"you only live twice"

indie Jason Todd ( au/oc friendly) muse&mun 18+

[lazarusaffect-blog]

dusty stars and dustier dreams.

@underztand

As per usual; Saludi’s cantina reeks of p’chab. You could always tell who was new to Coruscant’s underworld by who was smoking that shit. Jason scoffs at himself through another drag of rotgut. Was he any different? Buying cheap Dreamdust and diluted Gylocal from some indebted Slythmonger. 

Fuck why was he even still here? He’d finished his assignment hours ago, it'd been a simple dead drop, there wasn’t anything left for him on this planet. Still, he kept glancing to the doors. hoping, deep deep down, that a familiar face would come through. Anyone, really, to remind him that he’s real. To remind him that he’s flesh and blood and bone and not just endless space and the cold bite of his saber’s hilt. 

Anyone but him, of course. He’d played out that reunion in his head a hundred times, and then a thousand more. Sometimes he likes to imagine bloodying Bruce’s nose, but in his darkest, most pathetic moments, he imagines his master welcoming him home with open arms. 

                                   ...Master..home...

The words are acid on his tongue and Jason spits them out. Replaces them with the last swig of what might just be x-wing fuel. 

“Menri we both know this aint noonian.” Jason’s drawled complaint earns nothing but a laugh from the young Togruta woman before she turns to fill his glass, “Well, princess, if you wanted a Green Galaxy you’d have to take your lily ass upstairs.” 

“If I didn’t know better I’d think that was an invitation.” His tease sound distant to his own ears, Menri’s barking laughter further still, there’s something that keeps pulling his focus lately. Flares of copper and gold in the fog of the force. This erratic ringing of bells. It’s not threatening. Not yet, just unfamiliar.

Jason pushes the ale to the side and grabs his duster, he’s spent more than enough nights passed out in these alleys. “Stop in to see me, okay?” Menri reaches out to brush her fingers over his knuckles and he returns a smile. He wishes she’d get the fuck out of here already. Suck it up and go back to Shili, make up with her parents and do something with her life. But the firmness in those grass green eyes reminds him that that topic is no longer up for discussion. Instead he simply says, “Always.” 

Jason wastes no time leaving the establishment, stepping over an unconscious Rodian and a splatter of what is either blood or Saludi’s experimental malt. Once boots hit broken cobbled road, he shakes the smoke from his coat and heads east. Needs to get off this damn planet. Needs to refocus, needs to get it together. Needs the void of the outer rim.

And there’s that damn ringing again. Metallic flashes behind stormy blue eyes near blinding in the dark of the alley way. A string of curses drip from his lips as he does his best to seperate himself from it. 

Fast footsteps and faster breaths catch his attention. His left hand slips to his belt, fingers tracing over familiar steel as he looks up- and then down. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. A Codru-ji with a debt to settle, a bounty hunter who hadn’t done their homework maybe, but this? Her? Certainly not. 

She’s beyond petite. Five foot nothing, clean kept, clothes well sewn and spotless, certainly not a down world-er. Dark hair sweeping her shoulders and hazel eyes......familiar. 

“You’re not from here.”

[sungodsinexile]

What is pop cultures ongoing obsession with dual weapons about?

[airframeextender]

weapons are cool two weapons equals two cool

[lazarusaffect-blog]

Headcanon thing for Jay

What they smell like: I think cinnamon and spice fits him well, sharp but warm, sometimes a trace of smoke clinging to his jacket or his hair. Chooses washes and shampoos with a scent light enough to only really be noticeable up close.

How they sleep (sleeping position, schedule, etc): LBR Jay’s sleeping schedule is like throwing a dart at a clock. Sleeps when he can, where he can. Can see him passed out on the couch, one arm over his eyes to block out the light, legs stretched out. Likely sleeps on the couch more than he does in bed, cause I don’t think lying down to sleep is something that’s been easy for him after everything. When he actively tries to sleep he gets so caught up in his head, in his dreams, sleeps facing the wall, arms round himself tight. 

What music they enjoy: I think he cycles a lot? Between high energy and more mellow music. J. Balvin’s Ay Vamos, and deffinitely 6AM .  Imagine Dragon’s I’m So Sorry and Friction , but also more??? idk poppy songs like Carried Away by Passion Pit.  Railroad Track by Willy Moon feels like his vibe though

How much time they spend getting ready every morning: Whatever the amount it takes for him to find clean clothes, spends more time than he’d say twirling that white streak around a finger though.

