#I didn't chose which version of English to speak! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

suh-lee · 5 months ago

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' fuck you... fuck you. ' - thanos

𐔌♯ pairing — dom thanos x sub amab!reader

𐔌♯ warnings — smut mdni , slight feminization , blowjob (reader receiving) , drug usage (+ peer pressure) , cursing, implied korean speaking (stuff intended to be english will be italicized) , 'boy' used for reader, cockwarming mention

𐔌♯ word count — -1.7k

𐔌♯ authors note — hi.. had a small depressive episode so i halted my writing.. uhm.. anyways we are so back! and small note.. i literally do not know anything about drugs.. most of the substance use was written with a small amount of research.. if it isnt accurate please imagine it is..

you fucking hated it here. you didn't know where you were, what you were doing, or even the true nature of the other 455 players with you.

anybody could be planning anything against you.. at any time.. anywhere... and you just had no way of knowing.

you knew this was a bad attitude to have when you had nobody else to rely on at the moment, but you just couldn't help the feelings of doubt and possible betrayal.

everyday, as the other players went to grab their small portions of food, you just sat on one of the many bunkbeds and stared, trying to observe everyone possible.

"hey pretty boy," you heard someone say from the floor.

it was that bitch with the highlighter purple hair, thanos. you found him anything less than unendearing. thanos had a habit of constantly breaking out in a freestyle rap.. and they were never really good. as well as seeming to pick fights with everyone there.

yup, he was definitely not the person who you would try to become allies, or even friends, with, even if you were desperate here.

you tried your best to ignore him, continuing to stare off into the lines of people.

"hey bitch!" thanos yelled, "i'm talking to you!"

a soft groan escaped your lips as you slowly moved your head down to look at him, standing like an idiot on the floor.

"what?!" you said in a snappy tone, to which he responded with a smirk.

"i liked you better when you were quiet." he mumbled, climbing up the metal latter to the many bunk beds, finally reaching the one you were on a plopping down.

the slightest look of disgust was on your face as you stared him down, getting a glance of every small detail about him. "are you high?" you mumbled, noticing his bloodshot eyes and overly shaky hands.

"why, pretty boy? ya want some?" thanos said, a smirk placed on his face as he started to reach into the sweater of his tracksuit, where you assumed (more hoped) was where he hid the drugs.

"no, im fine." you spoke in a stern tone.

"awh! you're no fun." he frowned, pulling out a detailed cross-shaped necklace. he turned his head to make sure nobody else was around before lifting the top on the necklace, revealing a small collection of drugs of multiple colors. "....you sure?" he asked in a cocky tone. "c'mon man!! live a little!" he said a little louder than you would have liked.

"fuck you." you mumbled, rolling your eyes off to the side. you looked around at the people in the room, letting out a loud sigh. your gaze looked the purple-haired man up and down, "fine. give me one."

"shit?! yo.. i knew you'd come through!" he said, taking a pill out of the cross necklace and quickly putting it in your palm. "it's crazy strong though. like man."

you placed the colored pill into your mouth, confused if you should swallow or let it dissolve, but you chose the latter. the version of you that existed before participating in these games would've never dreamed of taking a drug... but here you were.

thanos stared at you, a look of anxious excitement placed on his face. the both of you made eye-contact with another blankly, waiting for the effects of the drug to hit you.

..and.. it finally did.

"holy shit.." you managed to mumble. the feeling of hunger in your body was lifted with the drug, as well as the feeling of stress. your mind felt float-y, even causing your body to do the same, even as you sat perfectly still.

"it's strong.. right?" he said as his eyes watched you."

"..yeah.. god.."

"it's not very beginner friendly.. but it'll definitely make this place more fuckin' bearable." he mumbled, scooting a little closer to you.

"how'd you know i was a beginner?" you asked, looking at him with disbelief.

"ay, pretty boy. let's be for real now." thanos started off, "your whole body language is fuckin' rookie if i've ever seen one.. you didn't even know what the fuck to do with the pill."

a sigh escaped your lips as he spoke, "how the fuck does anybody put up with you?" to which thanos chuckled.

"i dunno.. you seem to be doin' a damn good job at it though."

"fuck you." you mumbled, staring at him.

you guys talked for a while as the substance reached it's high in your body. after the conversation, you seemed to be able to tolerate thanos more... even throughout his annoying ass tactics. he seemed to have a difficult time before coming here.. as did you. a light was revealed in thanos with said conversation. one that you were shocked about.

you saw... an attractive male. you definitely couldn't deny that he was a physically attractive man, but you've seen more into his actual persona, and you like it. a lot.

"yo." he finally mumbled, "i'm not gonna deny this.. you're fuckin' pretty. like shit."

"you literally called me 'pretty boy'."

"c'mon man! you don't need to expose me like that." he said, a slight joking tone was hidden under his words.

you guys sat in silence for what could only feel like hours. you leaned a little closer to him.

"can i.. kiss you?" was the only thing you could say, it coming out of your mouth as a whisper.

thanos stared at you in shock, a moment of silence went on, almost making you regret asking, before a small nod appeared on thanos' face.

his gaze glanced around the room, making sure all of the eyes were off you guys before the both of you leaned into each other.. your lips quickly connecting. he put his right hand on the back of your head. it grabbing your (slightly) outgrown hair in a way that was somewhat comforting. your lips kissed, the both of you waiting before bringing your tongues into it. your lips simply sat on each others... until they didn't. thanos lightly bit your bottom lip, asking you to open your lips without actually asking you too. you waited a minute before doing so, his tongue slowly slipping into your mouth, and vise versa. the kiss still seemed slow, so you decided to pick up the speed of your tongue. thanos matched the speed of your tongue causing your arms to swing from the sheets on the bed to his back. your arms tightly wrapped around his torso as his other hand slid to your waist, it lightly rubbing up and down.

thanos waited a moment and carefully slid his cold hand under the fabric of your clothes. he continued to rub his hand against your skin, the icy touch of his fingers sending a shiver down your spine. you pulled away from the kiss and stared at him.

"your eyes.. they're pleading.." he said with a small laugh, his hand trailing up under your top. he did so slowly, the grazing of his fingers making your breath's speed to decrease. his hand stopped on the left side of your chest.

thanos leaned into your ear and whispered, "what a small and perky tit..." he said with a smirk on his face before pulling away and starting to fidget with the nipple.

you never thought having your chest referred to in a way commonly used for females would turn you on... but here you were.. your dick was rapidly getting hard, it slightly poking out through the fabric of your sweatpants.

this movement did not go unnoticed by thanos, his gaze slipping from your face to your pants. he let his hand slide out from under your shirt and placed it on the hem of the tracksuit pants. they were carefully tugged down, just enough to reach the end of your boxers. he placed his hand on your boxers now, looking at you for confirmation that you wanted this, and all you could do was quickly nod. you adjusted yourself to be completely laying down on the bunkbed, as he adjusted himself to hover above your pelvic area. he nodded before pulling your boxers down and watching your dick pop out almost immediately. he teasingly flicked it, receiving a whine from you.

"..how responsive." he teased before placing his mouth on the tip of it.

thanos slowly moved his head downward on your dick, stopping right before he reached your testicles. he looked up at you, before lifting his head up and slamming it back down onto your dick. he continued this a few times, having you quietly whimpering.

you watched his head lift up to look you in the eye, your dick making a 'pop!' sound as his mouth went off of it. "hey. you gotta be quiet, man!" he exclaimed in a hush tone. "the fuck you think that pissy old man's gonna do if he sees this!" he said, clearly referring to player 001. the man who had stopped him from beating up a player.

"sorry." you mumbled, your eyes pleading for him to ignore it and continue.

thanos looked at you with doubt before slamming his head back down onto your dick, your dick hitting the back of his throat with ease. his eyes teared up on reflex as he let out a quiet groan.

"thought we we're being quiet?" you said, teasing him through shaky breaths, to which you received no response.

you watched as his head quickly bopped up and down, each thrust of your dick reaching the back of his throat, you quickly decided you had to come and left no notice before your dick started to release the infamous white liquid. your nut squirted all around his mouth, his head bopping up and down a few more times to rid you of that high before lifting his head up.

thanos stared at you as he swallowed it before laying down, right next to you. he helped you pull your boxers and tracksuit pants back up.

you sat in silence, processing what had just happened. a hand being placed on yours interrupting your thoughts.

"so. pretty boy.. whatcha feel about cockwarming?"

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jaegeraether · 14 days ago

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The Runaway - Chapter 3 (Alexia Putellas x original character slow-burn)

Jae's Masterlist

CHAPTER 3

ALEXIA

The next time Alexia saw Delaney was at the Ballon d'Or ceremony in Paris. Alexia was not usually the nervous type, but she did feel anticipation that day leading up to event.

Thus far, the power rankings had Alexia leading the race, with Delaney in the top 5. The reason why she wasn't higher was purely because she'd been playing for lower league clubs and hadn't been as successful trophy-wise with the national team. They were building towards something, though. And Alexia knew if it truly was the best player, then Delaney would be winning the award this year.

Alexia chose a suit to wear. Her hair was slicked back into a neat bun with a nice set of earrings on display. She had to keep her hand on her jacket whenever she moved or bent too far to avoid showing the world her chest, but regardless, she loved the look.

Not as much as she loved Delaney's, though. That was the problem — how easily she felt undone just by seeing her.

The Australian turned up in a suit also, though with the jacket open, and her midriff exposed below her black bra. Seeing her in person after the internet had been frothing over her body was... disarming. She found herself waiting at the end of the photographer line as Delaney smiled for the cameras, one hand in her pocket, posture relaxed — her abs catching the light, impossible not to notice.

She shouldn't have waited. She told herself that. But her feet didn't move until Delaney had finished. It was impossible to take her eyes off her. This woman commanded attention without even wanting it. Delaney moved through the crowd like she didn't even know it parted for her. Like she never noticed eyes following her. The football version of Princess Diana.

Finishing up with the photos, she said her thank yous to the photographers and moved off, straight into Alexia. Her face gave away her surprise immediately, which was replaced with a compassionate smile, excitement dancing in her eyes. She looked at her as if she'd known her for years, and that did something to the Spaniard that she couldn't explain.

"Alexia."

"Danny."

Her smile grew at that. She looked her up and down, as Alexia did the same. The Spaniard's eyes lingered at the hollow of Delaney's throat, where her jacket gaped open. It was too warm in here. Or too something. She forced herself to look away, jaw tight, pulse betraying her. She needed an excuse to tear her gaze away.

"You look amazing, as always." Delaney complimented with a husky voice.

"Muchas gracias." Thank you. "You look better."

"Oh no – this is all my stylist. You're the fashion Queen of us both."

Comparing the two of them against each other excited her for some unknown reason. She smiled. "Good luck tonight."

"Gracias, la Reina." Thank you, Queen. "But we both know you more than deserve your third."

"You deserve it too."

She tilted her head. "Tu ingles ha mejorado." Your English has improved.

That surprised her. Alexia had always been stubborn with the language, believing that the English-speaking world were entitled and always expected people to speak their language. She had to admit though, that it was because of Delaney that she been practicing a little more. The thought that she had done the same was heartwarming.

"So have your Spanish."

"Mmn. Great minds think alike. Just don't go learning any more English, okay?"

Alexia frowned. "I yam bad?"

"No, simplement me encanta tu acento." No, I just love your accent.

Whatever Alexia expected, it wasn't that. Not only was it flirty, but she'd said it slowly as if trying to remember the words as she said them in her adorable Australian accent.

She raised a defiant eyebrow. "How we talk then?"

"I think we communicate very well without words, Alexia." A pause. Alexia didn't respond. She didn't have to. Her breath caught anyway, and she saw Delaney noticing it. The Australian ducked her head almost shyly. "A..and if you don't agree, you could always ask for my number."

Oh, they were most definitely both on the same page. "Would you give me if I are asking you?"

Delaney chewed on her lip as she thought, and Alexia wondered if she even knew she was doing it. What was she thinking about so hard? Alexia knew she didn't have a bad reputation when it came to dating - she was mostly private. And very, very rarely was she as clear with what she wanted as she was with Delaney.

The Australian looked up, catching Alexia's eyes on her mouth. She stopped biting her lip as if Alexia had instructed her to. They shared a moment that could have very well ended with Alexia dragging her somewhere private so she could strip the layers from her body and bury her head i-

Delaney's jaw flexed and she stopped her eyes rolling mid-way, a light blush creeping up over her cheeks. Clearing her throat, she responded. "I'm honestly not sure, Ale."

She wasn't sure about her? Them? Dating a footballer? Being gay? Whatever it was - she seemed to be the one with an apology in her eyes. Alexia opened her mouth to reply and a ten minute countdown was announced.

She gave her a look that said she'd be asking questions later, and Delaney responded by absentmindedly chewing on her lip again. They walked side by side into the theatre, admiring the enormity of it.

They were only a few seats away from each other, but that was already too far. When they arrived, there were several of Alexia's teammates there for her to interact with, and Delaney had Mariona. She was one of the Spanish players who had recently moved over to Arsenal from Barcelona. She was a soft-spoken sweetheart. Everybody loved Mariona.

