(Ask) Supposedly fem Dick is worried about her teammate Garfield and her adopted sister Jade relationship. Can you confirm? Why?
Rikki folded her arms, blue eyes narrowing beneath the domino mask. “Confirm it? Yeah, I’m worried. Garfield jokes because he cares, and Jade pretends she hates it because admitting she likes the attention would physically hurt her.”
She glanced toward the rooftop edge, where Beast Boy was dangling upside down while Jade threatened him with a boot.
“But that’s the problem. Gar is soft where Jade is sharp, and Jade burns anyone who gets too close. I’m not scared they’ll fight. I’m scared they’ll matter to each other enough to get reckless. Family makes heroes stupid.” Her smile softened. “Especially us.”
Original Opening to "Non Consensual Body Modification" Fic
Cw: fear of sexual assault
“Hey, there, little girl—“
“Fuck the hell off!”
Jade whipped around, slashing her tire iron in front of her to keep the man — no, the group of men — away. They grinned at each other, then down at her, their breath clouding in the air.
“You look awful cold, sweetheart,” another man crooned. “But we could get you warm.”
Jade backed up another step. Two more and she could scramble up the fire escape and make herself disappear. With how badly this group stank of alcohol, they wouldn’t be coordinated enough to follow her.
“Stay back,” she growled, swiping the iron again.
They all laughed, the tallest guy in the back starting, “C’mon, kitten—“
Jade’s back hit the wall. She shoved the tire iron through her belt loop and scrambled up, refusing to look back at the shouting as she passed the second floor, then the third.
Don’t look back, never look back.
Keep running.
She made it to the roof and sprinted across, leaping as she reached the far side and clearing the small alley to the next roof. She slipped over patches of ice but kept herself upright, jumping another three roofs north and two east before she slowed down, scanning the street and alleys below before finding an escape to climb down.
Her heart was pounding, throat and lungs stinging with the rushes of cold air as she panted. Close call, close call, close call, thudded through her head in rhythm.
She’d had closer. None of these men had gotten close enough to grab hold of her. Close enough to touch her. But without such a luckily-placed escape, they might have. Jade might have seen dawn with bloody thighs and an aching body. Or she might not have seen dawn at all.
Jade reached the ground and started to circle back the way she’d come. The drunks should have moved on by now, and after running into one patch of trouble, she’d rather get home before she found more.
‘Home’ was a generous word — more of a euphemism, really — for the condemned office building on East 7th she was squatting in. No power, no water, little surety it wouldn’t collapse and crush her the next time a bomb went off somewhere. But it was safer than doorsteps, and fractionally warmer at least. In two years, no one had come close enough to finding her there to make her wary of staying. Jade was relieved when she slipped through the second story window at last.
The stairs to the third floor had long ago rotted away, but that was half the reason Jade could call it safe. The rope she’d tied to one of the door handles up there wouldn’t hold much more weight than her own body, so the chances of any adult reaching her were slim to none.
She scrambled up and plopped herself in the mess of tattered, smelly towels, blankets, and old clothing she’d cobbled into a bed, wrapping her arms around her middle and wishing her belly would gnaw at her.
This was the third time this week she’d come in early over men’s approaches. Two days ago, some creep driving through had rolled down his window and called for her to get in the back. The day before that, she’d followed a rich-ass car too close to ‘Passion Avenue’ and a john had yanked her hoodie half off as he told her ‘skin sells better than mystery.’
Jade couldn’t afford to keep hiding every night, and she knew it. She was starving worse than ever with this running every time she drew attention.
Sometimes she wished she could cut her breasts off the way she had her hair, but that would be a long and miserable kind of suicide.
She curled in on herself, folding her one good blanket, Mammy’s blanket, around her tightly. She needed to get her hands on a coat somehow, if she was ever going to survive the winter. But coats were on bodies and in houses and stores — she couldn’t steal them — and cost more money than Jade could gather in one place since before Mom died.
There were charities. Places to beg from. Shelters if the temperatures went too low. But even the ones that weren’t crooked themselves were watched by crooked people. If Jade went in and came back out, she’d only be tailed by men looking for easy targets. Nevermind that Jade wasn’t an easy target, it was too risky.
If she froze, she froze. It wasn’t worth getting warm that way.
One good score, she told herself. Just one. She could get a cheap coat secondhand and maybe have enough left over for a good meal. For a meal. For something.
