#Wally has been running all those years trapped | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hyperrealisticblood · 28 days

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thoughts on banwally. i've never played any of garten of banban so you are my only reference for what happens in those games and consequently, what makes banwally a compelling crackship.

buddy..... you have opened a can of worms you could have never prepared for

when or if I started shipping it: i actually have an exact date, may 29th of last year. everyone in my friends server is really into crackshipping so we like to share random ideas with each other and i posted them as an idea on that date. i have never been the same since

my thoughts: crackships are kind of hard to talk about in this context because there isnt anything canon to go off but ill do my best. when welcome home first started gaining traction i saw a lot of people saying "this is what good mascot horror looks like" (whether or not wh even counts as mascot horror is. debatable.) so me associating banban and wally with each other was already a thing before i started shipping them. at some point i realized they both have a lot in common (monotone voices, often associated with devil imagery, passive most of the time but gets a little Silly with it sometimes) and i was like woah.... they should kiss. again a lot of my thoughts surrounding them are based in headcanon so im struggling to talk about them in a way that doesnt make me sound fucking insane BUT im a sucker for pessimist/optimist ships and they very much fit that to me. i think they balance each other out in a way, wally is a bright spot in the Endless Misery banban deals with on a daily basis, and banban is pretty logical and grounded which levels out wallys spacey-ness. theyre very much a jessica and roger rabbit "he makes me laugh" type of deal but with the fun addition of identity issues and whatever the fuck wallys deal is

what makes me happy about them: the fact that theyre both freaks of nature (banban is a weird clone manmade abomination thing, wally is either straight up an eldritch entity or a manmade puppet with eldritch qualities) is another thing they have in common to me, so i think theyd be accepting of each others weird traits because they know what its like. banban doesnt give a fuck that wally is up to some scp shit, he might as well live in the scp containment facility. theres a kingdom run by a giant kangaroo woman with a magic scepter who is in charge of keeping a bunch of baby demons and the father(?) of those baby demons trapped in her pouch or else the entire kingdom will be destroyed. he has seen weirder. banban wouldnt just love wally because hes handsome and hes nice to people, he loves all of his weird traits too because they arent even weird to him.

what makes me sad about them: they lend themselves pretty well to angst (i hate that word but idk a better one to describe this) because theyre both from horror media, and i like to pelt my favorite characters with hammers so >:) my friends and i (same friends who got me into crackshipping) have a group rp thing going on, and theres a mini arc going on right now based on the fact that banban got SUPER fucked up trying to fight sir dadadoo and his army. wally wants banban to leave the kindergarten because of how dangerous it is, he wants him to live in home where he doesnt need to fear for his life all the time. but despite all the horrors he has to put up with, banban doesnt want to leave everyone in the underground behind. theyre still his friends, and he wants to protect them. as much as wally wants him to be safe, he understands where hes coming from because he wouldnt want to leave his friends behind either. this leaves him feeling really conflicted and confused, and the homewarming update taught us that wally doesnt do well with those kinds of feelings. just some thoughts for yall <3

things done in fanfic that annoys me: nobody except me would wanna write fanfic about them and im too depressed slash lazy to actually write anything so. uh

things I look for in fanfic: see above

my kinks: size difference where the top is the smaller one i have no such things. i am a man of the lord.

who i’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: wallaby (wally/barnaby) is pretty epic so if that ends up being canon i wouldnt be mad lmao. ive also been wondering if wally might end up whoever "w" is (the awayfrompryingeyes.net mod) because clown said theres another ship that will be canon but that he cant talk about because its inherently a spoiler somehow, id be fine with that too. not much to say about banban because gobb doesnt do romance aside from whatever the fuck nabnab and nabnaleena have going on

my happily ever after for them: things finally calm down at the kindergarten to a point where banban feels comfortable leaving to be with wally, and whatever the hell is going on with home also calms down. banban would still visit the others obviously (i think he would introduce some of them to wallys friends, barnaby and bittergiggle would get along super well i think) but he can finally be somewhere where he isnt constantly fearing for his life :]

uhh tldr dont say "what if i shipped this" as a joke. it will become no longer a joke and you will write like a million words about two characters from entirely different media who have never met and never will meet. worst mistake of my life

#wh #gobb #banban #wally darling #banwally #THANK YOU FOR GIVING ME THE CHANCE TO RAMBLE I AM AN INSANE PERSON.#honestly gobb is fun as hell you should check it out #like its stupid and theres unfortunately brief instances of ai fuckery which sucks but get a bunch of friends in vc and watch some longplay #your life will be changed forever

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theautismgoblin · 6 months

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Okay more rant time, so I've noticed the ASD community has again decided to grab something by the Figurative strings for dear life (The Amazing Digital Circus) which has happened quite a few times in the last two years, with it happening a total of like four times at this point in that timespan. Anywho, I think I know why, it's something I've been running through my head for a few weeks. So I think I'll explain, it's the isolation and confinement factor. What do I mean, let's take a look at all the fandoms I'm talking about

First is The Amazing Digital Circus, where the characters are all effectively isolated from the outside world, and trapped there.

Next, is Welcome Home. Now this one is depending on the theory people have, since it affects how you view the main character, Wally Darling. If you believe the isolation theory (where Wally is trapped and alone inside Home, and is using the restoration project to try to escape). But the same concept exists, trapped and isolated and alone .

Third, is DHMIS I don't even need to explain this one. But I will, all three puppets are trapped inside the house, and each of them is also isolated from others, only having each other to rely on.

Finally The Stanley Parable, once again, Stanley and The Narrator are literally trapped in the Parable. They are isolated from anyone other than each other, with them sometimes isolating themselves completely (like the not real ending, or the escape ending, the skip button ending, just all of it)

Now what does this have to do with autism, wellllll, a lot actually. Now this is just from my own experiences so it doesn't fit every one, but I know that it applies to plenty of autistic folks, but many folks with ASD have been isolated from our peers throughout our lives, even if we could mask really well. We were picked on, when we ranted or talked, we immediately got weird looks. So many of us got ostracized from social groups, hell sometimes we isolated ourselves by hiding in our rooms or closets to get away from others. And then the trapped factor. This is another one, many of us have felt trapped in our own lives (yes it sucks). We had to play pretend with everyone, just to not get isolated and even that didn't work (but the kicker, was it was hard to stop masking). Many of us got forced to sit still, the touch or eat things that hurt, to drain our social batteries for gatherings. And when you're a kid, which is where most of the trauma comes in, you got little to no say in what you and your family did. I know on multiple occasions I was forced to go to festivals I didn't want to go to, and was exhausted when I got home (yet still expected to clean afterwards sometimes, depended on the day though)..

Anyways, this sore of sympathy and empathy I think extended very specifically to characters even more than where their from. In most of these case the main premise has the idea already there (with the exception of Welcome Home, though their puppets so that absolutely plays a factor), but there are plenty of characters who are isolated or trapped in their respective media, like The lonely Wizard, Goobert, P03 (look I have seen multiple people call P03 out, and you can't tell me you don't love Goobert or Lonely Wizard). Chara and W.D. Gaster was another one, Gaster makes sense, and Chara is only heard by one person (the player) so yeah isolation. You also have Suns and Moon again they are stuck in the daycare (Moon's iffy, but Sun's definitely there). Bill Cipher was another one, I think not sure about him (could just be my bias)

And the best part, the majority of these characters are also viewed as having ASD or ADHD, which those two things go together too well, which adds to the empathy even more. But I do want to point out that what I just stated isn't a requirement at all, but it does help.

#the amazing digital circus #tdac #welcome home #dhmis #tsp #dont hug me im scared #the stanley parable #the stanley parable narrator #autism #fnaf #analysis #wally darling #isolation #trapped

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vanillacolaandsprigfan · 2 years

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Amphibia Event, Day Two: Favourite Character

@picturejasper20 ‘s Amphibia Week continues with an exploration of our favourite characters (https://picturejasper20.tumblr.com/post/682350306192916480/hello-amphibia-fans-im-organizing-a-fandom).

As much as I love Sprig for so many reasons, ultimately I had to come down hard on the side of Anne Boonchuy.

First, a little background: I came to Amphibia by way of The Owl House; after getting through the latter’s first season, I wanted something more. My search of shows that were a bit like TOH and a bit like DuckTales led swiftly to Amphibia. Somehow the show had passed me by entirely. I had at least heard of TOH before watching it (mainly thanks to the strong LGBT+ audience making waves on places like Reddit, etc), DuckTales, of course, was a reboot of a beloved childhood classic, but Amphibia was something entirely new, something I went into with no expectations/knowledge of whatsoever.

So much so, in fact, that I didn’t even realise that the main character was Thai-American. Did it matter? Yes and no. Yes, it matters, because representation matters (and the large SEA presence on Discord proves that)! Anyone who argues otherwise is - and always will be - on the wrong side of history. And no, it didn’t matter, because the most important thing about her is that she’s so well-written!

Or to quote the man himself, “... the fact that she is Thai will only be like icing on the cake.”

The first moment we meet Anne, she’s not at her best; she’s been on the run from Frog knows what for five days, so by the time she traps Sprig she’s half-crazed from fear, hunger, sleeplessness and homelessness. Despite all of that, despite her survival instincts telling her to make a run for it, she still comes back for Sprig.

Already we’ve learned a couple of things about her: she’s resourceful enough to take whatever this new world throws at her, she’s brave enough to go at things head on, but most importantly she will always stop to help others. (A quality which will aid her many times over.)

In S1A, Anne has two character arcs which stand out rather strongly: learning to adjust to Amphibia, and combatting her worst tendencies (namely her selfishness and lack of forethought). Those early episodes are marked by thievery (stealing the music box which landed her in this predicament in the first, then HP’s key so she and Sprig could visit the lake), vandalism (breaking HP’s cane), laziness (refusing to help during the storm) and a strong desire to make Amphibia fit her rather than try to fit in (adopting Domino II, trying to have a family pizza night, watching a trashy TV show).

If it weren’t for Anne Boonchuy being a thirteen-year-old kid all of this would make her seem like a horrible person, but these worst tendencies of hers are what make her so relatable; we’ve all struggled to be the best versions of ourselves, and for some these struggles carry on well into adulthood. We can all empathise with those moments of hers where all she wants to do is laze on the couch and eat junk food, or goof off with Sprig, or disregard the manual and go on a joyride with Bessie!

Balancing out these negative traits, however, is where Anne’s true (blue!) personality comes into play; I spoke about this in my write-up of Best Fronds, too, the moment where Anne says the other kids are missing out on Sprig’s friendship. It’s the moment, I think, that truly begins their friendship (a friendship which is tested a few episodes later when they’re forced to be roommates, but they come through it with a little help from Hop-Pop).

Marcy will later state that Anne’s strength was always her emotional intelligence, her ability to forge connections wherever she goes, and perhaps one of the best examples of this is when she befriends the town goofball, Wally. Setting out jointly on a quest, Anne is initially nonplussed with Wally’s demeanour, but soon grows to respect - and learn - from his ways. You could argue that it’s Wally’s words ringing in her ears, to stop caring about the judgement of others, as much as Sprig’s spoken ones in Reunion, that give Anne the incentive to finally shake off Sasha’s domineering ways. Once unshackled, we see her real self finally emerge throughout S2: one who expresses love, compassion and empathy much more freely.

One of her biggest challenges to this loving nature comes in After the Rain/The First Temple. I’ve spoken on the Discord server about how these episodes hurt me pretty badly because of having grown up with a father who would do all sorts of nasty things to me, then attempt to apologise by way of offering gifts/treats rather than actually address the underlying problem.

It kills Anne inside to not be able to forgive Hop-Pop right away. She knows that he’s genuinely sorry, but she just can’t bring herself to accept it. Not without taking the time to fully process what that entails. There’s a very sweet moment in the most recent episode, The Beginning of the End, which acknowledges that struggle and brings closure to it, whilst reaffirming the show’s ongoing arc of examining the Calamity Trio’s friendship and - perhaps - mending it.

Lily Pad Thai presents us with a very nice convergence between Anne’s character and Anne’s culture; she’s exasperated with Duckweed’s supercilious manner, citing examples from Thai Go back home, and so impulsively decides to help Stumpy spruce up his restaurant. We see both the BEST and WORST aspects of Anne here: a lack of forethought in taking on such a huge challenge in such a short time and her OTT methods exasperating the very person she’s trying to help. Soon, though, her kindness and thoughtfulness win him over and they do succeed in transforming the restaurant, earning Stumpy’s respect (though not Duckweed’s, alas). LPT also allows Anne to recreate a little slice of home in Amphibia with Thai-Frog fusion cooking; we get to see some of what Anne’s heritage means to her (which is later expounded upon in Temple Frogs), through her dress, mannerisms and cuisine.

Anne Boonchuy is a complex and fascinating character who is constantly growing throughout her journey; her arc throughout the first half of S3 allows her to finally reconcile her previously irresponsible ways by becoming the de facto caretakers of the Plantars during the enforced exile on Earth, essentially switching the roles of their previous dynamic. She pushes herself hard to find a way to get them back home, and in Escape to Amphibia it’s ultimately not just her own power that finally allows this to happen but the strength that she draws from those who love and support her on the way.

Conclusion: you’ve probably gathered that all of this has been a rather meandering, long-winded way of saying, “Anne kinda reminds me of me at that age.” The capacity for selfishness, to be lazy, to only think of myself, is still very strong, and I fight it every day by reminding myself that being kind, helping others, being there for them, is the most important thing of all. Our bonds are what define us in this world, and just like Anne did, I found some of the most important ones in my life through Amphibia.

#amphibia #anne boonchuy #blorbo

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stark-tony · 3 years

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underrated irondad and spiderson fic recs part 1

Men's Synch 3m Platform by loudestfandomsoftheworld

summary: or 5 times Peter Parker goes dumpster diving, and one time he does something else... " “You took my nephew dumpster diving?” Ben asked incredulously.

His wife stood tall with a toddler strapped to her chest, tugging at one end of a couch with all her might. “I did not,”

“Twash!” Peter yelled."

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

do you even remember what the world looks like? by iron_spider

summary: Tony’s heart has been working on overdrive since this whole thing started. Friday has a countdown clock plastered on the heads up display, but it feels like hieroglyphics to him at this point, like some ancient language he could never master.

Because when Peter Parker is missing, things start losing their meaning real quick.

“Should be around here,” Rhodey says on the com. May is still on the other line, listening in, because once a certain amount of time goes by without word from Peter, things move into Extremely Worried Aunt territory. They’re already in Tony Is Panicking territory, and when both of those territories overlap it’s never a good time for anybody.

Time? What the hell is time? His mind is blanking numbers out entirely. Minutes are seconds are hours are years.

pairings: none

tags: hurt/comfort

warnings: none

Empty Casket by Jen27ny

summary: After the Vulture, Tony should have known better.

He should have listened to Peter.

But he didn’t.

And now, Peter is dead.

pairings: none

tags: angst

warnings: none

Patient #2252 by TheSoulOfAStrawberry

summary: When a warehouse comes down on Spider-Man’s head and leaves him with a brain injury, Queens social worker Bianca Browne and Dr Grace Li of NY-Presbytarian Hospital find themselves racing the NYPD to uncover Spidey’s identity and get him help before he can be charged with a litany of crimes.

pairings: none

tags: hurt/comfort

warnings: police brutality

That's why they call me mr. fahrenheit by SparrowFlight246

summary: Peter’s on fire.

He wakes up fast, and before he even gets the chance to feel the pain, the aches, the dizziness, he feels the heat. It’s all encompassing, a raging inferno blooming from within him and burning him up from the inside out, and god, it—

—god, it hurts.

Peter gets whammied by a 24-hour superbug, and Tony’s left to keep him alive until tomorrow morning.