"Dellie, hi!" Mariona greeted with a hug and typical big grin. They embraced and Alexia then realised she'd missed the opportunity to do the same. Mariona grabbed her into a hug straight after. "Hola la Reina!" Hello, Queen.

"Hola, Mariona. Como estas?" Hello, Mariona. How are you?

"Estoy bien y feliz, Capi. Tu ves bien." I am good and happy, Capi. She pulled back with a smile. "Buena suerte esta noche. Nadie lo merece más." Good luck tonight. No one deserves it more.

They turned to see Delaney interacting with Aitana, Salma and Caroline who were all Alexia's teammates at Barcelona and all expected to be in the top 10. Unsurprisingly, they liked her. Aitana and Salma having met her before during their not-so-friendly "friendly".

"Dellieeeee, is that you?" Said a voice as she slid her arms around the Australian from behind. A pang of jealousy hit her unexpectedly at the sight of another woman's hands sliding around her waist, skin on skin under her jacket. And then a pang of slight annoyance when she realised it was Sam Kerr, Captain of the Matildas, though currently she was still out with her ACL injury rehab.

"Hey Sammy, I thought you weren't coming?!"

"Kristie insisted. Apparently I spend too much time at home."

Kristie, her pregnant fiancé who was also a footballer, though from the US.

"I agree with her. You can be very annoying."

"Fuck off," she laughed. "We can't all be as perfect as you."

Delaney rolled her eyes. "You've met everyone here, right? Everyone, this is Sam. I'm apologising for her in advance."

Sam made her rounds of introducing herself and then the two ducked off to the bar for an early drink. Alexia didn't particularly like the Captain, especially after a tweet she'd made a few years back when Barcelona had lost 4-1 against Lyon in a UWCL final. It was an immature tweet saying "Aaaaand this is competitive.." with an eyes emoji. Alexia was made to reply in the media and did so by brushing it aside professionally.

She wondered if Delaney and Sam were friends because they were similar, or because they were simply both Australian. She knew better, though. Delaney was nothing like Sam. From what she knew of her – there was no world in which Delaney would ever do the same thing. It just wasn't in her.

The two made it back just in time for the ceremony to begin. She couldn't look over. Not because she didn't want to, but because if their eyes met, she wasn't sure what she'd give away. That and the camera was right in front of them. The last thing she needed was more obsessed football fans deep diving into things that weren't their business. And yet the tugging sensation to look at her was there throughout the entire night. The curiosity. The confusion and wonder about what exactly she'd meant when she said she didn't know.

Her daydreaming and wondering was cut short by the presentation of their award. It was the last one of the night, which wasn't the best for the tension. As they started ranking from the top ten, her teammates were ranked one by one. Third, was Sam Kerr. This left Alexia and Delaney.

Alexia hated losing. She'd spent her entire life worshipping Barcelona and taught to win everything. But for some reason, she didn't mind the thought of coming second tonight.

As the card was opened and read out, she finally gave in and turned to Delaney who was already looking at her calmly, as if she knew it was Alexia's name that was on the card. Her heart wasn't racing—she was too still for that. It wasn't nerves, it was awareness. A knowing. Of Delaney so close to her, yet somehow too far away. Of their names echoing in the room. Of the breath Delaney let out, soft and steady, ready to be happy for her. To cheer for her.

"And the Ballon d'Or goes to... Alexia Putellas."

There were no negative emotions in her eyes. No anger. No sadness. Just pure happiness for Alexia. And that... unsettled her.

Alexia stood, clutching the hands of all her teammates in acknowledgement. When she got to Delaney, she stopped thinking and felt herself lean in, half out of instinct, half out of need. Their first hug.

Delaney met her there, arms closing around her like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like they'd done it a thousand times before. Alexia had never known how much she needed the warmth of her body — her quiet presence — until she had to let it go. It's a shame it needed to be so quick. But her body against her own was not something she'd be forgetting anytime soon.

"No one deserves it more than you, Alexia." She murmured in her ear.

Alexia didn't respond. Her throat had closed. How could someone be so generous, so empathetic, that they supported the person who had just won over them? She squeezed tighter and then pulled away, walking toward the stage. She heard the clapping behind her. The cheers from her teammates.

She'd just won her third Ballon d'Or. And somehow, the only thing she felt was a sadness that Delaney hadn't won.

After the award ceremony came the post-ceremony drinks organised by their hosts. Alexia usually didn't have to make the rounds; they came to her. Unsurprisingly, they all swarmed around Delaney too. Football had come far with women being recognised in the sport, but it was still very much male dominated, and these were usually very confident guys. They were respectful enough around Alexia because of who she was and being openly gay. But they were confident enough to make moves on Delaney who had never stated her sexuality publicly.

Even if she had, men always had this idea that they'd be the magical one to turn a woman straight. Although she saw Delaney in the distance being polite to the vultures of men around her, it still didn't stop that jealously tugging at her so hard that even she was surprised.

Alexia wanted nothing more than to sweep in and drag her away, but Delaney was smiling politely and engaged in multiple conversations. A rare bout of insecurity hit her. Who was she to interrupt? They barely knew each other. She wasn't even sure she'd take her number. But the again, there was so much more to her. So much complexity. So much experience and... pain? behind her eyes. It made her even more attractive to Alexia. Unwillingly, she entered a conversation to stop her thoughts.

She could only manage to distract herself for a few minutes with another player, before she turned back to the group of male footballers that had been surrounding Delaney. To her surprise, she wasn't there. Bathroom?

A few minutes later, she was still gone. Alexia finished her drink and wandered to find her.

She wasn't by the bathrooms. Not at the bar. Not even near the press crowd or the award engraving station. Alexia found herself climbing stairs she didn't even remember noticing earlier – something telling her she should follow it.

Alexia weaved her way up the stairs to the balcony overlooking the stage, and that's exactly where she found her. Her head was bowed against the railing, her body moving as she took a few deep breaths. The urge to touch her was usually something she restrained, but not right now. She needed to feel her. To reassure her.

Alexia came up beside her quietly - her fingers finding the warm curve of Delaney's back. Delaney jumped back, her head whipping up. Seeing it was Alexia, she relaxed, apologising and stepping back towards her. She took Alexia's hand and placed it back where it was, which was both confident and sexy. Alexia rubbed her back lightly. Solid. Real. She didn't mean to linger, but her hand stayed as it stroked, something about it feeling reassuring to the Spaniard.

"Lo siento.." I'm sorry.

"Is okay." Alexia reassured. "You are.. okay?"

"Sí, I just... it was a lot."

"The male men?"

That made her chuckle – transforming from her serious expression. "The mailmen, yes."

"You no like..?"

She bit her lip in thought, and Alexia's eyes were drawn to it again like a moth to a flame. "It's fine. I'm just an introvert. Social functions drain me."

Alexia didn't understand every word, but she understood enough. "Ah, introvertida. Me also." Ah, introvert. Me also.

She relaxed and shifted closer to her. "Tú entiendes..." You understand...

Many people didn't understand what introversion was. You could seem outgoing, but social interactions drained you. 99% of them anyways. There were some which drained a lot less – like spending time with her teammates for example. But at the end of the day – Alexia always loved her alone time.

Delaney just needed a moment or so to catch her breath and recharge her battery. Alexia understood that better than anyone, and didn't want to hinder her from doing that.

"You want me go?"

"No!" She responded quickly before softening, "No. Not unless you want to."

"I need break also..." she admitted.

The two shared a look and then turned their attention to the crowd below them – Alexia's hand still stubbornly rubbing her back – unable to stop.

"Congratulations again, Alexia." She murmured as she stared at the crowd. "I really am happy that you won."

"It should... been you." She found herself responding.

Delaney looked to her in surprise. "No, you deserved it."

"You were better player-"

Delaney covered Alexia's mouth with her hand; her lips pressed against Delaney's palm. Her breath hitched. She didn't move. Didn't dare. Because if she moved, she thought she might lose every last shred of control she had left. Regardless, she felt herself leaning into it.

Delaney blinked, realising how close they now were. Her voice became husky again. "You stop now. It doesn't matter who the so-called "better player" is. It's about leadership. Legacy. Success. You are all of those things. I just bounce from place to place. You earnt this, Alexia."

God, her voice was the type of husky that Alexia could fall asleep to, or alternatively, would be desperate to hear in her ear as she touched her.

"You understand?" Delaney challenged.

Alexia nodded, missing the hand that suddenly dropped away.

"You've just made it known to all the younger players that they can come back from injury and be even better than they were before. They can do it, because la Reina just did it."

Again, she didn't catch all the meaning, but she caught enough to be at a loss for words.

She was right, of course. Instead of telling her that, Alexia moved forward and embraced her – this time with no time restrictions. Delaney's arms came around her, tight and reassuring, her chin finding her shoulder and her head leaning against Alexia's.

"But I wanna it to be you." Alexia admitted.

"I think it's one of the reasons we get on so well, Alexia." She murmured huskily right into her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. "We both want the best for each other."

They held each other for a bit longer, not even swaying. Just feeling. Just communicating like they did without words.

That is until Delaney's phone broke the silence. She pulled back to answer it.

"Hey Sammy."

She couldn't quite catch the words on the other end of the line.

"Oh... yeah. I'll be down in five, okay?"

She hung up and gave an apologetic look to Alexia, one that also showed her own unhappiness at needing to leave.

"Go time?"

She chuckled. "It's go time for me. Plane to catch."

Alexia pondered and then had a 'fuck it' moment. "I can message you?"

Delaney's eyebrows rose in surprise. "You want my number?"

"Sí, claro." Yes, of course.

You don't scare me, she thought.

Alexia expected more lip biting, more thinking, another question. But there was none of that. With another slight pause as she studied Alexia, she handed over her phone. Alexia typed in her number and hit send. Somehow, that felt like more of an accomplishment than the golden ball.

#woso #womens football #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso soccer #barca femeni #fc barcelona #alexia putellas

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avelera · 7 months ago

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haha, whoops, i'm one of the people who're guilty of kinda enjoying the nickname thing (i don't write though), but it's a good point that it contradicts how they express themselves in canon

idk what country you're from, maybe this is not new info, but to maybe add further context:

i get an impression that in english getting called by a nickname/shortened version of your name is a very usual, casual thing, like if you introduce yourself as daniel you may get called dan by people immediately, unprompted, even in a [semi] professional setting? meanwhile i just don't like my name very much and want people to call me by the shortened version. just without the last syllable, nothing elaborate. and i do feel pretty weird introducing myself that way or explaining if asked, it feels like i'm asking people to show friendliness/closeness by asking that. also if they do know my legal name (at work for example) they end up defaulting to it often anyway. i think i could get away with it though if i had a more friendly and bubbly demeanor

basically i'm wondering if this is a thing because for some people it has more of a baked-in meaning of closeness, or at least overt friendliness, than it usually has in english. (though again i agree that this is not a thing in their canon dynamic)

Hmm, so my answer to this is multifaceted so bear with me for a second.

Just to keep it on Viktor and Jayce for a second, I'm a whacky stickler for writing characters as they are in canon. Many fanfics aren't even trying to be canon-adjacent though so while them using nicknames in a fic takes me out of the story, it's not necessarily right or wrong, it's just how the writer chose to write their story.

I was mostly making the point against them using nicknames from the point of view of, "If you're trying to write them in-character, why would you use nicknames? They never use nicknames." Which is also why I opened it up for the possibility that they do use nicknames in League of Legends, which turned out to be true and explains a lot of why that trickled into Arcane fic. I'm just an Arcane-only person so it raises my hackles a bit when I see those two blended but I get why people do it and would probably do the same if I knew League. (Jayce is just so different from his LoL counterpart it's hard for me to get on board with and it's why I didn't really engage with the fandom when only S1 was out even though on my own I watched Arcane like 100 times straight).

Ok as for the cultural stuff, obviously I can't speak for the entire Anglosphere but I can offer my perspective.

Yes, having a nickname is common and commonly used as a sign of affection. For example, my name is Maggie which is short for Margaret. I'd be put off if someone used my full name, but it has three syllables which is also a longer name than Viktor which is just two syllables I don't really get why it needs to be shortened further, but that's just me, the owner of a two-syllable name.

Unlike some other languages like, say, Japanese though US English does not have as rigid a hierarchy of which names to use to denote familiarity, at least not between adults (as a child, I was always taught to use Mr./Ms. "Last Name" with adults). You'd use last names upon introduction, sure, but switching to first names quickly is hardly unheard of, or even nicknames. I know some other languages like Russian, for example, also have a complex system for how and when to use diminutives and they specifically denote levels of closeness and familiarity (or at least, so my small brush with Russian literature taught me).

Now where I'd add the Jayvik nuance is that regardless of what someone's name is, long, short, nickname, or last name, you always use the name people ask you to use.