She scrunched tighter and forced her breaths to even out, singing a lullaby in her head. She could figure it all out if she woke up.
She was walking through a meadow at sundown, the scent of roses heavy on the warm summer air. All around her the world was still and silent. Only her own footsteps stirred the grass and the flowers. Even the river beside her was unmoving.
She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself, looking down in shock when she felt skin on skin, and feeling her stomach twist at the sight of a woman’s naked body. Her body.
She dropped to the ground and curled in on herself, pulling her knees to her chest and hugging them. She kept her head raised, scanning the edge of the forest for threats, but when lightning flashed and thunder cracked the air, she cried out and hid her face against her knees, body shaking.
Rain began to pour, so cold it stung against her skin, so fast her hair was soaked in seconds. She trembled harder, shrieking at each flash-CRACK of thunder and lightning. I need shelter! she thought wildly, but there was nowhere to go.
The river finally moved, flooding with the rainwater and bursting its banks, rushing towards her with white-crested waves. She screamed and scrambled up, running over flowers that turned to brambles and grass that turned to stones, cutting her feet.
But the flood was too fast. The water threw her to the ground, stones and brambles making her bleed as the rush forced her down. She tried to get up again and again, holding her breath as the water closed over her head, but the brambles seemed to twine around her limbs, holding her down, and the water rose higher, and she was drowning—
Jade jerked, gasping, clawing at the air until she realized there was no water, no brambles. Just her tatty bed and the sounds of the city wailing at the window.
She panted for a moment, shakily sitting upright, until the vision of the rose field and the rising tide gave way.
“Fuckin’ nightmares,” she muttered at last, and curled back down in her nest.
She tossed and turned for a while, grumbling and sighing. About half of it was the lingering nightmare, and the other half was the echoing gunshots down the street. It wasn’t like the sound was uncommon in a place called Crime Alley, but each of them made Jade flinch, and left sleep entirely off the table. She wished she could could read. Even the long-ago memorized poems would be a distraction and a comfort, but she didn’t have money for food let alone batteries, and she needed her flashlight for jobs.
Finally, the fire fight ended, and the sounds went back to distant sirens and car horns, and the quiet hum that the city would always make, until it would inevitably get nuked and all life, let alone its sounds, stopped. Jade at last began to drift off, her breaths going even and her body heavy.
Then she heard wood splintering.
“Great going you dumbass,” a low, male voice said, only just downstairs, and Jade went rigid. “Now the cops’ll see the broken door and know there’s guys what broke it!”
“Cops,” another voice laughed, not troubling to be quiet. “Oh, Mitch, ain’t no cops in the Alley!”
Jade silently sat up, then got her feet under her in a crouch.
“Well, what about the Bat—“
A smack and a yelp. Jade carefully rose, barely breathing, and scattered the cloths that had been farthest from her body around the room, lumping them in huge piles of dust. Her eyes burned as it flew up, but if she didn’t make the place look abandoned before she left, then the squatters below could decide to find out if anyone had heard them come in that might need to be eliminated.
“Bats has bigger problems than a hit and run, you idiot, didn’t you hear? Freeze guy busted out again.”
“Ain’t like that’s a problem now, is it, though.”
Jade gathered all the cloths that still felt warm and stuffed them in her backpack with Mammy’s blanket, cushioning the water bottle and flashlight from each other. Then she carefully picked up the tire iron and untied the rope from the banister. She didn't waste time looping it neatly, just gathered it enough it wouldn’t drop and crept to the window.
The men downstairs started shouting, and Jade shoved the window open and clambered out, freezing on the fire escape to listen for any alert to her motion.
Nothing.
Jade exhaled, her breath clouding in the air, and crept up the fire escape to the roof. One roof to the next. To the next. Keep running.
She didn’t stop moving until dawn broke, and it was safe to walk at street level again. Then she found an Irish pub with a side door stoop and curled up with her blanket around her and her tire iron clenched in her fist.
It was when she woke again that the fright caught up with her, and Jade stayed huddled for too many minutes, forcing her breaths to go slower and less ragged, lulling herself nearly back to sleep as she sang in her head — a few mumbled lines clouded in the air — to give herself a pace she could follow. Gradually the panic ebbed, and in its place grew sheer annoyance.