It sounds a hell of a lot easier than it ends up being.

pairings: none

tags: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

not like megatron by iron_spider

summary: “Hi! This is Peter Parker, I can’t get to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll call you back later! Hopefully not too much later, but don’t get your hopes up!”

Tony knows that message by heart. He’s heard it hundreds of times, in a greyer world, and it sends shivers down his spine as he climbs into the car.

He doesn’t think about that place. That half-world. No way, that’s done, that’s over, that’s history.“Hey, kid, don’t you know it’s bad etiquette to go and disappear on your birthday? Not allowed, really, really bad vibes from the universe. What’s going on with your suit? I wasn’t watching. Nope. Just got an alert. What’s going on? Uh, call me back.” He clears his throat and hangs up like a moron, driving out into the street.

pairings: none

tags: hurt/comfort, fluff

warnings: none

Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater by frostysunflowers

summary: ''Dying.''

''You’re not dying.''

''Totally am.'

'''God, I hope not, otherwise May will skin me alive.''

A weekend visit to the cabin doesn't go according to plan.

pairings: none

tags: hurt/comfort, humor

warnings: none

an irondad's misguided approach to homesickness by livingtheobsessedlife

summary: Peter mentions it once. Once. That he’s maybe kinda sorta vaguely somewhat homesick. MIT is no Queens, that’s all really. All in all, Pete’s having a great time at college. Really, truly.

The thing is that Tony’s never really taken the whole ‘only mentioning it once’ thing all that well. Not when it comes to Peter at least.

This time is no exception.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

you held your pride like you should have held me by searchingforstars

summary: “I had to take the risk!” Peter snaps. “I saved your life.”

Tony’s stare hardens. “Yeah, and nearly ended your goddamn own. This isn’t a trade-off. It wasn’t your call to make.”

“You would have done the same thing to protect me,” Peter points out. Tony just seethes at the statement.

“I don’t care about what you think I would have done. You are not me. And I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself."

or, as the timer ticked down, Peter knew his only option was to take things into his own hands. He just didn’t expect Tony to be mad at him for saving his life.

pairings: none

tags: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

always on duty by parkrstark

summary: Peter manages to convince Tony to take him to a gala, but when Tony is hurt, he realizes that it's just as dangerous to be Tony Stark as it is to be Iron Man.

pairings: none

tags: hurt/comfort, fluff, humor

warnings: none

Out of Left Field by blondsak, seekrest

summary: Even if Tony didn’t end up becoming a big fan of the Mets, Peter knew they’d still have a great time at the game. And the fact that Tony wanted to go with Peter badly enough to make it clear that he should buy a pair of tickets as a birthday gift?

Peter shakes his head fondly.

Maybe for once the month of May was going to work out for him after all.

pairings: spideychelle

tags: fluff, humor

warnings: none

three weeks, two days, seven hours by crowkag

summary: It was a mess. A real mess. Peter had been gone for three weeks, two days, and seven hours, taken right out from under their noses.

And Tony was laying on the floor.

(AKA “you’ll always get there first”, but from Tony’s POV.)

pairings: none

tags: hurt/comfort, fluff

warnings:

for as long as i live and as long as i love (i will never not think about you) by searchingforstars

summary: When Tony first started to forget things, Peter thought maybe it was just age. People’s memories fade as they get older, right? Minds get weaker. It’s just natural.

But Tony has arguably the sharpest mind of the 21st century. Peter should have realised that it was never going to be just getting weaker. It was never going to be just age.

No - not when the sharpest mind of the 21st century also happened to come into contact with the deadliest amount of gamma radiation known to man five years ago.

or, Tony’s sacrifice is still haunting them five years later. Peter has to come to terms with the fact that Tony’s memory is fading.

pairings: none

tags: angst

warnings: none

a dream is a wish by floweryfran

summary: Tony seems to panic for a moment, shifting his weight foot to foot, before spitting out in one mouthful, “I have a business trip in Florida right before your spring break and I talked to May and she says I can bring you to Disney for the week once it’s done ahhh.” He then breathes, grins plastically, and holds his hands out, like, I’m Tony Stark, hold your applause.

Peter runs the words through his head no less than three times to make sure he had understood them properly. “Disney—you and me—spring break?” he repeats.

Tony nods, hair flopping. “I mean, like, don’t feel obligated to say yes, but I thought it would be fun since May says you’ve never gone and she would’ve been working for your whole break anyway, y’know, at least this way we won’t be worrying about you sitting home alone for hours doing G-d only knows what—building accidental robot armies or something, or, worse, becoming a couch potato and forgetting every bit of knowledge I’ve ever carefully placed in that rat trap you call a brain—”

“Tony,” Peter says, waving his hands to shut Tony up. Something warm sits in the core of his chest, hovering. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, yeah, for sure, let’s—Disney. Let’s go. Wow.”

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

Of birthday cake and millennium falcons by frostysunflowers

summary: "You still haven’t answered my question," MJ says, taking another sip of her juice.

"Isn’t it obvious?" Tony replies, scratching at one of the scars on his neck with the end of a screwdriver. "It’s Ben’s birthday."

"And Ben’s birthday warrants a…" MJ waves a hand vaguely, "what the hell is that thing anyway?"

Tony has no self control when it comes to birthday parties and his grandson.

pairings: spideychelle

tags: fluff

warnings: none

what i have, i give to you by aatticsaltt

summary: Tony would give everything to Peter Parker, if he asked for it. When May calls telling Tony she thinks Peter isn't feeling well, he drops everything to go check up on his favorite spider kid.

pairings: pepperony

tags: fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

Smile! by aatticsaltt

summary: Taking Peter to Disney World was one of Tony's better ideas.

pairings: pepperony

tags: fluff

warnings: none

and when it's hard, i'll place your head into my hands by hopeless_hope

summary: “Tony,” Pepper sing-songs to get his attention. “Your mother hen is showing.”

“What?” he snaps indignantly. “I am not a mother hen. This is just... concern. Of the average kind. Perfectly normal.”

“Of course,” Pepper humors him, and he shoots her a dirty look as he types out a quick text to Peter.

It's been five days since Tony's heard from Peter, who's away at college, and Tony is not coping well. (Neither is Peter.)

pairings: none

tags: hurt/comfort, fluff

warnings: none

Of Wally-Crawly Harnesses and Over-Enthusiastic Hat-Bestowing Capabilities by TheOceanIsMyInkwell

summary: Tony raises a brow at him in triumph, then sniffs and rubs the side of his nose. “Besides, think of it this way. Now you got a bullet-proof neck.”

“Nobody would even shoot a sad-looking orphan bundled like a spring roll in Red Heart yarn,” Peter points out. “That’s just low.”

“Excuse me, young buck, I resent the implication that I would let Red Heart come within an inch of your skin.”

“You’re insufferable,” Peter says flatly. “I hate you.”

“And just for that, I think this calls for those wool socks I was working on,” Tony says brightly.

“No--no, wait--”

“It’s time to learn that your consequences have actions, Parker--”

“Wait, wait, I love your knitting, I think it’s super healthy and fulfilling and honestly the best thing that’s ever happened to you since you retired!” Peter hollers at the man’s figure as it retreats quickly down the hallway. -- After Peter faints into hibernation because he can't thermoregulate, Tony isn't taking anymore chances. Out come the wool skeins and the knitting needles.

pairings: none

tags: fluff, humor

warnings: none

how do you sandwich!? by killerqueenwrites

summary: “Why are you buttering toast before you toast it?

”“I’m not toasting this.”

“Then what are you doing?” Peter demands.

“I’m making a sandwich.”

pairings: none

tags: fluff, humor

warnings: none

What I Can't Live Without by aatticsaltt

summary: Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown. Heavy lies the heart of the father who has to watch his son bow beneath the weight of the world.

or: When Peter calls Happy needing a ride out of the Netherlands, it's Tony who comes to the rescue.

pairings: none

tags: angst

warnings: none

Tales from Quarantine by just_a_hungry_author

summary: Peter, Morgan, and Tony are all stuck inside during the Coronavirus quarantine. Morgan learns to play Monopoly, Tony struggles to help with 1st grade math, and a prank war ensues.

God, this is the longest two weeks ever.

pairings: none

tags: fluff, humor

warnings: none

if we have each other by ftmpeter

summary: "Do you ever just, like, feel like you’re upside down?"

"You are upside down, Pete."

"Sounds fake."

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

What Happens in the Blanket Fort Stays in the Blanket Fort by TheOceanIsMyInkwell

summary: “Well, I was gonna discuss with May some legal particulars about changes to my will that involve you,” Tony drawls, “but looks like I’ll just have to change my plans.”

There’s a beat. And then a yodel: “I’m just a poor boy, I need--”

“If not for this goddamn quarantine, I’d be there in a flash to shut you up myself, Spidey-Tighties.”

“You made these ‘tights’.”

“Funsie-onesie.”

“Mr. Stark.”

“Cooty-footies.”

“Mr. Stark. I’m begging you. What does that even mean.” -- Tony comes over to keep Peter company during the quarantine while the kid waits for May to come home from work at the hospital. Bants are had. Feelings are spilled. And maybe, just maybe, a hug or two is shared.

pairings: none

tags: fluff, humor

warnings: none

On his Shoulders by snarkymuch

summary: “Please, please,” Tony begged, “Keep breathing, kid. Don’t do this to me. You can’t leave me like this.” The morning started like any other for Tony. He kissed Pepper good morning and sipped his coffee. He scanned his emails and chatted with Pepper about the vacation they were always planning but never took. The calm should have been a warning, as the storm always followed.

Peter and Tony get trapped in a building collapse and Peter is gravely injured.

pairings: none

tags: hurt/comfort

warnings: none

coronapocalypse by peterstank

summary: “This whole quarantine thing shouldn’t even apply to me.”

“Uh, I beg to differ, it’s very serious,” replies Tony’s voice, slightly muffled like he’s got his phone pressed between his shoulder and chin. “We’re all on lockdown, which means no leaving your place unless it’s for emergencies.”

“And what qualifies as an emergency?”

There’s a pause.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re not in your apartment?”

pairings: none

tags: fluff, humor

warnings: none

Little White Lies by snarkymuch

summary: Peter gets injured and tries to treat it himself, hiding it from Tony, but he can't keep it hidden forever.

pairings: none

tags: hurt/comfort

warnings: none

Peter Parker and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Semester by just_a_hungry_author

summary: "So tell me, Kid." Tony said, patting the space next to him. "What's been going on?"

"Nothing's been going on." Peter denied, but he sat down anyway.

"Pete, don't bottle your emotions up. Only I'm allowed to do that."

When Peter again didn't smile at his joke, Tony continued. "I know you're stressed, Bud. But tell me why so I can help you."

"It's nothing you can help." Peter mumbled.

"Can I at least try?"

"I've just been having a bad week."

OR: Peter’s been having a rough time at college, Tony tries to jump in and help. 3000 words of pure fluff.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

Windy Webs by silentsaebyeok

summary: And that was it. He was officially an idiot. Peter didn’t mean to be dramatic, but this was one of the most embarrassing things to ever happen to him, even if there was no one around to witness the fall of the century. -- Peter goes web-slinging in dangerous weather and gets seriously injured. It doesn't help that he has to spend the whole summer living with the consequences.

pairings: none

tags: hurt/comfort

warnings: none

Peter gets the chickenpox by snarkymuch

summary: Peter and Morgan both catch the chickenpox. Morgan's case is mild, but Peter's is severe. Tony takes care of them both.

pairings: none

tags: hurt/comfort, fluff

warnings: none

#irondad and spiderson #irondad #peter parker #tony stark #my fic recs #police brutality tw

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river-bottom-nightmare · 4 years

Note

For some reason BirdFlash gives me the look like nerds but are actually jocks vibe while JayRoy are the look like jocks but are actually nerds vibe. TimKon is the classical jock + nerd and since this came to my mind I can't unsee

At first sight, birdflash gives off STRONG nerd vibes. wally’s actually known throughout the school for his science achievements, trophies, and awards. you don’t stand a chance against him in the science fair, don’t even try. and dick went to a fancy rich prep school where he scored some of their highest grades. just because he doesn’t like school doesn’t mean he isn’t good at it. and whenever they see each other in civvies, wally’s chattering on about this experiment he’s doing for fun and it seems like dick actually understands what he’s talking about, not just nodding along. and with a single visit to wally’s school, he revolutionized the tech department with a few careless suggestions. but really, that’s just their individual interests. wally might like science, but his entire life is running. he trains and trains, both with and without the speedforce. along with being trapped in that thing for years, wally’s pretty sure the reason he’s the fastest speedster is because of his strict track and cross-country training. and no matter what the circumstances, dick’s always happiest when he’s in the air. he possesses a natural athleticism that leaves others in awe along with skills finely honed to perfection for years that very few others could even hope to achieve. the two of them are long and lean and strong, and are in complete control over their bodies. they play different sports for fun, give each other leg warmers, socks, and water bottles for holidays, and go on early morning runs. the two of them are sports culture to the max (i actually made a post about that here)

now jayroy give off just the jock vibe, maybe even running into punk territory. first of all, lets get this out of the way: BICEPS. two of the biggest pairs of guns you’ll ever see, i swear. roy’s got a cocky smirk and he wears threadbare tank tops with dumb slogans on them and he never takes that trucker hat off. he makes his way into the basketball game going on at the courts on the bad side of town with a laugh. he squares up his fists for a fight any time there’s a hint of action. his nose is crooked from all the times its been broken and reset. not to mention his tattoos. and yes, roy loves lian with his entire heart and cares for her with everything he has, but that doesn’t change the fact that he was a teenager. now jason, jason just looks the part. he’s huge, and built like a goddamn brick wall. those muscles gotta be used for something, right? he’s always wearing those fingerless gloves, but his knuckles are constantly bruised anyway. you stop and take a double take anytime you see him when his lip isn’t split. almost everyone’s seen him with a gun. but he also spends his free time reading literary classics. his bookshelf is crammed full of old paperbacks, with everything from Frankenstein to Wuthering Heights to Farenheight 459 to The Importance of Being Earnest. The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy is a guilty pleasure of his. And he’s not just flipping through them either. no, he reads them. poking plot holes and other criticisms faster than a bullet. character analyzations sharper than his jawline. a lecture about the problem with many contemporary and modern novels longer than his dick. yea, jason devours those novels, and can tell you about all of them. as for roy, he’s inventive. always tinkering, always fiddling with a piece of tech, always creating. whether it be a new set of trick arrows or a coffee machine that spits out poison darts of a toaster that has 56 settings or a goddamn bazooka. he loves building stuff with his own two hands, a messy bun on his head, grease on his face, goggles shoved over his eyes as whatever he’s making sparks to life in his hands, bested only by the strike of pure creative passion in his eyes. textbook definition mechanic and geek, and we love him for it.

timkon is definitely the classic jock + nerd pairing. the only problem is that they always switch which is which. kon drapes his spiked leather jacket over tim’s shoulders when he’s cold, and later on at football games, tim cheers kon on wearing kon’s varsity jacket. but tim dropped out of high school because he has “better things to do” while kon just genuinely enjoys learning about stuff. kon does need help with his homework, so he calls tim, who always gives kon the math formulas he forgot the empirical formula of a compund that he doesn’t feel like calculating while simulaneously working on a couple other cases (he bounces his theories for a certain homicide off kon). but half of tim’s closet is made of sports jerseys for his favourite teams that he wears completely unironically even though they practically dwarf him, and he drags kon to all of their games while cheering and hollering, screaming at the tv when he can’t be there live,,,,and it’s not just one sport,,,,,nooo he’s got a good many he’s completely emotionally invested in. tim steals kon’s shirts so often that he just starts giving them to him, and dear god there’s almost nothing kon loves more than seeing tim wearing his clothes, looking tiny and misleadingly delicate and his. but tim carries around a skateboard and uses it practically 24/7, and one afternoon was spent teaching kon how to use the thing, including lots of laughing and falling over and steadying hands on waists, before a break at an ice cream parlour was followed by a sugary kiss. so yea, timkon is jock + nerd culture, with both of them being the jock and the nerd (also sorry anon i know you were thinking of kon being the jock and tim being the nerd, and honestly that’s how i usually view it too, its just this particular idea popped into my head and i had to write it) (also for timkon, i usually go for skate culture, and my hc for that is here)

ok wow this got a lot longer than i expected. i was shooting for a couple lines about my ships, and ended up with a whole new hc list instead. ooooof. tag list: @comicsandhoney @birdy-bat-writes @astroherogirl @anothertimdrakestan

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supermanshield · 3 years

Text

Naps are overrated, anyway

~~~

There is a picture in the watchtower cafeteria of Superman and Batman, asleep on the Javelin.

This is the story of how it came to be, and why Batman let it be.

