#I mean the scarecrow went off but that was pretty much expected

[gotham-response]

[wearykatie]

The Journey Into the Wild Beyond

Chapter 2: Hither (Part 1)

On arrival in Prismeer, the party is dumped in Hither, one of three lands divided by thick layers of fog that make travel between them extremely difficult. This was an alien world to the player characters, and it’s my first chance to really dive into Feywild things.

Down the Rabbit Hole

I had to separate Elora from the party for this part to one, resolve the nightmare she rolled in the previous chapter, and two, to introduce a character. 

Let’s get to the nightmare first. In it, Elora is back home with her sister, Ana’leth. Ana keeps looking through Elora’s room for something Elora lost but doesn’t say what it is. It’s then she notices an ominous wardrobe at the back of the room that doesn’t belong. When Ana approaches it, it opens and four skeletal hands grab her and pull her inside. 

When Elora wakes, she’s greeted by a blue harengon (a type of rabbit folk in D&D) by the name of Alice. 

You won’t find Alice in The Wild Beyond the Witchlight because she’s a character I made specifically for this campaign. The book does provide guides who can take the party between the different lands of Prismeer but they’re a little weird. There’s a scarecrow, an oilcan, and a dandelion (meant to reference the Scarecrow, Tin Man, and Cowardly Lion from The Wizard of Oz). They aren’t so much guides as plot devices, they’re easy to miss if the party doesn’t go to specific areas, and I wasn’t thrilled with using a scarecrow described as being brought to life when the one of the hags imbued it with the “tormented soul” of a child.

So I exchanged three Wizard of Oz references for an Alice In Wonderland reference. Alice was enigmatic at first. Clearly knew more than she was letting on, seemed a bit mischievous, and had very vague abilities. I wanted her to be somewhat like the Cheshire Cat. She gave Elora a set of rules to play with. 

Rules are made to be bent, not broken. 

A promise made is a promise kept.

The price is in the paying, not the sum. 

The intended meaning of these would be found out later, but the first means there are no concrete rules to how things in Prismeer work unless you’re really testing the limits of that, and then you will get pushback. The second means that making a promise is equal to keeping it, if you promise someone something, it’s expected you’ll follow through. The third means that in rules of trade, as long as you’re offering something, you’re paying - monetary value doesn’t matter. 

This was kind of my replacement for the Rules of Conduct in the book which are rules Zybilna set in place and apparently enforces with some pretty twisted punishment. Like binding a thief’s scarf to his neck and then hanging him from a tree as tall as a skyscraper in undying agony for eternity. 

We will get to my Zybilna rewrites. 

Alice offered this advice, then led Elora to the rest of the party and promptly vanished into thin air. We’ll see more of her later.

The party soon found more harengons! Brigands working under the aforementioned guy who was hanged from a tree, Agdon Longscarf. The party talked and intimidated their way out of a fight and sent the brigands packing. That’s fine, there are other encounters out there.

The First and Last Random Encounter

I love random encounter tables. 

I hate running random encounters. 

My dislike comes from preparing random encounters, balancing enemies, setting up maps, and doing tons of preparation just on the off chance that maybe the party runs into that particular thing. Well, they did this time. Mud mephits. Combat went well, but it was slow as every 5e combat is, and it usually boils down to just shouting numbers at each other. 

That’s my biggest criticism with 5th edition - and yes internet, I’m aware that other games exist. Believe me, everyone who has ever dared mention D&D on the internet has been inundated with replies about how this other system is way better and far less problematic and we should really stop playing D&D because there are better games out there if we just give them a chance. I KNOW. But my 41 year old brain knows 5th edition, likes 5th edition, and isn’t likely to pick up on a new game that easily. 

What was I saying? Oh yeah, combat in D&D sucks. And I think that’s partly a scaling issue, because the more players and enemies you have the more rounds you have, and there’s not a lot of room for roleplaying while you’re trying to figure out how many d6s to roll.

But that encounter had Elora pouring an alchemy jug full of salt water onto the mud mephits to see what would happen. Because alchemist. Hmm…idea brewing. 

Early to Rise

Chapter 2 was also when Early’s player was finally able to join the game. I caught her up beforehand by running through an abbreviated version of Chapter 1 from Early’s perspective in a way that would fit with the events the rest of the party went through, but let the two stories happen in parallel without Early meeting the others until Chapter 2. No retcons for me. 

Yet. 

Early also went through the mirror portal but ended up several feet in the air. She used Featherfall to save herself, but ended up stuck in a tree dangling only inches off the ground but unable to break free. She doesn’t know how long she was like that - could be minutes, could be years. She’s the one with no sense of time. 

The party freed her, and she fit right in after they learned she was from the Magewood Academy too and was on the same quest. 

Shortly after, wells all around Hither began to erupt like geysers and the swamp-like terrain started to flood. Luckily for the party, a mobile inn happened to pass by. Oh, that’s pretty cool. What does this thing look like? How does it move about? 

*checks the book*

It’s a building that moves around on legs in the middle of a swamp. 

Wild Beyond the Witchlight writers, I know y’all read stories, you reference quite a few. Did you deliberately make an inn that would evoke images of Baba Yaga? 

So I described that horror show and somehow the players trusted that enough to get a decent night’s rest at the inn while they waited for the flood waters to recede. The innkeeper, Tsu, is an elderly druid who wants to see Zybilna return to power. 

During this downtime, Elora finally read her letter. It confirmed her worst fears - Ana had died on a mission to Falcon Hollow. This confused the players because that was an arc in Royal Flush. Ana was captured, her old teacher helped them rescue her, and everyone made it out alive. That was a couple of weeks ago in game time. Well, clearly the letter was mistaken. But, that was out of character knowledge. In character, everyone found out that Elora’s sister had just died. 

Fun Wacky Adventure Time In the Feywild! Also, Dead Siblings

Okay, so this was going to be a tough balancing act both for me and for the players. One party member is a teenager dealing with a very personal loss and she’s meant to carry on and have zany adventures and save a whole other realm. She should be curled up in a ball and crying for the rest of the game. How do you navigate around that?

Well, with friends. She’s got four friends to check on her and help her power through - one of them is a cleric with a unique perspective on death. But also, the show must go on, and K knew that, so they played Elora as kind of putting off her grief until the job was done. 

The party also got a delivery while at the inn - a gift from Titania, the Summer Queen. See, they helped one of her knights early on in Hither, and she rewarded them with a tiny acorn house. By speaking her name, they would be shrunk down and transported inside where they could take a long rest anywhere. This was an item I found in Through the Veil: Treasures of the Feywild, a book of fey-themed items recommended by a friend.

And hey, it meant I didn’t have to roll for random encounters during long rests. 

Rhin also had a dream during the night. In it, she’s witnessing a funeral she saw in her youth. A widower offered prayers to the earth to accept their beloved. Rhin also saw an elven woman dressed all in black sitting on a bench beckoning her to sit with her. The woman pointed out various other funerals happening and the ways the people conducted the ceremonies. Some were sad, some joyous, some angry, some religious. 

The woman said there was beauty in all things, even death. A skilled artist could work with the colors of death and mourning. She encouraged Rhin to recover what she lost, and as she walked away, Rhin saw that the woman’s cloak was made of raven feathers.

I’ve used dreams twice in this chapter to convey things. I know people have mixed feelings on that as a writing tool, but the nature of the things that were taken from the player characters is very personal - something they couldn’t really get clues to from other people. So, when Rhin found out her missing thing was in Hither, she got a dream or vision from the goddess of death telling her to meditate on what was missing and find it. 

Each player character would experience one or more of these dreams, and some of them delve into light horror. I really wanted the missing things to be large parts of the story that drove the player characters forward and redefined them when they got them back. 

But, that’s enough for one part. Next time, more chapter 2, more harengons, some frogs, and the first hag.

[takato1993]

What i Watched in February

getting ahead of things and going to write these as i go

this time around while i did watch a lot on Tubi there were also a lot of movies that were on TV this month specifically on the channel MoviesTV.

Dog Soldiers 8/10

definitely one of my top 10 werewolf movies

The Exorcist III 6/10

I don't know why this movie is more Zodiac Killer investigation than Exorcism but it is surprisingly strange and fun.

Heathers 5/10

i am going to be honest I did not really understand Heathers or why so many people like it so much, but i would like to.

The Initiation 5/10

Trollhunter 7/10

a fun mockumentary about a film crew that end up following a real life Trollhunter and learn how very real trolls are. I enjoyed this one a lot and i really like the troll designs.

Bless The Child 5/10

Abnormal Attraction 5/10

Trigun: Badlands Rumble 6/10

I have been meaning to watch this for 10 years and with the release of the new Trigun series the timing seemed right. I think this is just an okay addition to the series but I appreciate the aesthetic and even that it showed a legitimate flaw in Vash's philosophy

Dark Night of The Scarecrow 2 4/10

this is a cash grab and nowhere near as amazing as the original

Knightriders 5/10

about a small group of traveling performers essentially a renaissance fair but where the jousts are performed on motorcycles and the weapons are recklessly close to real weapons. this movie is very philosophical, absolutely says ACAB, and well it's knights on motorcycles so it has a lot going for it

if I could compare this movie to anything I would call it a modern Don Quixote

at over two and a half hours with characters that are pretty unlikable for a lot of the film it is a commitment

but the character growth fuels a satisfying last 20 minutes

Body bags 7/10

if someone told me this was connected to the Tales from the Crypt i would believe them. The first story is a bit weak the other two are very solid, and the host segments *chefs kiss.

Hollywood Chainsaw Hookers 6/10

A Comedy of horrors Volume 1 8/10

another top tier horror anthology, this one has a more manic comedic vibe. this one has a grand total of four stories instead of the traditional 3 stories and it gets a lot out of them, the first 3 are the strongest with story 4 being the weakest

and once again the host segments are very fun and will not disappoint.

I really hope theres a volume 2. Walmart seems to be selling both movies together but as Volume 2 does not exist and the rating for that item is terrible i think some people are getting ripped off big time.

Wake Wood 6/10

This one is about a family who loses their daughter and finds a way to bring her back from the dead temporarily but things go very wrong. CW: scary and intense scene with dog

Tag 5/10

a very bloody and surreal Japanese horror film. to be honest i kind of liked where it was going before the more surreal twist started. but If you like a very surreal film don't pass on this one.

Duel 6/10

A man finds himself at the mercy of a murderous trucker determined to run him off the road and kill him. I went in expecting to be disinterested in this plotline but as the movie picked up pace I began to find it very compelling.

the way the Trucker without ever being seen or speaking makes it clear that he is in control and things are going to go by his rules is brilliant this he is after this guy but he is only going to kill him with his truck and only while the man is in his car never on foot but he won't let him stop to call the police or get comfortable either.

the tension, the dread its so evil and i appreciate it so much. but don't worry too much the protagonists journey of personal growth is equally impressive but no spoilers here.

High Tension 6/10

Mothers Day 4/10

Motherly 5/10

Dagon 7/10

A lot of people say the H.P Lovecraft stories have no good movie adaptations. but most of the ones I have seen have gorgeous practical effects and this is probably one of the best examples alongside From Beyond, The Unnamable, The Curse, and Reanimator

if you want a nice spooky story about a fish people cult and some sort of eldritch abomination this is for you

The Lost Empire 3/10

the name, time period it was released, and the cover/poster would have you believe this was one of the many 1980s Sword and Sorcery movies.

it is not its a very low budget action movie about secret agents stopping some sort of cult. this movie is mostly about the large breasts and skimpy costumes and even there this movie is limited.

Communion 5/10

This is probably the second very psychological alien themed movie where it is revealed that the reason the aliens look the way they do is because they are wearing some sort of spacesuit that hides their actual bodies.

I also found the acting in this one to be very good and Christopher Walkens characters was very fun to watch.

The War of The Gargantuas 5/10

this was a rewatch but my first time really giving the movie a fair shot. I learned that the same people that work on the Godzilla movies also worked on this and i must say it shows the effects were enjoyable, the ( lyricless) music was good, and I think most of the people who worked on it enjoyed themselves which matters a lot

I will say I think they should have kept the name they called the monsters in the Japanese version: Frankenstein

it's not a perfect fit but it would have been a very funny choice.

The Leopard Man 3/10

I don't want people to think i cannot appreciate subtlety, atmosphere, good filmography, and acting this movie has all of that however what it barely has is a leopard and what it definitely doesn't have is a leopard man and the story is unsatisfying

Mortuary 4/10

TBH I don't know how this movie got on my to watch list it is not my usual type of horror movie. nothing wrong with cults and murderers and it probably deserves a rewatch when i am more awake but I was not very impressed.

It's Alive 6/10 (1974

Theres probably a few movies out there about killer mutant babies but this one really leans into it thematically. CW- animal death

the Birdcage 5/10

always nice to see a Robin Williams movie I haven't seen before it was funny enough but the ending feels very sudden.

i Frankenstein N/A

I remember not being impressed with this movie and I am not fully willing to backtrack on that as the acting, dialogue, story, and use of CG are all pretty bad

and having gargoyle characters that look fully human is also kind of baffling, why did they pull a Supernatural they had a big movie budget.

But the exaggerated gothic architecture, sense of fun, and general badassness of this movie make it worth a watch after all. I think this movie wants to be like Castlevania so badly and it should have leaned into it more, or more like Van Helsing would also have worked

Puss In Boots: The Last Wish 10/10

I was probably one of the last people that desperately wanted to watch this movie to watch this movie and my first viewing I was a half hour late in a movie theater with a blurry dark screen and static coming through the speakers uncomfortable seats at the top of a hill so steep I was afraid my car was not going to make it all the way up.

and even on that viewing I had to say it was one of the best animated movies I have seen and definitely the best animated movie so far in 2023

also anybody else notice that Shrek started with Allstar by Smash Mouth and the series is essentially ending with an actual star very poetic symmetry? I know there is going to be a Shrek 5 and maybe some other stuff but i feel like Puss in Boots 2 wrapped up the series in a very important way that doesn't mean that Shrek 5 cannot be a companion in doing the same.

I think we are past wearing out animated movie series with cashgrab sequels constantly. I really feel like genuine passion was revived for Puss in Boots 2 and nothing should take that away.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Knight in Shining Red Armor | Dante + Child!Reader (DMC 4)

A/N: Hey so this is a rewrite of one of my first (and only) DMC fic from like...2016. This takes place post-DMC 4

You can read the og one on my DeviantArt! But if you're here for the new one then I hope ya'll enjoy!

Summary: Child!Reader was taken under Dante's wing after being saved from a demon invasion, but even years later he hesitates to tell them what he truly is, fearing they'll resent him for his demonic heritage.

............

"Hey, um..Dante?"

"What's up, kiddo?" The red-clad devil hunter asked, though he wasn't completely paying attention to you. Rather he was sitting at his desk, feet kicked up as he was flipping through a magazine.

Meanwhile you were roaming around the shop, stopping only to gaze at the massive curved sword with glowing gems hanging on the wall behind him. He mentioned claiming many weapons--"Devil Arms" as they were called--from defeated demons, but you were curious about their names.

"Just wondering..what's that sword behind you called?"

"The Sparda. It sealed the barrier between the Underworld and human world. Nero went through hell and back, quite literally, to return it to me, so don't even think about touching......it?"

Dante put the magazine down as he turned to see you holding the Sparda in your small hands. You smiled triumphantly, but stumbled a bit before the blade accidentally slammed into the wooden floor, making you wince.

"Oops."

Yet your little act amused him, as he chuckled and shook his head. "You're a little too young to go devil-hunting, I'm afraid. But maybe one day you will."

"And maybe you can help pay off Dante's debt, too." Trish lightly joked as she entered the room, taking the giant sword from you and putting it back on the wall.

Her words were responded by a groan from the male, who went back to reading.

"Whatcha reading?"

Dante slowly lowered the magazine to see you sitting on his desk, but he just snapped it shut and tossed it into the trash, out of your line of sight. "Nothing that eyes like yours gotta see."

"Okay....ooooooh, what's this briefcase?" Hopping off the desk, you ran over to Pandora and crouched down to poke the skull emblem.

"Pandora. That baby can turn into six hundred and sixty six different weapons, but...right now we only have access to seven." Now he was feeling like an exhausted teacher on a museum trip, trying to explain each exhibit to his hyper first graders--the exhibits being his Devil Arms.

Yet as you ran around asking him about more of them, he couldn't help but see his childhood-self reflected in you. Just full of energy and never-ending curiosity and optimism.

Yeah..he definitely saw the resemblance.

Eventually you decided to leave him be and dash off to your room.

And only then did Dante drop his smile, sighing as he put both feet back on the ground. He ran a hand through his hair before dragging it down the side of his face tiredly.

"You know..you'll have to tell them eventually." Trish reminded.

"How, though? That kid's afraid of all demons..hybrids or not. I'm pretty sure saying "oh by the way the guy who rescued you is actually half-demon" is gonna send 'em running, and...I can't risk that." He shook his head, gazing at the jukebox in the corner.

"But I think [y/n]'s old enough to comprehend the concept of not all demons being evil," Lady chimed in after overhearing the conversation. "Just give it to them straight and I'm sure they'll understand."

As much as Dante wanted to argue, he saw that she had a valid point. But he still worried...

How would you react?

It's been a few years since he saved you from a Mega Scarecrow, though it turned out that more demons invaded your neighborhood, slaughtering everyone you knew and loved. And as he took you back to the shop to patch you up, he could see the terror in your eyes, any traces of innocence long gone.

No child should have gone through such a tragedy.

A tragedy that he was all-too familiar with.

After the defeat of the Savior, things have been looking up. You've regained your happiness as you lived in Devil May Cry and learned of Dante's tales of devil hunting, though the memories of that horrible night never truly left you alone.

Along with that, just seeing a demon is enough to make you run and hide, and you were terrified when you first met Nero and saw his demonic arm.

From that incident alone, Dante became extremely reluctant to tell you of his own demonic heritage.

He just didn't know if he's only hurting you more by keeping it hidden..

...............

Later that night, you were plagued by yet another nightmare. Different demons, same neighborhood...same deaths of your loved ones.

But in this one Dante got hurt, too. And you tried so hard to be brave for him, even shouting in the demon's face...but in the end you failed as it snatched you away, dragging you into the darkness of the Underworld before he could reach you.

Although you calmed down since awakening, you wanted to be sure he was alright.

So with what little moonlight shone in the shop's darkness, you located the worn sofa where Dante laid. He was engrossed in some TV program, though after sensing your presence his eyes flickered to you.

No words had to be exchanged in order for him to see what was wrong, as he sat up and patted the spot beside him. You smiled in relief and climbed onto the sofa, snuggling into his side as he wrapped an arm around you. "Th-Thanks, Dante."

"No prob. So uh..another nightmare, I guess?"

"Yeah, but..they hurt you, too and...I-I tried staying brave. I shouted at them to leave you alone and..they didn't listen. But...I think one of them looked scared of me."

"Wow." He raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Gotta say I'm impressed."

"Really?"

"Absolutely. Y'know demons are used to seeing kids scream and cry, not take a stand against them. Plus that's pretty epic of you to defend me, so thanks." With a smile, he ruffled your hair.

"You're welcome," you giggled a bit. "But..I really just wanna be as brave as you. I mean...Nero says you laugh at giant demons and tease them all the time. How do you do that without being scared?"

"Well..it comes with the business. Getting them riled up just makes the fight more fun. At least for me. You might think I'm crazy but if ya decide to hunt demons one day...you'll see what I mean."

"But until then, could I watch you fight one? Like a big bad one?"

"......."

"Dante?"

"..kid, there's a reason I never took you on any missions." Dante sighed, swallowing back the growing lump in his throat as he carefully planned his next words. "And how I always...bounce back from getting smacked by a demon tail. No human would be able to withstand that without some broken bones."

"Oh?" You tilted your head. "Then..how can you if you're human?"

"....because I'm not fully human."

As much as he wanted to shut up, he decided to tell you the truth once and for all, not sugarcoating anything:

He explained how his parents were a demon and human--a forbidden romance which resulted in himself and Virgil being born. His bloodline allowed them to blend in with humans, exercise their demonic abilities in battle, and even tap into their true demon forms.

All the while you listened silently, with not much emotion on your face. So it was hard for him to tell what you were probably thinking in this moment.

It scared him.

"...and that's it." He sighed, closing his eyes and looking away from you. "So go ahead and hate me if you want. I won't blame you for-"

"Can you show me?"

Dante blinked stupidly as he swung his head back towards you, wondering if he heard you right.

"I...wish you told me before, but I don't wanna be scared of demons anymore." You smiled a tiny bit as you elaborated. "Especially not one who helped me. So...can I see your other form?"

"...a-alright. Just...if you get scared I can turn back instantly, so don't freak."

"I won't."

He had doubts you'll keep your word, but he got up and activated his Devil Trigger form. As he opened his eyes, you gasped upon seeing how much they were glowing--being orange rather than blue. Red electric sparks danced around his metallic body as he observed you close, anticipating your reaction. He expected you to scream or cry.

Yet..there was only curiosity and wonder in your eyes.

"Scared yet?" He asked in his distorted voice, crouching down in front of you.

Not even the way he spoke startled you, as you just shook your head. "I was wrong all along..not all demons are bad."

"Not even this one?"

"Nope. You look awesome..like a knight in shiny red armor."

"...wow..I um...." For once, the talkative devil hunter was at loss for words. But when you learned forward to hug him around the neck, he was completely shocked.

Earlier in the day he thought of countless worse-case scenarios, and yet...the best-case was happening right now.

You were accepting him, hugging him even.

He couldn't believe it.

Dante smiled as he wrapped his arms around you, making sure his armor spikes didn't hurt you. "Thanks, kid. It really means a lot that you're not terrified anymore........[y/n]?" He was concerned about your lack of response, before realizing you were dozing off.

'Damn..I might make a pretty good dad, after all..' He mused, standing up and making the trek back to your bedroom. Then he set you down and tucked you in, relief and warmth in his heart.

He had a feeling that your nightmares won't be so bad anymore. Now he felt like he could truly protect you.

Why?

Because he was gonna be your knight in shining red armor.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"Jeez, man. Quit clanking around shit and---AH!!! WHAT THE FUCK?!!"