Their favorite thing to collect: Favors. But really I’m not sure about this one, memories maybe. Just a small collection of simple knickknacks that remind him of good times. 

Left or right-handed: Left 

Religion (if any): Foster mom was catholic I believe?? But I doubt he’s got a shred of religion left in him in his main verse, but I can see him clinging to a line of faith under different circumstances. I think he needs that hope.

Favorite sport: Extortion. Can see him playing baseball actually. 

Favorite touristy thing to do when traveling (museums, local food, sightseeing, etc): Street food street food street food. likes to take the absolute most generic vacation selfies. 

Favorite kind of weather: Warm days with clear, cloudy skies. Likes to watch the shade shift around the grass, loves the feel of the sun heating up bare shoulders. I think Jason’d just really enjoy days like this? Bright yellow days to pull him up from the depths of Gotham’s dark, inky streets. 

A weird/obscure fear they have: Not a fan of countdowns, and hates being underwater, but neither are weird fears all things considered? 

The carnival/arcade game they always win without fail: That one where the guy tries to guess your age for SURE lmao being dead inside ages you a few years. also getting murdered.

[lazarusaffect-blog]

I feel it, too.

@bretttal

v; i think there’s a flaw in my code

Sabers grind together in a burst of color reflected in those crystal eyes. Jay can see the determination there, the resolve. But it isn’t what the Grey can see that beckons his consideration, it’s what he can feel. Or rather, what he can’t. The force coils round them, and Jay draws it in. Takes a short breath as he pushes it forward and in to the being before him with startling ease.

Midnight eyes lock into winter blues and dig. “I can see you, boy.” It takes little more than a gentle pull to coax the force through the gaping fractures of the blond’s existence. “You are so broken. So fragmented, lost.” Those glacier eyes narrow at him but the Jedi keeps his focus, just as he was taught to do. Held breath shudders out of Jay, hands gripping tight to the hilts of his sabers as he wills the force to expand, stretching up to fill the void space, caressing and nudging the boundaries of the blond’s pieces. The Jedi feels him, Jay knows this, can feel it too, and by the time the younger pushes back against him, it’s too late to hide. “You will be your own downfall. Or...will you be his?” 

Something snaps in those bright eyes, wrath bleeding up from thick ice and piercing into him. A snarl pulls at the Jedi’s lips, blue saber exhaust tightening into a strict gold catches the Grey’s attention, the blond takes his chance, thrusting his blade up and breaking the crossed X of Jay’s duel blades.

Jason takes a surprised step back, and digging his heels into Felucian soil, he grins.

[robinsandbats]

Batfam - Jason Todd

2/?

[lazarusaffect-blog]

Cassandra Cain: What do you think Jason will do for a distraction?

Stephanie Brown: Who knows. He’ll probably, like, you know, make a noise, or throw a rock. That’s what I would do. [Building blows up and alarm sounds] Or he could do that.

[thehulk]

DC Aesthetics [1/?]: Jason Todd - “It didn’t surprise anyone when I died. When I failed. I failed… but I’m still beating you.”

[graysonightwing-deactivated2017]

jason todd in the back of a police car: can u hand me the aux cord

[comic-commentary]

The Vote to Kill Robin

There are so many misconceptions about why Jason Todd was killed off, and I’m here to correct them to the best of my ability. 

First of all, I recommend you read this, as it’s very thorough and informative and I’ll be referencing it frequently. 

The vote was very close–5,343 for Jason’s death, 5,271 for Jason’s survival. That’s 72 votes, less than 0.68% of the total votes. Let’s not pretend Jason was killed off by a landslide. “Everybody hated him” is just…literally not true, and those votes aren’t all related to Jason himself.

There might have been one guy who really hated Robin (not necessarily Jason Todd) who voted more than enough times to sway the vote on his own. Alternatively, DC might have said that to cover their asses because this publicity stunt was not received well in the media or by fans. O’Neil later went on to rethink his entire career due to the backlash.

People did like Jason. We have the letters to prove it. Lots of letters! Granted, some were begrudging. 