~~~

Words: 4,092

Relationship: Clark/Bruce

A/N: I had the idea for this story a year ago. For the longest time, the summary you see right now was all I had typed out. Only now, after reading a bunch of JLA vol. 1 did I finally find the right characters, the right feeling and overall vibe, and wrote this in the past three days.

It doesn’t completely comply with continuity, because while I imagine this set somewhere in the 1997-2006 JLA run, Bruce mentions 6 kids (he would have only had 2 at the time + a dead Jason), although they don’t make an appearance. And I'm actually not sure if the Javelin is a thing in that run, maybe that's just a DCAU thing. Just go with it.

Also, Bruce is a bit of a boomer in this. idk, I had fun writing him.

Read on AO3

______________________________________________

Batman doesn’t nap.

However, that is not to say that Bruce doesn't. He's nearing 45 years of age, not a grey hair on his head, but if he were to grow a beard now, or a moustache like his father, it would show a mix of salt and pepper, so he shaves it off, vigorously and every day. Moustache and beard, those are the first things to turn grey. Then the eyebrows. When that happens, Bruce will lose. He will give in to his age and keep his beard. Not yet. If Clark ever walks in on him during his morning ritual (probably soon), he will look at him with that forgiving smile. He will say what he thinks of it, because that's what he does. (Keep it, I like it, Bruce hopes secretively, but there is a sadness present in Clark's eyes that he will never completely understand, and that's exactly why he shaves).

Clark has seen it already though, he's sure. His 5 o'clock shadow must look like a foggy forest to Clark’s microscopic vision, and even worse in the morning, right before his shave. Clark hasn't mentioned it. A conversation for another day.

If his children ever found out about this particular insecurity, all 6 of them would laugh.

Bruce never really napped, or took time out of the day to simply rest, but now, Clark is there. To pull him onto the couch in the study when he's on his way to his desk. To keep him in bed after sex and before patrol. To fly through his window at WE at 50 floors up and pat next to himself on the couch in Bruce's office, door locked, and red cape hung up in the corner.

"It's time," he says. Every time. "You need one."

Bruce will raise his eyebrows. "Already, hmm?" he asks, almost every time.

He's made the mistake of sending him away before. (He won't do that again). Clark is the most stubborn man Bruce knows. He will say the same thing about Bruce, but that's beside the point. And It's not as if Clark distracts him from a case or work; he knows exactly when he has some time and is unable to make excuses.

Bruce is used to taking 20-minute power naps in uncomfortable positions on his desk chair, at the kitchen table behind the newspaper, with his feet up in the batmobile.

Clark sets the alarm for one hour. He pulls Bruce into a horizontal position against that broad chest, either spooning him or facing him, encasing him in his large arms (there are still 76 ways out of his hold, but Bruce can't think of a single one worth a try). They sleep.

Apparently Clark needs naps too, even though he doesn’t need sleep. Bruce has been meaning to ask him about that, wonders if it's a mental thing, a kind of meditation. Therapy.

His naps are dreamless. Afterwards, his return to consciousness is quick, he reorients on the surroundings, on Clark. Kissing him is a good strategy for grounding, Bruce has found. And just like that, they get on with their day again, because there is no time for dwelling, for another moment together. Nevertheless, Bruce is happy with what he does get. It’s more of Clark - and more time with him - than he deserves already.

So, Bruce naps.

---

After a long mission off-world, the league is on their way home towards the watchtower in the javelin. Diana is flying, with J’onn at her side in the co-pilot chair. The rest of them are hauled up in the back of the vehicle, they’re tired, exhausted, just trying to get some rest. Even Wally sits still. Only Batman is pacing up and down, his mind already on Gotham, on home, the cases that were open, the ones that he was *this* close to cracking. Batman doesn’t nap.

His mind is wandering, going at a speed that would make even Clark dizzy, but the puzzle pieces don’t make sense. Yet. His heavy boots are silent on the metal floor of the javelin, his cape a mere whisper of wind behind him as he turns to pace the other way again.

“You’re driving me crazy,” Hawkgirl’s voice cuts through the relative silence of flying through space (beeping, machinery, turbines, the jet - there’s a lot). She holds up one of her large wings, cutting Batman off from his path. “Sit down.”

He does. Next to Superman. A big mistake, although he doesn’t realize it until much later. No need to upset his teammates. He can meditate instead, stay awake. The noise of the jet doesn’t make it easy, but it can be done. Clark smiles calmly at him.

He sits straight, eyes open, breathing focused, and the turmoil in his brains slows down. Soon, they’ll reach Earth’s solar system and he’ll have access to the batcomputer. Not soon enough. Next to him, Superman is a steady support of a brick wall, but his shoulder feels warm and soft against Bruce’s, even through the suit. Underneath the cape and hidden from view, Clark’s thumb rubs circles into his side, lower back. He knows exactly what he’s doing. A Pavlovian effect has Bruce relaxing his shoulders, if only slightly. None of his teachers ever taught him how to deal with a superman when trying to meditate. His superman. His annoyingly super man.

His last thought is of Clark, and that it must be irritating to have a bat ear poking into his cheek. But then again, rarely anything physical ever annoys the Man of Steel. Then, finally, he dozes off, the roar of the jet diminished to a distant snoring.

---

Bruce is proud of the watchtower. His watchtower. It stands erect on the bright side of the moon, pointing towards earth. Always looking out. Within such an enormous structure however, some simple rules are needed. There is a long list next to the fridge in the break room, and one in the meeting room. No running unless there is an emergency. Masks on outside of one’s own room. Food is to stay in the cafeteria (he’s found everyone and Clark with various wrappers and chips bags in the monitor room, so he gave up on that – it’s crossed out). Training gear stays in the gym. The coffee machine has to be cleaned once every 2 days - the stuff isn’t that good, not what Bruce is used to, but it has helped him through several meetings and dull monitor duties in the past.

A couple days after returning from their outer space mission on the javelin, Bruce returns to the watchtower. There are several new members to have a meeting about. He has made up his mind on all of them already, the meeting is merely a formality.

Connor Hawke runs past – one of the new proposed members, codename Green Arrow after his father – and Supergirl flies over his head. “No running.” He stops them both with one move of his arm and a line on a batarang.

Kara turns towards him and slips out of his trap easily. “I wasn’t even running, B,” she says while she floats down. Connor has crossed his arms and looks out the window, Batman’s line still taut around his upper arms.

“There are rules. If you want to be in the Justice League, behave like it.” He reminds her of the proper use of code names too, for good measure, and unties Connor.

With a sigh, both young heroes are off, making their way towards the break room. Bruce follows them and finds Wally and Kyle already inside, but as soon as they see Batman turn the corner they scurry out through the door on the other side.

It’s the first clue that something is amiss. The newer heroes standing around the fridge and chuckling, the second. Bruce lays eyes on the offending appliance and feels his body tense. If smoke could come out of his ears, it would.

“Flash!”

---

The standard size piece of paper lies on one of the metal surfaces in the computer area of the cave. Bruce tries to ignore it while he works, but the primary colours of Superman’s suit in the image are a thorn in his peripheral vision. With a swift move and a smack, he turns it around, and gets back to his files. He has sent his notes for the meeting to the watchtower, reported that he’s too busy to attend.

He works on some of his own active cases, gathering data and looking at evidence. Most of it is paperwork, boring but necessary. He slowly makes his way through every file, meticulously and efficiently. Everything gets reported and written down in case a pattern reveals itself later. The puzzling can be done when he’s more focused. Meanwhile, the cases that are solved and closed get a little custom-made bat-stamp on the front of their manila folder before they get filed away. Alfred brings down coffee, the good kind. Time passes quickly and he’s still busy when Clark flies in.

“Hey,” he walks up to Bruce and bends down for a quick kiss. “I thought you’d be at the meeting today. Diana said you were busy.”

Bruce points to the piece of paper in explanation, Clark turns to grab it. “Wally happened. And I’m always busy.”

“I see. He seemed almost unnaturally giddy today. Oh hey, look.” Clark holds up the picture of Batman and Superman, asleep on the javelin. In it, Clark’s face is peaceful, his mouth open, despite one of the ears on the cowl that is indeed poking his cheek. “We look cute.”

“Batman doesn’t do cute, Clark.”

Clark sighs. But you do, his eyes seem to say. No, I don’t, Bruce replies with his. “Where’d you get this, anyway?”

“Wally put it up on the fridge in the watchtower cafeteria. You didn’t notice him taking it last week?”

“Clearly,” Clark points to the Clark in the picture. “I fell asleep.”

“And here I thought you always listened to your surroundings.”

“We were in space. Not exactly much I can hear out there.”

Bruce gets up from his chair. Having a Superman has once again proven useless. Only Clark can do something so silly and time-wasting as sleeping, on purpose. Naps are overrated, anyway. They’ve had this discussion many times, Bruce knows the outcome. *Always* be on high alert, he will say. Clark will push back, it’s not that simple, he will say. Everyone needs sleep, his eyes pleading, apologetically somehow. They do. But it has taken Bruce obtaining Clark’s powers in a freak magic accident and chasing after the sun and every criminal on the planet for 72 hours straight to realise that. Now he knows the desperation, the feeling that it will never end, the knowledge that in the end, not everyone can be saved, even if you try.

Everyone needs sleep, even Superman.

Clark watches him milling through these thoughts, it must be written on his face, and holds out his hand when Bruce’s features finally relax. He’ll just have a stern talking-to with Wally and Kyle next time he’s on the watchtower.

If only it were so simple. The next time he’s on the watchtower, the picture is back on the fridge. And in the main hallway. And in the transporter room, the trophy room, and the ground level bathroom. Bruce groans, suppresses the urge to face-palm. He takes the things down one by one, systematically going through the entire watchtower. Then, he has that talk with Wally. And with Kyle. Best to keep them separated. They snicker that it wasn’t them *this* time, and don’t seem scared of him at all.

He’s either gone too soft in his old (not old, mature) age, or he should have designed the watchtower with a lot more corners for menacing shadows.

Wally and Kyle are both telling the truth, Bruce finds out in the next couple of days when more pictures return while Kyle is off in space and Wally is busy on earth. This time, it’s not just the one of them sleeping on the Javelin. A bunch of pictures have been put up in the break room. There’s one of Clark, asleep on monitor duty with his feet on the console (Bruce makes a mental note to talk to him about that). There, right there, that’s the reason why there always have to be two leaguers watching the screens. J’onn looking desperately at a small pile of Oreo crumbles on the floor of the meeting room. Diana vigorously devouring a tub of chocolate ice cream. And Batman, pointing at the camera, the other hand on his hip.

He has no idea who took it, but it has to be one of the speedsters. All he knows is that this has to stop. No matter if one finds this kind of thing funny, there are rules, privacy issues, secret identities and all that.

The security footage that Bruce watches back in the cave that night reveal some of the newer, younger members of the league sneaking around the watchtower with a roll of tape. They don’t know where all the cameras are, clearly. They don’t know the rules, clearly. Wally and Kyle have to have set them up to do this, clearly.

Clark watches with him over his shoulder. He chuckled when Bruce showed him the evidence earlier, but now his face is serious. He mouths an Oh. “This is getting out of hand. I’ll organize a meeting tomorrow.”

---

The next day, in the biggest meeting hall on the watchtower, over 30 faces stare at them from across the large round table. Diana and J’onn are seated on their side, for good measure. They’re victims in this too. It’s intimidating to be called to the watchtower by Superman and Batman for a meeting on professional conduct, and even more intimidating to sit across four of the original members, especially for the new ones in the crowd. Good, Bruce thinks. He stands up, and so does Clark.

“Welcome, everyone,” Clark starts, the warm and commanding baritone all Superman. “We’re glad you could all make it on such short notice…” While Clark talks, Bruce regards the crowd of heroes standing nervously, or sitting on the few available chairs. Firestorm’s flame burns smaller than normal, the new Green Arrow has his bow clamped between both hands, and even Plastic Man seems to genuinely pay attention to Superman. Wally has his chin in his hands on the table, pretending to be interested, and Kyle only seems to pay attention to a scratch on the table’s surface. “…today is not an emergency, but it is important nonetheless…” Get to the point, Clark. “It seems that whilst we acquire more and more members for the JL, some of you think this is some sort of club and not an international organization to protect the earth,” he drones on. Arthur sighs, and for once, Bruce agrees with him.

“I will not tolerate this any longer,” Bruce cuts Superman off brusquely, in his most serious bat-voice. “Take all pictures down. And if I see another one…”

Wally huffs, interrupting him. “No fun allowed on this godforsaken rock.”

Before Bruce can retort, Clark puts a hand on his tense shoulder. “What Batman is trying to say, is we can’t do this. Even if it seems harmless. Because if we get careless about the little things, we get sloppy, and if we get sloppy, the wrong information might fall into the wrong hands.”

“You’re just as paranoid as he is,” Plastic man points at Batman. “It’s a couple of harmless images.”

“And what did I just say?”

“You’re saying no fun allowed,” Kyle supplies this time. Once again, Bruce takes tremendous effort to suppress a face-palm, and crosses his arms instead. He grunts. Really, they have 37 children here. Not just the 6 back home – a rookie number. 37, except maybe not Diana. Maybe. “Man, we bust our butts for you guys. I’m behind at work, barely get any sleep or free time and you’re getting on our case for something as dumb as this!” Kyle throws his arms up in anger. Behind him, Connor tries to shush him.

“This is work just as much as your civilian job. And more important on top of that. If you want to slack off, you can do that back home. Not here.”

“Grumpy much, bats? Someone missed their morning coffee today…” Wally mumbles.

They continue staring at each other, but it’s Superman who breaks first, uncrosses his arms and sighs. “You can have a couch in the break room… and a tv.” he looks at Bruce. At his expense, of course. “That’s it. No more images of JL members. Leave your personal lives at home.”

“Fine,” Wally sits up. “We’ll take them down.”

---

A couple days later, Bruce is back on the watchtower. No weird pictures greet him this time. Much cleaner. He steadily makes his way to the break room to grab a coffee before the current meeting, but only because he didn’t have time to wait for Alfred’s Italian brew anymore. Clark is with him, already more cheerful because of Bruce’s relatively better mood.

The cafeteria is still empty, the little kitchen still clean. Save for the fridge. There, prominently in the middle of the door, the original picture of Batman and Superman on the Javelin stares him squarely in the face. It’s held up by a pair of small Wonder Woman magnets this time. Clark says something behind him, but Bruce isn’t paying attention. As he gets closer, he can tell it’s different. The paper is thicker, a nicer quality. The image is not a print, but hand-drawn in a mix of coloured chalk and high-quality pencil. The lighting, especially, is magnificent. Kyle Rayner. A new addition is the caption in curly handwriting underneath the image:

Even the world’s finest heroes need to sleep

Now, Bruce face-palms. Hard. Clark mutters a fuck, but regains control quickly. “I’ve got to hand it to them; they have nerve.” Bruce ignores him as he opens the fridge to grab the milk for Clark’s coffee. “It’s a good quality to have.”