"Shhhh! Chill out, Nero. You'll wake 'em." Dante was quick to shift back to his human form once he was outside your room, glaring at his nephew. "Why are you so freaked out? This ain't the first time you've seen my devil form."

"But still..why in the middle of the night?! Thought we had company."

"...just go back to bed, kid."

"Don't call me kid!"

[plaidbooks]

Autumn Leaves

A/N: Autumn prompts are an excuse for me to write stupidly cute fluff, so that’s what I did. This is a Sonny Carisi x reader fic that covers the Autumn square in @adarafaelbarba​ moodboard bingo!

P.S. second-cousins are children of cousins

Tags: none, just fluff

Words: 1872

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart​  @beccabarba​  @thatesqcrush​ @itsjustmyfantasyroom​ @permanentlydizzy​ @ben-c-group-therapy​  @infiniteoddball​ @glowingmess​ @whimsicallymad​ @lv7867​ @storiesofsvu​ @cycat4077​ @alwaysachorusgirl​  @glimmerglittergirl​ @joanofarkansass​ @caracalwithchips​ @berniesilvas​​  @reading--mermaid​  @averyhotchner​  @mrsrafaelbarba​ @detective-giggles​ @crowleysqueenofhell​ @dreamlover31​

“My family is insane, especially the kids,” Sonny explained while he drove you to Staten Island. “They don’t know how to sit and eat food without screaming.”

You chuckled, "it's fine, Carisi, I promise; I'm kind of used to this type of stuff already."

“What? You are? You don’t even know what’s awaitin’ ya, yet,” he replied, scoffing.

While in the precinct, you overheard Sonny on the phone with his ma. He seemed upset and perpetually tired when he hung up. When you asked him what was wrong, he told you that his ma was basically guilt-tripping him into visiting on Saturday, to help with the Autumn Feast his family partook in. And when you asked why that was so bad, he complained that no matter what they cooked, the kids of the Carisi Clan would hardly sit still long enough to eat, and would scream and cry if it wasn’t something they wanted.

“It just…it’s a handful…and not my ideal day off, even if I do get to see my family,” Sonny finished

You had nodded in sympathy before offering to go with him; you had a pretty big family with a lot of kids, too. Plus, you could never turn down Sonny’s amazing cooking, and now, you were getting a chance to taste his mom’s.

He had picked you up that morning, and now, you were on your way to Staten Island, Sonny warning you the whole way. You laughed and shrugged it off, but he kept giving you a look like you’ll see what I mean.

 ********************

He pulled up to his childhood home, and your eyes sparkled at the state of the townhouse. Not only was the building itself quaint and adorable, but there were decorations everywhere. And not just Halloween, but general autumn décor, as well. There were wreaths made with leaves of reds and oranges and yellows, there were scarecrows against the walls, there were fake pumpkins on every step leading to the house. And looming over the house from out back were two enormous trees, their branches almost completely bare, the leaves scattered on the roof, the front yard, and the back.

Sonny led you up the stairs to the front door, opening it for you. The first thing to assault your senses was the cacophony of noise. Children screaming in delight as they ran through the house, chatter and laughter from the various rooms as people talked. There was a tv on somewhere, with what sounded like a sports or news reporter blathering on and on.

The second thing you noticed was the wonderful smells. Your mouth was almost instantly watering as you caught the smell of garlic, potatoes, some sort of roast cooking with assorted spices, as well as cinnamon, sugar, and apples. It was so much at once; it was hard to differentiate.

But the third thing you felt was a type of warmth that comes only from a loving home. It bloomed in your chest, and you found yourself smiling as you stepped over the threshold, Sonny following and closing the door. It reminded you of the holidays at your own family’s place, and a calm washed over you.

In all of the chaos, Mama Carisi must’ve heard the door open and close, because she stuck her head out of the kitchen. Once her eyes latched onto Sonny’s, her smile grew to blinding proportions.

“Sonny, my little bambino! Come see your ma,” she cooed, arms open as she came out of the kitchen fully.

Sonny scooted passed you and hurried to his mother, wrapping her in a tight hug and kissing her cheek. You smiled at the reunion, and Mama Carisi opened her eyes to find you.

“And who is this?” she asked, releasing her son and coming over to you.

Sonny followed, looking more relaxed than you had ever seen him; getting a hug from your ma did that to a person. “Ah, this is my partner in the department,” he explained, introducing you.

You went to shake her hand, but Mama Carisi wrapped you up in a huge hug, kissing your cheek and whispering, “it’s nice to meet you. Welcome to my home,” into your ear.

“Thank you for having me,” you replied, easily melting into her embrace—okay, maybe it wasn’t just hugging your own mom that relaxed a person; maybe it was hugging Mama Carisi.

She pulled back to give you a look, a warm smile on her face. “Anyone who’s a friend of Sonny’s is welcome here.”

The next hour was a flurry of meeting family member after family member. Even with your detective skills, you quickly forgot most names, and your cheeks started to hurt from smiling. You and Sonny had started in the kitchen before he shuttled you through the house and out to the backyard.

“And these are all my cousins and second cousins; I’m not gonna bother introducing ya, since they won’t pay attention,” Sonny said, chuckling.

You didn’t blame him; there was a gaggle of children running and playing in the backyard. The oldest looked maybe ten, the youngest around four or five.

“Are these the ones that give you such problems?” you asked as a joke. It’s true that they were loud and crazy—as most kids are.

Sonny smirked, nodding. “Sure are. Watch; I bet ya twenty dollars that at least half of them will complain about dinner.”

“You got yourself a deal,” you replied, shaking his hand. Then, you scanned the expansive backyard. Leaves were covering the ground so completely that you could hardly see the lawn; kids were slipping on them all over the place. In the back, left corner stood an apple tree, bare of fruit—you assumed they’d already been harvested. And opposite the tree sat a little toolshed.

Grinning, you made your way through the throng of people and screaming children until you reached the shed. You opened the door and leaning just inside were two rakes: one huge one, and one medium sized. You grabbed the bigger of the two, then went to a small section of the backyard that somehow had no kids.

You glanced over and saw Sonny giving you a weird look, wondering what you were doing. Then, you started raking the leaves. You didn’t expect to get very far—the first pile rarely did. But there were so many leaves that you quickly had a pile up to your hip. As soon as one kid noticed, though, it was on.

The pile was quickly demolished as child after child flung themselves into it, screaming with laughter. But you had already moved on, starting another pile where they had just vacated. This one got a little bigger than the last, since they were distracted with the first pile. But once it was seen, it, too, became a new playground.

As you started on the third pile, another rake joined you. You glanced over and Sonny was there, smiling wide as he helped you rake. This pile got to be huge before little bodies flung themselves into it.

You quickly lost track of time, had no idea how many piles you had built only to be destroyed. But that was the point of the piles in the first place. Soon enough, the children started to become too tired, their little legs worn out. Your own arms were burning, but it was a good burn, and you continued until the piles started to outnumber the children.

By the time dinner was announced, there was not a single child running and playing anymore. They were scattered along the ground, panting, and smiling at each other with a job well done. Their parents all either ushered them to one of the various tables, or simply handed them a plate. Sonny, as well as the rest of his family, watched in stunned fascination as the children ate, too tired to complain or throw a fit about what they were given.

“How the hell did you do that?” Sonny asked in a hushed voice.

You chuckled. “I told you I had experience with this; you’re not the only one with a big family. And besides, no child has ever turned down the opportunity of crunching leaves.”

He gave you a look full of awe before he broke into a wide grin. Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and grabbed a $20. You huffed out a laugh as he handed it to you, and you tucked it away.

Mama Carisi walked up then, looking at everyone enjoying her hard work in the kitchen. “You’re a miracle worker, dear,” she said to you before looking at Sonny, “please tell me you’re keeping her?”

Sonny’s ears turned a bright pink. “Ma!”

“What? She’s helpful, knows how to play with children, and is a beautiful, young woman—”

“Ma! Stop talking, please!” Sonny whined. You felt a heat in your cheeks as Sonny avoided looking directly at you. It wasn’t like you never thought about dating Sonny; on the contrary, you found him incredibly attractive. But you were partners; there was a line there that you didn’t know if you could cross.

Mama Carisi scoffed before walking off, leaving you and Sonny to stand awkwardly next to each other. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye before he turned and went into the now mostly empty house. You gave a sweeping look at the party guests before following him in.

You found him standing in his old living room, idly looking at childhood pictures on the wall. You watched him for a moment before you moved closer, within arm’s reach.

“I’m…sorry about ma,” he muttered, eyes still focused on the pictures. “She keeps trying to hook me up with any woman around my age and just…I’m sorry.”

You gave him a soft smile that he didn’t see. “It’s okay, Sonny, really. I don’t think anything less of you or anything. We’re partners, and damn good ones, if I do say so myself.”

“Yeah, but…what if I don’t want to be just partners?” he asked, voice soft.

You froze; what did he say? Sonny slowly turned to look at you, saw the shock on your face. Then he was shaking his head, quickly saying, “look, forget I said anything—”

You cut him off with a gentle kiss, your lips soft against his. He let out a little gasp of surprise before he was kissing you back. One hand came up to your face, cupping your cheek, while the other went to your hip. You slowly wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him closer to you. You felt that line that defined you as partners only start to fade away as your mouths moved against each other.

Gently, you pulled away from him, just enough to look deeply into those blue eyes you loved so much. “Maybe I don’t want to be just partners, either,” you said softly.

Sonny grinned, his thumb rubbing your cheek tenderly. “Can I take you out to dinner tomorrow, then?”

“Sounds like a date,” you replied, smiling up at him. His grin broadened before he dipped his head, kissing away any fears or doubts you had about this.

[analviel]

Reading Tim Drake's tv tropes. My favourite parts I guess:

Despite the setback of Jason Todd's unpopularity and the killing-off that came along with it, Denny O'Neil was not convinced to give up on the character of Robin. Thus, Tim Drake was born, and this time, the writers were careful to make him much less similar to Dick.

>10-Minute Retirement: After his father learns that he is Robin and forbids him from continuing by threatening to expose Bruce Tim retires and adjusts quickly and happily back into civilian life even ignoring Bruce’s cruel Batman Gambit of putting his girlfriend in the suit and unfairly firing her after she broke a single rule in order to save his life. Tim does end up back in the suit after things in Gotham go rapidly downhill and the city needs him. He eventually even gains his father’s support and pride with the intervention of his stepmother though his dad would still prefer him to be safely off the streets.

We love Dana.

This one-

Action Hero: A highly trained martial artist who uses those skills to achieve his goals. During Battle for the Cowl Jason even admits that in a close quarters fight he has an advantage on Tim in reach, weight and strength but that without Jason having prior prep time Tim didn't he'd be outclassed in a straight fight due to Tim's training and fast thinking.

-is ironic, because we usually expect it to be the other way around. I mean, I respect this but I honestly would still put Jason>Tim in writing fics *shrug*.

Amazon Chaser: Picks this trope up in Red Robin. He fails to stop a fight between his new ally, Pru, and the new Batgirl, Stephanie Brown, because he's too busy gawping at how much better Steph has gotten at fighting (and how good she looks in her costume). Both of these things very much work for him.

Laughing at this😂😂😂😂. Gawping, Tim. Good to see Tim getting distracted with swooning.

Animal-Themed Superbeing: In 2019 he adopted the codename of Drake, explicitly named after the bird. Which means his new name is apparently inspired by... male ducks? At the end of Young Justice (2019), he quickly drops it and goes back to just being Robin.

Anti-Hero: Slips into this as he gets older, using a modified version of Scarecrow’s fears gas to take down rioting gang members and other things which make Stephanie uncomfortable and lead to Dick being able to talk her into spying on him.

Ascended Fanboy: He was a massive fan of the original Dynamic Duo.

YESSSS.

Atrocious Alias: During the Young Justice’s jaunt through the multiverse, Tim defeats his Earth-3 counterpart and takes his costume and name, becoming “Drake”. At the end of issue 18, Tim’s back to being Robin with everyone telling him what a terrible name it was. The team was even planning an intervention but Batman beat them to it.

Atrocious.

Badass Bookworm: In a very Batman-like vein, he devotes his free time to developing electronic gadgets for crime-fighting purposes, when he's not actively trying to clone his dead friends back to life. He's been established as being way less agile than Dick Grayson, and Batgirl can wipe the floor with him (a single time when he managed to beat her is largely considered Fanon Discontinuity, and has since been explained away in canon as her being severely handicapped by the serum which was causing her to fight him in the first place), but he's still pretty awesome and can beat Killer Croc while having the flu.

Badass Cape: One of the alterations he made to the Robin costume was to make the outer side of the cape black and make the cape longer with modifications that allowed it to act as a glider or quickly detach and wrap around whatever is touching it making it a good temporary restraint for anyone trying to grab Tim by his cape. He then went for a completely black glider cape as Red Robin.

Betrayal Insurance: Like his mentor he has a set list of plans for dealing with a number of his allies but they are mostly those whom he is not close to or have already made repeated attempts on his life.

Big Brother Worship: Tim Drake completely adores Dick Grayson.

AWWWWWW~

Black Sheep: Didn't feature much in Batfamily stories during the New 52 era, being more closely tied to the Teen Titans. The one character he was closest to was Jason, whose series Red Hood and the Outlaws was written by the same writer.

Oooh, Black Sheep. Or Red Sheeps, as is the case.

Bumbling Sidekick: Deliberately averted. After the death of Jason Todd, writers like Denny O'Neil knew they had to come up with a damn good reason why Batman would take on another Kid Sidekick. Making him a hindrance to Batman in any way was shot down because of this.

A damn good reason, alright.

Cain and Abel: Both Jason and Damian have tried to kill him a number of times making him the Abel to their Cain(s). Jason has come very close to succeeding.

Characterization Marches On: About a decade or so after his creation, it's common for Tim to be portrayed as a slightly neurotic neat freak but he started out as just an average boy with a messy room who stays up all night with dorm mates to watch baseball and play video games. Of course things have happened in his life since then.

Drastic change in routines being coping mechanism (to basically excuse fail writing but besides the point) are one of my favourite things.

The Chessmaster: How he defeated Ra's Al Ghul. It was such a victory that Tim himself earned the title, "Detective", a title that had been bestowed to Bruce, and Dick (just prior to taking on the mantle). Goes to show you how much the boy matured once Bruce Wayne... left.

More people should remember Dick also being Detective.

Coming-of-Age Story: Tim goes from an idealistic kid hoping to prompt his heroes into helping one another to a seasoned crimefighter.

Consummate Liar: As a result of having to lie to everyone about his identity and activities for years he becomes a very good liar with the ability to control his heartbeat like Batman and Nightwing. When his father caught him in a lie and managed to discover that he was Robin Tim's inner monologue revealed that he had intentionally been less careful than usual as he was sick of lying to his dad but didn’t want to go against Bruce’s request of hiding being Robin so he just started to be more careless with things which might reveal his secret to his father.

Um? Okay, THIS, this I didn't know.

Dating Catwoman: Tim Drake has UST with: Spoiler, one that started when she hit him in the face with a brick, Darla "Warlock's Daughter," one of his classmates who was brought back from the dead to kill Robin wants to date Tim, Evil!Cassandra Cain when she was Brainwashed and Crazy tied for this angle, and, appropriately, both of the gangleaders named Lynx, the latter of whom tackled him out of a window, started kissing him in mid-air, and trusted in him to actually stop their fall with a grappling hook while she's massaging his tonsils with her tongue. Sometimes, there's an advantage to being the Dogged Nice Guy, though Cass and Darla both horrified him and he wasn't at all interested in reciprocating their advances.

I- 'trusted in him to actually stop their fall with a grappling hook while she's massaging his tonsils with her tongue'.

Dating What Daddy Hates: When Stephanie and Tim start dating Bruce disapproves as he thinks it encourages her to continue acting as Spoiler, Cluemaster disapproves when he finds out since it means his daughter is dating a hero, and even Jack has something to say about Tim dating a girl who is the daughter of a supervillain and has had a child already. Tim and Steph don't care.

No they don't and i love them for that.

Deadpan Snarker: Both in and out of costume, like when letting Cass know his retirement hasn’t cost him his Awesomeness by Analysis:

Tim: Tell Batman I didn’t get a lobotomy, just because I went out of the teenage detective business.

Batgirl: He said you’d figure it out. You still… impress him.

Tim: You bet. I’m Mister Remarkable. I even do balloon animals.

Also, the Appearances section would be a handy reading list. Not exactly something you'd recommend to new fans, but it even mentioned Tim's appearance in Blue Beetle and I'd personally read unconnected comics to see Tim, especially his interactions and relationship with others.

Anyways, this has gotten long enough. If you haven't yet, go read it.

I'm gonna add this:

Deus Angst Machina: To lose one parent, Mr. Drake, may be regarded as misfortune; to lose four...

Okay, this is the last, I promise:

When Jason decided the best reaction to the accidental Breaking Speech Bruce left for Jason in his video will was to become a murderous reinvention of Batman wielding guns after he and Tim had started to develop the bare beginnings of a brotherly relationship Tim grabs the Idiot Ball with both hands and allows himself to be caught by Jason in Jason’s booby trapped hideout giving Jason all the prep time and getting stabbed in the chest for his troubles. When he wakes and realizes Jason had left him for dead after Tim reflexively slowed his pulse enough to appear not to have one he is really disappointed in Jason and himself.

Super, super last:

Good Is Not Soft: He won't kill you but he may leave you to die after giving you a warning to get out of a collapsing lair on your own.

[justasimplesinner]

This can take as many decades as you want, but if I don't put in the suggestion I will explode and that's just a mess. How would Arkham Riddler and Scarecrow deal with an s/o that seems to be on the brink of a break because "I can't watch you destroy yourself again" regarding their mania towards Batman. Again, take all the time you need and you are wonderful.

prompts like this are exactly what i live for

Arkham!Riddler's s/o breaking hcs:

Edward was very... determined to prove his point. he always was, determined and stubborn and doing everything to show that he was right. and ever since Batman outsmarted him for the first time, ruined his plans of releasing all the dirty information on everyone important in the city, his obsession with the hero started. he took it as a challenge, and Edward Nigma doesn't lose

you knew the truth though. it didn't take a skilled psychologist to tell that, despite putting all his efforts into what he did, despite gloating about being the smartest man in Gotham, despite bragging how he could defeat Batman every time he came up with a new plan, you knew that in reality... he wanted to lose. he wanted to lose because... what if he won and nobody believed it? again? and that's why he left riddles everywhere, that's why he always gave Batman a chance to win (or to 'cheat' in his eyes). and it was ruining him. every time he lost, it took away another part of his sanity, but he was never meant to win. maybe he wouldn't ever admit it, not even to himself, but he knew that Edward Nigma didn't win, and never will win and it killed him from the inside

you were there with him before he was The Riddler and you stayed by his side even as he turned to a life of crime because you fucking loved that idiot but... that wasn't enough. every time, he was getting worse and worse, living with him was getting worse and worse and unconsciously, you realized that being with him only ruined you. that you - the only person who ever truly loved and supported him - didn't deserve to be pushed away in favor of him making fucking race tracks for Batman because he couldn't accept the fact that someone matched wits with him. you didn't deserve his insults and his toxic nature, you didn't deserve to be called an useles fucking idiot only for him to be begging at your door weeks later after he got his ass handed to him and needed someone to patch him up because one day... you wouldn't be there. one day, there would be no one to help him stand back up from his knees, there would be no one that even gave a fuck about him. because you couldn't watch him destroy himself since it also destroyed you

Edward always feared in the back of his mind that you would leave him one day, but he never did anything to prevent it. he never improved. he only lost himself further into that spiraling pit of insanity, and it was getting harder and harder to reassure him that "he'll get Batman next time", to help his broken bones and mind mend, to be there for him. he was taking everything from you and you had nothing in return, not even his love. or at least he didn't give you any reason to think otherwise. because it started looking like he just got used to having you around and it didn't matter if he loved you or not, he knew that no matter what happened, you would always take him back in. like you were his last resort. you helped him once and now he used you for that every single time

worst thing is, if (or when) you actually leave him after telling him all this, he'll act like he never needed you in the first place. it doesn't matter that he hasn't slept for a week or eaten for even longer, it doesn't matter that the guilt and longing for you are quite literally killing him from the inside, making his chest hurt so bad he once suspected he had an actual heart attack, it doesn't matter that he can't even take care of himself and he's spiraled further down into his obsession to fill the void you left behind, he will act like you were a good riddance and force himself to believe it so he doesn't hurt anymore. he can't just go back to living alone again, not when you've been there with him for the most of his life, not when you showed him what love and kindness looked like, but he'd rather lie to himself than admit defeat, admit that he was wrong and that you deserved way better and that he really should've treated you like a fucking deity instead of acting like his father. his disorted, ruined mind couldn't accept the idea of him being the actual reason for why you left, instead telling himself that everyone was just fake and fucking two-faced and he never should've trusted you in the first place, that it was his miscalculation that will never happen again

don't expect him to leave you alone though. it doesn't matter what he tells himself because all of it is a lie, and he can't simply let you go. he will torment you, but not to the point of actually hurting you, he wouldn't ever use you as bait in his traps, even now, but he will absolutely bother you. he will call, force you to pick up, he'll talk to you like you were worth nothing, but he will talk to you. he will even come uninvited to your house and act smug about it despite his heart racing at the mere scent of you and your house filling his lungs. he won't get over you. i don't think he can get over you, so - while continuously lying to himself about his own motives - he won't leave you alone and he'll do everything to have some sort of contact with you because... you were the last bit of his sanity left. you were the only thing grounding him to reality, the only reason why he wasn't dead yet while also the reason he was constantly dying inside

Arkham!Scarecrow's s/o breaking hcs:

remember when i said Edward was determined to prove his point? Jonathan's only meaning of life was proving his point. he would do everything to prove that he's right, to show the world the true power of fear, the true power he possessed. Jon, despite his insecurities, really has an ego, it's just not as prominent as Ed's, he's more "subtle" about it. but he's married to his job and he'll do everything to fulfill his destiny, do what he was put on this earth to do

despite him being a workaholic, life with him wasn't so bad. despite having to see him get dragged off to Arkham and helping him whenever he got injured by the Bat, Jonathan was reallly doting. he treated you well. quite honestly, you were the apple of his eye. he never deemed himself worthy of your love but the fact that you still decided to bless him with it made him cherish every moment spent together with you. he was always affectionate, spoiling with his smooth, affectionate words, spending as much time together with you as he could without tangling you into his work. but after the Croc accident... he changed