One guy even wrote a eulogy for Jason after his death! It’s actually a bit heartbreaking. 

A lot of people really hated Pre-Crisis Jason for being a Dick Grayson clone, and didn’t realize that Post-Crisis Jason was a different character or still resented him for that. Some people, however, realized how much he’d changed after the Crisis and respected the new version. 

Some voters assumed that they were voting to kill Jason and the Joker, which is kind of different than voting to kill off Jason just for kicks. 

Some voted just to see if DC would actually go through with it even if they sympathized with Jason and liked him as Robin. 

Most of the voters were adults, not children, because voting on the phone cost money and it was a number similar to some not-so-appropriate phone lines or it was forbidden altogether. A little girl cried all day because Jason died, and DC consoled her by saying that Jason deserved it for disobeying Batman, as if that warranted a teenager’s brutal death. The vote was not representative of the readers, particularly the children. 

Some adult readers at the time weren’t keen on the concept of Robin, and I’m sure a lot of them also hated Jason Todd specifically, but that wasn’t the main issue. They were ushering in the grimdark era of Miller and really long pointy eared-cowls, where they saw no place for a Robin. 

Even then, Frank Miller called the stunt one of the “ugliest” and “most cynical” things in comics. FRANK. MILLER.

Jim Starlin’s particular issue was with Robin, and while I don’t think his viewpoint matches up with DC’s world, I do see his point. He doesn’t understand why Batman would allow a brightly-dressed child join him in a war on crime, in a city that was only becoming more dangerous each year. If this were the real world, everyone would be crying child abuse and endangerment, and they’d be right, but this is a world where child sidekicks are the norm.

O’Neil said that he tried to make Jason less likable because the fans weren’t responding well to him. What I find disturbing is that it worked and Jason’s “unlikable” behavior was based on him using excessive force against those who raped women and children and on acting like, y’know, a traumatized kid rescued from the streets. 

I can’t figure out if I hallucinated this or not, but I recall reading a letter from an employee of a group home saying that the kids weren’t surprised that Jason had died. These were kids who related to someone like Jason, and were probably ecstatic that even he could be Robin, only to get shot down in the worst way possible. Everyone deserves a hero. 

Classist bullshit. The next Robin was well-spoken, mild-mannered, and from a wealthy family, unlike Jason, whose speech was rough and attitude was harsh and defensive from living on the streets. I highly doubt that was a coincidence. 

No but honestly who votes for a 15-year old kid who is obviously traumatized by his parents’ deaths and living on the streets and overreacts to violence against women and children to be murdered? Even if people didn’t like Jason, that’s just…so unnecessary. 

If you want to be an asshole, you can go on saying that a lot of people hated Jason–but for good reasons? No. It’s nothing worth gloating about when many reasons are founded on prejudice and ignorance. 

[marmastry]

Commission from @letsallsleepoverwork

HERE YOU HAVE JAY TALKING ABOUT HIS FAVORITE BOOK TO CASS WITH COOKIES AND MILK !!

[ddjinn-deactivated20130424]

[theunavenged]

cyjanekinstzly:

How long should we pretend.

[arkhamknignt-archive]

A concept: Jason Todd, written by someone competent, with an interesting storyline and a proper characterization. He’s happy and kicking ass, not being a villain but not having his ambiguous moral code erased either. Dc doesn’t hate him and treats him right, thinks about finally giving him a solo series. My crops aren’t dying anymore. My skin is clear. I can sleep at night. I’m at peace.

[cleopatraselene]

batfam fancasts

matthew daddario as jason todd

[amour-pourtoujours]

I actually don’t need to control my anger. Everyone around me needs to control their habit of pissing me off.

(via amour-pourtoujours)

[redelbows]

Visit Original Link

Natalia Kills - Problem 

[underztand]

( @lazarusaffect )

“So, what now? You here to threaten me?”

She doesn’t answer. Perhaps she can’t. Her helmet shields her expression, even though at this point, she can’t express much while breathing through a hidden gas mask.

It is chilly, the mint-scented gas. It calms her, stops those prickling needles on her skin, but it gives her shivers. Gives her an urge to fight.

The red mask in front of her is so familiar, but her mind is too far away to recognise. She should, but she doesn’t. She steps to the side, circling him like she is a scavenger from above, and gradually she speeds up her pace.