“Or a bad one.”

Clark shrugs. His face breaks out into a grin. “And, I have them on my side now.”

Oh, no. Bruce whips his head up from the coffee machine to look at Clark. “Batman doesn’t nap.”

Clark inclines his head, raises an eyebrow. But *you* do. It’s so goddamn frustrating when he’s right.

“Hn. You already have Alfred on your side, that’s enough. And I’ve been good about it.”

“According to your standards, sure. Don’t you think it’s time for one later today? After the meeting?”

“Not here,” Bruce whispers.

“Back home.”

Home. It’s a good thing the security cameras don’t record sound. “Okay,” he mumbles. “I’ve got some time before patrol.”

Clark’s grin turns victorious, and Bruce burns his tongue on the coffee while he tries to hide a smile himself. He’ll decide what to do about Kyle’s art project later. Right now, they have a meeting to attend to.

---

The next morning, Bruce wakes up to Clark kissing his jaw, his mouth. He tastes like Alfred’s coffee. Too early, as always. Not early enough, as always, because Clark is already getting up for work. He considers pulling him back into bed and just straight up explaining to Perry that Clark is late again because he’s fucking the owner, but then he remembers yesterday’s incident. He’ll have to do something about it, obviously, but he’s not looking forward to acknowledging the whole thing yet again, maybe even admitting that the younger members are right, if only a little bit. Stupid watchtower clubhouse. His foul mood must be showing on his face, because all he gets is a “Let it go, Bruce” before Clark disappears into the bathroom. He comes back out in record time, fastening his tie. “Just, let it go. Let them have a little bit of fun. They’re young.”

But not doing anything about it is not an option. Not for Batman, and not for Bruce. “If I don’t retort, they’ll keep going. This won’t die out.” He sits up in bed. At the foot end, Clark is putting on his shoes.

“It will. You can’t fight fire with fire, sweetheart.” He walks over to Bruce and kisses his cheek. That’s it.

“That’s it. I’m going to fight fire with fire.” Get down to their level. He has kids, knows what teenagers and twenty-something year olds think like.

“No,” Clark groans. It turns into a sigh. “I’m going to be late.”

Bruce gets up. “Then go. Have a good day at work, honey.”

Clark clenches his jaw, and swings his messenger bag over his shoulder, giving up. “I’ll meet you for lunch,” he says, already halfway out the window.

Bruce closes it behind him, and then quickly makes his way down to the cave. He lets Alfred know he’ll have breakfast on the watchtower, dons the batsuit, makes a quick stop at his desk in the cave, and beams up to the watchtower. 9 am. He’s still on time.

---

At lunch time, the cafeteria is buzzing with excitement, more and more heroes gathering around the fridge as they point and whisper Really? And Do you even think it was him? And Wally, this must be another prank of yours. Bruce hears shushing and He’s right there while he drinks his coffee on the other side of the room. Finally, Clark walks in and takes a second to behold the spectacle, his brow furrowed, listening in. He clearly gives up on going to the fridge to get food, and instead makes a beeline to where Batman is sitting at one of the tables. “What’s going on? Did you remove it?” he asks as he sits down across from Bruce.

“I did not.”

Wally sticks his head out of the crowd and looks at the two of them. “Hey Bats! Does this mean we can keep it?”

Calmly, Bruce sips his coffee, pointedly ignoring the younglings and the little victory he supplied for them. But of course, and without skipping a beat, Clark notices his smug mood. He leans closer across the metal table. “What, did you put your bat-stamp of approval on it?”

“As a matter of fact, I did.”

Clark looks back over at the fridge with his spectacular vision to see what Bruce has done earlier, before anyone else was in the vicinity; his bat-symbol stamped onto the lower right corner of the caption. Later, he’ll add a rule to his original list next to the fridge. Only approved art and trophies allowed on the watchtower.

“I also hacked their phones and made sure there are no digital copies anymore,” he explains. “That should teach them to think twice next time.”

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

Bruce shrugs. After all, he’s heard it all before. Only this time, Clark is unable to suppress a smile, he puts a hand over his, and adds “I love you.” Even that is nothing new, he knows it already, but it hasn’t happened on the watchtower yet. He allows a smile to form on his face while Clark holds his gloved hand. The rest of the league is too busy with the commotion around the fridge, anyway.

A few days later, he finds a copy of the drawing in the cave, this one with a small Superman stamp in the lower-right corner. It may just be exactly what he needs to see after a long night of patrol. Alfred seems happy about it too, and not just about the two people in it. He now simply points to the text with a stern face instead of obnoxiously and repeatedly clearing his throat whenever Bruce comes back from patrol battered and bruised or refuses to go up to the house and his bed.

There is another one in the fortress, although Clark doesn’t spend much time there. Bruce figures he can use the reminder whenever he does go there, so far away from humanity, to work on a case. And in Blüdhaven, Dick has one on his bedside table. The last time he visited Titans tower he noticed one in the hallway. Both of those not Bruce’s doing. He lets it slide, right of his cape and cowl and cool exterior. He just hopes everyone can keep it within their inner circles and that Batman and Superman won’t get turned into one of those ‘memes’.

#superbat #write write #humor #jla

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inkdemonapologist · 4 years

Note

What's going on with Wally Franks in your AU? I had trouble following the game, and the wiki seems to say that he quit the studio and retired without ever learning its darkest secrets, but I think you have him as one of the escapees (turned into a Boris?)

Okay I have a lot of rambling thoughts about the ending of the game if youre curious but I'll stick those at the end. As far as Escape AU goes:

Yes, Wally was a Boris clone! He did not fully get outta there; he's the murdered Boris at the very beginning of the game. Dying doesn't really seem to stick for ink creatures in the Studio, so he was able to come back -- but since he spent most of his time in the Studio [glados voice] really busy being dead, he doesn't have the years of trying to survive an inky hell that the others have; he just has that one really bad time where he was turned into a cartoon and murdered, and some weird and probably equally upsetting memories of briefly waking up from death. He never wandered the studio and was never sent to the puddles, so he has some real bad nightmares/insomnia now but is otherwise doing okay in his day-to-day life, and has no trouble speaking. He's probably able to hold down a job before too long!

Mostly Wally is there because I wanted Wally to be there, and I haven't fully sorted out the LORE for him in Escape AU (I don’t know if he never left or if he got lured back), but if you're interested in trying to sort out some of the canon associated:

So basically what I've gathered as someone who is obsessed with bendy and has watched all the cutscenes and all that but hasn't actually played the game and was real late to the fandom, TAKE WITH A GRAIN OF SALT:

- The game leaves things a bit ambiguous

- There were, in the original game, a lot of hints that the Boris you befriend in the Studio is Wally. (He’s sorta handy, kinda cowardly, likes food -- and we get an audiolog dedicated specifically to letting us know that Wally will straight up steal your cake off your desk; they’d be a good match!) There's several reasons it makes a kind of narrative sense and it was the prevailing theory before DCTL came out, but it was never confirmed one way or another.

- Two smaller things I’ve seen connecting Wally to Boris: the wrench you pull out of a Boris' chest, and the "Who's Laughing Now" written on the wall beside him being a really neat hint once you get to the audiolog where Wally complains that everyone is acting too serious for a cartoon studio and should crack a smile now and again. (this is most of why I went for the dead Boris as Wally)

- in Dreams Come To Life, Buddy is (spoilers) transformed into a Boris at the end, and it's commented on how perfect he is, implying he may be the "perfect Boris" you befriend in the game. The Boris in Boris and the Dark Survival is referred to outside the game as "Buddy Boris" and, since he has a safehouse, there's an implication that BatDS bridges the gap between DCTL and BatIM. The fact that Henry keeps affectionately referring to Boris as "buddy" becomes a fun retroactive “coincidence,” but also all the various implications that Wally sure would have made a good Boris now go nowhere. It ended up feeling like a retcon.

- in the end of the game you can see letters to Joey from Allison and Wally, implying they (and Tom) are alive and well and continued their lives after the Studio shut down, which is interesting since, uh, Allison and Tom are also now toons???

- there's a popular interpretation (called the Story Theory I think?) which I encountered in Adobe-Outdesign's analysis, that what this apparent contradiction means is that the "sketch dimension" (the cartoony world where most of the game takes place) is actually a story created by Joey using the Ink Machine, populated with alternate/fictional versions of the employees of the studio. So the Real Allison left, but in this story Joey’s writing, she didn’t. Henry-the-protagonist might not be the real Henry Stein; instead he's just one of Joey's characters, based on his IRL friend. Etcetera! So in real life, Wally retired, as his letter indicates. But those fictional versions are still real people, real consciouses, because the real ink machine that Joey really has hidden in his apartment is bringing Joey's story to life. I like the interpretation a lot as a take that fits the game well but also I have no idea where DCTL fits in this. IS DCTL PART OF JOEY'S STORY OR DID ALL OF THAT REALLY HAPPEN IN REAL LIFE??? IF THERE'S A LOOP IN DCTL (as slightly implied by Dot) ITS A STORY RIGHT??? WHAT IS HAPPENING IN THIS FRANCHISE

- the alternative interpretation to this is that somehow Allison and Tom (at least, if not others) got lured back to the Studio after she sent her letter -- after all, she's still keeping in touch. I tend to assume this is what’s going on in most fanfiction and AUs that have any possibility of escape, since you’d presumably want the employees to actually be themselves rather than Joey Drew's Weird Friendfiction brought to life. The impression I've gotten in this version is that sending them to the Bendy Dimension gives Joey control over the script there, so instead of creating people for his fictional retelling, he's forced his actual employees to play out this story, but I don't know that I've seen this fully spelled out

SO THATS, UH, SOME OF THE RELEVANT BACKGROUND INFO I THINK

Before running into the much more coherent Story Theory, my own attempts to make sense of the ending went in the exact opposite direction; that rather than Joey's apartment being a brief step out of the Story and into the Real World, that Joey's apartment is something of a dream, where Henry and Joey, of course, imagine the world that they know, even if they're not actually in it anymore.

I also REALLY liked the theories linking Joey to Bendy -- Bendy may have been created without a soul, but that doesn't mean one can't get, y'know, shoved in there... or that maybe a soul could be possibly stolen and absorbed by a creature who lacks one........ yknow..... it could happen. I like the idea that Ink Bendy's shifts in behaviour towards Henry reflect Joey's conflicted feelings towards his old friend (which is still there in the Story Theory version, it's just symbolic instead of literal).

So you defeat Beast Bendy and suddenly Joey is there, finally, in a place that looks like the real world but certainly doesn't feel real. The calendar in Joey's apartment cycles through the month of August but never moves past it, and I can't shake the idea that Joey could be just as trapped in the cycle as Henry, also never quite deviating from his own script, only briefly appearing in a memory of his own apartment when Henry releases his soul from the demon he created.

I don't know that this could ever shake out enough to be any sort of Actual Theory, but in my brain it's still kind of the background of Escape AU because it's a premise that makes it possible for the employees to actually be themselves. So, the cartoon studio is real, but the things that show up in Joey's apartment might be hit or miss as to whether they're a memory from Joey's real apartment, or if they're imagined wishful thinking on Joey's part.

#i know you have questions you always do #we all write on the walls #IM SORRY FOR SO MANY WORDS IM INCAPABLE OF BEING SUCCINCT #Escape AU #wally franks #i am not 100% sure i know what im talking about but that's okay

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aliynavenus · 4 years

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‘A Little Adjustment’ a damirae fanfic

Prologue

next chapter is out click here to read

“Aw man how much longer till lunch I’m starving.” Jon groaned impatiently, leaning against his chair, acting as if the hunger was going to end him right then and there.

“Relax. We only have half an hour.” Damian didn’t even lift his head away from the textbook he was reading, the study of hidden techniques of the katana, Of course, the academy would never actually have this in their library so he had to take a part in bringing his own interests from home. Even though he knows every little thing there is to know about his sword, it was the only thing that interested him while passing time during his study hall.

“Hey look, that transfer is in our class.” Jon leaned in across the table nudging his head to where a young girl sat on the couch displayed across from them, “I heard her name is Rachel. Some people have been talking about her already. They say she gives off like a bad vibe or a scary one, something like that. I mean she does look rather anti-social” he paused, thinking. “Just like you! You should talk to her.”

Damian didn’t even bother to look up, “You know I have no desire for women.” It was like a reflex when he said it though it was true. Never in his life did he care for women like that, even after all those damn setups his brothers have put him through, yet he always left the girl either crying or shut the door right in their face when they arrived at the manor.

“You’re no fun. Tons of girls swoon if you even speak to them.” Jon glared at him trying to get Damian to understand yet he got nothing but his eyes wandering at the damn book, “You’re hopeless, I can’t wait to meet the girl who actually makes you feel emotions,” pause, “I’ll be back I have to use the bathroom.”

Tsk. It felt like everyone around him was wondering if he had any sensibility. His brothers, Jon, even his own father, were all meddling into his life wanting him to be more “sociable.” Like that would ever happen. He wasn't trained to have empathy, he was trained to assassinate anyone that meant necessary feeling no guilt out of it. He was supposed to be the next heir to the league. Yet that all went away when he turned 14 and came here. Even though it’s been 2 years since then he really hasn’t made that much improvement in the realm of “socializing” as his father would say.

What was the point of it anyway? Everyone at the damn academy were all prids who cared only about their wealth and status having no sense of what actually goes on behind their boring life. They were all the same. Not once has he ever felt like anyone could compare to him. No one could understand the insufferable anguish of destiny to become merely just a weapon to then having to adjust to living ‘normally’, to know that the person he once admired was a demon himself. It all vanished, so what was even the point to get to know someone if they didn't understand.

Damian lifted his head finally releasing his sight from the textbook. He groaned, craning his neck to stretch it. His version began drifting to the scenery of the library until something caught his eye or someone, someone who he’s never seen before.

A girl with dark raven hair with pale skin seated on the cushion brown sofa, alone. Oh, this must’ve been the girl Jon was talking about. Her face was stuck to a book. ‘The Truth of the Realm of the Underworld’

He felt taken aback at that, no average girl around here would ever touch a book like that. It almost intrigued him. He tilted his head slightly trying not to be noticeable that he was looking for the features of her face. Finally she lowered the book.

And that’s when he saw her.

She looked so fascinating and mysterious all at once. Her features were delicate and soft, it was if he could see hidden secrets behind her face, behind those violet eyes if anything. Those eyes, those damn perfect eyes. They were something he’s never seen before. Even at a distance he could see her iris were full of infinite specks like gems. This was the girl people said they feel bad energy from, how in the hell can that even be. She didn’t look scary or anything, she looked pure.

His chest tightened as he stared at her. What has gotten into him? It was as if he could hear his heartbeat quicken pounding against his ears. A lock then fell out of her hair framing her face, simply tucking it behind her ear, he felt his jaw tighten. Fuck she looks cute. Damian never noticed the uniform on the girls in the academy but the way they fit on her, it was mesmerizing.

It hugged her perfectly. The clean white button up blouse with a neat red tie around her neck. The short plaid skirt--extremely short, laid perfectly at her thighs. Her skin even looked velvety like a smooth canvas with no imprints. She was so beautiful.

He then felt his throat being choked by the damn tie. Like that helped his body relax. He never felt more desirous to talk to someone, to know every little thing about them, to touch them. She was something that looked restricted, too good to even lay a finger on, especially with his guilty hands. He needed to know more about her, to understand her, so much that it made him eagered.