Jonathan was left a broken man by Waylon, both physically and mentally. it's not that he stopped loving you, it's just that he didn't understand why you were still with him. some days, he had his moments of clarity, where he realized just how much you must've loved him to have stayed by his side even after all this time, after everything that happened, but they happened pretty scarcely. Jon wasn't the same person anymore. he told you he loved you but you didn't feel it anymore. he spiraled more into his obsession with fear, with bringing Batman to his knees. he started distancing himself from you because he didn't want you fussing over him. he didn't want to feel like he was useless. he didn't want to feel like he needed help - yours or otherwise. the rehabilitation process was a nightmare. he wasn't cooperating at all, he treated you with coldness you never knew from him just because he didn't want to feel so dependent on you. you tried to understand but jeopardizing his own health was too much

his new plan was supposed to be his apotheosis, his greatest masterpiece. he couldn't allow himself any distractions, and you were a distraction. he started neglecting both you and himself and his health in favor of making his plans come to fruition and bringing Gotham city to it's knees. it wasn't just a scientific research, it was an obsession. he was obsessed, and it was ruining him. his body was a ruin and his mind was becoming one and you couldn't just watch him destroy himself because of his goal. you didn't accept the "whatever it takes" excuse. but it's not like you had any power over him. it's not like he came to you anymore. it's not like he ever thanked you for what you did, for how you helped him. it's not like he still loved you at this point

saying he got distant was a huge understatement. you didn't see him at all, whenever you did he dismissed you, you don't remember the last time he even truly looked at you. he wasn't there anymore. you went to bed and woke up alone everyday, without a clue where he was, what he was doing or if he hadn't accidentally worked himself to death. the only thing that mattered to him now was his research, his plan to spread terror, to unmask Batman and show the world that there was no hope, there was no fighting fear. you always knew Jon's research went in the first place and you accepted it, you never expected him to throw away his life's work for you. but you never expected him to throw you away for his life's work either. it was by some miracle that you even managed to meet him in person, because you thought he deserved to hear the truth from you. but when you told him you were leaving him, all he responded with was "good", all he said was making up some bullshi excuses that it was better for you two to go your separate ways, that you had different goals in life, different needs, that suddenly, after all this time, you weren't "compatible". and in that moment, it didn't matter if he was lying or not, if that was his reaction, if he really didn't care about you anymore, you weren't going to wait for him to come back to his senses

the thing was... he did care. maybe at first he genuinely thought it was better if you two were separate, but he... felt your absence. funny, since you were absent almost all the time because he practically hid away from you. but now, you were really gone. this time, he was alone with the realization that there was nobody to come home to (as if he ever came home). he was a selfish hypocrite, but he really started missing you, missing the knowledge that there was someone out there waiting for him. someone who cared about him. he constantly pushed you away but now that you were actually gone he regretted it, and he knew how absolutely stupid and disgusting it was of him. he swore to himself he would never bother you again, but that didn't mean you weren't bothering his mind. that didn't mean he stopped thinking about you, and how he sabotaged his own relationship, his own happiness. that didn't mean he didn't wish for at least one more chance to talk to you, to at least apologize for everything, thank you for everything. he won't ever do it, of course, he won't ever force you to look at his scarred face again unless it's on the fucking news, but... he wishes he could. even if just to see you that one last time

[longitudinalwaveme]

DC Comics’ Portrayal of Mental Illness

 As you can probably ascertain from the general contents of this blog, I am a huge fan of DC comics (and, more specifically, of the Flash). I am also a psychology major who is on the autism spectrum and has struggled with Social Anxiety Disorder and Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. As such, I have a...complicated relationship with comic books that discuss mental illness. 

Of course, of all the comics that deal with mental illness, Batman is undoubtedly the most prominent, and, as such, is the easiest target for criticism. The more a comic book talks about mental illness, the more opportunities it has to get stuff wrong. Since there are literally thousands of Batman comics out there and I don’t have the time to research them all, I will be using a 2001 Batman guidebook to give you a few examples of the things that it gets wrong about mental health (and psychology in general). 

To start, let’s talk about Arkham Asylum. Not only is its name anachronistic (virtually no mental heath facilities are called asylums anymore), but its depiction usually is as well: even a psychiatric hospital that doubled as a penal facility probably would not be located in an old Gothic-looking building that looks like it came straight out of a horror movie. It’s also worth noting that Arkham Asylum didn’t exist in the Batman mythos prior to 1974, and that originally, Two-Face and the Joker were the only two villains who went there. Prior to that point, everyone, even the Joker, just went to prison when they were caught (which, as we shall see, is actually probably more accurate for everyone except maaaybe modern Two-Face and the Mad Hatter). My suspicion is that it was introduced to capitalize on the popularity of the 1962 novel (and, once it was released, the 1975 movie) One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, which was about a psychiatric institution, but there were probably other factors involved, such as the popularity of works by H.P. Lovecraft (which is where the name Arkham came from). Whatever the reason, though, Arkham Asylum is really only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the misrepresentation of mental illness and mental health in Batman fiction. 

The introduction of Arkham Asylum led, increasingly, to the idea that all Batman villains were mentally ill, which, in turn, led to some...um....very inaccurate portrayals and depictions of what mental illness is and how it works. 

For example, the 2001 guidebook I am using incorrectly describes the Joker as “certifiably psychotic”. He’s not. While there are individual exceptions (we are talking about comic books, after all), in most appearances, the Joker is not psychotic. He has no apparent hallucinations and does not seem to display signs of delusions, either. He is not out of touch with reality in any meaningful way, he’s just horrifically violent. Describing him as “certifiably psychopathic” would have been much more appropriate (although you can’t technically diagnose someone with psychopathy; the condition he would be diagnosed with would be Antisocial Personality Disorder). 

In the same book, Two-Face is described as “schizoid” and “schizophrenic”, both of which are not even remotely correct. What the modern Two-Face is supposed to suffer from is Dissociative Identity Disorder (what used to be called Multiple Personality Disorder), although it’s not always portrayed terribly accurately. Schizoid Personality Disorder is not DID, and it’s not Schizophrenia, either; it’s a personality disorder characterized by a lack of interest in social relationships-basically people who are extreme loners. Similarly, Schizophrenia is not DID. While it is hypothetically possible for the two conditions to be comorbid, they are not at all the same thing. Schizophrenia is a psychotic disorder characterized by delusions and hallucinations, which Two-Face almost never displays in fiction. DID is a dissociative disorder. Most people with DID do not experience delusions or hallucinations; their condition is typified by the presence of more than one personality and is thought to usually only occur as a reaction to severe childhood trauma. (Credit where credit is due: modern Two-Face is correctly shown as having experienced trauma as a child.) The fact that the term schizophrenia literally translates into “split mind” is probably the source of some of this confusion, but with schizophrenia, the split is between the mind and reality, not between the mind and itself. 

Also from this guidebook, the Riddler is, confusingly, described as having “an obsessive-compulsive desire for attention”, which, from a psychological perspective, is pretty much nonsense. Desire for attention is one thing; obsessive-compulsive disorder is another. The “obsessions” in OCD refer to intrusive, recurring thoughts, not to something that a person strongly desires and spends a lot of time pursuing. Additionally, the Riddler is described as “pondering the unsolvable riddle of his own psychosis”, which is not accurate. The Riddler consistently displays signs of Narcissistic Personality Disorder, and less consistently displays signs of OCD, but neither one of these conditions is a psychotic disorder, as neither involves hallucinations or delusions. When the Riddler says he’s not psychotic, and that he’s perfectly sane, he’s completely right on both counts. He’s never displayed any evidence of a break from reality, so he’s not psychotic, and he’s almost always aware that what he’s doing is a crime, so he’s not insane, either. In fact, with the possible exceptions of the Mad Hatter, Man-Bat, and Two-Face, none of the Batman villains are insane, since they are all aware that what they’re doing is illegal when they do it. 

What makes the earlier mistakes in this particular guidebook even more mystifying to me is the fact that their description of Scarecrow, and, more impressively yet, Scarecrow’s fear toxin, is pretty much accurate. They don’t call him psychotic or label him with conditions he doesn’t have and they accurately identify his on-again off-again phobia of bats (Chiropteraphobia). It also describes his fear gas thusly: “a toxic mix of adreno-cortical secretions and strong hallucinogens...it prompts neuromuscular spasms, cardiac arrhythmia, and panic attacks”. This is an astonishingly accurate description of what his fear toxin would need to be made of and what it does to his victims’ bodies. I don’t know who wrote this section, but they deserve some serious credit for doing their homework! (It makes no sense to put the Scarecrow in Arkham. Not only is he neither psychotic nor insane, but putting an evil ex-psychologist in a psychiatric institution is a REALLY bad idea, as he has the know-how to easily manipulate both the doctors and the patients.) 

Also from the 2001 Guidebook: The Ventriloquist is described as having multiple personalities, and is NOT described as schizophrenic or schizoid. While the term Multiple Personality Disorder is no longer used by psychologists for diagnosis, it is at least describing the same condition as DID. Modern Firefly is described as a pyromaniac; this is accurate from what I know of the character. Mr. Zsasz is described as a “sociopath”; again, this is mostly accurate. 

I also decided to use a few other DC guidebooks and see if there were any other egregious mistakes: 

2015 Guidebook:

 Haha, “Lenny Snart”. (That has nothing to do with mental illness, I just thought it was funny.) 

 Dr. Polaris is described as suffering from “a split personality disorder”; they mean DID. It’s also worth noting that most people with DID do not have a “good” alter and an “evil” alter; having DID does not make you Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. 

The Joker is described as “crazy” and “insane”; while the former is up for debate, I can say with confidence that the Joker meets no real-world definition of insanity that I know about. 

Riddler is not described as insane, yay!  

Two-Face is described as having Multiple Personality Disorder; this should be DID but is otherwise broadly correct. That being said, the idea that getting acid thrown in your face would cause you to develop a split personality, as this book seems to imply, is unlikely. DID doesn’t develop that suddenly. 

2016 Guidebook: 

While Doctor Polaris may very well have a personality disorder, the emergence of a second personality would indicate the development of DID, not  a personality disorder. An adult man couldn’t “develop’ a personality disorder anyway; they’re developed in childhood and are usually lifelong afflictions. 

Harley Quinn is a weird case; to call her psychotic isn’t completely inaccurate, as she has displayed signs of hallucinations and delusions in the past. That being said, the way her condition is depicted is inconsistent and confusing, and doesn’t seem to line up perfectly with any actual real-world condition. 

Modern Heat Wave is absolutely a pyromaniac; Johns in particular was surprisingly good at writing a realistic case of the condition. 

The Joker is not insane. Neither is the modern Joker’s daughter. Both understand what they’re doing is wrong. 

Lex Luthor is indeed a sociopath, as is the New 52 version of Mr. Freeze (BTAS Freeze is not). 

Two-Face’s condition should be described as DID, not MPD; otherwise things are about as accurate as one can expect from Two-Face. 

2008 Guidebook:

Calling Abra Kadabra narcissistic is accurate. 

The Black Manta autism thing is icky on multiple levels. Ewww.

The first Cheetah probably would not have suddenly developed a second personality as an adult. 

Dr. Polaris. You know the drill. Split personality should be DID. A “good” and “evil” alter are pretty unlikely. Usually DID would show up before adulthood. 

Firefly and Heat Wave do both seem to have pyromania. It’s also accurate to describe Heat Wave as cryophobic. 

The Joker cannot be “certifiably crazed”; crazed is not an official psychiatric term. And again, he isn’t insane, so he shouldn’t be in Arkham. 

Killer Croc has never displayed any noticeable signs of psychosis. 

Magenta having DID is actually more realistic than most of the other characters I’ve talked about; she’s got the necessary childhood trauma and her alters developed when she was still quite young. Furthermore, her more violent alter isn’t manically evil. 

Whoever wrote the Scarecrow piece in the 2001 Batman Guidebook must’ve also helped to write this one, since the shockingly-accurate fear gas description is the same. 

Professor Strange is not insane in the legal sense of the word. 

Arnold Wesker has DID; MPD is the condition’s original name but is no longer used by professional psychologists. 

Zoom (Hunter Zolomon, not Eobard)... I think there’s an argument to be made that Zolomon actually is psychotic. While he’s never displayed hallucinations, he is clearly delusional in the most literal sense and does seem to have lost touch with reality. As such, this book is not wholly inaccurate in calling him psychotic.

You get the idea....

Looking specifically at the Flash, things improve slightly simply because writers who don’t understand psychology aren’t constantly talking about it. That being said, that doesn’t mean it never gets brought up. 

Golden Glider was intended to receive a psychiatric evaluation in the late 1970s. It’s interesting that she actually protested this, pointing out that the male criminals never received psychological evaluations (and indeed, they always went to prison rather than to an institution). She was indeed motivated by something other than profit, and I can understand why they wanted to have her evaluated given her lack of earlier criminal activity, but I don’t know if she was actually mentally ill per se...and she definitely wasn’t insane. 

In the early 1980s during the twilight hours of Barry Allen’s first run on the Flash, it seemed that the writers were trying to take a page out of Batman’s book by arguing that Barry’s costumed criminals were insane (even though they usually didn’t display any behavior that would indicate this). As such, Barry stated to imply that his Rogues were mentally ill in some fashion despite the fact that their behavior really hadn’t changed appreciably since their earliest appearances. That being said, the Pied Piper did appear to suffer some sort of nervous breakdown during the “Trial of the Flash” arc; what exactly this was is difficult to explain, since we didn’t get to see a whole lot of him after this point, but he did go to an actual psychiatric hospital (that was referred to as such rather than being called an asylum) and he did recover, relapsed, then recovered again, making this one of the more accurate portrayals of how mental illness works despite the limited information we have about his actual condition. They even showed him slowly deteriorating over a period of time before the actual collapse!

Big Sir, who made his debut in the same storyline, was rather more poorly handled....but at least he was explicitly manipulated into villainy rather than becoming evil simply because of his condition. 

Wally West went to therapy early in his run; given the context I’d say it was reasonable that he was suffering from both anxiety and depression (his uncle had just died and he was really struggling to fill his shoes as the new Flash). Going to therapy did actually help him, which was nice to see, and his therapist did not become evil, which was also nice to see. (I’m not going to talk about Heroes in Crisis, as I prefer to pretend that that never happened.) Yay for protagonists discussing their mental health problems in productive ways! 

In the early-to-mid 1990s, Mark Waid wrote a story in which Lisa stated that she’d faked insanity in order to be sent to a psychiatric hospital rather than to prison, but the story seemed to be implying that she was actually insane. Not only is successfully being declared not guilty by reason of insanity incredibly difficult, but Lisa displayed no signs of not recognizing that her behavior was wrong, so she wasn’t insane. She was, however, displaying strong signs of paranoia, which could perhaps be attributed to a paranoid delusion of some sort. It’s especailly weird since this was never really a characteristic of hers before or since, and it just kind of came out of nowhere. 

The Trickster (specifically the first one, James Jesse) is often mistakenly believed to be mentally ill by casual fans. While he is indeed mentally ill, possibly even psychotic, in the DCAU,  and he’s a remorseless psychopath in both live-action Flash shows, in the comics themselves he displays no real signs of mental illness. That being said, I LOVE the interactions between DCAU Wally and DCAU Trickster. They’re made of adorable.

The Pied Piper went through a second bout of mental problems in the mid-to-late 2000s, being tricked into believing that he’d murdered his parents, going to prison, being beaten regularly by the warden, escaping from prison, going through the stress of fighting in the Rogue War, having his mind messed with by the Top, accidentally becoming involved in the murder of Bart Allen (another thing I like to pretend never happened), having to go on the run, watching the Trickster get shot in front of him, having to drag his corpse around a desert, almost dying, getting transported to Apocalypse, blowing it up with Queen music, and then being left basically all alone. He really went through a trauma conga line, so it’s not surprising that he was starting to display some odd behavior. Poor guy probably had PTSD. 

And then there’s the Top. Beyond the speculation of @gorogues that he’s on the autism spectrum (a  theory I find to be quite persuasive), I also think it’s likely that he suffers from another mental illness (most likely bipolar I disorder, also as suggested by @gorogues). He was clearly mentally ill for most of Geoff Johns’ run, and his behavior in his very first appearance was decidedly odd as well. Intense mania and depression can sometimes induce psychosis (as we seemed to see during Geoff Johns’ run), and his “threatening to blow up half the world to become its ruler while I’m somehow safe on the other side of the planet” plan from his first appearance, which he clearly expected to work perfectly, is so overconfident and over-the-top that it fits well as a particularly exaggerated manic episode. While it’s not conclusive by any means, I think it’s a distinct possibility.

[another-cancer]

Chapter Five: Introducing the New and Improved Damian Wayne

Tim was trying to find as much information as possible of ‘Marinette’ for Jason. Still searching away he was positive there was nothing. Marinette simply did not exist. Instead, he changed his approach to using a program he created where he was able to sort through some sightings of her and a few people that looked like her from the back of their heads. Turns out she was also good at avoiding having her back to the camera. Plus, crime alley did have a lack of cameras in general.

However, he did find a clip of the girl having a standoff with the scarecrow. She was shot at and the bullet grazed her. It happened on the same day she took down the trafficker. There was a lot going on with the girl. Yet nothing was on paper.

It was driving him insane.

When Damian entered the Batcave he was not expecting to see Tim searching for a person with all too familiar eyes. Eyes he had memorized. Eyes that once stared into his soul judging him, weighing options. Eyes of a killer.

He took large strides towards his brother and asked, “Tim why do you have this girl on file?”

Tim, who hadn’t slept in 30 hours, barely registered that Damian entered the room until he spoke up.

“It’s a girl Jason met the other day that he asked me to look into.”

“What did you find?” Damian demanded.

“Not much. Nothing about her history, just some photos of her around the city and a few before Gotham.”

“How far back?”

“They are all super scattered, but the earliest I found dates 3 years back, she looks about ten or eleven. Why do you have so many questions?” Tim spun to face Damian.

Damian considered what to say. He could lie and say he was just curious. Tim was too sleep-deprived to be able to notice. But lying was also frowned upon. The truth, however, was not pretty. She spared his life and she hates him. Tim wouldn’t understand.

So Damian opted for the half-truth, “I knew her back when I was with the league.”

“OH. OHHHH. That honestly makes sense. She is really good at staying off the cameras. So she was with the league? Is she still with them? Is she here to kill someone? Oh my god, Jason said she was taking care of a bunch of kids. This could be bad. I need to write this down somewhere,” Tim rambled.

“Tt. She wasn’t with a league. There are other organizations of assassins out there. She’s not a threat, you can relax.”

That was a lie. She was the most flawless killer Damian had ever been told about. She was a threat. But he had no clue if that still holds true. After all, Ladybug is dead, he killed her.

“Okay, so can I ask you a few questions?”

“Sure.”

“Can you confirm her name as Marinette?”

“No, I never knew her real name, just the one she killed under.”

“What was that name?”

“Ladybug.”

Tim would never get anywhere with that name and he knew it. Assassins have a very limited presence online and even if they used the internet the same way a teenager might he still would be sorting through animal-related content for days. Tim needed more.

“How many people did she kill? And how old is she? She seems pretty young in the photos.”

“She’s my age. As for people, there are only rumors. No one really knows.”

“Can you give me an estimate?”

“Rumors of Ladybug started when I was six, when I was seven the rumors got louder. When I was nine they stopped. So between six and nine, there were a lot of people and after that, I’m not sure. But she’s not dangerous.”

“You make her sound dangerous.”

“She’s a coward. Cowards aren’t dangerous, they are weak. And it seems she hasn’t changed,” The latter half of the statement was almost a whisper.

“You knew her,” Tim heard him.

“No.”

“You basically said you know her.”

“Drake, I-”

“Please just tell me, I won’t rat you out to B next time you try to kill Jason if you tell me.”

Damian considered it, “I knew her.”

The truth was now out there. And Damian knew Tim would want to know more. And maybe Damian made a mistake telling Tim. But the truth was good. The truth was supposed to be good.

“How long ago? I mean I assume back when you were with the league. But how? Do all assassins run in the same circle?”

“I said I knew her not well, we met once. She- Ladybug. We met while she was Ladybug. But Ladybug is dead,” there was anger in his voice. “That girl may look like Ladybug, but she’s not her, Ladybug is dead. That girl is a coward.”

“Care to explain instead of just being cryptid?”

“Ladybug tried to kill me,” he spat the words out like venom.

“Wait- I thought you said she isn’t dangerous. That sounds dangerous.”

“She’s not dangerous, Ladybug was. Ladybug was, but she’s dead. I killed Ladybug.”

Tim was visibly confused. Damian was just angry, he had gotten himself mad just thinking about a girl he never really knew. A girl that made him hate everything even remotely related to her. A girl that was supposed to be dead.

“Look, I haven’t slept for a while, but I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t make sense even if I was well-rested. So care to explain?”

“No.”

Damian was about to leave when an alarm went off. There was an attack downtown. The Scarecrow. Fifteen minutes later they arrived on the scene to witness a heated fight between Scarecrow and Marinette. Marinette was kicking his ass with no problem. Most of the family looked surprised, even a bit proud of the small girl. They were ready to jump in and help. But Damian was seeing red and charged right at her.

First Previous Next

[galli-writes]

(Click here to read on Ao3!)

fandom: Teen Titans

pairing: BBRae

genre/warnings: AU - Canon Divergence; Implied/Referenced Abuse, Abusive Parents, Childhood Trauma, Graphic Depictions of Violence

additional tags: Angst, Family Issues, Friendship/Love, Protectiveness, Slow Burn, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions

summary:

There are a few things that Beast Boy knows for certain:

He’s 21….and a total lightweight. He’s a vegan (but not like…a pretentious vegan). He’s not going to be single forever.