Two years on that dilapidated third floor, and in the dead of winter when the cold of exposure could kill you as fast as any human, two idiots had to find her and chase her out.
Jade could try to go back. It was possible that bumbling henchman ref one and bumbling henchman ref two had only needed to hide the one night. But it hadn’t seemed like anyone was really following them (one guy had laughed at the idea), so if they’d had a long-term place to go, they should have.
No, Jade had to move, and she had to find a place with four walls and a roof, and she had to do it today or she could freeze to death before she saw another sunrise.
She sighed and sat up, having to use her left hand to unclench the fingers of her right from where they had almost literally frozen around the tire iron. She blew on her hands, rubbed them together, stuffed them under her armpits, waiting until the stinging tingles abated enough she could use her fingers with some deftness. Gloves were long ago in order, but would have to wait a long while still.
Jade folded up her blanket and stuck it back inside her backpack, along with her iron and the screwdriver she always kept inside her pocket. Then she pulled her hood up and put her head down, stuffed her hands in her pockets, and started down the street towards the East Burnley Public Library.
At least it was a Saturday. Jade would be going there anyhow, and if she remembered right, the Senior Women’s Book Club was being held this week as well as the Children’s Storytime. That meant if she timed it right, she could get coffee as well as breakfast.
The library opened at eight AM on Saturdays. Book Club met at nine, but the library staff set up the room by eight-thirty, complete with one of those standing coffee tank things. Any snack trays they set out Jade couldn’t take from without raising an alarm from whichever the first old lady to arrive would be, but one Styrofoam cup and some liquid from an opaque container? No one would ever know, even if they’d care.
A librarian spotted Jade exiting the room with the cup and started over, calling, “Hey, kiddo, that—“
Jade blinked up at the woman, making her eyes wide. “Grandpa said nobody would mind. Nana’s in the club, and she said if she didn’t saw him, she don’t have to tell her friends.”
“Didn’t see him,” the woman corrected gently. “And she won’t have to tell her friends.”
“Thanks, ma’am!” Jade beamed, and continued walking, keeping her eyes wide and focused on the perfectly level liquid as though afraid it would slosh out. Once out of the meeting room hall, she lifted her gaze and sped towards Nonfiction.
Children’s Storytime was at ten-fifteen, and Mrs. Wagner arrived at ten. An hour and a half wasn’t enough time for Jade to give her housing issue the research it deserved, and she hated interruptions, so she decided she could make up for her shitty night by indulging just a little in frivolity.
In the summer, when people were out and about with things to steal, or had odd jobs they’d pay small fees for orphans with careful backstories to do, and when it was hot enough Jade needed access to a water fountain until late in the evening, Jade would spend whole days here. She read as many books as she could, a dictionary always open before her so she didn’t need to ask nosy adults about hard words, and an encyclopedia nearby if a name or a place needed explanation. Jade knew the entire history of Gotham city, from the origins of its founders through to the time she was born. She knew about the indigenous tribes that had lived in it first, and about the legend of the curse set upon the early colonists for building their city on the sacred island. She didn’t really believe in said curse… most days, but it made for a good story. Much better than the Court of Owls story, anyway, which was so sparsely mentioned that the only “story” came in the form of the nursery rhyme that had given Jade nightmares about giant owls for a week straight when she was six.
She’d read about other things, too of course. Places mostly. Ancient Egypt, Greece, Rome, and China. The Aztec and Inca empires. The Congo River in Africa, at the same time she’d read Heart of Darkness, and it had helped her understanding quite a lot. She read a little about Europe, mostly the Renaissance era, but preferred the more exotic places, except for Ireland and Scotland. Her Da’s parents had met on the ship from Ireland in the fifties, and before that her Grandda’s family had gone to Ireland from Scotland. Jade had no memory of Grandda, and Mammy had died only a little after Da did, but Jade still spoke the Gaelic Mammy had taught her, though not to anyone. She liked to think Mammy would be glad she was still learning hers and Grandda’s culture, even if not from them.
Jade spent about forty minutes pouring through a book on Mesopotamia, then went upstairs to the adults section to see if anyone had returned a copy of Ulysses. It was much harder than Joyce’s short stories — harder than the earlier styles of literature too, which Jade had read — and so it had taken her almost a year now to get halfway through the book.