“Everyone! Please evacuate to the main room! I just got word that the city is under attack!” The librarian spoke loudly, alarming everyone to quickly rush towards the exit in panic.

Rumbling was heard from outside the room, making the floor vibrate within their feet. Sirens of ambulances were blaring outside echoing through the glass windows. Damian needed to get away from these people so he could change. Damn it why did there have to be so many snobs in this damn study. Pushing past everyone to leave the crowd to run to the empty hall to find his locker for his uniform. “Damian! Here!” Jon shouted who was already disguised, throwing Damian’s duffle bag that he kept his uniform in, “Hurry. Bane is throwing grenades everywhere outside the school and having his minions raid the bank.”

“Thanks Jon. Everyone should be in the main room, make sure they're safe. Don’t let anyone leave the building! Contact Wally and Donna while you’re at it” Damian hollered rushing towards an empty classroom to change.

“You got it, boss!”

Changing quickly Damian launched the grappling hook gun to extend out the nearest window to swiftly take him outside to see Bane’s minions robbing the bank across the street from the academy, like that was such a coincidence. Landing perfectly on the ground annihilating himself to his enemies as if they were no more than punching bags. “Your combat could use an increase in reaction.” flipping another minion onto an agonizing pile of them.

“Robin! Someone is stuck under rubble on the corner, they need help!” Wonder girl yelled in the air with a woman in her arms retrieving her to safety

Damian nodded, running towards the place Donna was referring to. There was someone, someone from the academy. It was Rachel.

What the hell was she doing out of the academy it was a lockdown. He didn’t expect their first meeting to be introduced to her as Robin but hell with it, he needed to get her to safety.

Rachel’s ankle was stuck under a piece of construction, from one of the grenades that wrecked the concrete. Placing his hand at the small of her back for comfort, “We’ll get you out, stay calm” and she was. He found it rather strange at first normally people would panic and cling to him wanting to get out in harm's way but she was perfectly fine when he rushed to her. Does she normally get trapped under rumble?

“Robin, watch out!” looking above to see enormous pieces of construction falling right to their direction, instantly taking a hold of her head bringing it close to the crook of his neck, shielding her body with his, waiting for the rumble to crash into them. But it didn’t. When he opened his eyes Raven’s hand were up in the air, dark magic appearing out of it connecting to a force field surrounding them in a bubble protecting them.

His eyes widen, holy shit. No wonder, she didn’t just seem different to him before, it was because she was. She was a sorcerer.Sure he’s seen tons of shocking things in his life that never appealed to him but this one, it was a whole different story. It was unreal.

Rachel sighed hopeless when she used her powers to lift up the construction under her to release her ankle. “I guess the cat’s out of the bag.” she chuckled dryly against his shoulder, at her charade was now over.

Damian pulled her head gently away from his shoulder, “Is your ankle injur-Argh!” A sudden hit from a baton was swung against the side of his head. One of those damn criminals managed to get a hit on him by surprise. Damian gritted his teeth ignoring the blood rushing down his head turning to the enemy to torture him. Although that didn’t even need to happen when he saw the masked man being lifted from the ground and flung to the other side of the street.

“Are you okay?” her worried voice came behind him leaning her body up towards him to touch the damage of his head. It was the first time he’s ever heard her speak, her voice was soft yet filed with emotion when she saw his wound. He felt the touch of her fingers gently being dozed in his blood against his skin. Even though he had farther worse injuries than this it felt like her touch burned him, yearning for her.

He felt his throat dry up, “Yea, it doesn’t hurt.” she looked at him with worry “I’ll be fine.” he assured her. “Isn’t your ankle hurting.”

“I didn’t want people to see I had powers, it didn’t hurt me. But I can heal you. Let me heal you please it won’t take long.” concern was filled in her expression. He felt his stomach twist with her touches on his arm and head. It was almost like he surrendered in her grasp.

“Okay. Do it fast.”

She nodded rolling up her sleeves, placing both her palms on the side of his head. Amethyst. That was the color of her eyes up close. They were big and gazing and full of mystery that he wanted to seek. Seeing her face up close, she was naturally beautiful. He felt his chest tighten once again but this time he felt like his whole body felt tense having her in his reach. Shortly he felt the slow stings takeover the wound, yet it wasn’t painful. It felt bitter but a pleasurable sensation overriding his damaged flesh. It was warm and contagious feeling her powers run through his veins. Sensing his bloody wound reattaching onto clean skin, admittedly it felt enjoyable knowing this came from Rachel. He let out a soft breath from his lips as he felt the tenderness disappear, damn it felt good.

Then something unexpected happened, writing in a form he never recognized appeared on her arm in glowing red ink. What the hell? Is that normal? Something told him it wasn’t seeing her face expression change. It didn’t look like she knew that was going to happen either. He watched as it soon faded away leaving not a mark on her skin.

“What was tha--”

“Robin! We need your help here!” Donna and Wally called out to him who were tangled up in forcing Bane to the ground but having trouble in doing so.

“Right” he nodded, lifting her to her feet “Get back to the academy, it's safer there.” Running towards his teammates he could hear Rachel whisper something, it was distant.

“This can’t be good.”

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

After a successful mission of taking Bane back to the Asylum and returning the money he had stolen, Damian headed straight to the batcave, still in his Robin uniform, seating himself in front of the main frame.

“What are you looking for?” His father’s voice came from behind him.

To be fair he wasn’t even sure. Right after the mission he came here to do some research on the writing that appeared on Rachel’s arm and her background. He knew his father had to have some relative information about her considering he has information on everyone who are of the abnormal, even his acquaintances. “Just doing some research. Must you monitor everything I do.”

“No but it is my job to keep you on track to fully live your life and your life as Robin separate.”

There his father went on again always speaking of terms of wanting him to socialize more. ‘To fully live it’ whatever that meant. “I am living.”

“Not both. You're living more as Robin than Damian. You haven’t made any new friends except Jon. You only speak to Donna and Wally when you have missions. When are you going to start acting like a teenager your age.” his father’s words were like a blade to his skin. He hated when he acted like this it was an unavoidable irritation.

“I wasn’t trained to make friends, Father. I was trained for the good of humanity.” Damian bit back defensively, turning himself to his eye father to come to full view of him dressed in his business attire.

“You aren’t even a part of it.” Bruce sighed walking towards the main screen tapping keys in “I have a new mission for you, Damian. Think of it as an experiment and experience for you”

“What’s the mission?”

“You’re nemesis, Slade was spotted in Tokyo. Something tells me he’s going to stay there for awhile. There have been also, new leads in a new chemical serum that could be developed into making metas stronger. It’s a drug for them, yet I can’t calculate where the origin is. Which is why I’m sending you.”

Damian felt like something was off about his mission, he knew there was another purpose to this, “What’s the catch Father? Why can’t you simply do it?”

“I chose this for you. I want to send you there to deal with understanding people your age and socializing with them. You’ll be finishing your junior year there and come back before your senior year starts. Everything is already purchased. So we both get what we want. You get to track down Slade as well as any incoming missions sent to you and also, you get to take part in a society meeting people who aren’t abnormal.”

Damian had to say it was a request he couldn’t resist, if it involved Slade. It was like a cat and mouse game that he enjoyed ever since leaving his deceased grandfather’s side. It sounded well but something left him reluctant. He was going to be gone for a year, sure that meant leaving Jon too, it also meant Jon was going to lead Wally and Donna in crisis. Yet the only images that struck his head were her. Rachel. If he left that meant he could no longer seek wanting to see what more she was. Here he was getting the opportunity he’s always wanted, hunting Slade and leaving the meddling voices of his Father and brothers behind yet he felt hesitant. He almost felt pathetic.

“I accept, Father.” Damian leveled his eyes to meet him out of respect. Bruce nodded, “You’re flight leaves tomorrow night. I’ll leave you to it.” he said, walking to the exit of the cave leaving Damian to spin back to the screen dialing as information about Rachel. If he had 22 hours before he left, he might as well gather information on Rachel about her origins so he could inform Jon that a new sorcerer was walking around the academy.

Typing in her name instantly took him to another page that blared at him. Of course he was right, his father did have at least some relative information about her. One of the few benefits about him.

‘Rachel Roth also known as Raven’ so Raven was her real name, it was fitting. He continued on reading everything there was to know, ‘Daughter of Trigon. Left her home Azarath and was spotted a month ago in the city.’ It was quite surprising, he didn’t know Trigon had a daughter.

At least they had something in common, both being raised by demons only to be brought into another way of living. He’d never expect to feel so familiar to someone just by reading pieces of information about her. It felt almost pleasant yet unusual feeling that way. Unfortunately not much was gathered about her considering it’s all new and untraced.

He stretched against the leather chair acknowledging that this research shall be put on pause for the night. Entering the changing room in the cave to peel his uniform off to change into joggers, leaving himself shirtless. He paused to think about her. Should a woman be this much on his mind?. He almost felt disappointed that he wasn’t going to admire her for a year. It pained him. It was like his mind was being ambushed by images of her, her eyes, her touch. It was all too damn good. That he craved it.

A sharp tingly started to form against his foreman. It was writing the same writing that appeared on Raven after she healed him. Why did it appear now? Why did it appear on him? Was this like a mark that was supposed to be left on the body after being healed by her. It was strange but no distress came from him, just comfort. The same kind of comfort that he felt when he was in her grasp. Within a second it vanished, leaving no trace of it left. His body felt no different, it didn’t feel like a threat. Maybe it was just a form of writing after being healed. Like a brandment. For some reason he kind of likes the idea of being marked by her. It made him feel connected to her, he liked it.

But he couldn’t. He was going away for a whole school year. He was going to forget her, these feelings whatever they were, had to be gone And he knew for sure they were, he was Damian fuckin Wayne Al Gual. He could do anything, anything but gain feelings for a girl.

And oh was he so wrong.

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So if you made it to here. This is a multi chapter fanfic and the summary is basically these.

After attending a full year at an off the coast boarding school as well as being involved in an undercover mission, Damian is back to the city for his senior year, after completing his missions. Going back to his subtle ways of living with his father. Attending night patrol around the city. Things of course wouldn’t be any different. Until his best friend, Jon all of a sudden has a new familiar looking step sister -- Raven aka Rachel Roth Kent. The one girl who caught his eye back in the Academy before his departure. Although now having Raven part of the Kent family who also unknowingly knows that her new adoptive family are a bunch of heroes living under her nose. Right nothing much has changed. Just adjustments for the demonbirds

there will be lots of fluff. lots of angst. and smut lol.

#damirae #demonbirds #damian x raven #raven x damian #damian and raven #raven and damian #damian wayne #rachel roth #rachel roth kent #dc fanfiction #justice league dark: apokolips war #teen titans #its finally hereeeee #i did a thing #ahhhhhh another 3 am thing #my babiessss #a little adjustment fanfic

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thegeekerynj · 3 years

Text

All Death Metal Review (And nothing from Sweden!)

Death Metal: Trinity Crisis One Shot

Writer: Scott Snyder Artist: Francis Manapul

‘And who are YOU supposed to be? I’ve faced enough Dark Knights that no Batman scares me anymore!

Ha! Then it’s a good thing I’m not a Batman! I’m his MOTHER!’

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Sweet Christmas! That took me by surprise!

Harley kissing Jonah Hex, that was really sweet, and gods awful creepy, and kinda gross, after the exchange, and some thought…

This is it, Gentle Readers… the Beginning of the End of the Beginning of… Oh, crap, now I’m lost… This is where the story starts rockin’!

The Gang’s all together, and the Black Lantern Bat has determined what they need to do.

The plan? Split up, naturally. That AL-ways works…

When we left them in DM #3, the Lanterns are protecting the Home Base, and taking out the Crisis Energy Antennae on the Earths left in the known Universes, The Flashes are off and running through the Speed Force, trying to find Metron, and stay ahead of the Bathattan who Laughs, while the Trinity (Superman / Antilife, Black Lantern Batman and Warden Wonder Woman) along with Swamp Thing, Harley, Hex and Jarro, head for Castle Bat, to gain access to the Crisis Earths, where the Crisis Energy is being harvested for Perpetua.

**WHEW!**

Getting into the Castle involves getting past an army of Dark Knights… and we have a bunch of real winners here!

Bat Monday - Salomon Grundy in Bat ears, I could have busted a gut laughing, until I thought about what kind of weapon a zombie with Batman’s training could be, and shivered…

Kull, the daughter of Batman and Wonder Woman, corrupted by the Dark Universe…

Ark, the living embodiment of Arkham, with all of the knowledge and abilities of ALL her worst inmates…

Chiroptor, the amalgam of Batman and Chemo (Great Elder Gods!!)…

And the Pearl, Martha Wayne, in the equivalent of HellBat Armor, complete with her iconic pearl necklace.

This is a real mindscrew for Batman, and the panels depict it, most intently.

One nice thing about Scott Snyder… he is consistent about tying up loose ends. Once we are in Castle Bat, we find out what happened to Barbatos, the Big Bad from Dark Nights: Metal. Not that we were actually wondering, since we got Perpetual, and the Batman Who Laughs, but, like I said, it ties up the package nicely.

Then, we are introduced to the character I have been most happily waiting for… the Robin King, and his Utility Belt of Death!

Gentle Readers, this is the story we have been waiting for, the chapter which tells us what the Heroes Plan of Action is, and where the story has been going, for over 40 years. You see, the opening page of this book tells us where this story began… with Marv Wolfman and George Perez, and Crisis on Infinite Earths!

Not to spoil too much, but Crisis, Infinite Crisis, and Final Crisis, ]well… they have all played a part in getting us to this story. It seems, the “Crisis Energy’ has fed Perpetua while she was trapped within the Source Wall, and, now, she wants it all, so she can recreate the Universes in her image.

Great job, if you can get it…

I can’t say enough good things about this story and artwork, as Snyder and Manapul have put together a really tight, hard hitting bottle / lead story, bringing us to the next step in the saga…

Jeebus on a popsicle stick, I hope no one lets me down… that will hurt!

Out of 5🌶 🌶🌶🌶🌶.5

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Death Metal: Multiverse’s End #1

Writer: James Tynion IV Artist: Juan Gedeon

‘Mr. Rabbit?

Yes, Young Lady?

Thank you for saving me.

What a kind thing to say! It was so scary out there, and you stayed so brave. I don’t think I could have done it without your courage.

You’re really, really soft.

I use a special carrot shampoo.

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Once upon a time, about a million, bazillion years ago in cranky fat man years, somewhere around 1982, Roy Thomas and Scott Shaw! brought Earth-C into the DC Multiverse, the earth of anthropomorphic animals… yes, they brought Super-Hero Cartoon Animals to the Super Hero Universe.

Our introduction to this Earth was Rodney Rabbit, a comics writing and drawing hare, who created the Just’a Lotta Animals comic by day, and was Captain Carrot, a Superman-esque rabbit, who got his powers from super charged carrots, when danger struck.

But, I digress… because I got really excited!

So, we have teams on the 6 Earths, each Earth holding a tuning fork, focusing the psychic pain energy of the population to Perpetual, powering her attempts to recreate the Multiverse in her image. The Earths in play, Earth - 3 (Crime Syndicate), Earth - X (Nazi Earth), Earth - 29 (Bizarroworld), Earth - 43 (Blood League World) and Earth - 50 (Justice Lords Earth) are all worlds of pain and suffering.

Their energy is the right flavor for destroying, and creating.

The heroes, organized and led by the Green Lanterns of Sector 2814 (Hal Jordan, Guy Gardner, John Stewart, Kyle Rayner, Jessica Cruz, Simon Baz), are working to take down the Antennae before the energy can be fed to Perpetual to power her Cosmic Undoing.