And the Teen Titans are the only family he’ll ever need.

a/n: Hello! I am bad at updating. Please forgive my sins.

Chapter 6: The Invitation (words 5,129)

The TV buzzed in the background, images flashing against the rising sun. Beast Boy stared at the screen without really looking at it as he poured some orange juice into a glass at the kitchen counter. His hand shook ever so slightly as he took a sip, and he tried to convince himself it was purely from a lack of sleep. But he knew that was only part of the problem at best. As he looked around the room, he locked eyes with the eerie monkey statue, still on display, and put his glass down with a hard swallow.

Beast Boy never brought up Galtry. Raven hadn’t mentioned him either, though that was probably less intentional. Even so, with each day that passed, his conviction only grew stronger. It had to have been Galtry. It just made sense. Didn’t it?

Beast Boy set his glass back down on the counter--and it was a good thing too, because if he had still been holding onto it when the doorbell rang, it definitely would have shattered on the floor.

Everything in the room went still for a moment. At the other end of the counter, Robin suddenly looked up from his phone, finishing off a bite of french toast. Cyborg had turned away from the TV, looking toward the door and then down at a screen on his arm in mild confusion.

“Uh...Well damn.”

“What is it?” Robin asked, already starting to get up to answer the door.

“I’m looking at the cam now,” Cyborg continued. “Whoever that was, they sure left in a hell of a hurry.”

Beast Boy tried to turn his attention to the TV again, and was able to do so with some effort. Above him, men and women wearing either red or blue aprons dashed around a kitchen at full speed. Pumpkins and fall leaves decorated the scene. A smiling scarecrow was pegged in the corner next to one woman’s prep station. At that moment, the host was asking a contestant about her pumpkin spice cinnamon rolls, which were already in the oven. It wasn’t the most creative approach to the challenge, but it was only the first round. So playing it safe was still acceptable.

Then the screen cut to commercial. Beast Boy looked back down at the counter, suddenly shoved back into reality. A reality that became all the more treacherous when he heard Robin returning--and heading his direction.

“Who was it?” Cyborg asked casually, turning back to the TV.

“I’m...not sure,” Robin said slowly. “But they left this. Beast Boy--”

“Huh?” Beast Boy nearly jumped, feeling Robin next to him now.

“It’s...for you.”

“Me? ”

Robin handed him a small card, which he took willingly despite himself. His name was unmistakably clear on the front flap. Well, not his name, but the name of someone he knew was supposed to be him. Galtry’s name wasn’t present, but it was clearly his handwriting--an elegant cursive Beast Boy had regrettably memorized by now. Even so, he had to squint to make out the words on the front of the card. He flipped it over. In slightly more legible text, there was a time and address. The lack of a date could only imply today.

“Any idea what it is?” Robin asked.

Beast Boy knew his curiosity was well warranted, but he froze under Robin’s expectant gaze.

“I mean....it kinda looks like an invitation or something,” Beast Boy said, trying to avoid eye contact. “But I’m not sure how we’re supposed to RSVP.” He managed a small, unconvincing laugh.

“Do you know who it’s from?” Robin continued, in the same awfully unassuming tone.

“No.” Beast Boy shrugged, pocketing the card. “I don’t.”

And that wasn’t technically a lie.

***

The forecast for the night showed more rain—this time enough to warrant a flood watch. Residents of certain parts of the city were advised to stay inside and avoid driving altogether.  Unfortunately, this didn’t apply to the restaurant they were to meet Galtry at. Of course it had been decided that Beast Boy wouldn’t be going alone, and for that he was grateful. In truth, he didn’t really want to go at all. But given the circumstances, Robin had decided the matter was ‘probably worth looking into.’ And Beast Boy knew better than to disagree.

In his room, Beast Boy knelt before a pile of clothes, rummaging through them without a clear goal. He didn’t know what he was going to wear--what he was supposed to wear for something like this. Probably something pretty nice if he was going off of Galtry’s handwriting alone.

Eventually, he came to the decision that the clothes on the floor were too wrinkled anyway. And when he couldn’t find anything reasonable in the closet, he turned to the dresser in desperation. He barely kept any clothes in there, but there had to be something . He yanked open the bottom drawer with some effort, finding nothing but a collection of mismatched socks, useless knick knacks--and a picture frame he’d intended to keep buried.

The picture was of course the same as it had been the last time he’d seen it. His own dark, disheveled hair contrasting with his mother’s blond waves. His father’s tight smile and focused gaze. When he was younger, people had always told him he ‘had his father’s eyes’. So dark they were nearly black. Beast Boy caught a flash of his reflection in the glass frame. His eyes were still quite dark, but in the light they betrayed a subtle green glint.

He frowned. With a new sense of purpose, Beast Boy got up, the frame tight in his grip as he turned his back on the mess surrounding him.

In the common room, he quickly found a small box of trinkets with ample space to house the frame. Using some discarded bubble wrap, he neatly repacked the picture, tucking it away next to some old books. Beast Boy glanced around the room, searching for something he could use to seal the box up for good. With a few carelessly ripped off pieces of packing tape, he folded the box shut and shoved it back with the rest of them.

And immediately afterward, a stream of guilt flooded over him.

One curse at a time, he ripped off more and more tape to finish off the rest of the packages before he changed his mind. With some effort, he pushed them into a neat pile at one end of the room. He would have to ask Dr. Galtry—whoever he was—to come have them picked up as soon as possible.

“What’re you doing?”

Beast Boy jumped slightly, taken off guard by the sound of someone’s voice. He took a breath to steady himself and turned around.

It was only Raven.

“Oh, uh, nothing,” he said, scrambling to his feet. “Just...cleaning.”

Raven simply raised an eyebrow in uninterested disbelief. She was standing next to the fridge with a can of ginger ale in one hand and a hefty book in the other. Neither of those things were particularly remarkable for Raven.

But what was strange was the way she was dressed. Opposed to her usual baggy sweaters and leggings, she was wearing jeans and a cardigan over a blouse he’d never seen before. It even looked like she might be wearing makeup. Real makeup that had clearly taken more effort than her everyday eyeliner.

“So I guess you heard about dinner tonight, right?” he asked only now realizing he was staring.  

“Yeah. Sucks for you guys,” Raven said plainly, taking a sip of her soda.

“What do you mean?” Beast Boy said, genuinely puzzled for a moment. “You ’re not coming with us?”

“I have...plans.”  

Beast Boy eyed the book in her hand. “Sitting in your room reading doesn’t count as plans.”

“ Real plans,” she said defiantly, tossing the now empty can in the recycling.

“Well you’ll have to reschedule,” another voice said suddenly, short and stern.

Beast Boy and Raven both turned around to find the rest of their friends approaching from the nearest hallway, Robin at the lead.

“I can’t,” Raven replied, her tone just as sharp and uncompromising.

But Robin didn’t budge. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, arms crossed against his chest. “But this is official Titans business, and you know what takes precedence. That’s all I’m gonna say about it.”

Raven frowned, but she didn’t put her book down. She merely stuffed it into her purse, which was much too small to properly contain it.

“Uh...car’s all ready out back,” Cyborg said, gesturing to the garage with some hesitation.

Raven sulked past them without a word, not even bothering to try and call shotgun.

The drive was awkward and uncomfortable. At least for Beast Boy.

At some point he realized Starfire was talking to him about the latest Netflix series she’d been binging. It was a clear effort to distract from the all consuming depressive aura of the back row. Beast Boy nodded at the appropriate moments, but couldn’t even remember the name of the show two minutes into the conversation.  

Raven didn’t look up from her book once during the entire trip. But it was obvious she was only pretending. Beast Boy couldn’t help but notice that she never once turned the page--and Raven was a fast reader. He didn’t mean to notice the slip of paper tucked between the pages--didn’t mean to see what was scribbled on it. The messy, half-cursive script was almost illegible, but it was clearly a reminder of some sort. A date, a place, a time--the last of which was circled aggressively in dark ink.  Beast Boy made a conscious effort to try and stare straight ahead. He didn’t want to be caught staring again. But of course, it was hard not to notice things like that when you were sitting right next to someone.

What plans did Raven have? ...Not that it mattered to him, of course. Whatever Raven did in her free time wasn’t any of his business, really. Even still, it was hard not to wonder what could be important enough to pull the world’s biggest introvert out of her room. In an actual put-together outfit no less. Then, for a brief moment, a disarming thought flitted through his mind. Hypothetically, in a world where Raven actually dated people, it would probably be safe to assume that she would never tell any of them about it. And why should she? But more importantly why should any of them care ? He didn’t.

Of course, the thought was utter nonsense to begin with. Raven had always made it abundantly clear that she had no interest in being in a relationship. Unless of course she’s been lying.  

Beast Boy began to feel a pit forming in his stomach for the millionth time that week. Just letting his mind wander as far as it had made him feel guilty--like he was prying into things that were none of his business. He tried to shift his train of thought to something-- anything --else beyond the uncomfortable terrain he’d stumbled into. And he didn’t know why it was so uncomfortable. Maybe it was because now he couldn’t stop thinking about the state of his own love life. At least Raven had the angsty brooding down pat. Any time he felt bad for himself--which was a little too often for his liking--he imagined he looked less like the lead singer of a pop punk band and more like a toddler who’d spilled their cheerios in the backseat of mom’s minivan. Right now he would have leaned up against the window and stared into the coming downpour like someone in an early 2000s music video...had he not been stuck in the middle seat again.

As they drove, Robin talked briefly of a ‘plan’ he’d been constructing in the event that things went south. Starfire and Cyborg seemed engaged enough, hyping themselves up for what they’d decided was going to either be a five star meal or an equally satisfying smackdown. But Beast Boy couldn’t find it in him to join them. Outside, the rain was picking up fast. The gray clouds above had brought on the night of their own accord, and even the thousands of city lights couldn’t entirely pierce through the darkness. Beast Boy slunk down further in his seat, sticking his hands deep in his pockets. In doing so, he realized abruptly that he had never actually changed clothes, and a familiar card was still tucked away in his pocket. Unfortunately, no amount of fiddling would make it disappear.

It was easy to recognize when they’d arrived at their destination. The traffic came to a complete stop, as cars—and even a limo or two—fought for a spot on the narrow strip of asphalt in front of the shimmering building before them. People poured out of the vehicles like liquid gold, as men in suits and women with designer handbags scrambled for the attention of the underpaid valet workers.

“Well this looks like...fun,” Cyborg said, hands gripping the wheel tighter, despite the utter standstill.

“I think we might be a little under dressed,” Robin said, peeking out the window and then down at his jeans and flannel. He sounded much less like a boy about to embarrass his family at the yacht club and much more like a detective who was going to blow his cover.

“Well I guess it’s too late for that now,” Cyborg said, automatically pulling up in line next to a man dressed in valet attire weilding a crisp black umbrella.

“Good evening, sir. May I have the name of your party?”

“Uh...” Cyborg hesitated.

Without thinking, Beast Boy reached for the card in his pocket. In a matter of seconds it had acquired some impressively deep folds and a slight tear in one corner, but it was still easily readable and recognizable. He leaned forward and silently passed it to the man like he’d been rehearsing the action for months.

The man’s eyes widened instantly. “Oh, of course. Dr. Galtry has been expecting you.”

A brief moment of silence hung in the air between them as Cyborg continued to grip the wheel.

Beast Boy stared straight ahead. The tension was palpable. For everyone else, the sound of Galtry’s name must have conjured some form of excitement. Good or bad. Some sense of progress in unearthing a mystery. For Beast Boy it only stirred up the guilt surrounding how much he’d withheld.

“If you would—“ the man said, clearing his throat slightly. He nodded toward the driver’s seat as he spoke. “I would be happy to take care of your vehicle.”

“I...uh,” Cyborg hesitated again, his hands gripping the steering wheel even tighter.

“That would be great, thanks,” Robin interjected from the other side. Cyborg shot him a quick look of doubt, but it was quickly followed by a sigh of resignation as he let go of the wheel.

From the safety of the covered curb, Beast Boy watched with his friends as the man stepped into the driver’s seat and fumbled for a moment with the controls.

“Be safe, baby,” Cyborg half whispered as the car disappeared into the fray. And despite all of the nerves clouding his mind, Beast Boy couldn’t help holding back a smile, patting his friend on the shoulder in consolation.

The inside of the restaurant was just as extravagant as the exterior suggested, even more so as the former had certainly been dulled by the weather. Immediately upon entering through the crystal double doors, Beast Boy found himself brushing shoulders with men and women who looked like attendees of a red carpet after party. The entire building—which was completely packed beyond any sense of personal space—was littered with dark wooden tables, velvet curtains, and chandeliers. Light bounced around the room off silver plates and platters carried around by elegantly dressed waitstaff. Even from the distance of the foyer, the scene was simultaneously beautiful and nauseating.

“The party for Dr. Galtry?” A young woman’s voice rang out from behind a tall podium in the corner of the entryway. “We have you in our private dining--” the woman started, pausing as she looked up to meet the group before her. Her eyes grew wide and a clearly unscripted smile came across her face. She had to be in her late teens or early twenties--and was one of the youngest people in the room.

“Sorry,” she said, the smile still on her face. Her brilliant emerald jewelry sparkled as she began to move. “Um...If you’ll just follow me right this way.”

Weaving through the tables turned out to be even more dizzying than just looking at them. And with every step, Beast Boy felt more and more like he was walking straight back into the cave of a hungry beast hoarding its jewels. When they finally came to a halt, it was in front of a large wooden door at the back end of the restaurant. Like the den of a sleeping dragon, this area of the restaurant boasted an even greater number of precious gems and wrinkle lines.

“Dr. Galtry will be waiting for you all inside,” the young woman said, nodding her head slightly.

An awkward beat of silence passed as she continued to stand there without turning to leave, her eyes darting down to her feet.

“Sorry, I know this is like, super unprofessional, and I know you guys are busy, but I was just wondering...if I could maybe get an autograph?” she said quietly, the words spilling out a million miles an hour. She was looking up now, and despite referring to the entire group, it was clear her attention rested on Starfire.

“Certainly!” Starfire smiled.

As if by magic, a small receipt notepad and chewed up pen had already appeared in the young woman’s hands.

“I love your bracelet by the way,” Starfire beamed, taking the pad of paper and beginning to doodle on it.

“Oh, this?” the girl laughed nervously. “Thanks. I mean, it’s nothing really.”

Starfire handed the paper back with a smile, the pad now feverishly adorned with hearts and stars surrounding her signature.

The young woman seemed to be beside herself with joy. She managed another clumsy string of thank yous before disappearing into the crowd again.

There was another long silence.

“I hate it here,” Raven said abruptly, shattering any lingering sentiments of the preceding interaction.

The look on Starfire’s face was more than enough of a response.

“I’m not talking about the girl,” Raven huffed.

Beast Boy looked around. It was true. The suspicious glares were more than enough to tell that the rest of the diners weren’t fans. Maybe coming here had been a mistake.

“Is it really--? Oh, yes, finally!”

Beast Boy blinked hard, a smooth but animated voice bringing him back into the room.

“I’m so glad that you all agreed to meet me here,” a man said, approaching them eagerly.

Suddenly everything seemed to blur. The motion of the restaurant became nothing more than a swirling backdrop of light. For the third time that night, Beast Boy caught himself staring. He looked just like his picture. Too perfect to be real--and yet there he was. Black hair, dark eyes, perfect smiling complexion. The only indicator of his age was the shadow of graying stubble around his chin--and even that looked somehow manicured and intentional. But he walked and talked and was standing right before them just like any other human being. It felt like being in a dream. Or a nightmare.  

“I’m so sorry. I had to step outside to make a phone call,” the man continued. “Galtry. Dr. Nicholas Galtry,” he said, proceeding to shake each of their hands with an unprecedented force. “Really, it is an honor meeting the rest of you.”

“The...rest of us?” Robin asked, wiping his palm on his pant leg.

The man stopped short, a look of pure bewilderment washing over his face. “Oh...don’t tell me you didn’t get my letter?” As he spoke, he turned to look at Beast Boy directly.

“So you’re the letter guy?” Cyborg said, with a somewhat forced laugh.

“I had hoped Garfield might at least mention my name,” Galtry said, slowly.

For a moment, Beast Boy felt the same sense of crippling guilt returning, coupled with the discomfort of hearing his ‘name’ spoken aloud by someone he didn’t know. Or didn’t know well . He was still deciding.

“Well, I’m sure you all must be tired, called out like this on such short notice,” Galtry continued. “Again, all of my apologies, but I just couldn’t wait any longer to speak to you. Here, let’s go inside, shall we?”

The private dining room certainly was private. Almost to the point of being soundproof, which Beast Boy found to be more of a concern than a comfort. Robin automatically sat the closest to Galtry, which was unsurprising but still a relief. Beat Boy opted for a spot in the middle of the long table, where he reasoned he would be least likely to garner extra attention from their host.

Just then, the door swung open again, and another member of the wait staff entered to pour water into the intricate crystal glasses before them. He then proceeded to take drink orders—a cherry coke for Beast Boy and pinot grigio for Dr. Galtry.

“So,” Galtry said, swirling his wine like he was on the cover of a food magazine. “I understand you all have been on Arsenal’s trail for some time now.”

The room went still. Until, of course, Robin eventually broke the silence.

“Arsenal?”

The question would have sounded redundant on anyone else’s lips. But Robin said it with such confidence that it was Galtry who looked embarrassed.

“Oh. Of course. I’m sorry. I had assumed you were familiar with them.”

As one waiter exited, two more replaced him, setting various cutting boards piled high with expensive cheeses and sausages down the center of the table. Galtry sliced a piece of smooth white cheese off the cutting board, spreading it on a piece of toast without even looking down. “They’ve been causing me trouble ever since I first got here.”

“You sound like you know ‘em,” Cyborg said, his eyes resting on Galtry as he skewered his own kebab of sausage rounds.

“Unfortunately,” Galtry grumbled, mostly to himself. “They’ve been after some research of mine for some time now. I don’t pretend to know why. I’m not sure they would even know what to do with it if they were to get a hold of it.”

“What exactly are you researching?” Robin asked tentatively.

Galtry looked up at him suddenly, an expression akin to embarrassment flashing once more across his face. He was clearly not the type of man accustomed to having to introduce himself.

“I’m sorry. I’m getting a bit ahead of myself, aren’t I?” he cleared his throat. “I haven’t even properly introduced myself. That’s what happens when you frequent limited social circles your entire adult life,” he said with a short laugh. “Right now I hold a position as Research Chair for the department of Genomics at the University of Pretoria. I primarily conduct research regarding the development of new gene therapy technologies.”

“Why would the genes need therapy?” Starfire asked, already on her second round of charcuterie.  

Galtry fought back a bemused smile. “It’s not literal. Though that would be something, wouldn’t it? It’s a type of medical procedure,” he explained. “The sort of thing that would help us treat genetic disorders like cystic fibrosis or even reverse the production of cancer cells. The details are a bit...complicated,” he said thoughtfully, looking into his glass.

“As for my being here in Jump City, I admit it’s a bit of a surprise even to me. The U.S. Northeastern Scientific Board regularly invites me to present my work at their annual symposium, which is usually held in Gotham. But I understand there’s been somewhat of a crime spike there recently. And criminals do love the smell of science they don’t understand,” he said with a sardonic smile.

“You’ll have to excuse me for being so blunt,” Robin interjected. “But what does this have to do with us exactly?”

“Well that's a simple question with a rather complicated answer,” Galtry said, a slight frown coming across his face. “The less complicated aspect has to do with Arsenal themself. When I learned that they had found some opposition after following me to the states, I knew I would have to meet with whoever was tracking them. Lucky for me it turns out you all are pretty famous around here.”

“Well I wouldn’t say famous ,” Cyborg said, barely pulling off airs of humility.  

The doors swung open a third time as if on cue, this time letting loose a small string of waiters, each steering a cart laden with different shapes and sizes of covered plates. One was placed in front of each person at the table with expert precision and lifted dramatically to reveal the contents. Beast Boy was more than surprised to find that his dish was completely different than everyone else’s—stuffed mushrooms that looked like they’d been specially prepared. He didn’t remember mentioning that he was a vegan, and had the harrowing thought that maybe he had reached a stage where people knew without asking.

“So how do you know Beast Boy?” Starfire asked, head tilting slightly to one side like a puppy.

It was the question Beast Boy had been dying to hear the answer to--though he knew he would have been incapable of asking it.

“Of course. That’s the other half of the matter. And a bit more complicated,” Galtry said, rubbing his hands together meditatively. “The simple answer is that I was a friend of his parents’. Back during their tenure at the University of Pretoria.” There was a soft smile on his face, but it didn’t seem to exude any kind of joy. “Small world, isn’t it?”

“But all of those artifacts...all of their belongings--you sent those?” Robin tried to clarify.

Galtry nodded. “After their unfortunate passing, I was designated Garfield’s legal guardian by the court that sorted their affairs. They were always very private people, and I was the closest acquaintance they had. Their son was supposed to inherit their entire fortune--the only problem being...well...no one knew where you were,” he said, looking directly at Beast Boy now. “Seeing as you had still been under close medical watch at the time of your disappearance, it was the general belief that you had died somewhere in the jungle shortly afterward. But because there was never any actual proof of that being the case, the money was never dispersed by the government or anyone else. Instead it’s in a bit of a state of limbo held by those same officials—where it’s been utterly useless given the circumstances.”

Galtry looked down at the table, shaking his head. “I had just about given up hopes of ever finding Garfield—you wouldn’t believe how difficult it is to find someone once they’ve essentially erased their given name from their identity. Even through legal means. Surprisingly, the small detail of him being green didn’t help very much either,” Galtry said with a small laugh. “I only recently learned it was even an aspect of his...condition. The side effect hadn’t quite developed completely before he disappeared.”

Galtry spoke to his friends as if this was knowledge Beast Boy had always possessed and merely neglected to share with them, which, as far as he knew, was not the case. Though the historic tirade made him wonder just how much of his life he had forced himself to forget.  

Galtry shook his head once more. “There were always flitting rumors of what had really happened to the Logans’ son, but I was always too stubborn to believe them.” A small ironic smile crept over his face as he looked directly at Beast Boy. “You have to understand. I’ve dedicated my entire life to the sciences. And, quite frankly, your very existence seems to defy its most basic principles.”