So if I had a colleague named William who wants to go by William and doesn't want to be called Will, it would be impolite for me to use a nickname if he didn't want it, even if it's easier for me to say. The most common polite thing to do with strangers or in a formal setting is use Mr./Ms. Last Name until that person gives you permission to use their first name, which is usually given pretty quickly unless the person is a bit of a jerk lol.

So yeah, to your last point, I think it's possible (I don't want to presume) that people having Jayce give Viktor a nickname when he doesn't in the show are either:

1) Basing it off League or general fanon or

2) Choosing to show closeness between them using nicknames as a love language that contradicts what the show portrays, which again, is an artistic choice that's completely valid, even if it's not for me. And I do think that yes, that's because I believe a greater mark of affection, for me, is using the name someone requests of you rather than using a diminutive or nickname that they didn't ask for.

I hope this sort of answers your ask and isn't just me rambling, lol!

#arcane #arcane meta #jayvik #again this is just MY OPINION it's fine if people write them with nicknames #i just never do because i'm a weird canon stickler

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edenfenixblogs · 1 year ago

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hey, gentile here. just came across this post of yours and, first of all- it's SUPERB. it showed me a perspective on being a jewish ally that i really wouldn't ever have considered by myself, made me more confident in my choice to put combating jew-hatred above the friendships I've recently lost, and gave me a really useful direction on where to go as an ally to jewish people onwards. that being said, there's a few details about it I'd like to press you about, if it's not too much trouble.

this point is probably worthy of an eyeroll as i'm a culturally christian atheist (making a concious effort to not be *that* kind of atheist), but: when you refer to G-d as the creator of all things, you stress that that includes evil- but that, in so doing, G-d is not evil themself. now, I'm asking this with the express purpose of you correcting me, so: why does this G-d- as a G-d fundamentally distinct from the Christian conception of God as a Super-Mega-Ultra-Perfect God Who Can Do No Wrong Ever- create evil? i, personally, have been led to believe by @/spacelazarwolf that it is simply because G-d, too, makes mistakes just like any human being, but the way you worded it in this paragraph (which I've included as a screenshot below) had me interpret G-d creating evil as a concious, intentional action. did i just not read it correctly? and, if i didn't, then is the reason G-d creates evil part of this central struggle you went in detail into in the same paragraph, and as such, a very individual part of Jewish belief that no two jews agree on? and if that is so, would you be comfortable with sharing your version of it?

a few paragraphs after that one, you dedicated many words to make it absolutely crystal clear that, in the process of unlearning and combating jew-hatred in the society around me, i should, in spite of the vitriol that they propagate, love the former friends i lost to antisemitism. how- and *why* should i love the people who, on an early october 8th morning, actively celebrated the news of a massacre of Israeli civilians? who mocked- and still mock- the survivors and the families of hostages? who wield the memory of the holocaust as a baton against Jewish people's right to self defense? who deify terror groups who are up to their necks in atrocities? who make an active effort to spit on the face of *reality?* How could i possibly look at the face of a friend who chose allegiance to a terrorist group she did not even know existed four months ago over me- who she had actively interacted with for much longer?

would you rather we called ourselves "gentiles" or "goyim?" I've been calling myself a gentile for the longest time because i see jamming a word from a language i don't speak at all in an otherwise english sentence to be disrespectful and constitute appropriation, but you and other jumblr blogs have given me the impression that that is not the case. furthermore- i believe it was @/bambahalva who pointed out the usage of the word "gentile" in antisemitic segregation policies.

that is all- i hope this message finds you well. oh, yeah one more thing- what do you think of The Forward news network? i came across them by chance and next thing i knew I'd gotten into their newsletter.

WARNING: I HAVE FINISHED WRITING THIS AND IT'S LONGER THAN I EXPECTED AND ALSO MORE JEWISH THAN I EXPECTED LOL! I have done the most Jewish possible thing I could do and answered all of your questions with questions. I'm sorrryyyyyy! This is what happens when you grow up surrounded by rabbis and future rabbis! LMAOO

Oooh! What a good ask! I love this ask. OK, so! Let's go in order.

First of all, thank you so much for your kind words. And thanking you for backing your words with the action of prioritizing kindness over hatred. It matters. More than I can ever explain. Thank you.

You know, it's funny. People ask me a lot of questions about i/p that they think will have simple and straightforward answers that just don't. And I end up writing a lot of essays because of this. The questions you wrote me seem like they should be complex, but feel relatively straightforward to me.

Now, to your first bullet point: I don't know. I truly do not know. I think that G-d is fundamentally just...G-d, and in so being, G-d is truly unknowable to me. I think many Jews have many different interpretations on why G-d creates evil. I'm no rabbi, but one of my BFFs is and so is her mother and great grandfather. That doesn't give me any kind of authority. It just means I've spent a lot of time thinking about theological questions like this. As for my perspective, I'm a progressive/reform Jew, not a humanistic Jew. I do actually believe in G-d, but I vibe with the community philosophies of Humanistic Judaism a lot. So that's the perspective I'm coming from here:

I'm not a particular fan of the Book of Job, because I think it gets twisted and interpreted in Christian ways more than most Hebrew books and it can too easily be twisted into a "Don't question G-d, because G-d is perfect" narrative that I find to be fundamentally at odds with how I practice Judaism. Also, it's just a very sad story about how a good and kind man lost everything, and it makes me sad to think about. HOWEVER, that traditional "Don't question G-d" narrative is not how I learned to think about that book. The way I learned it, I believe the Book of Job describes this issue most explicitly. After Job loses everything he holds dear and talks to all his friends and begs again and again "Why? Why did G-d do this to me? Why would G-d do this to me when I'm a good person?" And basically G-d hears everyone answering for G-d with various reasons, "Maybe you were bad." "Maybe you should make an offering" Maybe this. Maybe that. And eventually G-d responds from within a storm (paraphrased of course) 'Why the fuck do you think it's your business to know? I made the whole universe! I made everything you see. I made the world that gave you your family in your first place. Why do you think you get to question my motives?'

The way I always interpreted that is: I don't fricking know! It's not really my business. What am I gonna do? Stop G-d? How does my knowing why G-d creates evil help anything? It doesn't mean we don't question G-d. It means we should instead focus on what we CAN control. I can't make 10/7/2023 not happen any more than I could stop The Holocaust or form an ocean. That's divine business, not human business. What I CAN do is make the world better now. What use is it challenging things that we cannot change? Things that are in the past? What's the point of asking why bad things happen when we can instead focus on stopping more bad things from happening. G-d named us his people when Abraham fought with G-d to stop the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah. Abraham repeatedly asked, "But are you sure? But what if there are 100 good people? 50 good people? 10 good people?" And G-d kept responding, basically, 'I mean, there aren't. I know this cuz of how I'm G-d and know all the things. But knock yourself out looking.' My interpretation of this was that G-d doesn't get mad when we do our utmost to help our fellow human beings. G-d gets mad when we waste our energy that we could be using to help our fellow man to instead be angry and rage futilely against the past. I say this as someone with PTSD as someone who attempted to stop a tragedy from occuring and failed and can never understand why. What informs my trauma and what makes it so hard to get past isn't that G-d allowed it to happen. It's that people did. It's that I begged for help before it happened--over and over and over to dozens of adults in various positions of authority in order to prevent this terrible thing from happening (no, I will not now or ever disclose what that thing is). And all the people who could have helped failed me, and now two people are dead. Because someone did an evil, evil thing. And a bunch of other people let it happen. I'm not mad at G-d. I'm mad at people. And yet, I also know that hating people and finding reasons to dismiss them and despise them is what leads to more tragedies like that happening. So, despite my rage, truly the only thing to do is to love people. It's the only that helps. It's the only thing that repairs the world. It's the only thing that we can control. So, in short, my answer to "Why does G-d create evil?" is "Why should I spend my valuable time on earth trying to answer that question when, instead, I can spend that same exact amount of time asking millions of people, 'How can I help? What's wrong, and how can I help make any part of it better?'?" We don't need to understand G-d to make the world a better place. I'm fine leaving G-d stuff to G-d and spending my time on the human stuff.

Now, your second bullet point. Love their souls. You don't have to love what they've done. But they are human beings, as are we all. I think this can also easily be twisted into the Christian framework of "Hate the sin, love the sinner," but that's not what I mean at all. People's evil deeds are a part of them. They need to take responsibility. There is no divine absolution for crimes that people do unto each other in Judaism. If you harm a person, G-d cannot forgive you for that. Only the person or people you harmed can forgive you. And to a certain degree, we are all defined by our actions toward others. And so, no. I do not forgive the terrorists who woke up and decided to kill a bunch of Israelis and Israeli-adjacent humans. I do not forgive those who celebrate the deaths of Israelis because of some misguided sense of justice. I do not forgive the people who continue to send me hatred and death threats day after day after day after day. And I do not love the parts of them that did and do those horrible, unforgivable things. But my goodness. They were babies once. They either had parents who love(d) them, which is so sad, because they have this life of love and they chose instead to fill it with so much hate. Or they didn't have any parents or loved ones or anyone to guide them and, my goodness. That is so sad. How terrifying and alone that must feel. Maybe they have friends and family who love them and are instead wasting their precious time on this planet directing their energy at raging against me and 15 million other Jews they've never met. Or maybe they don't have anyone who loves them and they think that hating me and harming me will bring them some sense of purpose and joy. What a horrid way to live.

My Grandpa died last year. I have a wonderful family for whom I'm very grateful, and I even have good memories with my Grandpa. But he was not a good person. He came from an abusive home, and weaponized that abuse on his loved ones until he drove them all away. He was a narcissist. Not in the pop psychology sense. But in the actual clinical sense. He ruined every relationship that ever mattered to him--personal and professional. And in the end, because of his own actions, he died alone. He had pushed everyone so far (often with legal threats and action) that when he died, he laid on a slab for weeks because nobody could figure out who to call, because he had no one left. (For reference, Jewish burials are supposed to happen rather quickly and two weeks is...not good.) He was the only person in his generation who was not born in Israel--my family on his side has lived in Israel since looooong before even the British Mandate and he was the only person in his family born and raised in the US. As far as we can tell, the family on that side has been in Israel for as long as Jews have existed. He was religious. And while I've never been to Israel or met any of my family there, he did go. And he kept in touch with his relatives there before driving them away too. He was a wealthy man, but convinced himself that everyone only wanted him for his money and then decided to horde it instead. He left nothing to his children or to me. He left all his money in an endowment to his university--a place that uses that money to fund anti-Israel organizations now. He died alone, without his family that lived nearby, and with a legacy that will now cause active harm to the family that lived far away. He could have died surrounded by the loved ones from around the world who wanted nothing more than to be near him and loved by him. His story is a tragedy. The story of every person who chooses hatred over love is a tragedy. The story of someone who woke up and chose to murder others or to delight in the death of others is a tragedy. I love the soul in the center of these people. I loved my grandfather. I could not be around him. I cannot forgive some of the things he said and did. But I love the person he could have been. I love the part of him that gave me some good memories. I love the family he gave to me.

No, we do not all need to love or forgive those who have wronged us or terrorized us or murdered our loved ones. But that is different from mourning a human soul. From loving the potential of a human soul to do good in the world, and mourning the loss of that soul and its potential. Every human being--every single one no matter what they have done in their lives--has the potential to create goodness and make the world a better place. Every moment of every single day is a new chance to meet that challenge and do our best. Sure, not all of us have it in us to try our best every single moment. Sometimes life is hard and we're sad and tired and hungry and angry. And that's ok, because we have tomorrow, and an hour from now, and a minute from now. But the moment someone chooses to take action and decides that action should be to cause another harm or celebrate the harm that was caused? That's a tragedy. And when a life is extinguished, that is a life that loses its potential to try again and do better. We shouldn't love people because we deem them worthy of love. We should love people because they are people. And so are we. And how wonderful is that? I could choose to hate them. It would be so easy! But why should I do that? What do I gain? What do they gain? And isn't it so wonderful that I chose to love instead? And isn't it so wonderful that you can, too?

As for your final bullet point: I have no preference. I say goyim cuz it's easier for me. Goy/gentile/non-Jew are all fine to me. I have some icky feelings about the word gentile for a variety of linguistic reasons I won't bore you with. But some other people don't like when non-Jews appropriate Yiddish words. Others (including me) find it wonderful when non-Jews call themselves goyim. All my closest non-Jewish people call themselves goyim, including my sister! Non-jew is the most neutral in English and least likely to offend anyone. But it still separates Jews as an other whereas "goy" is a way to distinguishing yourself from Jews while also being an acknowledgment of our culture. As far as I'm concerned as long as a goy is being a goy (ally, positive) rather than a goy (derogatory) I don't mind that they call themselves goyim. LOL! Idk, friend. Do what makes you happy! What do you prefer?!