So, teamed with the Lanterns, we have Hawkgirl, Kid Flash (Earth-22), President Superman (Earth-23), Wonder Woman (Earth-6) and Captain Carrot, all hellbent on stopping the respective Antennae.

The problem… Each Earth’s inhabitants have been laced into the antennae, to directly feed the psychic energy to it..since the energy is effectively terror, well, what better way to induce some? Of course, this isn’t the only problem to be contended with…

Leave it to James Tynion IV to come up with a way to make a villain creepier than the Batman Who Laughs… How, you ask? Well, take the true polar opposite of Batman, and make him realize HE IS what Giggles says he is, and you have an interesting new ballgame.

You see, while the Batman who Laughs is the Ultimate CORRUPTED Batman, Owlman is the Anthesis of Batman, the purest EVIL to the Batman’s GOOD. And he plans to make sure that he continues to be the True Opposite…

Gedeon’s artwork is rough, but considering the story being told, and the pain portrayed by the characters, it fits, perfectly. Some times, I see Joe Staton and Nic Cuti in these pages, a little cartoony, but that’s not a complaint… The story concentrates a bunch on Guy Gardner and Cap, so, it seems to fit (and the art is reminiscent of the ‘A Guy and his G’Nort’ storyline from 1991).

All in all, a very good story, and a fantastic use of a truly underused treasure.

Out of 5🌶 🌶🌶🌶🌶

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Speed Metal #1

Writer: Joshua Williamson Pencils: Eddy Barrow Inks: Eber Ferreira

‘Hey, Flash Family, Is it true a Flash has to die in every Crisis?!’

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And the levels of snark from the Darkest Knight have reached Epic Levels!

The first three pages of this issue give us a rehash of everything having to do with Wally West, since the beginning of the Rebirth Era, from Barry pulling Wally out of the Speed Force, to Barry and Batman finding the Comedian’s Smiley Face button embedded in the Batcave wall, to the events of Heroes in Crisis and Flash Forward.

The action picks up as Barry, Wally, Wallace and Jay leave the Batman’s Vault, in search of Metron’s Chair, with the Darkest Knight hot on their trails.

In the Speed Force.

With the Darkest Knight’s presence corrupting the Speed Force, Barry and Wally bickering the entire time, I’m reminded of why I hated the post Crisis Flash… Wally wasn’t mature enough to wear the mantle of Barry’s fame.

Sure, he had the speed, he was even faster than Barry, but he was still the same jealous little kid inside, the one who needed to be patted on the head, the one who couldn’t get on with the Titans, even though he was probably the most powerful of them.

He was just an immature kid, and here, Williamson dragged that all into the foreground once again.

All so Wally West, the King of the Redemption Arc, could have another Redemption Arc…

Sorry, that did me in.

The rest of the story is pretty good… the art is wonderful, the Jay / Barry / Wallace interplay is really kinda neat, and all the Black Flashes… well, I’m a sucker for Death icons, so a mass of Death Speedsters, well that’s fun with a CAPITAL F!

But, did we need another Wally gets to whine story?

Sorry, this wasn’t the finest arc of the Death Metal Saga.

Out of 5🌶 🌶🌶🌶

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Death Metal #4 ‘Shot In The Dark’

Writer: Scott ‘Scream King’ Snyder Artist: Greg ‘The Muscle’ Capullo Inks: Jonathan ‘Bloodied’ Glapion

“So, ever wonder why you never see A Harley Who Laughs’?’

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And, that Gentle Readers, is the crux of one of those puzzles about this series… Why don’t we ever see more twisted versions of the Villains who infest Earth Prime?

The Robin King (this is the character who rates SECOND on my memorable Characters list, especially with his own One-Shot—— Who’s First?? Time, Gentle Ones in time…) puts the explanation out there, and it is very simple.

And worth the read… But, I digress.

So, Issue 4 picks up with Sergeant Rock describing what has been happening on Earth - Prime, and we finally get to see who has been carrying him around… AMBUSH BUG! Yes, the character that made the Fourth Wall more transparent than an open Anderson window has been carrying Rock around as his own personal narrator…

Which, if you know the Bug, is a joke unto itself.

So, here we go, the ride is picking up steam, and we are now following 6, count’em SIX, separate story lines. A guy could get whiplash, or Bullwhip or some other third rate character… But, I digress.

We have the Trinity storyline, the SpeedMetal storyline, Multiverse’s End, and the Lantern Storyline from the last issue, the Justice League / Legion of Doom story… am I forgetting anything?

Oh, and of course, the Robin King.

Where to start with this… I guess the simplest place to start is the artwork.

Greg Capullo’s pencils are absolutely wonderful. For anybody who it's to watch the process of drawing I want to watch so he's got a really wonderful touch I recommend Greg Capullo’s Instagram site. As he's drawing pages for these books, he posts the pencils as he finishes pieces of the process . Normally, he has six or seven photo panels showing exactly what he's been doing. In man cases, this involves crowd scenes, with extensive detail. His work is beautiful, it’s easy to see why he is such a sought after talent.

Jonathan Glapion’s inks on Capullo’s pencils are comparable to Austin on Byrne, and Janson over Miller, Janson over Colan… Enhancing, and not hiding the intricate detail rendered in the pencils, adding that last flash of lightning to bring it all together. The balance struck between them is almost organic, a constant growth between the two, bringing them to levels bordering on the true Classic Art teams of the last 50 years.

I do not make these comparisons lightly

Now, to the story. Scott Snyder is powering a roller coaster with a rocket sled. The coordination between the different aspects of these stories is both intricate and daring. With all the different aspects of this story spinning like plates on sticks, Snyder juggles the plot lines, and what is left to him by the myriad of writers as Emmet Kelly did in the heyday of Ringling Brothers.

His deft touch, and subtle influences are balanced by lace covered sledgehammer blows, leaving the reader reeling, and wanting so very much more.

Scott Snyder, much like Tom Taylor, has pulled out all the stops, cut the brake lines, kicked out the jams, insert favorite euphemism for creating a high speed, non-stop mad ride to Hell!

And, much to my wallet’s chagrin, I am very happy about it.

Now, as it crosses to other books, and other writers pick up the reins, I am sure Snyder will still be the whip hand driving the story, not allowing some of these writers to go too far astray (unless it’s Tom King… then, well Woo Hoooo!)

I can’t say enough good things about this story, or the team creating it. I’m beginning t feel a little biased, but, what the heck.

Out of 5🌶 🌶🌶🌶🌶.5

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

Death Metal: Robin King #1 ‘The Robin Who Would Be King’

Writer: Peter J. Tomasi Artist: Riley Rossmo

‘Aw! Come on, this is the fun part!

Get up and let’s FIGHT!’

———————————————————————————————————

Games, within games, within games…

So, the Batman who Laughs wasn’t infallible.

And the Robin King is going to be the bigger threat to the Darkest Knight than any combination of the Trinity, Flashes or their cohorts.

At least, that’s my takeaway from this issue.

We continue the story of the Robin King, as started in the Tales of the Dark Universe one shot. Bruce has grown up, and grown into his sociopathy, and genius. He has used the family fortune to get all the training necessary, and to accumulate all the tools, to begin his reign as the true Evil Overlord of Gotham.

Utilizing his accumulated weapons, he has taken out Commissioner Gordon, Firestorm, Animal Man, Adam Strange Blue Beetle (Ted Kord), and the Red Tornado, all in truly spectacular and extraordinarily grisly fashion.

While the Black Hole Implosion for Firestorm was a particularly well thought out death, I think, so far, the ‘Mortal Coil’ Death, for the Red Tornado was the most imaginative… making his powers totally uncontrollable, while moving him closer to his ultimate dream, to be a real person, before his form totally destroys itself from the stresses of his own speed.

Marvelous! Fantastic! Gross!

Enter the Batman who Laughs, with the proposition to make the Robin King special, one of his own…

But, he’s a Robin, so, off to the Groblin Pit he goes!

Hence, his mistake, and possibly another chink in the boiler plate of his plans… since Bruce Wayne is NO Robin!

Peter Tomasi’s scripting for this issue is simply remarkable. The creep factor he brings to this iteration of Bruce Wayne is almost eviscerating. Reading this was painful to my eyes and psyche, feeling the levels of insanity drip off the page, and scratch across my mind like a little bird’s unnaturally sharp talons.

He really hit all the horror factors.

Then, there was the artwork for this story. Riley Rossmo’s artwork set the mood for this story. His shattered pencil / inks style, which can be distracting, was integral to telling this story. It allowed the Reader to view this story as if it were playing out in Bruce’s mind, its all the fracturing being how he is viewing the world.

For me, this story has been the highlight of the series… thus far. I am anticipating this, which is near the midpoint of things, is setting up the Wednesday Night Episode…so, -

Tune In, Gentle Readers!

Same Bat-Time

Same Bat Channel!

The Best Is Yet To Come!

Did I neglect there is a B-story, with Signal, Spoiler, Orphan and Red Robin taking on Quietus, the amalgam of Batman Ras’ al Ghul and Duke Thimas, from another Dark Universe, written by Tony Patrick and drawn by Daniel Sampere?

This story brings in a plot line for ‘What’s happening for the Other Bat-Family Elements’, as they try to find their way through Castle Bat’s myriad streets…

I am guessing we will start to see more of these stories.

I am completely fine with this, rather than having to recap things later…

Out of 5🌶 🌶🌶🌶🌶.5

#dark nights: death metal #DC comics #Batman Who Laughs #Scott Snyder #Greg Capullo

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theiceandbones · 4 years

Text

Shannon vs. Chesapeake

Think of all the things you can do in 15 minutes. You can eat a snack, take a shower, do some quick exercises, do a face mask, it’s really up to you. I think I’ll use a pasta meal prep for this purpose, as it’s something I frequently do in 15 minutes. In the grand scheme of things, it isn’t a lot of time, but this of course depends on what it is you’re doing in 15 minutes. The first of June, 1813, saw one of the bloodiest and shortest naval battles in history- it lasted just under 15 minutes. I’m going to walk you through the history of those 15 minutes- today we’ll be travelling 207 years to the past, off the coast of Boston. Mind the cannonballs.

Now the Chesapeake so bold, sailed from Boston we’ve been told, for to take the British frigate neat and handy-o The people in the port all came out to see the sport And the bands were playing Yankee Doodle Dandy-o

The British frigate’s name, which for the purpose came to cool the Yankee courage neat and handy-o Was the Shannon: Captain Broke All her men were hearts of oak And at fighting were allowed to be the dandy-o

HMS Shannon was a Leda-class frigate, a lady built for war with an armament consisting of 38 guns numeric and 52 guns in actuality at the time of her 1813 battle. She was built in 1806 at Frindsbury and completed at Chatham, Kent. Captain Phillip Bowes Vere Broke would command her from her launch up until her infamous battle in the War of 1812. Broke ran a tight ship, his crew was extremely disciplined and would participate in daily drill exercises which made them sharp-eyed and fast-handed. Among Shannon’s victories was the 1808 capture of the French ship Thétis (she later became HMS Brune), however this was not her most memorable capture.

USS Chesapeake was a 38-gun frigate much like Shannon, commanded by Captain James Lawrence. She was slightly older and larger than Shannon and was just as powerful. During the War of 1812 she was quite successful, capturing several British merchant ships and ready to take more. How convenient it was for Shannon to be patrolling the Boston coast the same evening as Chesapeake.

It’s the first of June, 1813. Shannon is running low on provisions, yet eager to take one more American ship. Our fiery Captain Broke had his eyes on Chesapeake, and sent out a message to Captain Lawrence challenging him to an exchange of broadsides. Lawrence never received this message. When Shannon and Chesapeake met at half past five in the evening, they entered into something of a standoff, ending just before six o’clock that same evening. Note: this would be a good time to start our pasta.

As we’re boiling the water, Shannon fires the first shot into a gunport on Chesapeake. Her fire was deadly. She was carrying 32-pounder carronades which fired into her opponent’s helm and foremast, then Chesapeake was blown into Shannon; her stern colliding near Shannon’s bow and becoming trapped on her anchor.

The fight, it scarce begun, ‘ere they flinched from their guns Which at first they started working neat and handy-o Then brave Broke, he waved his sword, crying “Now, my lads, aboard! And we’ll stop their playing Yankee Doodle Dandy-o!”

The pasta has now begun to cook. Before Shannon’s crew boarded Chesapeake, Captain Lawrence was shot and killed by a sniper. The Shannons are now boarding the American ship (whose crew had “flinched” under fire) on the order of Captain Broke. Mr. William Stevens, Shannon’s boatswain, lost his arm in his attempt. He would later die of his injuries. Aboard Chesapeake it was hand-to-hand combat between the opposing sides. While it seemed the rest were distracted, Shannon’s First Lieutenant Watts made an attempt to raise the British colours on Chesapeake, but his efforts were futile: he was shot in the head and killed. Another of Shannon’s officers, midshipman John Samwell, was shot in the leg and succumbed to his injuries later.

They no sooner heard the word than they quickly jumped aboard And hauled down the Yankee colours, neat and handy-o Notwithstanding all their brag, now the glorious British flag At the Yankee mizzen peak was quite the dandy-o

Let’s chop some veggies now. Chesapeake’s crew outnumbered the Shannons and wanted to use this to their advantage. A few American sailors snuck up on Broke, one of whom he managed to kill before sustaining a critical head wound at the hand of another. With Shannon’s First Lieutenant dead and her captain in grave danger, command of the vessel fell to 22-year-old Second Lieutenant Provo Wallis, a Halifax native who spent his life in the Navy. He was going to bring her home.

Here’s a health, brave Broke, to you, to your officers and crew Who aboard the Shannon frigate fought so handy-o

It’s time to start the sauce. From my understanding as a non-American, the slogan of the American Navy is “Don’t Give Up the Ship,” which, of course, are the dying words of Captain Lawrence. Chesapeake’s casualties vastly outnumbered Shannon’s, and when the American sailors realised they could stand no more chance, they surrendered their ship.

By now, our pasta is finished and so is the battle. Now-Commander Provo Wallis sailed his ship quickly and quietly back to Halifax- she was badly injured and could not risk being seen by another American ship- with the Chesapeake in tow as the prize. They made it to Halifax Harbour on the morning of the 6th of June, a Sunday. St. Paul’s Church, which today is the oldest still-standing structure in Halifax, was filled with its congregation. Word caught on that an American ship was taken and that a Haligonian was at the victor’s helm, and within minutes the entire church was emptied as civilians rushed to the water. The sight of the captured Chesapeake arriving before Shannon incited a rupture of cheers and celebration from the huge crowd gathered at the waterfront, a celebration which has yet to be matched.

The tale of the Shannon and the Chesapeake, the Battle of Boston Harbour, is as infamous as it is because it caused so much bloodshed in so little time. It is Halifax folklore that at the north side of Province House sits one of Shannon’s guns (note: I researched this and found the gun to be too large). Provo Wallis, the young officer from Halifax, was celebrated as a city icon and would later be promoted to Admiral of the Fleet, living to the age of 100. Boatswain Stevens and midshipman Samwell are both buried in Halifax’s Old Burying Ground, their headstone can still be seen in the foyer of St. Paul’s Church. Captain Broke later recovered from his injuries and would go on to command another vessel, a little bomb ship by the name of HMS Erebus.

#hms shannon #hms chesapeake #war of 1812 #battle of boston harbour #halifax #god i hope that read more works #it's shannon day!!!

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creepyalienghost · 3 years

Text

Doctors assistant 3

Sammy puts his pen down on the desk next to his sheet music. He had decided he was finish working on it tonight. Besides it was going on 3am and he needed to get some sleep for the early morning in a few hours. He was the only person there left at the studio as he usually is most nights. Even Wally goes home earlier then him, way earlier. Sammy however loves to stay here late and get work done. It was the best time to do so. It was quite and there was no one to distract him plus he was a night owl.