The silence that followed was unlike any other that had filled the air that night. There was a certain quality to it that went beyond discomfort. Beast Boy felt himself instinctively clench the sides of his chair as he struggled to keep his expression neutral. Galtry’s words felt eerily like a compliment, and somehow that made things worse.

Robin cleared his throat suddenly, making a point to stand from his seat. “Thanks for the meal, it was really delicious. But this is all a lot to take in. We’ll need a little more time as a team to consider whether or not we can help you.”

“I completely understand,” Galtry said with a smile. “Especially considering we’ve only just met.” He folded his hands in front of him, like a compassionate leader about to make a compromise with some of his disheveled citizens. “If you all would like to know more about what it is I do, I would be more than happy to show you around my lab this weekend. Perhaps a better understanding of my work would convince you?”

“We’ll have to think about it,” Robin repeated in the same definitive tone.

“Of course,” Galtry said automatically. As if this were a dance he’d done many times before. “Here,” he rose from his seat. “For now the least I can do is see you off.”

The man known to them as Nicholas Galtry made his way through the door, exiting the restaurant the way they’d come in. But this time, Beast Boy noticed that it wasn’t the green skin and glowing eyes or robotic arms and legs that captured everyone’s attention. It was Galtry. The doors were opened for them as if on cue, valets and restaurant staff trailing behind them without Galtry so much as lifting a finger. When they got to the outside of the restaurant, Cyborg’s car was already there, running and ready to go.

“I could really use your help,” Galtry said, passing the keys from the valet’s hand to Cyborg’s. “I hope I’ll be hearing from you soon.”  

The second they were in the car, the doors shut tight behind them and a quiet voice broke the heavy silence.

“Did I mention I hate it here?” Raven mumbled, the first words she’d said since they’d met Galtry. The only words she’d said all night.

Beast Boy didn’t say it, but he had been thinking the same thing. Though maybe hate wasn’t the right word. Not exactly.

He turned to look out the back seat window, and watched as Galtry watched them drive away.

[thepartyresponsible]

two separate anons asked for a phil coulson/jason todd fic with the prompt: “what would you do if I didn’t come back?” and since that question is pretty much at the heart of this ship, i thought that was perfect.

so here’s an au where jason is a very strong psychic and phil is a human mute button.

                                                         ---

When people ask, Jason tells them that there’s nothing special about his bloodlines, nothing remarkable about his family. He tells them it’s a function of where he’s from, not who he is. Anyone from Gotham can sense trouble. Jason’s just a bit better at it than most.

The truth is, he’s an orphan nobody cared enough to track, and so he’s got no fucking clue who his family is. Maybe he comes from a whole line of physics. Maybe he’s the only one. It doesn’t matter in the end, because, either way, he’s been alone since his foster mom overdosed when he was twelve.

He hadn’t known, at that time, what he was sensing. He’d smelled danger plenty, but death was something new.

Carnations and lilies and fresh dirt and rot. He smelled it everywhere when the Joker was killing him. He smells it now.

“No,” he hears, distant, faded-out. “No, he’s not dangerous to me. I need to get in there. He needs me in there.”

Grave dirt and old blood and fresh flowers. It’s everywhere, so thick he could choke on it. Might choke on it. Might die, breathing in death.

“I don’t care what he did to the guards. The guards aren’t me. Move.”

There’s the hiss and clatter of a heavy metal door opening, and Jason’s on his feet, bloody hands clenched into fists, jaw hinged like he’s going to bite out throats, and, when he breathes in, it’s antiseptic.

Soap and ink and paper.

There’s nothing. There isn’t---

“Jason.” And that’s a voice he almost recognizes. He’s too keyed-up to look anybody in the eyes, doesn’t want to read them more than he has to, can’t even look above this guy’s well-shined shoes.

But when he breathes in, the sterile clean of rubbing alcohol is smothering out the scent of death. He sucks at the air like he’s coming back from drowning, drags it in over his teeth.

“Jason,” the voice says, calmer now. Reassuring. Clinical, almost, but in a way that says everything’s under control.

“Phil?” Jason asks, because the name feels right in his mouth.

His brain is stretched, staked down in a pit of hell, and he’s pulling against it, trying to leash himself to the world he’s in. There’s grave dirt and printer toner, rotting blood and hospital soap.

“I know,” Phil says. “We didn’t expect Scarecrow.”

“Careful,” someone says. “He’s--”

Jason snarls toward the voice, teeth bared toward steel-toed boots, and he steps around Phil, puts himself between them.

“He’s fine,” Phil says. “Back off.”

The boots retreat, and the door closes, and the room fills up with the smell of office supplies and first aid kits.

“Are you steady?” Phil asks. “Do you want an anchor?”

The problem with high-levels like Jason is that, when they’re really brain-blown, even ones and twos can set them off. Sure, he can read a threat from three miles out and a mind from four floors away, but he also can’t stop reading once he’s touching skin-to-skin. Break the touch barrier, and, even with low-levels, his brain just drinks and drinks until he drowns.

It takes a null to anchor him, and true zeros are hard to find. Almost as rare as he is, at least in the adult population. Most nines don’t live past puberty, not in any shape you’d really call alive.

Jason has an idea in his head that this is something he’s allowed, that this is Phil’s job somehow. But he’s had too many minds in his head today, too many memories and lives and thoughts. Everything from the last ten years is smeared; he doesn’t know whose life belongs to him.

And nulls are rare. Important.

There’s blood on Jason’s hands, on his shirt. He’s covered in dried, cooled sweat.

Even from here, he feels steadier. He can’t smell death anymore. Ink, antiseptic. He breathes in, closes his eyes. It’s enough; it has to be.

“Jason,” Phil says. “I’m worried about you. I want the doctors to look at you, but I need you steady enough not to stab anyone else.”

Jason doesn’t like stabbing people when his brain’s torn open like this. He feels it, too, is the problem. Stabs and is stabbed, gives and takes the pain.

He feels it when he hurts people, and he feels it when he scares them. Feels it when he’s a danger to them.

He got scared too much too early, that’s what his SHIELD file says. His brain is hyperaware of danger, translates it into sensory input to ensure his focus. He literally smells danger. And grave dirt and lilies and rot, he knows what that means.

It’s him.

The threat he’s been caught on for hours is himself, reflected from the dozen or so minds in the building around him. They cleared the building to the skeleton crew, and he still can’t pull himself out of their brains, can’t stop sensing how dangerous he is to them.

He’s vibrating between minds. Tastes coffee from three floors up, someone who likes their mochas with extra whipped cream. Arthritic wrists in the basement, someone going through files. Resentment from a man reading a text from an ex-wife, a woman daydreaming about Belize. Boredom, and wariness, and round after round of fucking Candy Crush beating against the backs of his eyes.

Dirt and dead bodies and funeral flowers and other peoples’ thoughts like razorwire floss sawing through every plan he tries to make.

And then the emptiness of clean hallways personified, the reassuring blankness breathing in the room with him. A null, right there. A quiet, still pool that could stop the flickering, fluttering madness of being hooked into a dozen minds at once.

“Jason,” Phil says, again. “Do you want an anchor? You can come down alone if you want, but I’d like to help.”

“Yes,” Jason says. Because he does, because Phil asked. “Please,” he says, because it’s a ludicrous thing to ask for, an impossibility. A brain-trashed stray from Gotham’s back alleys, trying to put his bloody hands on a null, what the fuck. “Please, could you just fucking—for a second, would you--”

“Here,” Phil says, and he sounds – ridiculously – almost relieved as he brings his hands up, slides his fingers into Jason’s hair, presses his palms directly over Jason’s temples.

Everything goes silent. His mind snaps back under his skin like a rubber band breaking. He breathes out, and he’s alone in his mind, alone in his skin, at home where he belongs.

He’s Jason Todd. SHIELD found him wandering the streets of Gotham with splinters in his hands from digging out of his own coffin. He’d lit up the area with his misery, and they’d brought Clint in to counter him and Phil to neutralize him.

They hadn’t killed him. All the reason in the world to do it, and they hadn’t. It took a dozen of SHIELD’s high-levels to bring his brain back from where it wandered, but they did it. Made him useful again. Let him work.

“Fuck,” Jason says, tipping forward until he can rest his forehead against Phil’s. “Jesus fucking Christ, that was a bad trip.”

“I’m sorry,” Phil says. His hands are still in Jason’s hair. “We had no idea Scarecrow was in the area.”

Scarecrow’s a five with narrow range. Feels fear like a rollercoaster, all thrill and no threat. He makes his toxin to scare people; the fact that it boosts psychic sensitivity is just a bonus to him.

Nines rarely make it to adulthood, but the world counts its registered tens in single digits. Jason can see why they tend not to survive.

“Can I,” Jason says, shifting a little. “I need to, Phil. Can I just--”

“Yes,” Phil says. “Of course. What do you need?”

Jason drops his face to Phil’s neck, breathes in. Soap and toner, hand sanitizer and aloe vera. No threat, no risk. No thought-bleed at all.

Jason feels raw inside his own skull, mind over-stretched. Phil’s hands, the skin of his neck, it’s like rolling his thoughts into a heavy blanket of fog, letting all the details from a hundred lives he’s never lived fade away.

“How long was I gone?” Jason asks.

Phil hums, and Jason can feel the vibration of it against the skin of his cheek. “It’s been twelve hours since you dropped off comms,” he says. “An evac team found you five hours ago. There was a level two agent present. She kept you grounded long enough to get you to containment, but a medic got a bit inquisitive during transport.”

“Stabbed him,” Jason says. He remembers. He felt the knife cutting skin, a warning slash to the forearm.

“Only a little,” Phil says. He smiles when he says it, and Jason’s not looking at his face, can’t read his mind, but he knows it anyway.

Phil’s careful about things like this. About touching Jason like this. Nulls work best with skin-to-skin contact, and he’s had to anchor Jason before, but it’s always been a hand on Jason’s shoulder, or the back of his neck. Or, after particularly bad missions, he’ll sit at Jason’s bedside down in Medical and lace their fingers together.

It’s always been enough. Before this exact moment, it’s been the best thing Jason’s ever felt.

“Lost me for seven hours, Phil,” Jason says. He should pull back. He knows that. The problem with low levels is that, sometimes, you can hurt or scare or bully them without knowing. Phil could be uncomfortable, and Jason wouldn’t know it at all.

But Phil doesn’t push him away. His fingers slide deeper in Jason’s hair. He’s holding him closer.

“Not a record I wanted to push,” Phil says. “We would’ve found you sooner, but we were looking in Gotham. Apparently, after Scarecrow dosed you, you immediately stole a bike and went to D.C.”

Of course he did. He can’t remember it now, probably won’t ever remember it clearly. But he can understand why he did it. He knows damn well why, as he started to lose control, his only instinct was to run back to where Phil Coulson lives.

“Weird,” Jason says. “That’s so weird, Phil. You know I hate this place.”

“And yet,” Phil says, with a heavy, exasperated sigh, “you have never gone missing here. This makes—what? Three strikes in Gotham?”

Jason laughs. He doesn’t believe for a second that Phil doesn’t know exactly how many times he’s gone missing. He’s sure there’s a list Phil keeps somewhere, painstakingly updated, with all the relevant and seemingly irrelevant details charted and graphed and tracked.

Phil doesn’t like it when Jason goes missing. Even when it’s intentional. Even when Jason goes through the whole surreal process of requesting vacation time.

If he drops out of contact for too long, Phil finds him. Every time.

“What would you do, Phil?” And Jason moves back for this, because it feels important, feels like something he should watch. “If I went missing for good? What would you do if I didn’t come back?”

Phil looks at him, intent and focused, serious. “I would find you,” he says.

Jason went missing once. Bruce went looking too late. Didn’t find him until after it was over, until after Jason felt the crowbar hit and felt the way Joker enjoyed it, choked on his fear and the Joker’s glee while the timer counted down.  

Phil’s hands in his hair are anchors keeping his mind in his skull, and the skin at the base of his neck is a mute button on the world, making everything quiet and calm. His mouth, when Jason leans in to kiss him, feels like something else entirely.

Feels clean and electric, feels like a promise meant to keep.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Welcome to Backwater ch.7 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Stretch knows he can't really depend on the kindness of strangers, but oh, sometimes he wishes he could.

~~*~~

Read ‘The Kindness of Strangers’ on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

It was with a heavy, weird-ass book in hand that Stretch returned to the heat of the afternoon. This time he made haste getting back to the store while his knees were cooperating, almost jogging on the sidewalk and waving to any regular customers as he passed. The sun was on its downward path by now and the strollers were out in full force, the Human moms and pops pushing them hardly paying him any mind past a ‘good afternoon’ as he went by.

His knees were back to the wibble-wobbles when he slipped through the door, the bell announcing him with a muted clank. The first thing he noticed was that Red wasn’t behind the counter. He was standing at the back of the store, leaning on his cane and blocking off the hallway that led to both their living quarters. Yeah, that looked like insurance that Stretch couldn’t hurry on past him upstairs; Red wasn’t quick, but he also wasn’t stupid, and Stretch could feel his hard gaze scrutinizing him from across the store.

Wonderbar.

Stretch pasted on a grin and tried to act like someone who hadn’t been recently felt up by Red’s little brother in the public library. Not that Red said that he couldn’t, but some things, (for example, random groping) could probably be inferred.

“hey, what’s up?” Stretch said brightly.

“my bro called,” Red said bluntly, and Stretch’s feeble hopes deflated like yesterday’s party balloon. So much for discretion.

“i can explain,” Stretch blurted, “it wasn’t my idea, seriously, i was only—"

Red interrupted him with an amused snort. “easy, kid, don’t haul out your guilty conscience on my account. all he did was give me the gist of things, said you had yourself an unexpected adventure.” Red jerked his head towards the hallway. “g’wan, string bean, you can use my bathroom. take a shower and cool off.”

A cool shower pouring down on his dirty, sweaty bones sounded like Eden itself right about now, apple not included.

“thanks,” Stretch said gratefully. He skirted around Red, who didn’t move, only squatted there like a grouchy stump in the middle of the doorway while Stretch squeezed around him. Must be tempering his kindness with a little extra asshole to keep things even.

On his way to showerland, Stretch took a quick detour to leave the book on the coffee table amidst the clutter. Maybe he could ask Red about it, get the cliff notes version.

The shower in the downstairs bathroom was stuck with the same crappy water heater as upstairs, not that it mattered since Stretch was about ready to cuddle with an iceberg to cool off. Added bonus, the showerhead was a lot better and it managed to crank the feeble water pressure up to its max. There was a cheap plastic stool sitting in the tub, way too short for Stretch. He sat on it anyway, knees almost up to his chin as the cool water poured down on him and washed away the sweat and filth.

He was shivering a little by the time he was done, dragging a ratty towel over his dripping bones. The pile of his clothes was missing and there a new folded bundle sitting on the closed toilet lid. He must’ve been out of it more than he thought, he’d never even heard Red coming in. Unless laundry fairies were a thing and wasn’t that idea a lot more pertinent than it was yesterday.

Stretch picked up the bundle and part of it fell on the floor. Pajama pants, luckily not a pair of Red’s although it might’ve been hilarious to see Stretch wandering around like a scrawny hulk who sprouted upward out of his clothes instead of sideways. They were red plaid flannel and worn to the stage of being shiny at the knees and elbows. Probably an old pair of Edge’s, the fit was pretty close and not too many Humans wore their waistband quite as skinny as a guy without a waist.

(he was not getting a cheap thrill out of wearing a pair of Edge’s pajamas, no matter what his libido was trying to tell him)

He wandered out into Red’s living room, still squeegeeing his skull dry with the damp towel, and saw the sofa was made up with some blankets and a pillow, the television remote set helpfully in reach.

“you done?” Red’s voice echoed up from the store and his peculiar gait made its way down the hallway until he appeared again in the doorway. “then lay down and turn on the boob tube, zone out awhile. you’ll feel better.”

“what did your brother tell you?” Stretch asked. Not that he wasn’t willing to do what he was told. The couch was saggy in the middle, but the blankets were clean and smelling of laundry detergent. They felt blissfully cozy after the cold shower.

“said you met edgar allen,” Red said. “under less than stellar circumstances, i’m guessin’, since i don’t think ya got an invite for a meet and greet with the local scarecrow.”

This time his shiver had nothing to do with the temperature. Edgar Allen was an okay guy, (guy?) but Stretch was still on the fence about the corn’s attitude problems. “not exactly, no. thanks for the heads up, by the way.”

Red tilted his skull to one side, baffled, “heads up about what?”

“i dunno,” Stretch leaned up on an elbow to see him better and hopefully increase the effect of his dirty look, “maybe when you’re warning me off from the local landmarks, you could’ve touch on that fact that a stroll through the fields might involve the corn trying to hold me as a captive audience?”

“naaah,” Red scoffed. Stretch didn’t miss the way he absently started picking at his gold tooth; that was a nervous tell right there and maybe all this wasn’t just concern but dealing with a little guilt that Stretch’s latest town bonding experience was less than top notch. “that's why the damn scarecrow is there t'begin with. ‘sides, even without him you’d have gotten out before dark. anyway, never expected you to go tromping off into the corn in search of a maze, sorry i misgauged the direction of your dumbass.”

“no, i’m sorry, not your fault.” Stretch couldn’t hold back a yawn so wide it nearly split his skull, yeesh, it wasn’t even dinner time and he was ready to sleep for a week. The imaginary hamster running on the wheel in his head wasn’t quite as ready and it decided to race back to thoughts of Edge sitting in the library, alone. Researching he’d said, so intent on his books from the so-called restricted section, like a bargain basement Hogwarts. “hey, what does your brother do?”

“mostly he’s a pain in my ass.”

It was said with great feeling and Stretch snerked out a laugh. Yeah, kinda a universal trait with little brothers. “no, seriously, i mean, for a living, what does he do?”

Red shifted his feet, his cane scraping the floor. “why are ya askin’?”

“curious. bored,” Stretch shrugged, “take your pick.” He didn’t really want to explain to Red that his brother wasn’t just a sexy pair of legs in boots anymore, (but those hips would never be forgotten). He was interesting, no, fascinating. This whole town was turning out to be some kind of puzzle and it seemed to him that Edge might be a big piece. He’d said that figuring out Backwater was a fool’s errand, but he’d never met Stretch’s kind of fool before.

“kid—” Red sighed and that resigned tone snapped Stretch out of his whimsies. He cringed internally. What was he even trying to do here, he owed Red so much and not just for the job, and here he was digging for information about his bro after Red already warned him off, not once, but twice, so maybe what he was really digging was his own grave, if he didn’t knock it off.

“nevermind,” Stretch said hurriedly. “i shouldn’t’ve asked, none of my business, i get it.”

Red shook his head. “that ain’t it.”

Stretch tried on a little laugh, ha ha, see, it wasn’t that big a deal, right? “look, the state of your brother’s ass aside, i get it. that’s your little brother, and i didn’t forget what you said. we only bumped into each other at the library, i’m really not trying to get into his pants.”

He left off on making it a promise; he was telling the truth, but why take the chance on not keeping it.

He didn’t expected the hand that suddenly scruffed over his skull, like the noogies he used to give to Blue when he was little…well, okay, Blue was still little but noogieing was off the table since he’d started his guard training.

This wasn’t like that childish roughhousing, Red’s knuckles only scraped softly along his coronal sutures. “no, kid, you don’t get it. my bro can handle himself, it ain’t him i’m worried about. but you? don’t ya got the feeling you ain’t up to any new affairs of the soul right now? might want to take it easy awhile.”

That unexpectedly gruff kindness made tears sting in his sockets. Stretch guiltily leaned into that touch to absorb every drop, and how was it he could accept it from Red when he couldn’t take it from his own brother? “i don’t get you. you barely even know me. why are you so nice to me?”

Red huffed out a laugh. “you want i should be an asshole? okay, but i gotta warn ya, i’m a contender when it comes to dick moves.”

“thanks, but you can keep your dick in your pants.”

“your loss.”

“seriously, though, what i mean is. i just don’t get it. this place is so weird, but everyone is nice.” It didn’t exactly line up with Stretch’s view of the world. His brother was always nice sure and Snowdin hadn’t been too bad, if you didn’t count the fact that all his friends were from drinking his nights away at Muffet’s. The surface world ran about fifty-fifty with Monsters being on the kinder side of the scale…until he got dumped and found out he lost all his friends in the divorce, how was that for loyalty.

Red only chuckled. “now you’ve gone and cursed yourself. can’t say everyone is nice, you ain’t met everyone yet.”

That was true, fuck, he hoped the universe wasn’t listening and if it was, that it didn’t decide to drum up a little drama. “red?”

“yeah, kid?”

Stretch craned his head back on the pillow and met Red’s crimson gaze upside-down. “thank you for being nice.”

“don’t tell anyone. i’ll lose my resident asshole status.

“secret is safe with me, promise.” Stretch yawned again and the cow bell suddenly jangled loudly out front, startling them both.

Red shouted. “yeah, i’m coming!” He tossed over his shoulder back at Stretch, “take tomorrow off, sleep in, you ain’t had a day off since ya got here.”

“thanks, boss.”

Stretch started to settle in, nap ahoy, captain, hard to starboard and all that, and his eye lights snagged on the book. Shit, he forgot to ask Red about it. Probably didn’t matter, Red’s ingredient label kinda went equal parts of cryptic and cryptid, so he probably wasn’t gonna give the right answers even if Stretch figured out what to ask.

Wait.

If Red and Edge want to share the part of the local Obi-Wan with their mysterious ways, that was fine. He already had the perfect person lined up to ask about the town’s history. Well, part of a person, anyway, the most important part.

Plan formed, Stretch turned on the television and snuggled into the blankets, letting the dulcet tones of Pat Sajak lull him to sleep.

He didn’t dream.

~~*~~

The next day, Stretch headed over to the theater bright and early, still munching on the muffin Red handed off to him as he settled on the stool for the day with his latest book, this one with a bare-chested pirate embracing a busty Human woman as the ocean sprayed up over the hull over them. Seemed to Stretch that would be less smokin’ sexytimes and more cold and wet, but what did he know, his closest encounter with the ocean was extra salt on his Applebee’s margarita.

