jason, who looks both a little better and a little worse for wear than yesterday, but in different ways. For one, as he comes to sit down next to Kyle by the table, he seems nervous, but not tense.

Kyle opens his mouth to speak, but Jason holds up a hand.

“Wait, let me.” His voice still sounds rough, but less so than the night before. “I’m sorry for recent days. I haven’t been at my best, but you’re still here, so I guess it means something, I guess.” He licks his lips. “I’m not really good at these things, so I’ll just…” From his jacket, Jason pulls out a rather thin book that definitely has seen better days. He flips a few pages and clears his throat before he starts,

“Mi lucha es dura y vuelvo con los ojos cansados a veces de haber visto la tierra que no cambia, pero al entrar tu risa sube al cielo buscándome y abre para mí todas las puertas de la vida.” [source]

Jason lowers the book of poetry, looking at Kyle as he says, “I still don’t understand why would someone like you want to deal with me and a mountain of my issues, but… you make me forget all of that, that I’m not someone good, someone normal. It scares me sometimes and my instinct tells me that I should push you away, that this is not going to last either way. And yet, I also trust you. To have my back in a fight, sure, but also with... this.”

For all Jason may claim he’s not good at this, it’s Kyle who feels clumsy when it comes to pretty words. That leaves him to sincere words. “You make me happy, too,” he says, cupping Jason’s face into his hands. “And I think we both deserve that much.”

“I…” Jason hesitates and huffs a laugh. “You know, I think we should try that. It doesn’t sound too bad.”

No, it doesn’t, Kyle agrees when he sweeps his thumbs over faint freckles spread across Jason’s cheeks, making him crinkle his eyes in a funny way. It doesn’t sound bad at all.

#jason todd #kyle rayner #jaykyle #batfamily #my fics #dc #this is late and long and idk what i think about it just. take it.