Regarding The Forward news network: They are a reliable Left-Center source with a high credibility and reporting rating and only one failed fact check in the past five years for which they issued a correction. I would consider them a reliable source. They cover legitimate issues of people who support Palestinan self-determination ostensibly being punished for their stances. They publish Op-eds critical of Netanyahu, who is terrible. And they address how antisemitism is harming diaspora Jews. They seem to consistently emphasize the humanity of everyone, which you can tell based on the rest of my post is very important to me, but they also avoid over-editorializing on news that is not in the Op-Ed section. I'll never endorse any source as perfect or guaranteed to be free of problems or harm or bad takes, but they do seem to make a genuine effort to be factual, clear, and wholly truthful. Note: I highly recommend that everyone installs the Media Bias/Fact Check extension on their web browsers. Get in the habit of checking and evaluating sources critically. It's a skill that will serve you your whole life.

@clawdia-houyhnhnm I hope this helps. And thank you for your thoughtful ask and commitment to intercultural understanding. <3

#ask me stuff #clawdia-houyhnhnm #leftist antisemitism #antisemitism #jewish muslim solidarity #jewish goyim solidarity #Judaism #jewish culture #jumblr #how to help #allyship #media literacy

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kaibutsushidousha · 11 months ago

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Hi not to Danganronpa-post in 2024 but I've been reading the V3 anthology and one thing I noticed was that Yumeno has very different speech patterns from in the English localization?? Obviously this is because the anthology was handled by a different translator but the changes are so huge (as an example, her using "tis", which she never once did in English DRV3) that it makes me wonder about... why they wouldn't include that? Do you have any thoughts about this since you've played V3 in both languages?

Yes to Danganronpa-post in 2024, we aren't Danganronpa-posting in 2024 enough.

On Yumeno's case, I don't know what to say that you haven't already saw yourself. English Yumeno speaks pretty normally aside from her nyehs. Japanese Yumeno speaks like a girlish version of the generic old wizard archetype in fantasy and RPG. Nowhere close to normal teenager speech. The consensus among V3 fan translators before the loc came out to handle her unique voice with thou, 'tis, and these other pseudo-Shakesperianisms.

Now for "why they wouldn't include that", I think I have to once again go back to the old post explaining how V3's localization worked.

Danganronpa games are entirely made of character dialogue. All narration is just the protagonist inner thoughts. So V3's team chose to split their workload by characters. Who got which character in that is a topic I already covered here. In this post, I also made a comment explaining why I believe Yumeno lost her proper character voice while the rest of the cast didn't, and that's a theory I still stand by today.

#danganronpa translation critique #himiko yumeno

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brainworms-all-night-long · 6 days ago

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Yk I had a thought around the time Nine Tailed Travel Guide Through The Multiverse was a thing, just never posted abt it. A fic basically about Nine sort of like, crash landing into the SCU in the time frame after the second movie with shenanigans ensuing

Didn't really plant out or thought through any major details but so far the basics are; something goes a little bit to the left when Nine was cruising through the Shatterverse after discovering the Grim, and he ends up crashing into scu Green Hills around dusk, sustaining a couple injuries with the Shatterdrive getting totaled but not completely unsalvageable.

So while Nine goes to scout out the situation, looking for ways to repair his ship and find something to treat his wounds, he stumbles into a nearby veterinary clinic where he, unbeknownst to either of them, almost gets caught by Maddie who was about to clock out but returned cuz she forgot to lock the back door. (This has an au within an au offshoot where Maddie does catch him and locks him up for questioning, but in this version Nine can already understand English well enough for banter with her but more on the language barrier later)

Unfortunately by the time Nine gets back to his ship it has already attracted the curious local town's folk and worst of all, Sonic and the gang who immediately suspect Nine's location, since he left a very faint blood trail. Fortunately for him, their investigation eventually grows cold. Afterwards the Shatterdrive gets police taped, but because everyone's experiences with aliens in this town no one is really too rattled or pressed to make big news about it, so I don't have to think about Gun being a problem for now.

It just so happens Nine is really good at navigating around security systems and people completely unseen even in near broad daylight, (courtesy of growing up under New Yoke's nonstop and overbearing surveillance system) so for a couple weeks he becomes this cryptid that everyone in town swears has stolen at least one part off their car but there's little to no evidence or pattern to pin it to one specific person or even a thing, best that can is blame the weird alien ship in the woods. Except for Crazy Carl swearing up and down he's "caught a fox stealing from his barn that looked suspiciously like you lot" while pointing at Tails. Speaking of the alien ship, during their first investigation Knuckles and Tails recognized some of the Not Earth alphabet used in the Shatterdrive so they're inclined to somewhat believe him, later coming up with a theory that perhaps another Mobian has escaped to Earth for whatever reason and is hiding out similarly to the way Sonic has. It's also really weird Tails could swear the ship was engineered in an uncanny familiar manner, like something he would've made. Sonic makes searching for this unseen thief a little competition game and while getting close a couple times, Nine still somehow remains elusive.

Until he's eventually forced to break into the Wachowski's house for Something (I was thinking like, the Shard the gang took from the Shatterdrive and stored in their house for 'safekeeping' but that has Implications I haven't thought through yet) and gets caught by Tails staying up late tinkering in the garage which Nine chose as an unfortunate point of entry.

Extra shenanigans ensue because who woulda thunk not all aliens speak perfect English immediately so there's a language barrier only Tails and Knuckles can somewhat get through since they're the most familiar with the dialect Nine knows, unfortunately Nine doesn't like either of them based on principle so he just stays quiet in protest, threatens Tails, nearly injures him in the process, and in the commotion disappears again.

Ofc now that the Catalizator Thief Cryptid has a face, it seems easier to search for him and whaddya know, Sonic does what Sonic does best and that is making Nine's life worse by winning the abandoned competition once he finds him in the woods in a makeshift workshop the fox set up as a means to slowly repair the Shatterdrive (Tails being the first one to properly see him in light technically doesn't count because he wasn't Actively Searching for Nine, or so Sonic says)

A quick questionnaire reveals the language barrier is still a problem but through Nine's broken English which he's managed to absorb over time in the town and Sonic's broken Mobian language he's mostly forgotten since he rarely spoke it once getting to Earth, they eventually settle why the fuck did Nine almost take Tails' head off in the garage, why did he break into their house in the first place, why he steals parts of machines and electronics instead of just going to to the hardware store like a normal person, how he got here and how he wants to leave as soon as possible.

Sonic obviously ends up thinking Nine is the coolest motherfucker on planet Earth, (right after himself ofc) those tails make him look like Doc Ock! And Nine decks him in the face because he doesn't want anything to do with "doctors" and tells him to leave him alone already.

Sonic promises to keep Nine's location a secret but manages that only about two days before he accidentally spills the beans to Knuckles and Tails who want to know What's Up with that guy in the woods and why does he look so much like Tails and so the lovely family bonding Nine never asked for begins.

Nine really really just wants to gtfo of this planet, but unfortunately all the snacks and music and casual company and the care make it really hard to focus on the singular goal of leaving it all behind and once Maddie and Tom find out about him, it's jover (he needs to get back to his Sonic and his perfect world in the Grim. These people don't matter)

———

Aaand that's abt all I have. If anybody wants to turn this into a fic or expand this plot further go right on ahead!!! (Just link it back to this post if you will and also tag me I wanna see what you make pretty olese)

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triptychcryptid · 5 months ago

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Here's how I think Sherman's relationship with the twins would have been when they were kids. Keep in mind, my version of Sherman is 7 years younger than them.

Sherman's upset/ got in trouble: If he was sent to his room without dinner, the boys would sneak him food. They'd both give their best brotherly advice, then Stan would distract him by asking outlandish questions like who would win an Ice cream eating contest; a t-rex or the Jersey Devil? Ford of course would weigh in with facts about the two, and by the end, Sherman would be giggling.

School: Ford would help him with Science, Math and Reading. Stan would actually be good at English, he's just lazy about it when it comes to himself. But he'd actually really enjoy teaching Sherman, and be good at it. So Stan would do English, History ( I could see him and Ford both being history buffs, they were just interested in different parts and argued frequently about events, so they just chose one twin to help Sherman), Art and Sports.

Nightmares: I think all the boys would have to share a room until the twins were teens and demanded their own spaces. But if Sherman had nightmares when he was little, he'd usually climb into bed with one of his brothers. Usually Ford just because he was in the lower bunk, but sometimes he'd climb up with Stan. Ford would tell him statistical reasons why the things in his dreams were unlikely to happen, and Stan would tell him which monster would be best suited for the situation to defeat whatever happened in the nightmare. By the end, all the boys would be quietly giggling.

General: Stan was definitely the protector. Ford would jump in too, but mostly he kept Sherman out of harm's way or tended to his owies if he got hurt while Stan punched the problem away. XD Ford would read books to Sherman or talk to Sherman about their favorite dinos or nebulas. He was actually directly respinsible for getting Sherman interested in Space. Stan would draw and color with him and would hang any and all drawings Sherman did for him or Ford on the wall behind the bunk bed. Eventually, the drawings took over their entire room, and got divided up when the twins got their own rooms.

Sherman was DEVASTATED when Stan got kicked out and didn't speak to his father for a whole year.

#gravity falls #stanford pines #stanley pines #sherman pines #pines twins #gravity falls stan #gravity falls ford #gravity falls sherman #kid stanley #kid stanford #kid sherman

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mariacallous · 9 months ago

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The year was 1998. Walking down Pushkin Boulevard in my native Donetsk, I listened to English lessons on my Walkman and dreamed of America—a country I would soon call home.

At age 20, I couldn't form a sentence in the language of the USSR's arch-enemy; my teachers, who didn't speak English themselves, made sure of that.

Born and raised in Ukraine, I had just graduated from Donetsk State Tech University, but I couldn't speak Ukrainian either.

Russian was my native language; though it wasn't me who chose it, Russian colonialism did just as it chose to plaster the names of Russian chauvinists, like Pushkin, all over my city.

I was gaslit by the evil empire, and so were you. Let me correct this: So are you.

In the fall of 1982, I remember the nannies at my kindergarten weeping over the death of "our dear leader," Leonid Brezhnev. Perhaps I cried, too. The earliest childhood memories are notoriously faulty.

But in 2024, I hold no illusions about Russia: What it has done, what it seeks to do, and what will happen if the Free World fails to stop it.

Rewriting History: A Soviet Mirage

It took me a lifetime to un-dim the metaphorical lights—to escape the unreality Moscow constructed for the peoples and lands it colonized.

It all started with a perverted version of history that provided all the answers but left no room for questions.

For example, when did World War II start? Sorry, my mistake—the "Great Patriotic War," as it's called in Russia. Everybody knows it began in 1941 when Nazi Germany invaded the USSR.

Except it didn't. Adolf Hitler's betrayal of Joseph Stalin didn't start the war—their secret pact to invade Poland did.

What the world remembers, and what Russia tries desperately to forget, is that Europe's worst calamity began with the unholy alliance of two evil regimes hellbent on colonization.

Growing up in the USSR, doubt and skepticism, at the heart of the Western intellectual tradition, were out of reach.

It took me decades to understand that the Soviet Union was never truly a country, but rather an oppressive Russia Empire by another name.

When the "brotherhood" of 15 nations is praised and celebrated all around you, it is almost unimaginable that one of those "brothers" was prepared to kill, rape, and torture in a zealous pursuit of its imperialist ambitions, which, in Russia's case, always took categorical precedence over human life.

The Victory That Wasn't

When the Berlin Wall came down and the Cold War order crumbled before our eyes, many in the West mistook it for a victory. But who exactly did we defeat?

During the 70 years of the USSR's existence, the evil of communist ideology was merely layered atop the evil of a Frankenstein state, one that desperately wanted the world to see it as a nation.

By 1991, Communism was gone, the USSR fell apart, but the revanchism and a deep-seated fear in Moscow—that the Russian Federation would collapse under the weight of its own contradictions—remained.

Empires thrive on perpetual expansion, as vividly demonstrated by Russia's invasion of Ichkeria, Georgia, and now Ukraine.

Caught in a relentless cycle of conquest and domination, Moscow's legitimacy and stability hinge on the constant acquisition of new territories, the appropriation of other nations' histories, and the subjugation of their peoples.

Suppressed History Is a Harbinger of More Violence

In seventh grade, we studied the "Great Famine" of 1932-1933 and learned about the "kulaks" hiding grain and how the righteous Red Army was fighting the imperialists who wanted the Soviet project to fail.

But did I know what role Stalin's monstrous and deliberate policy to starve millions of Ukrainians by engineering Holodomor had to do with my own life story?

Why did everyone around me speak Russian in Ukraine at the tail-end of the twentieth century? How did my Armenian father, born and raised in Georgia, end up coming to Donbas—the Soviet Union's promised land of his youth?

Colonialism is the answer. Moscow knew that to bury the Ukrainian dream—escaping the empire's yoke—required repopulating the land with outsiders to prevent even a possibility of a grassroots national movement rekindling.

Finding myself both complicit in Russia's imperial project and its victim was as confusing as it was unsettling.

Raphael Lemkin, the man who introduced the concept of genocide to the world, recognized Moscow's Holodomor as a systematic effort to destroy the Ukrainian nation, culture, and people through starvation and repression.