“thanks, mom,” Stretch said as he took the little paper lunch bag Red held out to him. Red only grunted and didn’t look up from his book. In the midst of rummaging for his tasty free breakfast, Stretch hesitated at the front door.

He felt a little guilty even though Red was the one who told him to take the day. Before he started working at the store, was Red really sitting there all day long, twelve hours of a cash register and customers while he drank beer and soaked up a little romance language in the form of a cheap paperback?

Not that Stretch was judging, hell, if that made Red happy, more power to him. Still, there had to be more to his life than that, didn’t there? Maybe he’d see if Mitch sold sudoku pads at the gas station, pick him up one along with a six-pack. Hard to guess if they carried that kind of entertainment; Mitch was either some kind of crossword grand champion or the kind of guy who ate ketchup on his cheerios and Stretch still wasn’t sure which.

The first movie showing wasn’t for another hour, but Igor didn’t make a fuss when Stretch asked him if he could go sit down early. (and holy shit, the proprietor’s name was actually Igor? He wasn’t sure if the guy’s parents hated him or if the universe sense of irony rolled a natural D20 when it hit this town.)

Igor only grunted and handed over two cups of popcorn without being asked, handing back a crumpled dollar in change. Aww, Stretch had a usual, see, he was settling into town just fine, suck it, Edge.

(don’t think it, don’t think it, don’t think it…)

Stretch made his way to the theater to his regular seat, propping his sneakers up on the chair in front of him. The popcorn he set aside for now, it wasn’t exactly his idea of a breakfast treat and that muffin Red gave him was still settling into his magic. To be honest, he wasn’t entirely sure if Doris could show up very long before the movie. He was no expert, but he did know that ghosts could have some peculiar rules about manifesting. Hopefully this wouldn’t mess with her morning routine, whatever it was.

He didn’t have to wait long. Maybe Doris could sense him or maybe she could just feel it when a living person came into the theater. She slowly came into focus next to him, pale ectoplasm coalescing, and the already cool air chilled even further.

Doris happily sniffed at her popcorn as she said, whispery soft, “Good morning, Stretch, you’re here very early.”

“yeah, took the day off work,” Stretch said. His voice sounded too loud in the empty theater, not even the elevator music was playing yet. “i need your help with something.”

He might as well have flipped Doris’s switch to ‘on’. She lit up, a smile curving her pretty mouth and seeming more solid than ever. The seat behind her was barely visible through her pale pink dress as she said eagerly, “Of course, anything that I can do.”

So that was how Stretch came to tell her the story about Edgar Allen. He didn’t leave out any details, including the bit about the kids shouting at him not to go in the field, the corn closing in around him in a dizzying maze of green, Edgar Allen’s assistance, and Edge’s cryptic warning that the scarecrow would disappear with the harvest.

Doris listened to it all raptly, her eyes wide and startlingly blue, and she never flickered once the entire time. The only unsettling sight was a single trickle of blood running down the side of her face, gathering in a heavy droplet on her chin.

“My, that sounds terrifying,” Doris breathed, unaware of the irony of her saying that while a slender thread of ghostly blood ran down her cheek. The droplet swelled fatly, growing until it finally fell with a plip onto her dress, leaving behind a perfectly round spot that would slowly vanish, only to be replaced by the next drop.

It didn’t really bother Stretch much anymore; he was getting used to it and an old memory of blood was nothing compared to his recent woes. “yeah, it was spooky all right.”

“But I’m not sure I can help you,” Doris continued sadly, “There wasn’t a scarecrow in my day, not that I remember. But the corn. Yes. That I recall.” She shivered delicately and her chair let out a strange groan of springs. “A person could get lost for days in the corn. I remember…” Her already faint voice went softer and Stretch strained to hear her, her gaze distant. “I remember one year at harvest time, they found a skeleton in the field, it was awful. Oh!” She gasped and pressed a gloved hand to her mouth, “I’m so sorry, it was a dead person, not a skeleton like you!”

“no offense taken,” Stretch assured her. He slouched down in his seat even more and waggled his feet, his untied shoelaces laces bobbing against the seatback “huh. so at least one person died out in the corn.”

“I’m afraid I don’t remember much about it,” Doris admitted. “whoever it was, they weren’t local.”

“uh huh.” An outsider, then, like him, getting munched up by the corn triffids. “who owns the corn fields, anyway?”

“I…” she hesitated, then apologetically. “I’m not sure. I don’t know if I’ve forgotten or if I never knew.”

Another mystery. If he was gonna play at Sherlock Holmes, he really needed to start taking notes. Maybe get a pipe.

“welp, either way, edgar allen bro out there saved my ass,” Stretch told her. He picked up a piece of popcorn and didn’t eat it, only crumpled it between his fingers and let the mangled bits fall to the floor, “and he’s gonna die come harvest time. i feel like i owe it to him to at least hear his story, you know? edge wouldn’t tell me much, just gave me that book and a scavenger hunt.”

“This Edge person doesn’t sound very nice,” Doris said disapprovingly. Her mouth pulled down into a frown that flashed briefly to a bloody smear. “Is he local?”

“kinda? he’s a monster like me, so he could only have been in town for a coupla years. since we came to the surface, anyway.”

Sudden relief washed over Doris’s pretty face. “He’s not a human, then.”

“nope, he’s another skeleton monster.” That seemed to satisfy her. Note to self, Doris wasn’t real keen on Humans, in a way that didn’t seem like it was only about the way they ran away when they got a good look at her. That mystery wasn’t all too mysterious, not with a big, bloody clue flickering in and out of view like a gory version of a kid’s flipbook. If that was a going away present from another Human, he didn’t blame her for being wary. He wondered if she’d met Edge before but Stretch hesitated to bring up that idea, or to mention Red; he didn’t want her to feel bad if she didn’t remember. “yep, another skeleton monster in town. he’s kinda rough around the edges, but he’s okay.”

“Okay, is that all?” Doris said with unexpected mischievousness, “he didn’t sound simply ‘okay’ when you were describing him.”

A blush flared hotly in his cheekbones and Stretch hunched down in his seat, weirdly embarrassed in a way he hadn’t been with Red. At least Red could see what he was staring at, Doris only had him waxing poetically about Edge’s hips to go by, and Shakespeare he wasn’t.

“yeah, yeah,” Stretch grumbled, and damn, he should’ve brought along his hoodie, at least he could’ve hidden from the laughter shining in her translucent eyes. She had a dimple in the cheek on her good side and it deepened as Stretch admitted, “could be that i enjoy the view. but that’s it, okay? just a little sightseeing, i don’t need any souvenirs.”

“Uh huh,” Doris clicked her tongue thoughtfully, “Stretch, my mama always told me you can’t hurry up a good time by waiting for it.”

Other people were starting to come into the theater now. One of them gave him a curious look, but they didn’t stop, only followed the others down to the front row.

“the only time i’m looking for is in the nick of,” Stretch sighed. “guess there’s no way around it, i’ll have to read the book.”

He should’ve known not to try to find an easy way out; seemed like all his shortcuts had abandoned him, lately.

Doris laid a hand on his arm and a sudden chill sank its teeth in deep enough for his bones to ache. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help,” Doris said softly.

“nah, you helped plenty,” Stretch told her. She had. Now he knew that scarecrows were slightly more recent, at least within the past century and that maybe the cornfield wasn’t quiet as safe as it’d been played off to be. At least a cornfield without Edgar Allen in it.

The lights started dimming, the first credits beginning to roll. His popcorn was cold, the butter congealing it into clumps of greasy blobs that stuck to his fingers. Stretch ate it anyway, hey, it cost him a dollar, and laughed with Doris as Buster Keaton escaped from a bumbling crowd of cops by grabbing onto a passing car.

His phone was in his pocket, tucked in deep and only lightly pressing against his femur through the thin cloth of his shorts. It vibrated once in a quick, staccato burst while the movie was playing but Stretch ignored it.

That was one lesson he’d learned very well while they still lived under the mountain; if you focused on the task at hand, you didn’t have to think about the ones you left behind.

~~*~~

tbc

[stillness-in-green]

If it's any consolation, I'm sure that the Advisors and the rest of the MLA (Re-Destro, Trumpet, Geten) will show back up sooner than the final arc, just because we're going into Year 2 and the students would find great 1 on 1 or team opponents with the Advisors. Re-Destro and Geten are heavy hitters (and Geten could be tied to Dabi, Shoto and all that somehow) and they were locked up with Mr. Compress and Machia, but who do you want to see first from the Advisors?

Thanks, anon; I certainly do hope we'll get to see more of them.  Admittedly, my main concern is that I so liked what was going on with the Paranormal Liberation Front that even if we do see all of the MLA types again, if it's only in the context of speedbump battles for the students, that's still going to be a letdown.  Better than nothing, to be sure, but I really do want them to join back up with the League, even a League that's confused and out of sorts under All For One's hand.  I love RD's big spiritual-awakening-flavored crush on Shigaraki, the cross-organization tensions and relationships, just as much as I love the depth the MLA brings to the world outside of just what's going on with the heroes.

I'm fairly frustrated with how the MLA fared during and after the raid, largely because it's awfully hard not to conclude that, if what we have right now is all the erstwhile-MLA are ever going to come to, Shigaraki would have been significantly better off if he'd just killed them all and shacked up with Ujiko for four months.  And that would be such a waste!  The end of My Villain Academia was such an enormous triumph for Shigaraki! I want his victory to amount to something more than what we've seen, something that shows that both his strength and his mercy will pay off for him in the long-term, will be a concrete benefit to him rather than, with the benefit of hindsight, the reason everything went so wrong.

Particularly with Re-Destro, since Horikoshi saw fit to have Dark Shadow all but one-shot the man, and Edgeshot defeat him off-panel, it's really not going to mean much to me for him to have a big fight with students unconnected to anything else.  The drama's rather gone out of it at this point.  That's particularly the case since, if he's no longer connected to Shigaraki's plot, it's that much easier for him to just be off-paneled and forgotten about.  But, if Rikiya gets looped back in with the League, if his gratitude and admiration of Shigaraki mean he still has a role to play in Shigaraki's arc, that makes it much easier to get invested in any fights that role will lead him to. Ditto the MLA more broadly; it's categorically ridiculous to present that organization with the kinds of numbers, breadth of influence and legitimate grievances they have, only to try to sweep them back under the rug exactly like Shigaraki accuses heroes of doing with everyone they can't save. 

To say the least, I'm pretty invested.  But I appreciate your consolations and am trying to hold out hope that we'll get some good stuff with them yet!

My anxieties aside, and to hit the other portion of your ask--who would I like to see first among the Advisors?--hit the jump:

(All nicknames and shorthand are taken from this post.) 

Well, it'd be nice if they could all get at least as much to do as the Eight Bullets back during the Hassaikai arc, seeing as they got a similar splash page spread introducing all their faces.  There are considerably more than eight of them, of course, but even if they never get more attention than e.g. Galvanize or the hose-faced guy who iced Midnight did, at least then we'd have some idea of their power sets and at least one angle on their personality.

Assuming we aren’t going to get full breakdowns on every single one of them, there are still four things I'd really like to see happen with the MLA/the Advisors: the student fights we're expecting, the jailbreaks we're being told about, the reunion with the League I'm praying for, and for literally anyone in the in-world media to try and get their side of the story.

Student Fights: Seeing the guy who killed Midnight again is as sure a bet as any of these get.  Momo is an important enough character, with enough sustained arc, that she will have to get something else to do before the series is over.  Taking command of a group battle against real opponents--ones with more responsiveness and agency than Gigantomachia--would be in-line with what she's been moving towards so far.  I would, however, love it if that fight would be more challenging than a straightforward battle of tactics.

I headcanon Hose Face and Scarecrow as, respectively, an ex-con and a dude with physical disabilities--both people who have ample reason to want to change the series' status quo irt human rights abuses in prison and overly restrictive quirk use laws.  I'm not expecting the canon to validate me on what amount to wild guesses, of course, but I want those Advisors in particular to have motivations more nuanced than, "They're quirk supremacists; who cares why they're willing to put their lives on the line over this?"

A feel-good revenge match in which a bunch of teenagers lay the smack down on characters whose humanity the audience is asked neither to know nor care about would be lazy, and counterproductive to the series' current thematic concerns. Give Momo her victory, by all means, but don't give it to her easy.  A confrontation like this would be a good way for the less central Class A students to begin wrestling with the question of who, exactly, heroes "save" and what it is that people need to be saved from, exactly the way Deku and Uraraka and Shouto are now wrestling with these questions.

As far as other fights go, I'd also love to see Brand and The Question pop up again. They're probably the two I'm most curious about purely in terms of what their quirks are.  Why does The Question wear a mask, and what's he like that he wound up in Mr. Compress's chain of command?  And with Brand, what kind of quirk does he have that's powerful enough to land him a ranked position in the Guerilla Warfare Regiment but indirect enough that he fights with a sword?

Prison Breaks: I wouldn't expect this to be particularly involved, probably more of an aside than anything, but I want the Bindi Ladies to spring Hole Punch Face, thus getting us an angle on what's going on with that particular trio.  Aviator Teeth can come too because I want at least some hints about what his deal is.

I'd also love to watch Horikoshi even attempt to retroactively justify some of the logistics of the single-day capture and subsequent detention of 17,000 super-powered, combat-trained people.*  I mean, I don't think there are any feasible explanations for that, but I'd be curious to see what he'd come up with, especially if every possible answer just makes Hero Society look worse! We have only ever seen Tartarus as an example of the prison conditions in this country; I'd love to hear more, and an MLA-focused jailbreak would be a great way to show it.

PLF Reunion: Of course, my number one thing to see with a reunion is Re-Destro being just as dismayed as Spinner is over Tomura's possession.  I crave more serious attention being paid to Rikiya's profound awe over Shigaraki's freedom, and would love to see his reaction to Shigaraki apparently losing that freedom.

Aside from the obvious, though, if the PLF does start piecing itself back together, I expect to see Sanctum again, given the attention he's gotten so far, and the fact that he's now the highest-ranked member of the Tactics Regiment.  It'd be great to get some explanation for how he can possibly be "the longest-serving member of the Liberation Army," given that the Army was generations old already when Re-Destro was just a child.  (If we do get that information, I imagine my own explanation will be jossed hugely, so I would also be happy to take time with Sanctum that doesn't explain the discrepancy but also doesn't invalidate my headcanon.)  

In the context of the regiments reforming, I'd also like to see Nimble and Aster, both because this manga needs more women, and because I'd like to see more of how Spinner and Toga interact with the people they were nominally commanding.

Media Attention: Trumpet's my number one hope here--the lack of any look into the state of the government in HeroAca Japan has been a total let-down since his introduction**, but I was particularly annoyed that the last time we saw him he was smiling (albeit in a fairly haggard way), giving me hope that we might next see him doing his part to portray all of this in a light that would sway public opinion.  And then literally one chapter later, we get prison guards talking about how the Hearts & Minds Party, a perfectly legitimized political party with representation on the national level, has been perfunctorily dissolved less than twelve hours from when the raid started.  How is there even an argument that the system heroes were upholding desperately needs to change?

I'm very tired of the media in BNHA only ever showing up to beg for/demand that heroes tell them what’s going on, particularly those damn press conferences. Journalists do investigative work! Newspapers employ reporters to actively seek out news!  Reporters in free countries don't just sit around waiting for the government or heads of major industries to graciously hand them press releases!  For heaven's sake, Trumpet was the head of a major political party.  People should be foaming at the mouth trying to get a statement from him!  

Especially with public trust in heroes breaking down, there should absolutely be intrepid reporters out there looking to get to the bottom of any of the layered conspiracies the public's just been hit with and told to just write-off as a bump in the road on the return to normalcy.

Anyway, Trumpet's the obvious choice, but if I could be sure the manga would validate my headcanons about Nimble and Scarecrow's disabilities, I'd be happy to put them in this position, too.  Trucker Toad would be another good candidate, if there's any basis to my idea that he is or used to be a transport driver who's seen a lot of the country outside the areas e.g. the Top Ten Heroes are patrolling.  He's obviously a good candidate for getting back to that idea of anti-heteromorph bias, too.  But really, I'd take anyone who can give a cogent explanation of the MLA's position on self-determination and the various ways Hero Society has exacerbated quirk-based discrimination.

Anyway, that's about where my thoughts are on where I hope the MLA people are and what we might see of them.  Thanks for the ask!

--------------

*Or as many as 100,000 more than that, depending on how through the statement, "Their bases around the country were also attacked, and their supporters rounded up," was meant to be.  An influx of 116K people, incidentally, would triple Japan's current carceral population.

**Why! Why would you introduce a politician and then never even glance at your setting's political situation??

[myaekingheart]

141. Intuition

read the scarecrow and the bell on ao3 index | from the beginning | < previous | next >

               Smoke billowed up from the tip of a lit cigarette as Sekkachi took a long, hungry drag. The village was quiet for a Monday, the sky inching up central overhead. Dust clouded up around her ankles with each pad of her feet. She turned a corner, trampled through the same pathway she had already forged on another street. Rei surely would not mind her running late. It wasn’t like they were on a tight schedule and Rei likely needed the extra time anyway. After all, it wasn’t called morning sickness for nothing.

               As she strolled, Sekkachi pressed a hand to her toned, bare stomach and deliberated. It was still so hard to wrap her brain around the fact that her best friend was having a baby. Deep down, Sekkachi knew this would happen eventually. She had made her peace with it but that didn’t mean she had fully comprehended it yet. Life was moving so fast and things were changing so quickly. Their youth was slipping ever rapidly through their fingers and there was not a damn thing they could do about it.

               Sekkachi cursed herself as she suddenly heard her name shouted from down the street. All those thoughts of youth had apparently summoned him, the true power of youth connoisseur: Might Guy. He waved at her widely before running to catch up with her, a determined grin spread across his face. “Sekkachi! I didn’t expect to see you out and about this early” he greeted.

               “It’s not that early” Sekkachi grumbled under her breath, taking another drag. But then again, being out and about any time before noon was evidently suspicious behavior. “Besides, I’ve got plans with Rei.”

               Guy nodded knowingly. “What youthful activities are you doing today? A sparring match in the training grounds? Shopping spree? Or perhaps a trip to the dango shop? Hmm?”

               Shaking her head, Sekkachi finished off her cigarette and toed the butt into the dirt. “No, we’re heading over to see her parents. Rei’s got big news to share and besides, she’s been freaking out about everything so she wanted to look into some books on pregnancy.”

               Might Guy stood stock still in the middle of the street, his mind lingering on the word pregnancy. And it was then that Sekkachi realized she had made a terrible mistake. “Sekkachi!” he shouted, taking her by the shoulders and looking her straight in the eyes. “Do you mean to tell me that Rei and Kakashi are pregnant?”

               “I-I thought you knew…” Sekkachi stammered. Her hands grew clammy as she willed Guy to release her from his grip. She watched as he began to seemingly vibrate with excitement, something welling up deep within his chest before almost combusting. “Guy…don’t you dare. G-Guy, I swear to god! Don’t you—”

               And then he was off in a flash, racing down the street and skidding around corners fast as a bullet toward Rei and Kakashi’s apartment. He needed to confront his eternal rival on this wondrous news once and for all. Sekkachi dropped her head back with a groan before chasing after him. The pit of her chest tightened with regret and the fear of the impending confrontation. At least she knew Guy would likely take this far better than Rei’s parents would.

               Kakashi rested a gentle hand on his fiancée’s lower back as she leaned over the toilet, vomiting profusely yet again. She seemed to be so sick so often, he wondered how her body even managed it. He had watched the way her hands shook as she had stood over the sink that morning and brushed her hair slowly, methodically, as if the tangles were a tricky math problem that required focus and precision. The way her nose twitched and her face paled, the way she tried to swallow it back to no avail. He had skidded to her side the minute she spun and fell to her knees, scooting her closer to the toilet for extra security. She clung to the toilet seat with a white-knuckle grip, her body cold and clammy and her chest heaving monstrously. Once the expulsion was complete, she fell back into his lap gasping for breath, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

               “I’m so sorry, ‘Kashi” she gasped, shaking her head and raking her fingers through her hair.

               “Don’t apologize” he replied, leaning forward to flush the toilet for her. “I know you can’t help it.”

               “I just hate this so much” she whimpered, pressing her palm over her eyes. Her vision was spotty and warped, like right before she was to pass out.  

               “It’ll be okay” he assured her, rubbing her shoulder sweetly. “I was looking over those pamphlets and they said the vomiting usually dies down after the first trimester. Don’t worry, there’s an end in sight.” He fed her a reassuring smile, pressed his lips to her sweaty temple.

               “I hope so” Rei huffed. She shifted yet again, signalling that she was ready to stand. Kakashi rested a hand on her back as he rose to his feet behind her, ensuring that she would not fall, before extending a hand to help her up slowly.

               “Do you want me to stay with you while you get ready?” he asked. He was terrified of leaving her unsupervised, of all the negative possibilities that could occur.

               Rei sniffled and shook her head, leaning against the bathroom counter for support. “N-No, it’s okay. I think I’ll be fine” she assured him. Toshio nosed the bathroom door open, trudging up beside her as if to assure Kakashi that he could chaperone. Kakashi scratched the dog appreciatively behind the ear before planting another quick kiss on Rei’s cheek, then returning to the kitchen. Across the counter sat his abandoned breakfast preparations, miraculously untouched.

               As he whisked egg yolks in a bowl and hovered his hand over the frying pan, there was a rapid, rhythmic knock at the door and Kakashi’s body immediately went ice cold. He knew that knock anywhere. Roused from his morning haze, Toshio leapt to his feet and raced to the door, barking madly as if he, too, recognized the source of the sound. And with Toshio alerting their guest of their presence, Kakashi knew there was no avoiding the confrontation now. They could not hide from Might Guy.

               Sucking in a sharp breath, Kakashi drew his mask up over his face and slowly approached the door, mustering the mental strength to deal with Guy at this hour. Or at least under the current circumstances.