She found two copies still on the shelf, and picked up the one with annotations on each facing page. It was her favorite copy, when she could get it, and though she made less progress when she used it (she only got through about fifteen Joyce pages by the time she had to go downstairs), it helped her understand and remember better.
At five to ten Jade returned to the first floor and the children’s section, where Mrs. Wagner was wheeling out the cart of carpet squares for the Storytime event. All of the benches for parents had been set up, as had the reason Jade came to the kid’s section at all anymore.
Mrs. Wagner, who had to be about ninety now and still spoke with a thick German accent despite immigrating in 1947, always, rain or shine or snow, brought fresh-baked pastries to the Children’s Storytime. At ten o’clock, when parents and small children were still wandering the library, it was easy to slip a pastry unnoticed and scurry off to eat it behind shelves of picture books and middle school novels. At ten-forty-five, when story time was over, the leftovers remained on the librarians’ desk for an easy double-score.
Today’s treat was apple tart, and Jade’s mouth was watering before she even had one in her hands. Once she did have it in her hands, while Mrs. Wagner’s back was turned, she cradled it close as she sped over to the middle school section, hiding amongst all the fantasy series as she forced herself to eat slow. The last time she’d eaten was Thursday afternoon, and if she threw up here her chances of another tart or of research time would be shot.
When the tart was safely in her stomach and staying put, Jade turned down the aisle towards the reading nook, finding it blessedly empty. She picked a random book off the shelf and laid across one of the giant bean bag chairs, propping the novel so it would hide the fact that she was sleeping.
She napped for about half an hour, before she decided to wander back and found that Storytime was ending, and there were tarts left over she could take. Maybe, if she was quick, she could slip one in her pocket and—
“Are you hungry, dear?”
Jade jumped, whipping around to see Mrs. Wagner smiling at her over her spectacles.
“I, uh—“
“I have seen you before,” the old woman continued, still smiling. “I recognize the red. It makes me think of the Little Red Riding Hood story we read to the kinder sometimes.”
She gestured to her own cloud of white hair, indicating Jade’s hood, still up. Jade flushed.
“It’s my dad’s hoodie,” she blurted out, before she could think better.
Mrs. Wagner’s smile turned sad, and she nodded a little. “I wear my husband’s dressing gown when I go home. It is nice to have something to… ah! Hug is your word. Something to hug with our bodies when the rest of the love stays in our hearts.”
Jade nodded a little, unsure what to say. Or to do. Instinct told her to flee from adults, but it wasn’t like a little old German lady could hurt her. Unless she pried.
“Here.” Mrs. Wagner turned, placing two tarts in a napkin and holding it by the corners as she passed it to Jade, who’s eyes widened. “A little basket of sweets for Red Riding Hood.”
“Thank you,” Jade whispered, cradling the pastries in both hands, unable to believe the luck.
Mrs. Wagner’s eyes twinkled. Then she gently cupped her hands under Jade’s, meeting her eyes seriously. “Remember, Red Riding Hood, never to fall for tricks of wolves or flowers.”
The meadow from her nightmare flashed before her eyes, and Jade shuddered.
“I won’t, ma’am,” she promised.
Mrs. Wagner nodded and patted Jade’s hands. “Good girl.” She turned away, warmly greeting a small boy clutching a picture book, and Jade slipped out of the kid’s section with her treasure.
She went upstairs again, folding the napkin around the tarts and putting them in her pocket. The computer room was the best place to research building closures and condemnations and other things that could help Jade determine where she might be able to stake out a relatively safe, moderately insulated place to squat. She should also look up Mr. Freeze’s escape. Temperatures dropped city-wide even in the summer, and if the forecast predicted subzero temperatures for very long, Jade may have no choice but to risk a shelter.
She passed the modest music section along the way, and ran her fingers longingly over the covers. Modern Arias. French Songs For Female Voices. Selections for Soprano I. Folk Songs of the World. Arias of Great Operas. On and on, with their secret code printed on the bars making them music boxes for Jade, who could read the notes going up A to C to E and so on, and make the sounds on instinct, thanks to a combination of Mammy’s patient teaching and what Da had called ‘lucky genes.’ She longed to scoop one off the shelf and duck out into the library’s courtyard where she could learn new songs without bothering anyone. But as much as Jade loved to sing, it was only ever useful at Christmas time, when people dropped her a few coins or a hot cocoa for caroling in the right neighborhoods.