Yet, as I grew up, his name and his views existed in a separate realm of knowledge and awareness from the one I inhabited. The two were meant never to cross.

Had I not escaped the morass of endless lies sustaining the evil empire, I would've never understood that we are witnessing another genocide attempt and that history is indeed repeating itself.

A Breath of Fresh Air

The year was 1998. Walking down 900 East Street in Salt Lake City, Utah, as a fresh-off-the-boat American, I had much to look forward to and little to reflect on.

Between naïveté and arrogance, I managed to strike both with the thought that my individual journey was forerunning the path Ukraine was to inevitably take: From the dark past of oppression and suffering all the way to freedom and prosperity.

I didn't think much about Russia at the time. Surely, it must have wanted the same thing for itself, but it was for the Russian people to decide their future.

When I swore allegiance to the U.S. flag in 2005 and began my career in international relations, the rose-colored glasses started to come off. The straitjacket of lies that had enveloped my mind since childhood showed signs of wear and tear as it came into contact with history books that weren't Russian propaganda.

Not only did I start to understand the past, but Moscow was also unmasking itself fast in real time—murdering thousands of Chechens for defying their colonizers, meddling in the affairs of Ukraine and other neighboring states, and reverting to ruthless authoritarianism after a brief flirtation with democracy in the nineties.

Meanwhile, Ukrainians were rejecting a rigged election and uniting in what became known as the Orange Revolution, demanding accountability from their government.

It was evident that Russia and Ukraine were on different paths, but I was unprepared even to imagine the magnitude of this difference.

From Public Service to Global Diplomacy

After five years of U.S. government service, working on development projects from agriculture in Moldova to renewable energy in Mongolia, I applied for a graduate degree in Public Administration at Harvard.

For a kid from Donetsk, a son of a coal miner, getting an admission letter felt like something out of a fairytale.

Arriving in Cambridge, MA, I delved into the mechanics of democracy and governance; conversations with professors and peers sharpened my vision. I saw more clearly than ever how Moscow had twisted its colonial history and appropriated or perverted histories of the lands it controlled.

My education was no longer a means to an examined life; it was to become a weapon against the empire of lies that had once claimed my allegiance.

My next stop was the World Economic Forum in Geneva, where I covered regional affairs for a portfolio of countries including Russia and Ukraine. Moderating panel discussions with ministers, activists, and opinion leaders often revealed deep historical tensions.

Ukraine faced significant challenges on its path toward Europe, with freedom, prosperity, and nationhood at stake.

What remained obscured to me at the time, however, was the extent to which Russia would resist and sabotage Ukraine's progress at every turn.

The heir to the bloodthirsty tsars and commissars, the Russian Federation was firmly set on a trajectory toward totalitarianism, oppression, and, ultimately, fascism.

With hindsight, I realize that my gaslit mind mistook a bit of situational awareness for enlightenment. Back then, though, I believed—indeed, I knew—Russia couldn't invade Ukraine.

Now, I can see that for the Moscow-centered empire, colonial conquest was all but inevitable.

The West Deliberately Refuses to Understand What Russia Is

Pick up any map, and you'll easily spot a vast country called Russia. But make no mistake—this is no nation; it has no national interests, only imperial ambitions.

Bizarrely, we justify Moscow's criminal actions eagerly at our own peril, despite the threat it poses not just to Ukraine, the Baltics, Poland, etc. but to the entire world and, paradoxically, to the population of Russia too.

Don't take my word for it, ask the people of Tatarstan, Bashkiria, Dagestan or any other Eurasian folk Moscow had colonized. The veritable prison of nations spent decades, if not centuries, attempting to erase their identities, languages, and cultures.

Our stubborn refusal to face the facts is confounding.

What is holding us back from processing the lessons of Russia's bloodstained history, from believing Russia when it tells us it plans to commit what I see as genocide? Why can't we act decisively on this knowledge?

Given an opportunity to restore deterrents, rebuild our credibility, and reassert our commitment to the values we profess, we flounder time and again.

To help Ukraine defeat the aggressor is not charity, it's in our strategic interest. Any other outcome creates a much more problematic future for each of Ukraine's allies individually, and all of us collectively.

The Peril of Inaction, Cloaked in Excuses and Laced With Cowardice

Gaining clarity of vision and decolonizing my mind has been a decades-long process, still ongoing.

I finally learned Ukrainian, and I no longer speak Russian. After all, Moscow used the pretext of "protecting" Russian speakers in Donbas to justify its invasion.

As an unhumorous joke goes, no matter where you are or who you are, if you continue to speak Russian, the motherland will come to "save" you one day.

Reflecting on my journey, I see much of it mirrored in the painstakingly slow and reluctant awakening of the Free World to the realities of Ruscism (Russian Fascism).

But we can't afford decades of incremental enlightenment; we must now recognize that the policy of "with Ukraine as long as it takes" has failed. From the start, it was grounded in our misunderstanding of Moscow.

History makes it clear that Russia responds to indecisiveness and weakness by raising the stakes, but when faced with strength and determination, it retreats.

The humiliating defeat of the Tsarist Russia by Japan in 1905 is one such example. More recently, In 1989, a nuclear-armed superpower—one of only two in the world—was forced to withdraw from Afghanistan after another devastating loss.

Its equally violent successor, the Russian Federation, has claimed victory in every conflict it initiated since, with the consequences all too obvious.

We, in the Free World, can no longer afford to be willfully gaslit by Moscow's lies. The stakes are too high, not just for Ukraine but for every democratic nation.

Our moral and historical obligation extends beyond thoughts and prayers; it demands decisive action. We owe this to the generations before us, and even more to those who will follow.

The time has come to end incrementalism and commit fully to Ukraine's victory, securing not a temporary ceasefire–certain to boomerang back as a yet more dangerous war–but a lasting peace for Europe and the world.

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room-surprise · 10 months ago

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do you think the lamb stew kabru mentioned could be some variation of rogan josh?

omg anon I'm so sorry, you sent this message just when my life was going completely insane (tree fell on house, living in a hotel, etc), and I wanted to answer you but I just didn't have time... So I forgot.

And then another anon (or maybe it's still you!) sent me another, similar ask!

Which reminded me that I needed to answer you-- and now them, too!!

Food is not an area of expertise for me, so I had to look up all of these dishes. I'd heard the term "gorkhali" before, and heard of rogan josh, but that's as far as my knowledge went.

Let's talk about what we know about where Kabru comes from and what foods he likes, the food culture of South Asia in the real world, and then we can discuss if any of these dishes might be Kabru's childhood lamb stew!

I've written about the real world cultural references Kui has made with Kabru's character before. Evidence that Kabru is from a fantasy version of South Asia (India/Nepal), and Where exactly in fantasy South Asia is Kabru possibly from?

Two additional data points that suggest Kabru could be from a fantasy version of South Asia are his love of tomatoes, and mutton stew being an important dish from his childhood. What does that mean?

THE CULTURAL OVERLAP BETWEEN INDIA, NEPAL AND TIBET

An important thing to note while discussing the cultures of this region is that all three modern countries have a lot of cultural overlap. So many of the foods eaten in one country are also eaten in the other two, with minor variations.

I'm attempting to generalize and speak broadly as best I can, but I am not an expert, so I apologize for any errors on my part. Sometimes finding English-language information on these topics is challenging.

The cuisine of Nepal is a mix of Nepal's own unique culture, plus the influence of its neighbors, India and Tibet.

The Nepali diet primarily consists of rice, wheat, corn, lentils coupled with fresh vegetables and meats. A typical Nepali every-day meal can be characterized by Dal (lentil soups), Bhat (steamed rice) and Tarkari (vegetables), also known as "The Trinity", supplemented by some meat.

STEW OR CURRY?

Though many people think of them as two distinct things, curries are a type of stew, so I think it's valid to look at both stews and curries when trying to identify Kabru's childhood stew.

TOMATOES IN THE CUISINE OF THE INDIAN SUBCONTINENT

Tomatoes turn up in dishes all over the Indian subcontinent, but they are not a traditional ingredient in the local cuisine. Europeans introduced New World foods like chilies, potato and tomato to the region in the 16th century, at which point they were added to the food culture, and in many cases the modern version of these recipes has completely eclipsed the traditional one, both on the Indian subcontinent and abroad.

But while potatoes and chilies were adopted almost immediately, the tomato did not catch on until centuries later, in the 1860s, and they did not become a widespread part of the local culture until the 1960s.

Because of this, the popular global idea of food from the Indian subcontinent often has tomatoes in it, while traditional recipes do not... And this is interesting because Kui tells us Kabru's favorite food is tomatoes! I'm guessing she chose tomatoes because of how common they are in modern Indian food.

Did Kui not know that tomatoes aren't a native part of the cuisine of the Indian subcontinent? It's possible her research didn't go that deep and she just assumed the modern food isn't that different from ancient food.

It's also possible that Kui knew that tomatoes aren't native to the Indian subcontinent, but that Dungeon Meshi has already experienced their version of the Colombian Exchange, because the east and west have had extensive contact with each other for (probably) thousands of years, so then the use of tomatoes in the West (where Kabru is from) would make sense, and doesn't need any further explanation.

MUTTON IN THE INDIAN SUBCONTINENT

Mutton (the term for goat, sheep or lamb meat) is the most consumed red meat in the Indian subcontinent. Goat is the most popular, most likely because it is the cheapest out of the three.

MUTTON IN NEPAL

Like in the rest of the subcontinent, mutton is very popular in Nepal. It is considered a major delicacy, and goat stew/curry is often eaten by Nepali families during important holidays, and for many Nepalis, goat stew/curry is associated with big family gatherings, similar to how Americans think of eating turkey for Thanksgiving, or ham for Easter.

Let's talk about some of the dishes anon(s) asked me about!

ROGAN JOSH

Rogan josh is an aromatic curried meat dish originating from Kashmir. It is made with red meat—traditionally mutton—and colored and flavored primarily by alkanet flower (or root) and Kashmiri chilies. It is one of the signature recipes of Kashmiri cuisine.

A number of origins/meanings of the name have been suggested, such as "stewed in ghee" or "red meat/red juice."

Its characteristic deep red color traditionally comes from dried flowers or root of Alkanna tinctoria (ratan jot) and from liberal amounts of dried, deseeded Kashmiri chilies (lal mirch).

Many modern interpretations of this dish add tomatoes to the sauce. This is especially common with ready-made pour-over cooking sauces to the point that Rogan josh is often described in the modern day as a tomato-based dish.

GORKHALI LAMB

The word Gorkhali (गोर्खाली) is historically synonymous with "Nepali," so Gorkhali lamb could also be called Nepali lamb. The name change, from Gorkhali to Nepali, occurred in the 1930s.

(In the modern day, Gorkha is usually used to refer specifically to military units in the British or Indian army that were made up of men from the North Indian/Nepal region. Starting in 1816 the British East India Company frequently recruited these men as mercenaries, and over time the Gorkhas became very distinguished as exceptional soldiers.)

I couldn't find much about Gorkhali lamb aside from recipes, most of which just echoed the same information, and many of them didn't seem to come from very authentic sources.

From what I've been able to piece together, you make Gorkhali lamb by marinating lamb meat (usually meat on the bone) and cooking it over a charcoal grill. Once it's done, you coat the grilled lamb with a sauce made with chilies and tomatoes, and serve with rice or roti.

I'm not an expert, but it seems like Gorkhali lamb isn't a stew or a curry, it's a sort of marinated, grilled lamb with a sauce. If someone knows more about Gorkhali lamb, please let me know!

Like the Rogan Josh, the addition of tomatoes is a modern invention.

THUKPA

Thukpa is the Tibetan word for any soup or stew with noodles. Thukpa can be prepared in both vegetarian and non-vegetarian variations; the most popular non-vegetarian variation includes chicken, but it is sometimes made with mutton as well.

The Nepalese version of Thukpa is predominant vegetarian, and has a spicier flavor. The protein ingredients are replaced with vegetarian alternatives such as various types of bean.

However, non-vegetarian thukpa is also enjoyed in Nepal, and egg thukpa is probably the second most popular type.

Thukpa is made like most other noodle soups. Some modern recipes include tomatoes in the soup paste, most likely a modern addition.

INDIAN MUTTON CURRIES

There's many different variations of mutton curry (Kosha mangsho, Mansa kasa, Tapelu, Rezala etc.) throughout the entire Indian subcontinent. Some recipes include tomato, some don't, and as with everything else in this post, the tomatos are a modern addition.

NEPALI MUTTON CURRY

As I said before, mutton is incredibly popular in Nepal. It's reserved for special occasions and celebrations, like Dashain, Nepal's biggest festival. There are many different types of stew and curry in Nepal that feature mutton, and mutton is a popular meat to use in momos or fried rice as well.

SO WHAT IS KABRU'S GOAT STEW?

Unfortunately we still don't have enough information to give a definitive answer.

However, I would say that thukpa and Gorkhali lamb can both be ruled out, since noodles are the core of thukpa and Kabru doesn't mention that his stew is missing noodles. Meanwhile Gorkhali lamb doesn't seem to be a proper stew.