               Knowing Guy, he was most likely just vying for another sparring match. The fresh summer air always seemed to feed his insatiable energy. Kakashi redirected Toshio out of the way, clutched the doorknob, and rehearsed his polite refusal in the back of his mind. He would keep things vague, perhaps say he was just tired and that Rei had the stomach flu. He intended to tell Guy of the prengnacy in due time. It hadn’t even been a week since they had found out. He and Rei were still grasping at the weight of this new reality themselves. Keeping things vague would have to suffice.

               Kakashi creaked the door open with an already-apologetic smile. Without a moment of hesitation, Guy barged into the apartment and pointed at his eternal rival with a manic look in his eyes. “Kakashi!” he exclaimed and the Copy Ninja felt his body stiffen and chill. He opened his mouth to speak but before he could even make a sound, Guy interrupted yet again. And his words shot an icy bullet straight through Kakashi’s chest. “You didn’t tell me you were having a baby!”

               Oh no. Kakashi froze, speechless. Finally, he managed to muster a deflated, “Well, technically it’s not me who’s having the baby…” as he poked his stomach. Although maybe I ought to add some more sit-ups to my daily exercise routine, he then thought.

               Guy blinked despondently. “I mean you and Rei!” he clarified. There was perhaps an undercurrent of hurt in his voice, a sense of sadness in having been excluded from such a massive turn of events.

                “Listen, I-I was going to tell you this week” Kakashi stammered. “Guy, we only just found out.” He hated that he was so anxious about the thought of having perhaps angered Guy. Kakashi really meant no harm in not having told him the news yet. He hoped that Guy would understand.

               The bedroom door creaked open then and Rei trudged out into the light, rubbing her aching forehead and muttering under her breath. When she felt two pairs of eyes land on her, she paused and her own slowly widened. “What’s going on…?” she asked, looking from her fiancé to Guy and back. Before she could even receive half of an answer, Guy lunged forward and swept her up into a monstrous hug. A yelp escaped Rei’s lips, the abruptness of it all only worsening her headache. In the background, the pounding of frantic footsteps echoed in the complex’s hallway.

               “Shit” Sekkachi muttered under her breath, skidding to a halt in the doorway. She leaned against the doorframe, gasping for breath. Her face was sallow and dewy with sweat. “I-I’m so fucking sorry” she whispered to Kakashi. “I tried to stop him but…” Her voice trailed off as she inhaled and pressed a hand to her side, hoping to still the sharp, stabbing cramps.

               “It’s okay” Kakashi whispered back. “I know Guy can be a little hard to, um…maintain.”

               Enthusiastic tears rolled down Guy’s cheeks as he squeezed Rei tightly. “I’m just so happy for you guys!” he cried. “The both of you are going to make stupendous parents! Your babies are going to be beautiful!”

               Sekkachi shook her head as she leaned against the doorway, replying softly to Kakashi, “Unfortunately.”

               And then Guy leaned back to get a better view of Rei, gushing, “And look at you! Already glowing with the spirit of fresh youth!”

               Rei blushed, averting her eyes with anxious laughter. “I mean, I’m pretty sure that’s what happens when you spend all morning puking” she muttered under her breath.

               A weight released from Kakashi’s back as he watched the two of them interact. He was so terrified that Rei would be furious about Guy having found out the news before she could approve. Not that it was his fault, of course, but Rei’s temper had been questionable and Kakashi was the closest target. Dropping his shoulders, he skirted around to the sink and poured Sekkachi a much-needed glass of water. She took it graciously, muttering a thanks before taking a long, desperate swig. “So I take it you were the one who told her?” Kakashi then asked.

               With a gulp, Sekkachi slumped in defeat. “It just slipped out, I didn’t mean to” she sighed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

               “Well, Guy was bound to find out sooner or later” Kakashi replied, ruffling his hair. He glanced to his rival and fiancée over his shoulder and cringed in secondhand embarrassment. Guy had since transitioned into gushing about the amazing feats that Rei’s body was about to accomplish, of how incredible a process it all was, and orating several well-meaning but rather uneducated pregnancy facts. All the while, Kakashi could see Rei’s face tinge green, overwhelmed.

               To be fair, this was exactly why Kakashi had held off telling Guy right away. He had hoped that he would be able to handle things privately, preferably with Rei out of the picture. He didn’t want to add any more to her burden. She already had enough to worry about.

               “I guess I ought to step in and put an end to this” Sekkachi whispered, downing the last of her drink and slamming the empty glass on the counter. “Yo, Rei? Are you ready to go?” she called across the room.

               The mere mention of the word go caused Toshio’s ears to perk up, immediately rushing to Rei’s side to leap excitedly and nudge her hand with his snout. Rei wiggled out of Guy’s one-armed embrace, flashing him a half-assed apologetic smile. She allowed Toshio to tug her toward the front door by the hem of her tunic. He spun this way and that, nearly knocking Rei over as she stumbled to slip her shoes on. Smirking, Sekkachi extended an arm to help steady her as she hopped on one foot and tugged at her sandal. “You’re welcome” she whispered.

               Rei shook her head and rolled her eyes playfully, whispering back “I’m not out of the woods yet. Nowhere near it.” If anything, a part of her perhaps even hoped that Guy had taken over her entire afternoon. He was overwhelming, of course, but his positivity was a breath of fresh air. Deep down, they all knew that the rest of the afternoon would go nowhere near as smoothly.

               If Rei had it her way, she would never even have to tell her parents of the pregnancy to begin with. The fear of uncertainty was not the issue here—rather, the opposite. Her father would be furious at the thought of Kakashi even laying a roving hand on her in the first place, and her mother would surely break down in tears, relieved that Rei would finally abandon her dangerous career for the sake of sheltered domesticity. The thought of it all made Rei’s stomach churn. She swallowed back her anxiety as she gave Sekkachi a light shove on the shoulder. A silent plea that they needed to get out and fast.

               Kakashi paused for a moment as he watched Rei shove her way through the front door. The frying pan sizzled and hissed on the stovetop. “Rei, w-wait!” he called after her. “What about breakfast?”

               Rei glanced at him over her shoulder and for a moment he swore her entire body was trembling. “I’m not hungry!” she called back to him, waving him off dismissively. Gripping Sekkachi’s wrist, Rei tugged her around the corner and they were gone.

               Kakashi tried to handle Rei’s faltering appetite with grace. He tried to remind himself of how unruly stomach had been as of late, and that he should not force her to eat when she was already so sick. And yet the thought of her skipping meals made him anxious. He pursed his lips behind his mask, turned back to the kitchen. Guy cocked a brow in curiosity as he sensed the unease. With a sigh, Kakashi poured the eggs into the pan with a hiss and asked over his shoulder, “Are you hungry?”

               Much like the rest of Konohagakure, the Kaminoki Bookshop was quiet for a Monday morning. Toshio pushed the door open with his nose, the bell overhead chiming to signal their arrival. Slumped behind the counter was Yuzu enthralled in some book about the Third Great Ninja War. She glanced up for only a second, calling up the stairs, “Mrs. Natsuki! Your daughter’s here!”

               “Thank you, Yuzu! I’ll be right down!” Hana replied. Rei could hear her padding around upstairs, likely in the kitchen by the geography of her footfalls. She seemed louder now than before, heavier, as if at any moment she would break through the ceiling and crash down on top of her. An anxious lump rose into the back of Rei’s throat and without another moment of hesitation, she ducked behind one of the bookshelves for respite. Rei launched herself toward the political texts and tugged down a massive hardback almost too heavy for her to carry.

               “What are you doing…?” Sekkachi whispered, eyeing her suspiciously. “I thought you were to look for books on the p-r-e-g.”

               “I am, you idiot” Rei whispered back, adjusting the book in her hands. She propped open the cover, began ripping off the dust jacket. “What? Do you think the pregnancy brain has already fucked me over? No. I just need to handle this delicately.” Toshio huffed and nodded as if to emphasize his master’s point.

               Sekkachi cocked a brow as she watched Rei shove the book, naked, back onto the shelf and then spin into the arts and sciences aisle. She skipped past anatomy, astronomy, biology, and chemistry all the way up to the pregnancy and reproduction section. There were only a handful of books, many of them dated or otherwise ignored and coated with a thick layer of dust. Rei pulled the most popular title into her arms, shoving the political dust jacket over the cover, and began flicking through. She paused on the fetal development chart.

               Peering over her shoulder, Sekkachi snorted and asked, “So which one of these is yours?” She chuckled at how bizarre the images looked, like little aliens.

               “Probalby this one” Rei whispered back, pointing to the image marked as eight weeks. Sekkachi squinted down at it, studying the curled little figure with beady eyes and unformed features.

               After a moment of deliberation, Sekkachi blurted out, “It looks like a shrimp.”

               Toshio barked loudly, as if in response to the mention of food. And then all at once, he nudged Rei hard on the back of her thigh, whipped around, on high alert. “There you girls are!” a voice called from around the corner—Rei’s mother. Startled, Rei yelped and stumbled backward, knocking into the fine arts section. A handful of poetry anthologies tumbled to the ground. “What are you doing looking at pregnancy books, anyway?” Hana then asked, her eyes darting to the book in Rei’s hand. The dust jacket had gone crooked, the cover of What to Expect When You’re Expecting poking out from behind. Rei’s entire body went cold. She was paralyzed.

               “I was looking for my cousin” Sekkachi suddenly interrupted, stepping in front of Rei and waving her book in Hana’s face. “Tenjikubotan got knocked up so she asked me to look into some pregnancy manuals for her. She’s all hellbent on learning about ‘the beauty of her body’ and all that good shit.”

               Numbing shock made way for chilling relief as Rei felt the pressure release from her shoulders. Sekkachi always had been a clever liar.

               “Oh! Well then tell Tenjikubotan I said congratulations!” Hana beamed. Beneath the delight, however, her voice was tense. Desperate. Flooded with undercurents of her own deep-seated desires for Rei’s life. Rei’s chest tightened as the weight of it pressed hard against her chest, suffocating her. Her mother’s face began to warp in front of her eyes, the bookshelves twisting and swaying and the floor beneath her beginning to cave in. She could see Hana’s lips moving, hear her voice speaking, but she could not comprehend the sound. Rei clutched her book even tighter, the mere thought of it making her sick. Her eyes dropped to the floor, to the poetry books scattered at her feet. Only one had fallen face-up, the sharp words staring back at her with disgusting irony. You are on the eve of a devastating psychological upheaval. A whimper rose up into Rei’s throat as the weight in her chest grew heavier. And then there was a slap on her shoulder, hard and fast. The world clicked back into place.

               “Well, Rei? What do you think?” Sekkachi asked through gritted teeth, jerking her gaze toward Hana’s direction.

               Rei cleared her throat, croaked out a weak, “W-what did you say, Mom…?”

               “I said I just finished making some lemonade, if you want to come up for a drink!” Hana repeated. “Perfect for a hot day like this!”

               “O-Oh…” Rei whispered. “Y-Yeah…that would be…that would be great.”

               Upstairs, the apartment was flooded with an almost ethereal summer light. The windows were propped open and a light breeze billowed the curtains, sheer and graceful. Ice cubes clinked in a pitcher of lemonade on the kitchen counter, already beginning to sweat. Everything was warm and bright and promising. Rei sucked in a deep breath and hoped for peace.

               “I see the lemonade has attracted company, huh?” an old voice jested. On the couch sat Grandma Teiko hunched over a book. She licked her fingertip as she turned the page, a smile inching across her wrinkled face. She met Rei’s gaze then and there was something in her wise eyes that scared her. Something knowing. With the support of her cane, she hoisted herself to her feet and shuffled towared her granddaughter, pulling her in for a kiss on the cheek. Her varicose hands trembled and her lips felt colder than normal. “I guess summer has been kind to you” she then said, idling on Rei’s face for  a moment. “You seem very full of life.”

               Oh god. Rei’s back shot ramrod straight and she could feel the heat creep across the back of her neck. There was no way Grandma Teiko could know. Who told her? When did she find out? This was all too much. Perhaps it was just a coincidence. Perhaps it was a joke. But then again, Grandma Teiko had strange ways. Grandma Teiko knew everything.

               “You do have a certain glow about you, dear” Hana commented, setting out four glasses and distributing the lemonade. Toshio strained his neck to sniff along the edge of the counter, hoping to steal a taste for himself. Hana instead fished a ceramic bowl from the cabinet, filled it with water, and set it down upon the floor for him. Defeated, he trudged toward his place setting and began lapping up his drink sloppily, splashing water all across the kitchen floor.

                Sekkachi watched him for a moment before adding, “The heat does that to you.” She nodded toward Hana in thanks as she took her glass.

               “Yeah, the heat’s, uh…the heat’s been a killer” Rei muttered as she received her own. Her eyes dropped to the floor as she took a meager sip. The lemonade was so tart and cold, it nearly made her lips pucker, but it felt incredible as it rushed down her throat. She voraciously guzzled the rest and set her glass on the counter, half-hoping her mother would automatically provide her with seconds.

               “Well, I hope you’re staying hydrated out there” Hana said. She eyed Rei’s glass curiously but was too delighted to complain. Lifting the pitcher, she poured Rei another glass. “You spend so much time outside with that damn job of yours, I don’t know how you don’t pass out every day.”

               Rei pursed her lips, eyes bugged out in anxiety as she took another long drink. “Believe me, that’s uh…that’s not the worst of my worries” she muttered. Grandma Teiko cocked a brow and Rei immediately wished she had never said anything.

               “Well, just be grateful you still have your health” Hana then said, raising a finger matter-of-factly. “You know, just the other day, my friend’s cousin’s mother had to be whisked off to the hospital for heat exhaustion and you know what happened? She didn’t make it, the poor girl. Dehydrated beyond repair. But then again, she was also 97 and had other health complications so I’m sure that that had something to do with it…”

               For a moment, Rei’s frustration at her mother’s aimless interest stalled long enough for her to feel relieved that she did not linger on Rei’s words. She took another swig of her lemonade as she half-listened to Hana’s tale. All the while, she swore she could feel Grandma Teiko’s gaze everpresent on her back.

               The rest of the afternoon progressed in much the same way, with Hana going off on tangents about her friends and especially the mundane occurrences in their childs’ lives. Truthfully, Rei never cared much for Hana’s friends nor any of their families. They were too self-interested, as if their own little sphere of the world was all that mattered. They knew nothing of struggle, stress, and strife. Not compared to her. Rei pressed a hand to her unruly stomach as she finished off her fourth glass of lemonade and prayed for peace.

               The thing about it all that bothered Rei the most, however, was that Hana never bothered to ask about her. She made little remarks about her career and impatient comments about wedding plans, but not much else. As the afternoon progressed further, the sun beginning to descend in the west, Rei’s anxiety only expanded further like a black hole in her chest. She needed her mother to show even a glimmer of interest aside from berating her. Just one tiny spark and Rei would have her segue into this terrifying news. The longer she waited, the more terrifying the prospect of it all became.

               And then the chime of the bell echoed from downstairs and seemed to snap Hana from her summery daze. “I suppose I better return to work!” she gasped, skirting around the kitchen counter. “Your father would be furious if he knew I was up here wasting time chatting during business hours.”

               Rei pursed her lips, glanced around the apartment. “Where is dad, anyway…?” His supposed absence was equal parts relieving and concerning. Perhaps he was off to pick up a new shipment at Ressha Junction, or maybe it was just time for him to renew his business license at the registrar’s office. Regarldess of the reason, deep down a part of Rei hoped that he would not return until late. That way she could procrastinate even further. But even then, she felt unresolved. While she didn’t necessarily want to face her father with this news, she knew it was better to do this quickly and completely. To tell the whole family at once rather than in separate, equally terrifying little instances. A clean cut, quick like a bandaid or a beheading.

               Teiko chuckled and rested a gentle hand on Rei’s shoulder. “Where do you think, girl?” she replied, motioning with her thumb toward the locked office door across the room. If Rei listened closely enough, she could hear the scratch of Yuruganai’s pen on paper, the tap of his fingertips against the buttons of his calculator. Curiosity piqued, Toshio lifted his head from his bowl, water dripping down his mouth sloppily, before lumbering nearer and sniffing under the door.  

               “I should’ve known” Rei scoffed, shaking her head. Busy as always. She glanced to her mother, wondering if she was stupid. Clearly her father already knew about Hana’s social hour. Whether he cared or not was another matter entirely.

               Hana pursed her lips and shook her head as if in disdain for Rei’s lack of appreciation. Yuruganai worked hard and he deserved respect. She almost scolded her daughter for being so apathetic but held her tongue. Instead, she rested a a gentle hand on Sekkachi’s shoulder and asked, “By the way, did you find any books for Tenjikubotan? We might as well ring those up for you while we’re at it.”

               Sekkachi glanced to Rei with a knowing smirk. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I found a few” she replied. Pleased, Hana ushered her excitedly downstairs.

               Rei wasn’t sure whether to trust Sekkachi’s judgment or to launch herself before her in the stairwell and stop her from whatever informational crimes she was about to commit. Either way, however, she knew that was the least of her worries. As she watched them descend, an icy defeat unfurled from the pit of her stomach. Her window of opportunity had slammed shut and crushed her fingers in the sill on the way down. Rei opened her mouth in attempted protest but no sound came out. She was completely and utterly hopeless.

               And then a shaky hand patted her on the shoulder, warm and comforting. Rei’s stomach flipped. She turned slowly and there was a knowing twinkle in Grandma Teiko’s eyes. She took hold of Rei’s wrist, turned her palm skyward, and in it placed a very small and worn book the size of a pocket dictionary. A Shinobi’s Guide to Growing a Life. The silhouette of a pregnant woman was stamped on the cover, the text in simple blue. Rei’s breath hitched in her throat, her vision beginning to blur. All she could manage to croak out was a strained, “H-How did you know…?”

               “When you’ve been around as long as I have, you just have an intuition for these things” Grandma Teiko chirped, patting an approaching Toshio affectionately on the head. The dog sniffed the air, licked at her fingertips with his spotted tongue, barked in delight. Teiko couldn’t help but laugh. Apparently Toshio approved of her gift, too. The old woman reached out then to press a hand to Rei’s warm, blushed cheek. A promise. “Besides, you’ve got this glow about you, girl. The type of glow you only get when you’re expecting.”

               An incredulous, teary laugh broke past Rei’s lips as she lunged forward to wrap Grandma Teiko in a warm embrace. Her fingers grazed the imprint of the woman’s spine through her kimono, her chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. It was inconsequential. “I just wish I knew how to tell my parents” Rei whispered, leaning back to press the heel of her hand to her teary eyes.

               “Don’t you worry, girl” Teiko assured her, her face wrinkling with a smile. “They’ll be easier to break the news to than you think.”

               “I’m just grateful that you at least know now” Rei sniffled. “I know I’m going to feel a lot safer telling them with your support.”

               Grandma Teiko gave a single nod, chuckling. “You know you’ve always had my support” she replied. “How do you think you want to do it?”

               “Well, I was hoping to tell them today” Rei admitted, “but clearly that didn’t work out.”

               “It wouldn’t have been a good time anyway” Teiko shook her head. “Your father’s been up in arms about the last quarter, and your mother is in too good a mood.”

               Rie pursed her lips, considering her grandmother’s analysis. “I guess the only way to do it would be over dinner or something” she brainstormed.

               “That would probably be best” Teiko agreed. “Stage it for your mother like you want to discuss wedding plans. She’ll like that.”

               “You think so?” Rei asked. Grandma Teiko cocked a brow as if to insinuate that that was a stupid question. Of course Hana would take delight in such an idea. After all, she was the one who eagerly took Rei wedding dress shopping only a few weeks earlier. She yearned to involve herself completely in the wedding arrangements. Laughing, Rei muttered, “I guess you’re right.”

               “I promise, girl, it won’t go nearly as bad as you think it will” Teiko repeated, patting Rei comfortingly on the back. She shuffled toward the staircase, both of them knowing full well that Hana would get suspicious if they hung back too long.

               “I hope you’re right” Rei murmured as she idled at the top of the stairs. Toshio nudged her hand comfortingly as she gazed down the daunting, narrow stairwell. Echoes of Hana and Sekkachi’s conversation vibrated through the air. Something in her chest stuck.

               And then she felt a hesitation in the air, a strange heaviness. Grandma Teiko reached out for Rei’s wrist yet again and now there was something very different in the old woman’s face. A bittersweet softness unlike anything Teiko had expressed before. The world began to sway to and fro, colors pulsing and fading in threatening technicolor. Something was not right. Rei’s head became heavy and unstable, vision blurring as if in a fog. Grandma Teiko was different now and it terrified her. Something was not right.

               “Rei…” the old woman murmured, and for a moment Rei swore there were tears in her eyes. She pursed her lips, hesitated a moment, then reached a varicose hand out to rest upon Rei’s stomach. “I just need you to know…you’re going to make a great mother.”

               “G-Grandma…” Rei whispered, placing her hand over Teiko’s. She thought of the little life inside of her, of this massive generational gap. A vision of the possible future flickered in the back of her mind: of Teiko sitting in a hospital room, so small and hunched compared to the large arm chair in the corner, cradling a swaddled newborn in her arms. Of a tiny hand reaching out to wrap around the old woman’s finger. Of the love between a great grandmother and a new little life.

               “To think, all those years ago, you never thought you’d get this” Teiko continued, laughing softly. “And now here you are. An accomplished kunoichi, captain of the ANBU black ops. Marrying the man you’ve always loved, and the two of you bringing a life into the world. I’m so…I’m so proud of you, Rei. I don’t think I could ever be prouder.”

               “O-Oh god, Grandma, I just—” Rei stammered, her voice strangled with emotion. She swallowed hard in an effort to remain composed, to halt the tears threatening to spill out from inside of her. She could not cry—not now. She could not handle the confrontation of stepping into that bookstore, eyes puffy and bloodshot, and having to explain to her mother why she had become so overtaken. Rei sucked in a deep breath, increasing the pressure against Grandma Teiko’s hand ever so slightly, dropped her shoulders and forced herself to stay calm. And then, licking her lips, she whispered softly, “Thank you.” A moment of hesitation. A rising sensation in the pit of Rei’s chest. And then, without wasting another moment, she surged forward and wrapped the old woman in one last tight hug. An airy sob broke past her lips. The steady thump of Grandma Teiko’s heart pulsed against Rei’s chest. “Thank you for everything.”