So all of the music books stayed in their places, and Jade comforted herself that by using the time for research, she might survive long enough to learn more songs than the one or two she could memorize if she braved the cold today.
(Prompt) Beast Boy loves making jokes toward Red Hood, who rolls her eyes when dealing with the green hero. But if he were to do this with someone else like that Terra girl, Jade will immediately put a stop to it and pull him away. Only she is allowed to get that.
Only Jade Gets That
Garfield Logan loved irritating Jade Todd.
It was practically a hobby.
“Hey, Hood,” Beast Boy called from the Titans Tower kitchen. “Do you ever take the helmet off, or is your hair legally classified as a dangerous weapon?”
Jade slowly turned from the coffee machine, one white streak hanging over her unimpressed blue eyes.
“Keep talking, Logan.”
“I’m just asking questions. Journalism is important.”
“You’re not a journalist.”
“I turned into a carrier pigeon once. Close enough.”
Jade rolled her eyes and walked past him, deliberately bumping his shoulder. Gar grinned. That was their routine: he made terrible jokes, Jade threatened him with bodily harm, and neither admitted how much they enjoyed it.
Later, Gar found Terra in the training room.
“So,” he said, leaning against the doorway, “do you always throw rocks at people, or is that your special way of saying hello?”
Terra raised an eyebrow. “You’re not nearly as funny as you think you are.”
“Wow. Harsh. Jade usually waits at least thirty seconds before crushing my spirit.”
Before Terra could answer, a red-gloved hand caught the back of Gar’s uniform and pulled him away.
“Conversation’s over,” Jade said.
Gar stumbled backward. “Hey! We were talking.”
“No, you were being annoying.”
“That’s never stopped you before.”
Jade dragged him into the corridor without releasing his collar.
Gar glanced over his shoulder, his grin slowly returning. “Wait a second. Are you jealous?”
“No.”
“You’re jealous.”
“I am preventing an international geological incident.”
“Terra seemed fine.”
“She was five seconds away from burying you.”
“And you care because…?”
Jade stopped.
Gar nearly collided with her back.
She turned, pulled him closer by his collar, and fixed him with a sharp glare. A faint red tint touched her cheeks.
“Because,” she muttered, “I’m the only one allowed to deal with your stupid jokes.”
Gar blinked.
Then his smile became unbearably smug.
“Oh, you like my jokes.”
“I tolerate them.”
“You dragged me away from another girl because you want exclusive access to my comedy.”
Jade shoved him against the wall—not hard enough to hurt, but firmly enough to silence him.
“Keep pushing it, Logan.”
His grin softened.
“Wouldn’t dream of stopping, Hood.”
Jade rolled her eyes again, but she still hadn’t released his collar.
Jade, how are you handling working with Commander Shepard during your time in space?
“Handling Shepard?” Jade folded her arms aboard the Normandy. “Barely.”
Jane glanced over from cleaning her rifle. “You tried to throw me out an airlock.”
“It was locked.”
“You didn’t know that.”
Jade ignored her. Working with Shepard meant impossible missions, reckless plans, and somehow surviving every disaster through sheer stubbornness. Annoyingly, Jade respected her. Jane never pitied her, never treated her like Batman’s broken soldier, and trusted her judgment without hesitation.
“She’s bossy, suicidal, and way too confident,” Jade muttered.
Shepard smirked. “Ready for another mission?”
Jade grabbed her helmet. “Fine. But after this, you’re meeting Batman. Personally, Commander.”
Fem.Jason, how skilled is Whisper in comparison when it comes to you two sharpshooting skills?
Jade Todd: “Whisper’s damn good—better than most people I’ve traded shots with.”
Jade checked the sights on one of her pistols while Whisper silently cleaned her Variable Wispon nearby.
“She’s the better long-range shooter. Patient, steady, and so quiet that most targets never realize they’re being watched until she pulls the trigger. Give her a sniper’s perch, and she’ll hit something I can barely see.”
Whisper glanced toward Jade, her eyes narrowing slightly.
“Don’t get smug, Wolf,” Jade added with a grin. “Up close, in a chaotic firefight? That’s my territory. I’m faster on the draw, better at improvising, and comfortable using two guns while everything around me is exploding.”
Whisper raised her Wispon and effortlessly shot a thrown coin out of the air.