So then what we have left is Rogan josh, and Indian or Nepali mutton curries. Based on all the little tidbits we know, I'd be inclined to assume Kabru's stew is one of these Nepali curries, since they are so iconic of Nepali cuisine and are a big part of the local culture, and that seems to match what Kui tells us in the manga - that this food is a cherished childhood memory.

I've sprinkled some links throughout this post, but you can read more about Nepali mutton curry, and other Nepali food at all of these sites:

https://nepalicooking.tripod.com/lamb.htm

https://www.buzzfeed.com/anupkaphle/here-we-goat-again

https://www.buzzfeed.com/anupkaphle/keep-calm-and-curry-on

https://www.foodpleasureandhealth.com/nepali-style-goat-pakku/

MUSHROOM POSTSCRIPT: I have seen some people get confused by the goat stew page in the manga. They think that when Kabru says "my mother used to make this stew for me" he is talking about Milsiril, the elven woman who took care of him after his birth mother was killed.

Though we do not know 100% for certain, I think this is an objectively incorrect reading of the text. I may make a more comprehensive post about this another time, but:

Kabru says he ate this stew as a child, that he hasn't had it in a long time, and that he's looking forward to having it again. He says he is relying on childhood memories in order to make the stew.

If this stew is something Milsiril made for him, why did she stop making it? Why hasn't Kabru had it in a long time? Was there a goat blight for the last 10 years? Did she stop making it to punish Kabru for wanting to leave her? This seems like important information Kui would have told us.

The much more logical assumption is that Kabru's birth mother, who died when he was 7, is the one that made lamb stew, and that's why Kabru hasn't had it in a long time, struggles to remember how to make it, and also why he's so excited to eat it.

This is in direct contrast with the elf fruit cake that Milsiril forced Kabru to eat as a child. Kabru's birth mother made him something he loves, that he is eager to eat again, while Milsiril forced him to eat elf cake so often that it has become his most disliked food.

Kabru and Ryoko Kui never refer to Milsiril as Kabru's mother, the phrase “foster parent” (養母 or 育ての親が, lit. meaning “parent who raised me” in contrast with a birth/blood parent) is used instead in both the manga itself and in the World Guide.

There are several other things like this (how Kabru talks about Milsiril) which I think makes it clear that Kabru probably doesn't call Milsiril mother willingly, and that he goes out of his way to put distance between her and himself. He doesn't hate her, but he doesn't want her to be a part of his life.

Milsiril is a wealthy noble in a society where women are equal to men. It's unlikely that she personally does much cooking, and even if she does cook as a hobby, it's unlikely that Kabru watched her butcher a goat - servants or the butcher would prepare the meat for her.

Milsiril is a fussy eater, and hates most foods. Goat tends to have a strong flavor and is sometimes gamey. I don't think she'd eat goat... Meanwhile, as I stated previously, goat is a delicacy in Nepal, so it would make perfect sense for goat to be a special treat Kabru grew up eating.

Yes, Milsiril sometimes does things she doesn't want to do because Kabru asks... But both examples we have of this, she tries to turn it into a punishment. She explicitly says she's training Kabru so that he'll give up, not because she wants him to get strong and succeed. She wants him to fail. She takes him to her family reunion to prove to Kabru that it's unpleasant, so he won't want to go again. Both times this tactic doesn't work, but she clearly states that this is her intent.

I could go on about this for hours, but this post is really about goat stew!!! But just wanted to throw that in there in case anybody is confused about who exactly cooked goat stew for Kabru.

As I said, there's always the possibility that I'm wrong, but I think the evidence is pretty overwhelming that when Kabru says "my mother cooked this for me" he isn't talking about Milsiril.

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #kabru #dunmeshi #talking mushroom #dungeon meshi research #kabru of utaya #kabru dungeon meshi #analysis #The Essay #Dungeon Meshi Research

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luneengene2 · 1 year ago

Text

Slytherin!Nicholas Headcannons (the 80s)

A/N : I made this based on my version of headcanon, so sorry if my headcannon doesn't suit readers

• He was born into a Pureblood family but of mixed ethnicity. His mother was a native British citizen who studied at Hogwarts, while his father was from a line of Chinese wizards who settled in Taiwan. His father was an alumnus of Mahoutokoro, because it was the only magic school in Asia.

• He has three sisters, namely the oldest and twins. Her older sister is Wang Xinya, and her twin sisters are Wang Liuxian and Wang Luoyang. Xinya has an English name called Ivy Wang. Meanwhile, Liuxian and Luoyang have English names called Layla and Laura.

• Nicholas chose to attend Hogwarts after his father and mother actually moved to England when he was four years old. His three sisters also preferred to study at Hogwarts compared to Mahoutokoro.

• Obsessed with Dark Arts, but he doesn't use it for anything evil.

• Good at playing Quidditch since he was little, and during his second year at Hogwarts, he joined the Slytherin Quidditch Team. He has the position of beater.

• Enter Draco Malfoy's circle which is filled with arrogant, conceited children who have strong blood supremacy.

• He hates lazy people.

• His ideal type is a girl with blonde/light brown hair, tall, Slytherin (more inclined), from the upper class (First option), quiet, smart, doesn't act annoying/pickme.

• Nicholas would often join in mocking the Golden Trio along with Draco Malfoy's circle of friends and always pointed out that Slytherin was above all else.

• Very flirtatious and often flirts with girls who are obsessed with him. And usually he wouldn't be serious with those girls.

• Once punched Ron Weasley because Ron said something bad to him.

• Likes reading books and has always been the favorite student of the defense against dark arts teacher because of his expertise in dark magic.

• His dream when he graduates is to work in the ministry in the defense sector.

• Also has songwriting skills because he often creates beautiful poetic words.

• He lives in a luxurious manor with a strong Chinese architectural style in a hidden area of London.

• Falling hard in love with Luna Lovegood, Nicholas likes her gentle and affectionate personality. Nicholas didn't want to admit it, but from the way he really didn't just like, but loved Luna. He doesn't hesitate to hit anyone who speaks badly about his Luna.

• Has the best fashion sense among the Hogwarts students.

• Once wanted to participate in the Triwizard tournament but his mother and father immediately strongly opposed it.

• He is the type of child who is obedient and always listens to what his parents say as long as it is for the good.

• Light addict Fire whiskey.

• Likes to party and often proposes a party every month for the Slytherins.

• He smokes, but is not an addict. He only smokes one or two cigarettes and that's not every day.

• Has good relations with several Ravenclaws and also Hufflepuffs. Moreover, his oldest sister and crush was a Ravenclaw.

• Has several tattoos on his body.

• The type who gets angry easily and always just punches students who irritate him. Because of this, he often got into fights with Gryffindors or even his housemates who weren't 'in line' with him.

• He often wears cross earrings, bracelets, necklaces and rings on almost every finger. He even once wore a necklace that had a moon pendant on it, because it reminded her of Luna (🤭).

• Has the smell of Baccarat perfume.

• Rarely cuts his hair, because he likes long hair.

• Very manipulative and cunning when playing Quidditch, and his tactics always result in victory. He really is a true Slytherin.

Is anyone adding another Slytherin!Nicholas headcannon here?

#&team smut #&team #&team imagines #&team hard thoughts #&team nicholas

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chaotic-archaeologist · 1 year ago

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hi internet bro, You posted Duolingo Yiddish the other day. Are you taking it as a heritage language ? Did you hear it growing up? How do you feel about studying it (in the Duo version of study)

I ask because I am curious about learning the language of my ancestors, but don't have a clear place to use it- whereas my workplace is multilingual and it would be more practical to learn the trade languages I hear every day.

but I still want to help revitalize indigenous languages and culture.

Hey there, thanks for asking!

I'm learning Yiddish because it's the language of my ancestors who fled Russian and Lithuania in the wake of pogroms at the beginning of the 20th century. When they reached American there was a great deal of pressure to assimilate.

One of my great great grandfathers was very proud of his ability to speak English without an accent, something that he associated with his success in starting a business which would later give him the ability to send my grandfather to college, making him the first person to do so. On the 1920 census, that great great grandfather's native language is listed as Jewish, which was sometimes how Yiddish was referred to.

My grandmother grew up in a house with Yiddish speaking parents. They were orthodox, but her father didn't wear a kippah outside of the house because of the pressure to assimilate. Her parents only spoke Yiddish when they didn't want their children to understand what they were saying. As a result, my grandmother never learned.

So I'm learning Yiddish for the same reason I wear a kippah, because my not-so-distant ancestors didn't feel like they could. Because it makes me feel connected to them, who and what they left behind, and the generations of Jews who have kept Yiddish alive both in Europe and diaspora communities. Certainly, it's less "practical" than learning Spanish or Chinese or Arabic or any number of other languages that are more commonly spoken.

But if we only learned languages because they're practical, what happens to the languages that don't make the cut? What happens to the languages that have been deliberately suppressed by colonialism and genocide and assimilation? There are many different reasons to learn a language; practicality is only one of them.

I'll be honest: I'm conflicted about the Duo version of Yiddish. Here's a really good article that explains the debate over the dialect of Yiddish that Duolingo chose to use for their course. The TL;DR is that Duolingo teaches Hasidic Yiddish, a popular dialect but not a universal one. Different dialects result from different communities, and there are political implications for choosing one over the others.

But Duolingo is free, and it's easy for me to spend ten minutes in the evening practicing a few words. It's not the best language learning platform by any means, but it has the language I wanted to learn and it meets my (admittedly simple) needs. After a year or so (and I'm maybe 50% of the way through the course) I find myself able to read simple texts and understand snatches of spoken Yiddish.

I'm also a member of the Yiddish Book Center, which I would totally recommend. They have lots of great resources for learning Yiddish and for interacting with Yiddish culture via literature, oral history, music, art, etc. Most of their programming is in English, and is easily accessible. There are other organizations out there doing great work to support and revitalize Yiddish, this is just the one I'm most familiar with.

(mazel) מאַזל

-Reid

#he speaks #yiddish #duolingo

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thatstheproblemwithnapkinman · 1 year ago

Text

new fic time

you can read it below the cut here on tumblr or over on ao3

I'm Stuck in this Life, and I'm Stuck in these Pants

Rating:

Not Rated

Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

Gen

Fandoms:

Batman - All Media Types

Justice League - All Media Types

Relationship:

Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne

Characters:

Bruce Wayne

Dick Grayson

Clark Kent

Justice League (DCU)

Additional Tags:

Emotional Hurt/Comfort

its crack and hurt/comfort so have fun with that

enjoy the whiplash

no beta we die like jason todd

Dick Grayson Needs a Hug

Dick Grayson Gets a Hug

Dick Grayson joins the Justice League

Hurt Dick Grayson

Dick Grayson Has Eldest Daughter Syndrome

Probably ooc

Bruce Wayne is Trying to be a Good Dad

One Shot

Language: English

Summary:

"Do you want me to join the League?" The League would assume it was an open question, but Bruce knew it was directed at him. This moment was in complete contrast to years of conversations about protecting their identities and keeping their former partnership a secret. He needed to speak up.

"You are one of the best, you deserve the right to choose." He responded, consciously keeping his voice in Batman mode.

aka Dick get chosen to join the League but before he does he has to face his inner demons

Notes:

this started as a crack fic and became hurt/comfort so be aware, it's also the longest single chapter work i have every written at 6082 which is short for some people but me and my adhd tried no beta reader obviously so any mistakes are there for good now. i did a sweep but again, it's tagged and i've warned you so no telling me i spelt something wrong or used the wrong version of there ok *points at you*

Bruce had been working with the Justice League for over a decade, taking solo heroes and turning them into a team. They knew each other's strengths and weaknesses and can bounce off of one another during combat. It took time but they truly were a single unit. He's proud of what they have accomplished.

The rest of the League weren't on the same page. Sure, they all worked well together, but then there's Batman. He kept to himself, was never on the watchtower when he wasn't needed, constantly avoided talking about himself, and looked like he hated being with them. After years of working together, everyone had revealed their identities, some by choice, some accidental. Everyone but Batman. No one in the League knew who he was. They knew very little about him, other than that he's completely human (probably) and that he's from gotham. He doesn't even let them in his city, with strict rules about them working there. something about "human rogues" and "dangerous for supers". They disagreed with the rule, but without explicit permission from him, they couldn't enter. And no one was about to argue with him.

The time had come to propose new members for the League. Everyone was allowed to submit up to one person to join, and unless there were any serious objections, they would put it to a vote and the person with the most votes would join the League, provided they wanted to of course. But no one had ever turned down their offer before, who would refuse to join the Justice League?

The majority of the League didn't put anyone forward. Barry had suggested Wally, not as a new member but as his replacement given he was looking to retire from the hero game, and given that Wally had left the Titans recently, was available. Batman had said that would be discussed separately at a second meeting as replacements were a different conversation. No one had spoken otherwise, until the nominations got around to Superman.

"I do have a nomination this year. I've worked with this person a lot and I believe they would be an excellent addition to the League. They have been in the game for almost 10 years and protect an entire city on their own. He truly is one of the best."