One objective, no reason behind: Eliminate.

[lazarusaffect-blog]

Nothing. Emily says nothing, just hems him in quietly. It’s driving him crazy. His muscles are coiled tight, achingly tense. On the edge for a single word. Months of silence, he doesn’t want it now. He wants to hear her voice, wants to know she’s okay, wants to know that she’s  really here, really there, that she’s alive, he just needs to- fuck he needs-

“Emily, I’m....” Jason’s reaching up, behind his neck to slip fingers under his cowl. “I’m not going to fight you.” He sheds the mask, sheds the red hood, and he lets it fall from his hands. Lets it hit the floor as his stance goes lax. He feels exposed, vulnerable, heart twisting in his chest as he tries not to hesitate to put this trust in her hands. Knowing full well he’d have done this and more before. Before...

“It’s me. It’s Jay.” His voice wavers in his own ears and he wills strength back into his town. He can’t falter, not now. “Em, look at me.” 

[underztand]

Can her day get any worse? The hunter is determined to ruin her life, and if he cannot kill her, he is definitely going to crush her day by day. The air around her shifts, the temperature fluctuating, and for a moment she thought it was just in her head. Fortunately, she contains herself enough to not catch anymore attention.

She is so tired, her eyes barely staying open, and her spirit so dimly lit that it is almost going out. And yet she refuses to appear weak in front of this man with his despicable persistence. “Until you fucking give up.” She spats out her answer, downing the alcohol in her glass.

She is betting on her luck, and she wishes it is not as fickle as a candlelight. Hazel eyes scan him up and down, an obvious edge in the way she examines and observes, sharp as a blade, as though she is dissecting him with her mere glare. He isn’t the first hunter to try, but he sure is the first to be so hellbent on one particular witch.

“Why don’t you just move on?” She asks, scorn lacing through her tone with a layer of simmering hatred. “Don’t you have anything better to do than to terrorise a girl?” What have I ever done to you? What have I ever done to anyone?

The hunter looks so stern, and Emily wonders if he even has emotions. Perhaps he is just one of those stone-cold murderers, killing to fulfill their mislead sense of self-worth. Pity her to be born in a time where a little witchcraft leads you to the gallows. She has already moved to the outskirts. How much further does she have to move?

“I’m not going to give up that easily. I’m not going to give up my life just because some self-righteous jerk face decides they have the right to treat us like garbage.” Harsh words are hissed through clenched jaws, a stubborn frown bold on her features, amplified by her fists, small but firm.

“Take it from me: Learn when to quit. Save us both the hassle. You don’t want to be here after ten years just because you are obsessed with one particular woman.”

Anger is a good friend, and it certainly works well to hide her shaking bones. Oh, she is not a good liar, but neither is she terrible. It is all but a survival technique, and frankly speaking, she needs it more than ever now.

[lazarusaffect-blog]

A sea of flames churns as the witch speaks, each word roiling in the pyre before smoking from her lips. Venomous exhaust licks up his spine, billowing up in the already heavy aired gin mill. Still, The hound sits staunch. His own stare, as glacial as the blue that colors them, fixed and unwavering.

He almost wishes the winter in his eyes were a slight of hand. Almost wishes he didn’t feel as cold and detached from his own flesh and bone. But he can’t go back to the scared, careful boy he had been. That boy couldn’t make the decisions that needed to be made, he couldn’t act, and it was that hesitancy, that sentiment, that got innocent people killed.

The hunter rests his posture forward, shifting his weight to his forearms, he speaks over the bustle and ruckus encircling them. “But yer not just some girl are you now, lass? Say I give up, say I move on, and weeks from now, maybe years, you slip up. You lose control, You burn this town to the soil.” 

There’s a flicker of something in his eyes; condolence. He pities her, surely. Power surges beneath a witches skin and he sees nothing but claws trying to tear free. The potential of something so magnificent translating as merely a warning to him. 

“Weather it’s yer intention or not, yer going to be the one standing center of nothing but stone pattern, ash, and bone. And I’d goin’ to be the one who let you get to ’dat point.” The bitterness of recollection, a lesson learned, chases away the sympathy in his gaze like a hound chases a hare. “An’, lass, I will not let ‘dat happen.”