               Grandma Teiko petted Rei’s unruly hair and planted a quick, trembling kiss on her forehead. “Your future looks so bright, girl. Never stop chasing that light, do you understand? Don’t ever let it falter.”

               “I know” Rei whispered. It was the same sentiment that Grandma Teiko had always instilled her: to keep going, no matter the odds. No matter what anyone else had to say, including her own mind. To persevere, prove her worth, triumph. “I won’t” Rei promised. “You know I won’t.” She leaned back again, smiling fondly, before whispering then, “I can’t wait for you to meet this baby, Grandma. I can’t wait for you to love them and support them and teach them everything they need to know about life, the same wa you did for me.”

               Grandma Teiko gave a single nod, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “I know, girl” she whispered. “This little baby has a bright future ahead of her, too. I just know it.” Rei nodded, sniffling as she tried yet again to compose herself. The heaviness in her chest screamed at her to linger in this moment for a little while longer, to absorb every ounce of this fleeting liminal space, but Grandma Teiko would not have it. “Go on, now, get going” she whispered, urging Rei down the stairs. “Your mother is going to have a fit if you waste any more time.”

               While Rei did not consider any of this a waste of time in the slightest, she knew that Grandma Teiko was right. The longer they spent here, the greater Hana’s suspicion would become. Rei could not afford any more complications. The situation at hand must be handled delicately and unfortunately that meant being timely and unassuming. Rei planted one more quick kiss on Grandma Teiko’s cheek, taking her hands in hers as she assured, “I’ll be back soon. I promise.” Grandma Teiko gave a single nod in understanding before giving Rei’s shoulder a light shove, an encouragement for her to be on her way. The stairwell didn’t seem quite as daunting anymore, nor did the echoes of conversation floating up from downstairs. The promise of Grandma Teiko’s support filled her with a newfound strength and calm, something Rei desperately needed at a time like this. No longer was she as scared of what was to come. So long as Grandma Teiko was by her side advocating for her, Rei would be just fine.

               Sekkachi hefted the heavy tote of pregnancy books onto her shoulder as she and Rei made their way back down the street. “You know, you owe me big time for this” she huffed.

               “Sorry” Rei cringed, though deep down she couldn’t help but be amused. “Do you want me to pay you back in money or packs of cigarettes?”

               “Very funny” Sekkachi snarked. “Just be lucky I love you.”

               Rei grinned mischievously. “I always am” Then, reaching for the bag, she asked, “Do you at least want me to take those off your hands? I mean, they are my books, after all.”

               Sekkachi shoved her lightly out of the way, however, and shook her head. “Didn’t you ever hear that pregnant women aren’t supposed to do any heavy lifting?”

               “Come on, it can’t be that heavy” Rei replied.

               Rolling her eyes, Sekkachi fired back, “Want to bet?” She readjusted the bag on her shoulder, gripping the strap both to ensure that it would stay put and as a defense mechanism toward Rei. “What took you so long, anyway? Were you stealing the rest of your mom’s lemonade or something?”

               Rei hated that even the mere mention of her mother’s lemonade left her salivating. An ache rooted in her chest at the thought of it, light and cold and pucker-sweet. She would have to get the recipe, or just pay her mother to make her seven gallons worth. But that was not important right now. Shaking her head, she replied, “Just having a private talk with Grandma Teiko. She, uh…she knows.” Rei fished the little book out of her back pouch then, holding up for Sekkachi to see. Toshio peered up curiously as the trio walked along.

                Sekkachi’s eyes skated across the cover before laughing and shaking her head. “I should’ve known” she said. “I swear, that women must be a fucking psychic or something.”

               “Pretty close to it” Rei laughed. As she tucked the book back into her pouch, her opposite hand idled on her stomach. She mused for a moment on life, on the miraculous nature of existence, of death and birth and the fragility of it all. Of the little baby growing inside of her, small and weak and strange. An amalgamation of cells, features unformed, a creature not yet evolved. It still didn’t feel entirely real. “I just hope…” Rei then said, voice much softer now. Sekkachi and Toshio both eyed her curiously. Rei sucked in a deep breath. “I just hope that Grandma Teiko was right. That my future—our future—is as bright as she says it is.”

               “Why should you think any different?” Sekkachi asked. Smirking, she added, “I mean, I’m sure it will be. After all, doesn’t Grandma Teiko know everything?”

               “You’re right” Rei laughed, rubbing her stomach tenderly. A soft smile tugged at the corner of her lips and for perhaps the first time, she found herself beginning to truly accept the matter at hand. The promise of becoming a mother, regardless of the bad timing and all the strings attached. We’ll be alright, baby, she thought to herself. Grandma Teiko is never wrong. We just need to keep chasing that light.

               Baby, our future is so, so bright.

[themagicalmysticalboy]

Paul’s Broken A Glass

a/n: this one goes out to @princessleiaqueen ! A spooky mclennon story for her soon approaching birthday. And a two parter as well! I must really care about her or something 🤭

Summary: In the latter part of October, Paul and John steal some wine for a belated birthday celebration. Home alone, the boys are faced with a masked threat that ruins any planned fun.

Part One: Spooky Specter Sir

Orange and red leaves floated from the trees like lost embers from a flame. They danced among the sunburnt clouds in the dusk sunlight and demanded Paul’s attention. It was pulling a melody from his mind and twirling into the cool breeze to be lost in the quickly approaching night. He could barely keep up with it when he was snapped back to reality by a nasally voice.

“Right then daddy long legs,” John called out. He broke into a trot to catch up with Paul on the desolate sidewalk. They had found themselves in a suburban neighborhood sprinkled with tasteful Autumnal decorations. John was too blind without his glasses to make out the pumpkins and such but he did know they were nearing Mimi’s house by muscle memory. “Slow it down. I’m the one with the goods, here.” John patted his oversized jumper that concealed a bottle of brandy and some expensive wine.

“Aye, and so have I. Get your cardio up, why don't ya’.”

To speak of cardio, Paul had got his heart racing just 30 minutes earlier as he watched John expertly nick the bottles from the corner store. He was left to, subsequently, follow John’s lead. He managed to grab a much cheaper wine that was far from the store keeps view but nonetheless, it had him shaking with excitement.

They booked it out of the store and down the street with a shout and something clattering to the ground behind them. If Paul had taken a moment to look back he would have seen the store clerk had chucked a cricket racket at them. But his heart had been pounding so loudly in his ears that nothing could make him look back other than the need to grab John by the arm to lead him down an alley. But by then they were long out of the clerk’s pursuit.

Now, sweaty but breathing right, Paul agreed to slow his pace to match John’s, though he could feel the song in his head slipping away into the night as he pulled his attention to his friend. 

“You never said where your aunt was gone to.”

“Not important, really. Think she’s out to visit a cousin’s cousin’s uncle’s sick sister or something.”

“Bad time to be a cousin’s cousin’s aunt,” Paul shrugged.

“Aye but it’s great for us and a good time for a second round of celebration for me birthday, at any rate.”

“I’ll cheers to that.”

The two kept at walking and talking, making banter out of whatever came into their minds. They were nearing John’s street when Paul gripped John’s bicep with a painful force. John let out a stifled curse and pulled his arm away. Paul had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, eyes staring ahead. 

“Who the bloody hell is that?”

John squinted into the distance but couldn’t make out any human figures.

“Oh, put on your fucking glasses, Lennon!” Paul gave him a shake, finally looking to him before going back to the apparent person.

“Fine, McCartney! Fine!” John fished his glasses from his pocket and the world jolted back into clarity, the fuzzy haze clearing and allowing for dizzying definition. After adjusting to his renewed sight, he could clearly see the man at the end of the street. He was in dirty overalls and a mask that resembled a scarecrow's head, obviously in fancy dress for some creepy character. “Bit old for trick-or-treat, mate! And a week early to boot,” John yelled down the street.

Another assault came to his shoulder this time, and he looked to Paul with a bemused smirk. “The man looks like a loon! You’ll have him after us like that.”

“No worse than your staring,” John laughed, pushing forward. “We don’t even have to pass your Spooky Specter Sir, there. My streets just before him.” John pointed to the street sign with a limp arm.

Paul rolled his eyes, his initial fright somewhat subsided by John’s confident vibrato. “Don’t egg him on further, alright?”

John only rolled his eyes, pushing his glasses up his nose as he began to walk backward. “You have my word,” He bowed dramatically, almost tripping over his still moving feet. “Now hurry along,” His voice picked back up to a shout, “so we might get pissed before the stroke of midnight turns the ugly duckling, there, into a pretty princess.”

Paul marched forward, grabbing Lennon by the arm and turning him around as he grumbled, “That's not even how it goes.”

“Isn’t it,” John laughed as they went down his street. He threw his head back to see if he’d gotten a rise out of the creep but said creep was gone. John adjusted his glasses again. “Buggers fast, I’ll hand him that.” He twisted to walk backward again, eyeing the bushes for a sign of the man.

Paul looked back at the same, now empty, spot and felt a chill travel down his spine. He didn’t like a single thing about that man and he certainly didn’t want to interest himself in where he might have gone. He made to shake the fear from his mind and turn his attention back to John's ever-approaching house. Before he could get halfway through his head-shake, he walked, full force, into a barrier.

He felt John’s arm slip from his grip as he stuttered backward and fell to the ground. He quickly grabbed the bottle of wine under his shirt, not saving his own arse from the impact. Pain shot from the end of his spine and throughout his back as he winced. Above him now stood the man. Fleeting light from the reproaching sun gave the man's outline a blood orange glow while hiding some of the mask's features in darkness. Paul could have shit himself at the sight if not for John being there to haul him to his feet in an instant.

“Watch where your fucking going!” John was glaring at the masked man. They both stood in front of him, John still holding Paul’s upper arm. “Is your mind blown out or something?”

The man stood his ground. “You shouldn’t have that,” he pointed to the boy's stomachs, where the bottles obviously poked out. His voice was grated and higher than expected, though severely muffled by the mask. “You’re too small, little bitty babes. Give it to me, then. You shouldn’t-”

“And you shouldn’t have been dropped as a baby but here we stand.” He really did sound to be high on something or simply crazed, John thought.

“What sense have you walking around scaring people,” Paul added as they moved around the lumbering figure. He kept glancing back, even as John guided him forwards. The crazy man had turned to stare at them but wasn’t seeming to budge.

“You sound like Mimi,” John chuckled.

“Well he shouldn’t,” Paul’s voice raised indignantly but he broke into a smile as John continued to chuckle away.

“Alright, Auntie.” John grabbed either of his friend's shoulders and held him as if he couldn’t stand on his own. “Let's get you in before you slip in the dark and break a hip.”

Paul shrugged him off with mock laughter but he wasn’t wrong about one thing. Night was sweeping over the suburb, leaving only a trace of light to guide them to the front door. The cloudy sky left no room for the light of the moon to help at all. 

They were both pleased to enter the house and be greeted by the light and warmth. In the kitchen, they laid out their spoils and John went for the cupboard. While he was occupied, Paul slipped back into the entry and latched the lock securely in place. Music leaked from the kitchen as he peaked out an adjacent window, relieved to not be greeted with the haunting mask.

“Boo!” A pair of hands grabbed his sides and he practically jumped from his skin, spinning to face the culprit. His hands met John’s chest as John pushed him against the door.

“Bastard!”

John smiled and leaned into Paul. “You love me.”

“Then I love a bastard.” Both boys were all smiles, eyes searching each other.

John buried his face into the crook of Paul’s neck. Paul hummed at the warm breath on his neck, letting John melt into him. Every stress from the outside world had now been whisked away and only they existed. Paul’s arms wrapped around John’s back, his face buried in John’s hair. “You mean it?”

“That you’re a bastard? Of course.” John pulled away, trying to school his pouty features. Paul simply rolled his eyes and kissed the helpless boy. “I love you.” It came out as a whisper floating against John’s cheek.

“Good,” he pecked Paul’s lips and it was obvious that any sort of doubt was pushed away, for now. “Wouldn’t be sharing my drink with just any man like a harlot. What would the church think!” 

He parted from Paul, the warm feeling vanishing so fast that Paul almost pulled him back. But, instead, he followed his mate to the kitchen where two glasses filled with deep red liquid sat on the table. The record player was shoved, unceremoniously into the corner, something John must have managed before they met up earlier. A record was spinning around, music playing at a pleasant volume.

“So, not going to your room?”

John nodded, “Might as well take advantage of being home alone,” and grabbed something from the seat nearest him.

“John! Please, no. I-”

He had a monopoly box in hand and a grin on his lips. “ ‘John, yes’ you mean?”

“It’s not fun with two people,” Paul complained, pushing the box into John’s chest from over the table.

John played at seriousness, looking to truly consider Paul’s words as he took a sip of wine. “You’re right,” He placed the wine glass down. “We should call George over.”

“You’d have George come round with that nutter out?”

“He scare you that bad? He was just a drunk playing dress-up.”

Paul only glared over the brim of his wine glass.

“Oh! Or is it that you want me all to yourself?”

Paul’s lips curled into a smile around the glass.

“Naughty, naughty, Macca,” John sang as he set the box down and took a seat at the table. “At least get me tipsy first,” John exacerbated before throwing his head back and finishing off his glass. He looked to Paul with expecting eyes.

“Alright, we’ll play cards then, yeah?” He swirled his glass and went for the counter. Opening a drawer, he found a beat-up deck of cards and pocketed them so he could grab the bottle of wine while he was up. Before the drawer was half shut, intense banging echoed through the house. Paul jolted, his drink escaping his grip, the glass of wine shattering to the ground beside him. Three more loud bangs shook the pictures on the wall as Paul instinctively ducked down to clean up his mess.

“Come off it. I’ll clean it,” John grabbed Paul’s shoulder to pull him up but Paul fell forward, on to his hands, in the puddle of glass and wine. John jumped back as the younger boy cried out and cursed. “Oh-! You’re-”

“Fuck!” Paul was cradling one of his hands close to his chest, still leaning over his mess of glass. He curled in on himself, looking so small. “I’m fine. Just get the bleeding door.”

John held his hands up in surrender, almost afraid to touch him again. He looked between Paul and the door, suddenly anxious with which to attend to. His brain stalled until more knocks came. “Shit, sorry. Fuck- I’ll- I’ll just get the door. Fucking hell.”

[black-streak]

Saturday night's alright for fighting (but Sundays are meant for rest) - Dangerous Game Indeed

Part 4

Changing gears here for a moment. This part has no fluff. More character building than anything to set up the beginning of the next part, which should go back to being fluffy. Pretty sure I'm going to write their date next, but I felt it important to establish a few things early on. I promise if this gets you confused, the next part will explain what happened here better

~---~

So here's the thing about being a secret hero in a place teeming with vigilantes and villains. 

Being a bright red flash across the horizon doesn't work. 

Not that Marinette wouldn't love to zip across the high rise buildings by her yoyo, but it just wasn't a feasible option unless she wished to announce her presence to every person in the city. Seriously, Tikki, who does she think she is, Robin? One traffic light bright hero was enough.

That's how this… possibly unwise team up came to fruition. 

See, Mari planned to stay within the shadows, outta sight from the many bat people that stalked the rooftops at night, but like hell would she stay idle and complacent while Gotham suffered. So she waited and watched for quite some time before selecting her new miraculouses, eventually settling on the cat and fox combined. After all, chaos, destruction, and deceit work well together.

With her mind made up, she proceeded to plan out the costume and discuss how their powers were likely to combine; what to expect from this merge. The end result was magnificent. The bottomless-pit black bottoms were looser than anything she'd had before, wrapping tight in fabric bands only at the ankles and waist before shifting into a long sleeve shirt, just as free in the arms with the same tight bands at the wrists. The soft fabric draped across her chest, the front coming up to cover the bottom half of her face, the sides and back lifting up into a hood that covered her all the way to the eyes. Her gloves and hidden boots were a soot gray, indistinguishable in the dead of night and only barely of note in the day, with black claw tips and touch sensitive paw pads. Under the hood, her hair took on a more soot gray tone as well, black fluffy ears with gray insides just barely hinting out. A fluffy black tail with gray tip swished behind her. The colors were all Plagg while the design took more to Trixx. Her eyes however went into catlike slits of silver sclera and icy blue irises with what appeared to be black kohl ringing her eyes. Lastly, twin daggers tucked into the seams on her inner arms.

The first thing she discovered upon merging was that she became undetectable. Her movements made no sound nor did her breathing. She blended seamlessly with shadows and the night sky alike. People who looked in her direction would blink and discover it to be a trick of the light or assume it to be a delusion if they even saw her at all. It took concentration to push off the magic and allow others to see past the illusion. But she feared once it was gone, it'd be lost on that person forever. Sure, maybe they wouldn't notice her due to her own skill, but the magic would no longer protect her from them. So she didn't test it out. The next thing she realized was that her transformation didn't have much of a timer to detransform. Having worked with different kwamis for so long had built up a resistance to the strain. 

Secondly, she found their abilities didn't end at cataclysm and mirage. Funny thing about being in control of illusions and deceit; you could spot it in others from a mile away. Making villainous plans easier to tear apart without a charm. 

Plagg's… well Plagg's was different. As it turned out, death is simply an extension of destruction and while she had always known a poorly placed cataclysm could potentially end a life, she never expected this ability to sense death itself. She could feel when a place had seen too much or where it lurked heaviest in her vicinity. 

She could also sense when someone had been brushed with its weighted touch. Which had led to many tragic, heartbroken nights of research to discover why so many of the Waynes were smothered in it. From Jason disappearing for so long and being exposed to Kwami knows what. The potentially abusive upbringing of Damian by his mother who he refused to speak of. Bruce and his parents, murdered before his eyes. Tim losing his own parents and being around to bare witness to the many brushes of his adoptive family. Add on their secondary occupations and what it entailed and well, it was enough to know not to pry.

The first few transformations, she stayed docile, never engaging, silently observing the inner workings of the city. The next few, she branched out, interfering minor crimes with quick distractions and carefully curated traps. The criminals themselves would wake up outside the police station with evidence scattered about them and no memory of how they ended up there. Then a race against the clock would commence while they tried to gather everything thrown about them and run before any officers could take note and capture them. Mari took great pleasure in watching this part, sometimes binding their wrists or feet to add an extra element to their struggle.

The two kwamis truly brought out her more sly, volatile side.

Eventually it led to foiling larger scale villains when Batman seemed to be taking his own sweet time arriving to the scene. By the time he or one of his.. partners? Pupils? Kids? She never knew what he called them in costume... Well to whoever showed up, it would look like the plan collapsed within itself as though a few variables were forgotten or fell out of hand. 

The problem with starting to take action in a place like Gotham though is that no matter how much they can't prove your existence, the bats are bound to take notice. Because if they aren't the ones taking down these people, who is? 

That's how Mari found herself narrowly avoiding encounters on a weekly basis. Sure, no one spotted her yet, but tracking her location through found thugs she'd taken down moments before made for some close calls of almost physically being ran in to. Not sure how convincing of a pipe on a roof she could be if that were to happen. 

Add on her own animalistic instinct to hunt that led to many nights of stalking different vigilantes for hours on end, holding back the urge to pounce and well… it made for a dangerous game of cat and mouse. 

'Or rather, catfox and bird,' she thought, slowly inching along an edge wall of the roof where Red Robin laid in wait. 

Mari couldn't be sure how, but he seemed to have some sixth sense for looming figures. Either that or heaps worth of paranoia. Multiple times she'd had to hold deadly still while he whipped his head in her direction, staring her down. If it hadn't been for the magic whispering across her skin, Marinette was sure he'd have had her pinned within the first night of her stalking. As it stood, Red only stared quietly, eyes roving the area she kept to, only relenting when it seemed nothing would appear. 

Tonight… felt ominous. Marinette knew how dumb it was to purposefully follow Red, even more so while cleaning up the dock she had just vacated, leaving an unconscious scarecrow tied amongst his goons by crates worth of chemicals. Normally she wouldn't tie them up, but instead misconstrue things until it looked like an accident, confused weaker pawns wandering about, trying to collect their bosses only for the bats to find and finish up the job. However, her need to remain an unknown figure lost against the need for entertainment, so she made everything of her interference obvious, but left no trace of herself for Batman to find. 

Now she watched as Red stayed still upon the roof, clean up done and nothing left to do but think. She waited for pacing, frustration, anything. She received silence. 

How boring.

Of course... he knew it was her. 

Robin, Red Robin, and Agent A had all either figured it out or had been informed by herself. It was the rest of the family they kept in the dark, her unwilling to trust them with this yet and the three recognizing it as not their secret to tell.

Doesn't mean Red didn't take every opportunity to try and catch her slipping up.

Marinette could almost hear Plagg goading her to toy with the bird, Trixx right behind telling Mari to trust in the illusion. It would only break where she wanted it to. With that reassurance and no Tikki to reason with, Mari moved forward a touch, still completely hidden, but testing how well he sensed her. 

Immediately, he turned. She froze. Then remembering herself, she carefully focused on the magic about her before cautiously letting a huff of air out her mouth, just loud enough to pick up, but quiet enough to not immediately draw attention to her exact location.

It was enough.

"You're here." 

She met him with only silence for a moment then clicked her claws gently to confirm.

Zeroing in further, he took a step forward.

Sliding to his side, Mari carefully scuffed a boot and watched him follow her.

He seemed to assess the situation before turning back to where she was, allowing her to creep behind him. The tension in his shoulders let on to him knowing her actual location though. 

Of course she chose that moment to channel her inner idiot and play along. Tapping his shoulder in a clear indication of permission to turn around, as that seemed to be what he was waiting for, she hopped back into the shadows. It was obvious he was only showing passiveness to lure her into a sense of security enough to reveal herself. 

She knew this and yet as he turned to face her again, she focused into the magic, peeling it back until she knew her eyes alone glowed out at him from the dark.

She let him meet her eyes for only a half second before taking off, quickly blending into the night once more to the sound of curses from the next building over where Hood had been waiting to step in.

Maybe next time she would stalk Jason and see how he liked being watched.