A chill went down his spine and Bruce suppressed a shudder. That could apply to multiple people, a lot of heroes have been around for a while. But very few were responsible for a city, and there was only one person he knew that was close with Superman.

“I nominate Nightwing for the League."

Honestly, he was surprised it took this long for Dick to get nominated. He was one of the most capable heroes out there, having worked alongside the League before as both an independent hero and as the leader of the Titans. He worked well with others, as Bruce would know given he was Robin for a decade. He trusted no one more in the world. Batman fought well with the League, but he was constantly thinking about how to work with their moves. watching himself and others, predicting what they would do so he could make sure he wasn't interfered with. But with Nightwing he could just fight. They knew exactly how the other would move, and on instinct could follow through. He knew they would both protect each other.

"...Batman?" Superman broke him out of thought

"Hn"

"Do you object?"

Having him on the team would mean he wasn't alone. He had someone there that immediately understood his plan and was much better at communicating with the others. He would be a bridge, a bridge that provided support for everyone. Bruce would also have an excuse to work with him more. He did sometimes miss the conversations they would have in the field, the snarky jabs at rouges, the smile on his face whenever he managed to make Bruce laugh.

But having Dick on the team put them at risk. It wouldn't be too hard for the League to figure out that they knew each other. They could dig and find a connection to Gotham and then to everyone else. Maybe something he'd say would cause a memory to resurface for one of them, a memory of Batman during the time when Dick wore the cowl, and they could see that Nightwing happened to disappear during that time. It was too risky.

He opened his mouth to object, but no sound came out. Dick had taught him a lot, one of which was to trust him. Dick was his own hero now, and he could weigh up the decision. He deserved the chance.

"No."

"Ok then, as no one else was nominated, that negates voting. Batman, could you give him watchtower access and request him?"

Trying to figure out how he could manage this, he got up and moved over to the console on the side. Dick had watchtower access, they all did, but he went through the process of giving it anyway, all it did was throw you a message saying they already had it, which Bruce dismissed. That was the easy part. bracing himself, he tuned into the comms.

"Oracle."

"What's up batman?" Babs always cloaked her voice, even on the bat exclusive channels, but he could still make out her speech pattern and a sliver of her accent.

"I need you to relay to Nightwing that he is requested in the watchtower."

"Y- yeah." The surprise wasn't hidden at all. "Everything ok? Do you need me to send it to anyone else?"

"No."

"Right, I'll let him know." Static on the line told Bruce that Dick was in the same room and they were discussing it. He was in Gotham that night, helping out while Bruce was with the League, and must have stopped into the watchtower. "Yeah, ok, he's on his way now."

Bruce hung up. He felt bad not thanking her but he had an image to uphold. The League all thought oracle was an AI program, and it would be weird. Not for someone like Clark, who would thank automatic doors half the time. But Batman? People would be worried.

He'd barely made it back to the table when the zeta-tube whirred to life.

"Entering, Nightwing, B-01"

"Wait, hold up, there's a B?"

"I know he isn't Titan anymore but weren't they T?"

"That was really fast, like he was expecting it..."

Bruce tuned them out and turned to face his former partner, now only a few feet away.

"So... why exactly was I requested?"

Complete confidence in his voice. If Bruce didn't know him, he would assume he was comfortable. But he could see the minor tension held in his chest, the way he rubbed his thumb along the side of his index finger, how his footsteps were almost silent to not disturb. Dick was confused, curious, and concerned.

Superman stood up. "We held nominations for a new member, and your name was put forward. We deliberated and would like to extend an invitation to join the League."

Dick stood there. He was completely still and looked in shock, and was staring directly at Bruce. They could see each other's eyes behind their dominoes thanks to the lenses in them, so he could see Dicks locked onto him, narrowed as if to ask 'what the hell is going on?'. If he hadn't opened his mouth, Bruce would've walked over to check on him.

"You are one of the best, you deserve the right to choose." He responded, consciously keeping his voice in Batman mode.

He was so proud of what Dick had become. He'd outgrown Robin, had gone far beyond what Batman could be, and had truly become the best. No matter how much he tries, it's hard to keep the affection he had out of his tone.

Dick noticed, and softened his posture. He started towards him and Bruce felt the League tense behind him. Normally he wouldn't allow anyone that close without reason, yet to them, here he was, letting this almost stranger into his personal space. Ignoring them, his eyes remained locked onto Dick until he was alongside him, forcing Bruce to turn around and face the League.

Every set of eyes was on him as Nightwing clapped him on the shoulder. The last person who'd tried anything like that had ended up with a batarang in their hand. Batman wasn't a people person and that was to be respected. The rest of the League tensed, prepared for bloodshed that would never come.

"Well, if Big Batsy over here gave me the stamp of approval, I would be insane to reject it immediately, although I am going to need some time to consider."

The majority of the room looked shell shocked as Bruce took his seat and Dick shuffled to stand behind him, resting his arms on Bruce's shoulders.

"I mean, this is a very big decision and I would at least like to discuss it with my team."

Flash spoke up. "But I thought you left the Titans? Wally said it was something about trust issues."

Dick snorted.

"Wally’s right, the endless debates about identities and how valuable they can be started to get on my nerves. If you must know, we disagreed on if I can be truly trusted without revealing my identity, so I chose to leave, along with Wally and Donna. With B over here, I assume you don't share their sentiments." He tugged on the bat ears as he spoke, a gesture he'd been doing since he was Robin, and something they both found comfort in.

The League was still in shock over how Batman was letting someone be near him, let alone play with his cowl. Bruce should've stopped him, kept up the act, but he was tired and he was happy Dick was this comfortable around him, after all the time they spent at a distance.

He sensed the rouse of working alone was coming to an end

Dick was having too much fun.

Sure, he was honoured for the invite, but messing with Bruce in front of the League was an opportunity he couldn't pass up. Of course, he wouldn't jeopardise their identities, but just getting to poke the bear would bring him so much joy. Making the Justice League lose their minds watching this random hero from Blüdhaven get close and personal with Batman and walking away unscathed was the highlight of the year, and it was clear Bruce was also enjoying it.

Well, he was tolerating it, which meant he found comfort in it and didn't growl at him.

He'd take it, after all the years they spent at each other's throats. Dick's later teenage years as both Robin and Nightwing hadn't been the most pleasant. He was a teenaged boy who'd spent every day at school and then came home to be ordered around. He needed his freedom and he'd gotten it, albeit by less than peaceful means. But after he came to terms with being fired, and had recovered from Jason's death, he'd started mending their relationship, and now they were closer than they'd ever been. So he was absolutely going to stand too close to Batman and put the League on edge.

It was even funnier given he'd met most of them before, back when he was Batman. Not that they'd know it, he made an excellent brooding, works alone, Dark Knight Batman. Even as he actively worked with Damian, Tim, Steph, and Babs. But he'd kept up the mythos, kept everything in the dark, and had seamlessly given the mantle back to Bruce once he was ready. As far as the League was concerned, he'd never been here before and was no different than the other ex-Titans.

At least, he hoped that. A hope that was crushed when Hal Jordan opened his mouth.

"Ok, but explain why you have the code B-01 for the zeta tube? The Titans were under T, and as far as I am aware, no one was under B."

This is where the real fun begins.

"Yeah, I've asked B the same thing, but he said it was due to clearance issues, that T had restrictions and I needed to be separate from that. I'm honestly surprised he didn't just throw me in with you guys, make me like 3-6 or something, but he's paranoid and didn't want to risk anyone finding it so..."

This seemed to confuse him more.

"What kind of clearance?"

Dick walked around the side to lean against Bruce, folding his arms and crossing his right leg behind his left.

"Oh, y'know, being able to use the Gotham tubes."

He feigned innocence, knowing the storm that would erupt from those few words. And indeed it did, as shouts echoed around the room in disbelief that someone other than Batman can enter Gotham.

After a few minutes of this, Dick saw something click in Superman's head. Dick had worked with Clark a lot, and had been inspired to take the name Nightwing from him. Clark was the only member of the League that knew Batman had a Robin, although he'd never personally met anyone besides Dick and probably assumed Batman worked alone now. He also knew Clark hadn't pieced together that Nightwing was that Robin, which was surprising given he took his name from a Kryptonian myth that Clark had told him once. But we see what we want to see and as far as everyone was concerned up until this moment, Batman and Nightwing didn't know each other.

But Clark had seen it. He'd seen Robin tug on Batman's cowl. He'd seen how Robin was the only one Batman allowed to get near him. He'd seen Robin's eyes light up telling him the story of Nightwing and Flamebird. Nightwing was Robin. An older, stronger, all-round better fighter and strategist, but still the same little shit he'd always been. The Man of Steel had finally figured it out.

"Robin?"

Silence fell and everyone turned to face Superman.

"Who?" Barry tilted his head like a dog, a move that almost caused Dick to snort at.

"You know, Robin. Batman and Robin? He used to have a 12 year old kid dressed like a traffic light follow him around everywhere..?"

Nothing.

"Wait, did no one else meet Robin?" all eyes remained locked onto him.

Breaking the silence, Diana, who had been quietly watching this unfold, made her way over and stood next to Batman with tension throughout her body.

"Batman-"

"Hold up, Nightwing still hasn't explained anything, like how he can enter Gotham, and who is this team he has if he isn't a Titan anymore?"

Dick unfolded his arms and placed his hand on Bruce’s shoulder. He gave a subtle squeeze, asking if he could explain. After a second, Bruce shrugged, the signal for yes.

"When I was 9, B took me in and trained me. He taught me how to fight, but he also showed me how to be a detective. Once he knew I could handle myself and be an asset, he let me go out with him. I chose the name Robin and to wear bright colours. We worked together for a decade before I outgrew being his sidekick and became Nightwing, operating solo in Blüdhaven or with the Titans."

"I thought Robin died..." Superman looked straight at Dick, locking eyes with him as if his mask wasn’t there.

This startled the two of them. Maybe Clark knew more than they thought. Bruce shifted under his hand, letting him know he was there. This was still a tough subject for them both, given how their current standing with Jason was.

“Well, I’m clearly not dead so… Don’t know what to tell you, Supes.”

Clark furrowed his brows and looked down. The journalist was clearly unsatisfied with that response yet chose to let it go. The rest of the League shuffled around, obviously uncomfortable with the latest development. Dick took that as his cue.

“Welp, with that revelation I shall leave and ponder your offer. Good morrow fair Justice League.” Tipping his head into an incredibly dramatic bow and sweeping his arms out, he turned on his heel and headed for the Zeta Tube. He’d had his fun but the mention of Jason had brought him back to reality and he wanted to leave. A nice, long, warm shower awaited him at home.

Pondering was hard. Dick discovered this as he sat in his shower, the water falling on his face. After making his way back to his apartment in Blüdhaven, he’d climbed out of his suit and straight into the shower as his thoughts finally hit him.

Holy shit, he’d been invited to join the League.

He knew he’d been a vigilante for longer than most of the members, save for Batman, Superman, and Captain Marvel. But that still didn’t diminish that fact he was chosen to join THE superhero team.

Dick loved being on a team. He was a leader by nature but he also liked bouncing ideas between people. He knew he wouldn’t be in a leadership position but he wouldn’t be seen as less. He would be an equal and that was all he needed. Besides, he would be working with Bruce, someone that knew his abilities and just how useful he could be.

“Oh. Ok, that need for approval will be promptly filed away in the ‘things to bring up in therapy’ folder,” he mumbled to himself. He’d been working on his people pleasing tendencies and desperate need to prove himself and be more, yet clearly not enough. Wally called it his ‘eldest daughter syndrome’ and he couldn’t really disagree. He did put the weight of the world on his shoulders sometimes. But this was why he needed a team, people who he could rely on when needed. People who could help remove some of that weight. People he could trust. The trust issues that came with being a bat never really go away, huh.

He stood up, turning the shower off, and wrapped himself in a towel. There was no point in thinking about it any further. His answer was obvious. He opened the bathroom door and made his way into the main room, where Batman was waiting for him.

“You are so lucky I put a towel on.”

Bruce grunted. Dick rolled his eyes in response.

“Seriously, I could’ve walked out with nothing on and that would have been traumatising to both of us. Imagine me having to explain to everyone why you can’t look at me, how embarrassing that would be.”

“Hn. I came to congratulate you.” Dick couldn’t stop the smile that crept onto his lips at that.

“Thanks B. I'm still a little shocked if I’m being honest. I know I’m not an unknown vigilante, but not only being noticed, but getting nominated and accepted is a big deal.”

Bruce stepped closer, pulling his cowl down and placing his hand on Dick’s shoulder. Dick looked down at the ground, sheepish in the face of actual affection.

“Dick, you have been doing this for longer than almost everyone. You’ve helped save the world countless times and been a beacon of light and hope. Not only to the rest of the world but to me too.”

His head snapped up and he met Bruce’s eyes. After a second it was Bruce that looked down at the floor.