He Gathered his belongings and made his way out. As he Exited the studio he opened his book to the page he last stopped at and began ready about the legends and folklore. He doesn’t know why but this topic speaks to him. It calls out to him. Sammy thinks he use to be into this stuff when he was younger before going to a family that drilled things like the importance of money is and Business things, in his head. He hated that at the time. All that math and business learning he was made to do by his Foster dad did lead him to get a great job here so he was ok with it now. But he started reading folklore about three months ago when he and Joey went to the library.

The stories he read of people’s encounters with ghost, monsters and legends fascinated Sammy for some odd reason. He liked the stories about monsters the best, liked reading what they saw, heard and especially what they felt In that moment of terror.

He was invested in the book as he walked down sidewalks and into alleyways until he heard a strange noise from behind him,turning around quickly. He felt uneasy then as he looked left to right in the darkness to find no signs of life. No robbers, No homeless people, not even animals. He remembered then his friend and coworker, Jack, had always told him that walking at this hour could lead to trouble for him. He always worried for his friend especially knowing the dangers things he and Joey do together. He hated now that Jack could be right and for never listen to him.

“Hello?” Sammy called out, closing his book and holding it with one arm. He waited for a minute to see if someone would call back to him, but no one answered.

Before he took a step to move, he felt a sharp pain in his neck! He dropped his book and spawn around, gripping the spot on his neck. What he saw made no sense. Maybe it was because he’s vision was fucked up now or maybe because he felt tired but he saw three shadow like figures. “W...it-...pa” He had tried to speak but couldn’t form the words correctly.

“Shhh there’s no need to be afraid, my child” came a calming voice that he couldn’t pin point. “Your in good hands” after that all vision and feeling left his body.

——-

Sammy woke up In a dimly lit room with a foggy head. He knew this wasn’t his bed but he had no idea who’s it was and how he got there or even where there was. He sat up, shook his head to clear it then glanced around his surroundings. The room was small but pretty cozy for an abandoned building. There was a few candles on the small table nearby that was keeping the room from total darkness. Next to them laid his book neatly placed and a desk placed along the opposite wall with a chair for it. Papers and folders were scattered on it.

Sammy moved closer to the desk and felt something heavy around his ankle. Looking down, he noticed though the small bit of light he was given, a thick metal chained was attached around his ankle with not much more room to walk, Although he could walk around in this room. He was trapped though with no way of getting out or knowing if help was on the way.

He stayed quiet for he didn’t want his capturer to know that he was awake now. He needed to figure out what to do and where he was first before anything. He slowly stood up from his bed so the chains made little to no noise and slowly he took small steps to the desk. He picked up the first page his eyes landed and scan though it then he did the same though more. It was a bunch of Science and Medical junk, Stuff on diseases and sickness.

“I found the cure.” A soft gentle voice spoke from the doorway. It did make Sammy jump but didn’t place fear in him.

He looked over a the strange figure and knew he should be terrified, he did look like death, but he wasn’t. He felt Comfort from it. He felt like he knew it but couldn’t remember where. “We meet before, having we?” Sammy ask.

The being nodded his beak. “We had.” He reached in his cloak pocket, pulling out a key and gave it to Sammy. “Come. We have much to discuss.”

The being stood at the doorway, waiting for Sammy as he unlocked the chains around his ankle. “Why the chains anyways?” Sammy ask

“So you wouldn’t run in the darkness and get hurt again.” The being answered. Sammy searched his memories and only kinda remember falling thought something when he was a child. Could this being really had been there?

Sammy followed him out the small room and down an dark hallway. It was clear with the children drawings and crosses hung up on the wall that this was place use to be a church. He wondered how it became abandoned and for how long ago.

The two arrived in an kitchen area. There was a few tables that were surprisingly cleaned from dust and a couple usable chairs which the being offered one. “Please sit.”

Sammy took a sit next to the being and listened as it began speaking.

—-

Within the hours of their Conversation Sammy understands the missing pieces from back then. He now remembers the year of being with the doctor and their work they were trying to accomplish, The doctor gave him files of his research has prof. Sammy read them then it dawned on him. The doctor had drugged him and brought him hear. But how had found him? And was there another reason for those chains? “Doctor...” He looked up at the being. “I have it, don’t I?”

The being looked down in sadness then nodded after a moment. “But I can cure you, my child.” The doctor replied. “You won’t be a failed experiment ether! But for you...I’m giving you the choice. If you wanna be cured or not. Take your time. It’s a big choice.” With that the doctor left the table to give Sammy time.

Sammy sat there and read the files again then reread them a third time. He had to be sure before doing this. It was risky. It was dangerous but he didn’t want to die from the pestilence. After another reread he made his choice. He was going to be cured.

Sammy got up from the table and headed back down the hallway looking for the doctor. “I made my choice. Cure me.” He said when he found him.

The doctor stood up and placed his notebook down on the desk. “Follow me, please

Sammy followed him to the well lit operation room which was in the back of the church. The doctor guided him to the soft hospital bed and helped him on it. “Now my dear” the doctor said grabbing an surgical mask. “Lay down and relax. Once you wake you will be cured.” He slipped on the mask over Sammy’s mouth and turned it on.

Sammy laid there and looked up at the old church ceiling. He couldn’t believe after all this time the doctor found the cure. He wondered when and who it was on but that was questions for another time. Now he just needed to relax and he was begging to. He was begging to fell the drowsiness from the medicine. His eyes began to drip, getting heavier and heavier with each minute. It wasn’t ten minutes when Sammy was fully deeply asleep. The doctor got his tools, cleaned them and started his work.

———

When Sammy woke up he was weak for a few days but the doctor took care of him. He also had to regrow his hair which took months. Within years for being cured Sammy noticed that he stopped aging and only then he released what the pestilence was. It was death.

He was immoral now.

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mwolf0epsilon · 4 years

Note

Story on Norman catching Sammy in Joey cult ?

It's been twice now that I've written Norman's demise. Y'all really like killing people uh?

Summary: Sammy was weird in many ways, but this? This was just crazy.

---

Back when Norman was still a little tot, his great nanna used to tell him and his brothers and sisters about their great poppop. How he'd been raised in some sort of cult that indoctrinated its disciples from birth. She related to them how, even though he'd managed to escape them, their constant drilling of ideals had never truly left him. Which was why nanna had gotten rid of him. Love him as she did, she knew he was a crazy dangerous man. Little five year old Norman had been very curious about those tales his mama begged nanna not to tell them. He especially found it curious when she described his eyes. Having a condition like the one he had, had made him a prime target for neighbourhood bullies that called him "Crazy-Eye". So hearing about someone who had actual insanity behind what most considered to be the windows to the soul... It had given him a sort of relief, because at least there was a spark of life behind his own unsynchronized peepers. "N'aw child, don't yous go be tellin' ya mama 'bout what ol' nanna be tellin' you 'bout ya poppop, ya hear?" "Ok nanna. Won't tell a soul." "Yous is a clever one, boy. An' don't forget ta keep an eye out... Crazy can hide in plain sight. Sure did for poppop." Insanity could hide in plain sight. That was perhaps the most valuable lesson to take from his nanna's tales. What she could never get across was how hard it was to see someone you cared for slowly be afflicted with it.

Sammy was a weird man. Had been from day one of Norman meeting him, and never quite changed even when he put a reign on his deplorable attitude. He wasn't a bad person per say. Misguided by a parent with that typical southern brand of white superiority complex. A man who thought his skin color made him better than all the other folk, and who taught his boy to think it was just as sacred an idea as the damn gospel he also tried to drill into Sammy's head. But Sammy was admittedly clever, and much more curious than his father had been. He asked questions and he tried to change when he realized his own crappy behaviour didn't please him all that much. But then things started getting unsettling in the studio. Little things popped up, and the world's own agenda got in the way of Joey Drew's plans. Turns out Joey wasn't about to fold for anything or anyone. Those who were drafted were the lucky ones. Those who were socially outcasts or liabilities in the military's eyes, were not so lucky. They stayed, so the wrongness affected them. The wrongness... Norman had felt something was not right for a long while, but now that he had to get acquainted with so many new hires and the such? He'd been preoccupied. So when the ones he knew suddenly started acting unlike themselves he'd been caught by surprise. "I don't understand how Mr. Drew has no trouble with him... He's just so..." He'd found Buddy in the bathroom, trying to clean the obvious ink stains on his clothing. "Why did I think helping him would make him less nasty?" "Sammy tends ta blow up at minor things. If it was as bad as yous say it was, then he was just freaked out from nearly drowning." He got as many paper towels as he could to help the poor kid get rid of as much of the ink as he could. "Doesn't excuse what he says to me... Or the other Jewish employees..." Buddy murmured sadly. "What did he say?" "Not important... Just makes me uneasy. It's like I'm specifically not worth anything just because of my... Mr. Polk?" Buddy blinked once the projectionist dropped everything he was doing to stalk out the door. "Yous ain't the first he's gone and played that card on. Was a long while ago but I can refresh Sammy's memory for the folks he's been barkin' at." "Oh! Uh, you don't have to! It's not going to fix anything." "Trust me, a hard knock on the noggin' works just fine ta sorte Sammy's bullshit." Norman smiled in passing at Dot who paused to watch him and then look at Buddy in concern once he peered out the bathroom door. "You two kids run along now. I'll see yous around." He tried not to laugh when he heard Buddy fretting over potentially getting fired for starting a fight. Kid still had a lot to learn about how Joey Drew Studios ran for all these years. Sometimes tough love was all it needed. But not this time.

His nanna's tales rushed back to him when he'd cornered Sammy in his office. Norman didn't like roughing people up, but he'd promised the music director that if he stepped on any toes for the wrong reasons he'd give him a whooping like the one the blond had been begging for, back when he'd first harassed the projectionist. He had half a mind to start hollering until he'd caught sight of Sammy's eyes. Nanna had described insanity in great detail. The unfeeling and unfocused darkness in poppop's eyes that consumed the man she'd loved and left nothing behind. Sammy's eyes were a soft hazel, the nice flicker of green so full of the essence that made Sammy Lawrence who he was. What Norman saw instead of those pretty peepers were dark pools, a sickly grayish brown with flecks of blackness like tar. Like ink... Norman completely forgot what he was to say. He couldn't bring himself to talk when he saw the same thing that had tormented his nanna's dreams. It just wasn't right.

Joey Drew was up to something, and Sammy was involved somehow. By his own volition, Norman wasn't too sure. The kid was acting mighty strange since Norman had noticed his eyes had inexplicably changed color, and whatever progress for positive change he'd made was completely gone. If anything, Sammy had become an incredibly volatile and aggressive husk. Very few people noticed, which was what was so concerning. "It can't be a coincidence... Joey barely showin' his face 'round the departments and Sammy actin' up like the devil bit him in the ass..." He'd paced as he watched Jack drink what was likely the 5th cup of coffee he'd in the morning. "Whatever it is, Sammy's more enthusiastic about his songs for a change..." He sounded nonchalant about it. "He complained about all the pieces Drew forced him to change... Now he's less, angry about those. Seems to love them actually." "Those little annoying jigs? He said they was garbage!" "And they are. Putting lyrics to those was dang awful but... Well if he's happy, I'm happy..." Jack gave a weak smile before coughing a rather wet sounding cough. He took another sip of his coffee to sooth his throat. "You comin' down with somethin'?" "Must be... This gross cough has been popping up a lot. And my nose is awfully stuffy. Can't smell or taste nothing, which is good considering I gotta hide away in the sewers to work..." Norman huffs. People were getting sick from being forced to do overtime with no rest. Jack getting sick wasn't entirely out of the question. But the stench of something acrid coming from his mug did give him cause for concern. Best check to see if Wally hadn't accidentally stored the coffee beans with the cleaning supplies again. A week later he forgets about it once he instead finds himself making a list of the people he stops seeing around the Studio not long after he noticed something up with Joey and Sammy.

There's Jack, who he hadn't noticed gone at first until he'd gone poking around the sewers and not caught sight of the shorter lyricist. There was Johnny Brokehart, who's organ was completely abandoned in its little corner. No one dared touch it, in case the man returned and found so much as a pipe out of place. There was Julian Whitaker, the tall gangly cellist that often sat with the resident art critic, that Vernon fellow who liked to stare at the cartoon posters like they were masterpieces on display at a museum. Susie Campbell had gone too. Wally insisted she hadn't quit, and was awfully worried about her. Allison and Thomas had also up and split after they'd made a scene at one of them fancy parties Joey used to get investors to dump money into his lap. Shawn Flynn, Grant Cohen, Bertrum Piedmont, Lacie Benton, Emma LaMonte... People were vanishing left and right and there was no say of them being fired. Norman had a theory, and he didn't like it one bit. He tried to do his best to inform the younger hires to run before something inevitably happened to them. He told Buddy and Dot it was dangerous, in as little words he could so not to let Joey catch wind of what he did know. He prayed to whatever god was out there that no bad befell those two kids. And then he'd grabbed his light and went down, where the groaning and moaning came from.

Norman ran. Ran as fast as he could, trying not to look at the things trapped in those tubes. The creatures that were tall, gangly, and vaguely humanoid. Weeping faces pressed to the glass, begging to be let out. The disgusting sludge creatures, barely holding themselves together and clawing at the glass in obvious suffering. The thing that had Sammy's voice and that was rushing after him, axe in hand and Bendy mask covering its face. Screaming at him to accept the "Lord's" blessing. He ran and dodged strikes that nicked his elbows, his legs, grazed his ankle and back... He came to a full stop before what could only be described as a throne. Horrified to find something twisted that looked like a humanoid corpse-like Bendy bound in chains. And then he was knocked onto the floor, air escaping his lungs from the sudden collision. The Sammy thing was on top of him, overjoyed to have caught him. And then all around, Joey Drew's voice filled the room... The thing on the throne shook and hissed. "Excellent... You know what to do Prophet. Baptize this non-believer in the name of your lord." "Anything for you my lord. Anything!" Norman tried to fight him off, knocked that silly mask off his face even. Except there was no face. Not even eyes. Windows to the soul... If he had none, then did Sammy even have a soul anymore? The axe raised, and Norman Polk didn't even have time to scream before it plunged into his chest, destroyed his ribcage, and obliterated his heart.

#Eps Writes:#Bendy and the Ink Machine #BATIM #Norman Polk #Sammy Lawrence

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queensdivas · 4 years

Text

Hidden Blade Chapter 2

Did this all on a plane and a little bit today! Now that I’m done I plan on working on even more shit. Like my god has this winter break been busy af. But I hope you enjoy the new chapter because it was a little longer than I wanted it to be.

Whoops.

IF you would like to be tagged please let me know!

Next Chapter

Previous Chap

Masterlist

Have you actually ever watched an episode of Leave it to Beaver? What even is that show? I get watching like Little House on the Prairie, M*A*S*H (God I love Mash) and even I Love Lucy. But it feels like this dude one loves his family shows. Don’t really see why but who the heck else knows in this crazy world.

I walked into one of the trailers to see a very large English Mastiff come from around one of the shelves to start sniffing me. Slobbering all over my legs since wearing shorts instead of jeans or some sort of Eddie Bauer travel pants.

“That’s Wally. Careful his slobber goes everywhere.” Four was flipping through a pile of passports as I looked at the wall that was covered with pictures, news articles, and maps. It kind of reminds you of that meme where the dude looks completely insane while trying to explain something. I sat down on one of the desk chairs that was empty as I noticed Leave it to Beaver was playing.

“Did he get you hooked into it as well?” I leaned back as I noticed a large file that had Murat Alimov with a big red CIA stamp on it. Juicy!