“I know I haven’t always been the best, firing you and acting the way I did after Jason… But you have made me proud, Dick, never forget that.”

Almost without thinking, Dick wrapped his arms around Bruce. Since he’d become Nightwing, they hadn’t been very affectionate with each other. They never really were but when he lived at the manor, when he was Robin, he would find comfort in Bruce’s arms after a bad night on patrol or after he woke from a nightmare. This was one of the few moments of vulnerability they shared and Dick knew to let himself fall into it. He felt pressure on his back, and he was enveloped in the embrace. He didn’t want to let go but knew Bruce wouldn’t if he kept hold. He almost didn’t, wanting to keep this moment going, but Batman had important work to do tonight. Gotham wouldn’t stay quiet for long.

As if the powers of the universe were listening, beeping echoed from the cowl and the two separated. Bruce grabbed the comm and listened to whatever was going down, before turning to Dick.

“Don’t feel like you must rush this. I trust your judgement and know whatever you decide will be the right choice.” He moved back towards Dick before hesitating. Dick wasn’t sure what he wanted, but after a few seconds, he found his hair being ruffled. Just like when he was Robin.

The pressure left and with a breeze, Batman was gone. Dick debated throwing his suit on and going to help, but he’d had a long day and needed the sleep. He would catch up with Bruce in the morning, after filing ‘Wanting the feelings he had as Robin’ to his therapy list.

“Has he decided yet?”

Bruce was glad his eyes were covered, otherwise the Flash would’ve seen a very un-Batman-like eyeroll. Wally was settling into the team well after Barry departed a few days prior, but he was clearly impatiently waiting for his best friend to arrive. That is, if Dick chose to join the team at all. It had been a week with no hint of a choice. Bruce didn’t want to push him, this was a big decision, but he also wanted to get the rest of the League to stop asking him. It was as if they were children, poking him and asking ‘are we there yet?’

“He has not, and I will not push him for a response.”

“But he said he would think about it, surely a week is long enough.” Wally paced back and forth as if he was trying to solve a complex math problem.

“I am aware of that, but it is a big decision.”

“UGH I’m gonna call him, see if I can get him to choose.” He sped over to the tubes, punching in the coordinates for what Bruce assumed was Central City.

“Recognised, Flash, 0-7.”

“Stupid tower and it’s lack of phone signal. How hard is it to install cell service up here…” His voice fading away as he travelled off the tower, finally giving Bruce room to breathe.

It was his turn for monitor duty, which he was supposed to do with Green Arrow, but had let Oliver off for the night, due to a gala he needed to attend. He himself was supposed to be there but unfortunately Bruce Wayne had come down with a nasty case of the flu and so wouldn’t be attending. The was partly true, Bruce had caught the flu and was suffering because of it, but no one would notice if Batman was quieter than usual.

The silence he was enjoying was promptly broken by the Zeta Tube announcing the arrival of Clark.

“Entering, Superman, 0-1”

“Hey Batman, how’s the case going?” “Hn.”

“Good good. Don’t worry, I’m just here to pick up something before heading back to work. You’ll be left to your silence again soon.”

Bruce turned back to his files as Clark moved around the Watchtower. Of course, he wasn’t working on the file, but rather keeping track of where Clark was in the room. He was awful at keeping his emotions off his face, and Bruce knew he wanted something. No doubt it was Zeta access to Gotham for the night. Clark was covering the gala for the Planet and even with his speed, it would be quicker to go straight there instead of via Metropolis. He knew Clark was getting closer to him as he moved around, and finally, when he gathered the courage to stand right behind Bruce, did he turn around to face him.

“What do you want, Kal?”

“Well, I wanted to ask if I could have access to the Gotham tubes, just for tonight while I’m working there.” “You can just fly across the bay from Metropolis.”

“I- Yes I can but I would rather no one know Superman was around Gotham, and I believe you do too.”

Bruce sighed, his patented ‘Tired Dad Batman’ sigh as Dick labelled it after he managed to elicit the sigh on many occasions. Clark was right, he definitely didn’t want anyone thinking Superman was operating in Gotham on a night where Batman wasn’t. It would send the wrong impression and risk the exposure of the other Bats.

“Hn. Fine. You can have one time access to the Tube nearest the Museum.” Bruce got up and made his way to the console.

“Oh, wow, err, thanks.” Clark stammered out as he followed. He started to put in the access code and was almost done when the tube roared into life, the screen showing the connection coming from the Batcave. Both men turned to face the tube as a human outline started to appear. Bruce let a small smile creep onto his face as the announcement was made.

“Entering, Nightwing, 3-6.”

Dick stepped through onto the Watchtower and was immediately greeted by Bruce and Clark. He threw his iconic grin onto his face and threw his arms out

“Whoops, didn’t realise you guys were using the tube. Sorry about that.”

Clark tilted his head slightly, as Barry had when he’d been invited. Guess it was a midwestern thing. Bruce, however, just turned back to the console as he spoke.

“I see you had Oracle reassign you.” “I figured you were busy.”

“Yes.”

Dick snorted and made his way past Clark, who followed him with his eyes.

“Wait, Nightwing?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you number 3-6? We don’t have that many members so you should be a lower designation.”

Dick kept the smile on his face.

“Inside joke, and when Oracle is the one giving me access, I couldn’t not ask.”

Clark looked as if he wanted to pry deeper, but that was cut off by Bruce.

“Superman, you will arrive about three blocks from the museum. I assume you can find your way from there.”

Clark turned back to the tube and nodded.

“Recognised, Superman, 0-1.”

Then he was gone.

Dick turned to Bruce, and was met with a smile.

“Wally just left. He went to call you.”

“Oh, well I guess I’ll just call him back later. I didn’t come to see him.” Dick shrugged.

“Did you need something, or did you just want to test your new designation?”

“Ha, both. But I knew you were up here and working on the Fear Toxin case and came to offer help. That and tell you my decision. I figured it was pretty obvious I would accept.”

“I wasn’t so sure.” Dick frowned at Bruce. “You’ve just left your team, one you lead, to join one with people that don’t exactly trust you.”

“Hey, they don’t trust you either. Now there’s two of us.” Dick tried to deflect but after almost 20 years, Bruce knew to ignore this.

“I was unsure if you’d want to join a team so soon, let alone one where people already are weary of you. My reputation is something I’ve built but now people know you and I have been working together for a long time. The tension has been higher in the past week. I’m yet to be called out, though I suspect people will attempt to gather information from you on the incorrect assumption that would be easier. I wanted to leave the decision to you, but was tempted to inform you of how it has been in case that would change your mind. I don’t regret offering you a place on the team. If I’m being transparent, I would enjoy having you here, someone I can trust without any hesitation. But I want you to make sure it’s right.”

Dick inhaled sharply. Bruce had thought about this, and was actually being open with him. Since their meeting in his apartment, Dick had thought about it a lot. He’d jumped between joining and not, missing being part of a team but worried about how it would affect him and Bruce. When Wally had told him he’d be replacing Barry as the Flash, including joining the League, Dick had the only serious doubt about it. Not because he didn’t want to be on a team with Wally, he was his best friend. He just didn’t want it becoming another Titans debacle, where he was incredibly close to Wally and Donna, but everyone else questioned him because he hadn’t revealed his identity.

That hurt. Being a bat meant wearing a mask and protecting your identity for the sake of everyone else. If even one of them was unmasked, it wouldn’t be too hard to figure out the rest. So he never did. He couldn’t risk any of them. He couldn’t risk his family. And in protecting one, he lost another. The Titans slowly withdrew from him, getting more and more combative, and it resulted in a disaster of a mission.

What should’ve been a simple rescue after an earthquake ended up with Dick having to call in Superman to help. His plan had been solid but everyone other than Donna and Wally had abandoned it in a sort of coup. What they hadn’t planned, however, was exactly how the building they were operating around would collapse. Dick had studied the building’s structural integrity using blueprints and footage of the earthquake, and had constructed his plan to evacuate at the right speed and in the right order to minimise extra strain on the weakened foundations. This required to start from the central part of each floor and work outwards, maintaining the balance of the building. This ensured it wouldn’t crumble under the weight down one side. He’d been in the process of explaining this when the team had run off and started rescuing whoever they could access first, which altered the building’s centre of gravity as they shifted piles of rubble, and caused a complete collapse.

Dick had called Clark immediately, a vulnerable moment where he’d screamed for Superman out of pure fear, who’d helped in recovering the bodies of those that didn’t make it, and after arriving back at Titans Tower, Dick had packed up his stuff and left. He’d dropped his bag at his apartment before going out on his bike. He hadn’t paid attention to where he was driving and the next thing he knew, he was outside the gates to the Manor. Driven there on instinct. He hadn’t gone in, just sat outside for longer than he should’ve, before driving back to Blüdhaven and beating the shit out of some corrupt cops, something that was incredibly cathartic. But part of him regretted not going up to the door and asking if he could stay a while. He missed having people around, and being alone in his apartment didn’t help with his thoughts. He knew it wasn’t his fault the team didn’t listen to him. He did everything he could. But people had died on his watch, and he’d called for help instead of handling it by himself. He was a leader and he’d let everybody down.

A cough brought him back and he looked up to see Bruce had made his way over and placed his hand on Dicks shoulder. He’d missed it during his spiral, and Bruce had noticed. He could see his eyes through the cowl, new lenses that polarised for each other but no one else, and they were full of concern. Dick hadn’t spiralled like that in front of Bruce for a while and it was clear he was worried.

“I- I’m just thinking about the last mission I had with the Titans. Maybe it was time for me to leave leading behind me.”

“Dick,” Bruce brushed the hair that had fallen onto his face behind his ear. “We can’t always win. Sometimes we try our hardest and we lose. But we have to move on. I know this is hypocritical coming from me, but that’s why we have each other. Me, you, Robin, the Batgirls, everyone else. I know how much it hurts, I know the pain and anger and fear you feel inside. I felt it when you got shot, I felt it when Jason died, and I feel it every time one of you gets injured. But we are there to support each other and keep ourselves from getting lost in that pain. You taught me that. So I’m here to support you, and anyone else here will say the same thing.”

He coughed back his tears. Bruce knew what he was doing but made no move to get closer. That would be on Dicks terms.

“I want to be in the League, but I’m scared of messing up again.”

“You didn’t mess up. Clark told me what happened, how your team ignored your plan and acted in a way that caused the collapse. You then called for help when you knew you couldn’t do anything more. That’s why we are here, to help when needed.” Bruce sighed, but this time it wasn’t out of annoyance for Dick, but annoyance for myself. “I know I trained you to be the best. I know you put so much pressure on yourself to save everyone. To be there for everyone. And I know that is my fault. But you are not capable of saving everyone. No one is. Not me, not Wonder Woman, and not even Superman. That’s why the League has so many members with different strengths. Our strengths fill holes in others weaknesses. You would do that. You’re a natural leader who sees the best in everyone. You have an ability to light up the space and make people feel comfortable. You are one of the smartest people on the planet and could take over the world if you tried. Which, please don’t try to take over the world.”

Dick let out a sob as he laughed.

“I don’t plan on it yet, but if I do I’ll make sure to give you a few minutes' notice before I begin.”

Both men let themselves be vulnerable for a minute, holding each other and laughing. If the other Leaguers had been there, they would’ve lost it at the sight of Batman acting like… a person. The League probably believe all the rumours that Batman is a local cryptid, or maybe they prefer the vampire story. He’ll be able to find out, probably from people asking him about it.

Dick pulled himself back from Bruce and looked back up at him. They’d both been crying, but they both needed it. They’d both learned to be vulnerable sometimes, even if progress was slow. Bruce put his hand back onto Dicks shoulder, steadying himself. They moved apart and he straightened himself out.

“I’ll be okay, B. Besides, the moment someone else walks into the room, I’ll be all happy again.”

“Dick.” Bruce tried to grumble but he could hear the compassion that lay underneath.

“Ugh, fine, I will deal with it, Mr Hypocritical.”

Bruce smiled at that, knowing how this discussion would go if it continued. Dick knew it too, and soon they were standing next to each other, staring out the window at Earth.

He bumped Bruce, who bumped him back. It felt so calm, the two of them together. Not as Batman and Robin, but as Bruce and Dick. Father figure and first son. Two decades of fighting together, training together, learning together. He was going to have a lot of fun working with him again, this time as individuals.

But more than that, he was looking forward to playing the League. He was ready to ruin them, to make them doubt themselves. He wanted to see how far he could go before Batman would step in, and knowing Bruce, it would be pretty far.

He was going to be ok.

Notes:

i hope you didn't hate that, it was a brain worm that bounced around in my head for weeks and i'm glad i was finally able to get it out oh, and the inside joke is that 3-6 is the date dick debuted in the comics, March 6th 1940, so for the non-us americans it would be 6-3 but they are american so... the title is a lyric from inertia by ajr, which i listened to whilst writing this (specifically the acoustic version) it's so good and can be found on youtube or spotify

#dick grayson #nightwing #bruce wayne #batman #justice league #fanfiction #fanfic #dc comics #probably ooc

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