“So how come the people of Turgistan hasn’t revolted against the dick hole in charge?” Four asked as I opened the file to see his picture.

“They need someone to get behind in order to start the revolution. Ya know. Someone to get behind. The French got behind Maximilien Robespierre, the people in South America had Simon Bolivar, and the list goes on and on. So without someone to properly lead them, what’s the point of starting a revolution when you don’t have someone to lead.” I began skimming through his file to see that THE STUPID AMERICANS GAVE HIM BACK TO HIS BROTHER!? Never let them do anything!!

“So how did one find you?” He asked as I closed the file then threw it on the desk.

“Ummmm. God it was really weird and very ummm..perfect timing I should say.” Wally came over to put his head on my thighs as I began scratching the top of his head.

“I travelled to Ahmedabad after the Assassination in South Sudan where I planned on shutting down a board of nasty men who were shipping child brides all over the world. Yet something that I have a nasty habit of is trying to put on shoes way bigger than mine!”

“ALI RUN YOUR ASS!” Screaming as I turned the corner that was leading towards the great hall of the palace. Ali came behind as guns began shooting at us from the top of the stairs. The front doors burst open as I darted to the left.

Ali followed swiftly behind me as we slid into one of the living rooms to duck behind a couch. I released my mag to see I had eight rounds left, and we have to battle an entire palace full of guards! At Least the board is dead so that stops this nasty shit in this house!

“Ali! There’s a drop through the dining room that leads into the river!” I yelled over the gunfire as he checked his mag to count his bullets.

“I got six! I’ll keep you covered!” He popped his head up to shoot one of them coming into the room. I popped up to shoot another guard as more came through the front door. God damn it we’re screwed!

“You get your ass out of here now!” Ali screamed as I crawled over to where he was bunkered down and handed him the rest of my mags.

“You follow me alright!” Grabbing a bottle of scotch then ripping apart of the sofa for the rag. I stuffed it, shook the bottle then pulled my lighter out of my pocket. I lit it then chucked it over to the middle of the great hall.

“GO GO GO!” I yelled as we got up from behind the couch towards the window. He smashed the glass as I stuck my head out to see the drop. Jesus Christ that’s a little too high. Fuck fuck!

I climbed up onto the window ledge as I was about to jump as Ali began climbing up but was stabbed in his back.

“SHIT ALI!” With his last bit of energy he pushed me off the ledge.

Sitting in my apartment as I stared at the picture of Ali and I during our weekend trip to El Arish. The one time I think it;s okay to work with a partner we end up becoming best friends and he gets stabbed in the back! Don’t worry I’m not one of those people who are like “I work alone since everyone I’ve loved has died!” Usually it’s too much work to have a partner or some sort of companion when it comes to this kind of work.

Someone lightly knocked on my door as I pulled out my dagger to slowly approach the door. Fuck fuck who knows I live here? Looking through the peephole to see some GAP looking guy standing right infront of the door. Swinging the door open as it scared him a little bit till he held up his arms towards me.

“Relax Machete. If I wanted to hurt you I wouldn’t have knocked on your door would I?” That’s what most people thought in the seventies and look how many people died because they thought this was...as I opened the door for this stranger.

“I promise I’m not here to hurt you or anything. May I come in?” I can handle myself I think so if he tries something I’ll kick his ass. I lowered my dagger a little bit to move out of the way for him. He came into my apartment to look around in my little hole in the wall.

“Cozy.” I followed him on the other side of the room.

“Good idea. Keeping a safe distance from me. Which is why I’ve been looking at your field work. What you did in South Sudan and recently in Jordan. Quite impressed that they haven’t tracked you down yet.” He stared at the large replica painting of The Virgin on the rocks.

“Love some Da Vinci paintings.” He acts like a much calmer Deadpool, also not as sarcastic as him.

“So. Who are you? A rich person looking for security, I’m not a hitman so I’m not going to kill someone for ya. Drink?” I made it to the liquor shelf as I grabbed the bottle of Shieldaig Speyside.

“No thank you.” He walked away from the painting then over to my original Pierre Mignard. See when you shut down a nasty group of people, I wanted this picture of some random women. I stood away from him still as he turned around, I took a sip of the drink as I waited for him to explain himself.

“I get the feeling you enjoy killing those who want to cause harm onto the innocent. You wanna know what I see in you? I see someone who's willing to do some crazy shit in order to save the world. I mean you just jumped out of palace after destroying a child marriage cult. What if I could give you an endless amount of resources, even more targets, and more hands?” Definitely some better resources would be nice. But there is always some sort of catch in this situation.

“You’re exactly what I’m looking for. Someone who isn’t afraid to truly get their hands dirty to save the world.” I do enjoy saving little parts of the world.

“Now imagine taking down even bigger ass holes of the world.” Am I finally going after all of North Korea? God I really wanna destroy that pig with all my mighty!

“So what’s the catch exactly?”

“You’ll be dead and can’t ever see your loved ones again.” Well jokes on this dude, haven’t seen my family in years and they probably thought I was dead anyhow so this works perfectly!

“I’m in. Don’t worry about my family because they think I’m dead anyhow.” I walked over to him to shake his hand.

“How the fuck he found you is still bizarre. Still have no idea how he found me in the middle of a robbery.” Wally began walking away as I put my feet on the desk. Now I’m super curious how he met the rest of them now since he ended up stalking me.

“How did he find you?”

He began telling me how the robbery he was apart of turned into a shit hole of a plan for his ex girlfriend to basically take the jewels instead of saving him. Doesn’t surprise me in the slightest because hoes be loyal. His eyes...are just so damn enticing. The way the sun brightens them reminds you the top of a forest. A very endless forest before you. That little scar next to his eye is just very nice to look at as well. Kind of weird but I enjoy it. Does he have knuckle tattoos? (For the record I am listening, it’s called multitasking.)

“Jesus he set you in a saw trap?” He reached into the mini fridge for two bottles of water since the sun was warming up the trailer like a sauna at this point.

“Yet here you are getting a calm welcome when I thought the guy was going to blow off my fucking face.” He slid the water across the desk as I cracked it open. Wally and his drool began sniffing the water bottle as I tried to drink it.

“But he did save my life after the fall so that’s the only good thing that happened that day.” He chugged some of his water as I nodded in agreement.

“Wally. Wanna get my soldiers out and have a battle.” Beaver asked Wally as The next episode of leave it to beaver began playing so I turned my focus towards the tv.

“Nah.” Wally told Beaver. Four turned up the TV as I noticed a box of Cheez-its next to the desk. I’ve heard these things very good for most American snack food.

“Four we’ve scored!” I yelled as I began opening the box of Cheez-its. Back to the show. We watched as Wally and his friends were tackling each other with Beaver stuck underneath them all.

“Poor Beaver. Such a sweet little kid.” I stuffed a bunch of cheez-its in my mouth then passed four the box.

“One is completely obsessed with this show, he makes all these references for it all the time. I think he’s an orphan actually, we got a little bet on it if you wanna put some money in.” Now that I think about it, I can totally see one being some sort of orphan or in the system.

“Forty dollars.” I reached in my pocket to pull out my wallet, grabbing a couple of fives handing it to him. I know we should be working on finding his brother, or doing some sort of work but this is much more fun.

“Wait they’re gonna charge Beaver three dollars just to join their club? I get that hanging out with little siblings can always be some sort of bother but wow what ass holes. Imagine being that cruel.” I commented as I threw a Cheez-it at Wally's friends after the tv.

“Man. A time when your six year old son could talk to a random stranger asking on how to make money.” Four and I chuckled as Beaver came walking out of the garage with his “this space for rent sign” on him. I mean he’s trying harder than most people in this world so I have to give him credit where it’s due.

“You two done? C’mon. Three thinks he onto something.” Five stuck her head into the trailer as Wally walked away from me as he kept to box of cheez-its with him.

We walked into the trailer as three was listening very closely to a phone conversation as one and seven were talking to each other. I get the feeling that shit is about to go down if three finds the location of the four generals.

“His top General knows the location of him so once they leave Turgistan for something, we go after them and figure out where the brother is.” One told seven as I began looking at the four pictures of the fuckers themselves.

“You ever met people like them?” One asked as I kept staring at their pictures. Four handed me a box of Cheez-its.

“I mean all monsters of humanity are usually either fat, old, or a man. Hell even all three for some massive destruction if history says anything. Or they have weird facial hair like Stalin or Hitler. Except for Elizabeth Bathory because that bitch was truly...

“Guys. Shut the fuck up.” Three barked as his face went from focused to ecstatic in a matter of seconds.

“AH we’re going to Vegas baby!” Three laughed as he put their conversation on speaker.

“This arms dealer will be meeting you at the speedway track around two for the deal.” God this is disgusting. Instead of trying to make our country a better place, go to Vegas to fuck some slut, spend your money, and to add on top of that get some dangerous chemicals so we can kill more people. Love it!

“Las Vegas has more facial recognition software than any place on Earth.” One began telling two and three as I began turning down the volume of their conversations.

“Oh I know what I’m gonna be!” Get this sinking feeling he loves dressing up.

“Choose your disguises wisely.” Disguises? I have to dress up? If they think I’m going to wear a pencil dress, twelve inch heels, and a face full of makeup I will leave right now!

“I’m a grown man, I can handle my shit.”

“I don’t think that’s how the expression goes, don’t handle your shit. Flush it down the toilet like a grown-ass man. Be subtle. Blend in. Disappear. Me, two, and three are going to figure out where on earth they’re hiding his brother. Eight and four I want you two to intercept the gas, destroy it all, find the supplier and eliminate him. Sounds easy enough?” Yes. Going into Las Vegas, finding a bunch of illegal gas, destroy it, and be home by five. Definitely easy.

“Just one question. How do you even destroy Sarin gas? Look I’m a pretty smart lady but destroying gas is something I’ve yet to achieve in my life one.”

“Here. Study this before we leave for Vegas. Ya got 24 hours to nail it.” He slid a book across the table.

How to Disable Sarin Gas Bombs for Dummies.

Written by a Genius.

Handwritten and in a bright green binder. Glad to know we make handcrafted things in this squad. I opened the binder as it showed a step by step on how to disarm them. Kind of like when you’re building a lego set. Except instead of joy you get when you’re trying to build a spaceship, you end up pissing your pants because one fatal mistake and we die!

“Love the homemade touch one. Very professional and doesn’t make me want to shit my pants in absolute fear.” I picked it up as we began dispersing.

“I’m just gonna take this with us. Rather us not die.” Telling four as I handed him the binder for him to start skimming through the binder. Gotta love the fact that my first mission with these guys is disarming a bunch of chemical bombs. Getting that sinking feeling again that they’re a bunch of chaotic people doing chaotic things.

It’s absolutely perfect.

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@bonafiderocketqueen @filmslutt @imjustboredso @intoanothermind @4lendow-norris @wickedholland @takemetoneverland420 @raylan-c @itsmeaudrieee @leah-halliwell92

#ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #6 underground #6 Underground Four #6 Underground Billy #Ben Hardy 6 Underground #Four/Billy #Four #Four x Reader #Four/Billy x reader #6 Underground Netflix

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shipersanonymous · 4 years

Text

One Hit West

By: ShipersAnonymous

Chapters: 1/?

Rating: Explicit

Synopsis:

Danger at every turn, a darkness threatening to consume her, a secret she's trying to keep, a life she's trying to protect.

Iris West is the best at what she does. She knows her way around the shadows and is unstoppable with a gun. But when her old flame, Barry Allen, suddenly makes his way into her family's hit list she's forced to go against her nature to save the man she once loved. The man she still loves.

When you kill for a living, death is bound to follow where you go but how do you fight against the one thing you've been trained to do?

How do you keep yourself from being tempted by the past?

How do you protect the ones you love when the greatest danger in their lives is you?

Author's Note:

OK I'm so sorry this is so late (my time atleast) but this took a little figuring out 😅.

IT'S FINALLY HERE! My first tumblr fan fic! I'm beyond excited! Hope you all like it! Feel free to let me know what you think and share your theories!

XOXO

************ Cliffhanger Warning *************

Chapter 1

[Iris]

Bang!

The loud and familiar sound of the gun going off echoes through the abandoned warehouse and the, now, dead man’s blood splatters onto her black leather coat. She stares down at him unmoved, her face set in an expression of cold indifference. A heavy silence ensues as she simply looks into her victims cold blue eyes, a piece of her own dwindling humanity slipping out of her with every passing second. The lifeless orbs stare back at her, frozen with that special brand of fear that she’s seen on many a hit. The fear that consumes each soul at the very last second, just before she pulls her trigger. The realisation that those are the last breaths they’ll ever take, that hers are the last eyes they’ll ever see.

Satisfied that her job has been done, Iris lifts her booted foot from the corpse’s neck. The lifeless head bobs to the side and blood trickles from the bullet wound in the center like a spot of dark red paint on a fleshy canvas. She replaces her gun in its holster as she walks away from the cooling body.

“Seriously?” Eddie asks as she steps outside the abandoned building into the brisk night air. She turns her head towards him and disdainfully regards his cool stance. With his back and a foot propped against the wall and his arms casually crossed over his chest he oozes a carelessness that has become a Hitfamily trademark. She doesn’t validate his remark with the expected ‘what?’, but instead stares him down and waits for the elaboration that, she has no doubt, will follow.

“You could have put a silencer on that thing.” He explains and she simply rolls her eyes and huffs out exasperated. With a turn of her heel she begins her walk back up to her car, her unwanted partner following closely behind her.

“So that’s it? You’re just gonna ignore me? You know just cause you’re the bosses daughter Iri-”

The click of the gun engaging shuts him up and before he can blink he’s staring down the barrel of her still warm weapon.

“Listen Thawne, this was a one woman hit that I could have done in my sleep and the only reason why you’re here is cause between dealing with you and dealing with my dad you’re easier to kill. That being said…”

She steps closer to him and pulls him to her by his collar. Her gun rests beneath his raised chin and she can practically smell the fright rolling off him in tiny beads of sweat.

“… If you ever try to tell me how to do my job again, I’ll make it a point to show you just how well I know what I’m doing and the last thing you’ll see on this earth is how good I am at pulling the trigger. Incase you haven’t heard, I never miss. You get the picture?”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows the fearful lump forming in his throat and he nods, too afraid of saying the wrong thing and ending up like the corpse that lies bleeding in the warehouse a few feet away.

“Good. And when we’re out on a hit, it’s West. Now get out of my sight before I have to call two bodies in. I don’t need the extra paper work.” She spits shoving him away as she let’s go.

“Yes, Ma’am.” He shakes out before, scrambling to his feet and making a hasty retreat. She disengages her gun and replaces it in her holster as she tries to push down her annoyance. You’d think that with a success rate as high as hers her father would stop trying to send her out with baby sitters. Alas she’s done this tango long enough to know that there’s no use fighting with Father West. All she can hope for is a co-hitman that doesn’t actually have a thirst for blood and let’s her do her own thing. A wind blows through her tensed body, swaying her coat and ponytail synchronically in the air. A dog barks in the distance, the only sign of life in the dark and deserted place. Iris takes a moment to breathe as she feels the adrenaline begin to leave her body.

It’s time to go.

She walks the rest of the steep way up to her black car, stopping briefly to relieve herself of her stained coat and dispensing it in the trunk before stepping into the drivers seat.

With a push of the start button, the machine roars to life. Iris buckles up and takes off, speeding away in the direction of the city. One hand holds the steering wheel and the other’s fingers dance over the keypad from the monitor in the dashboard with a ritualistic ease. She calls the main office and waits for the prerecorded prompt. Instead of a robotic voice, a chime cries through the speakers, announcing that she has an incoming call.

She glances at the screen for a moment, the number is unlisted. Suspiciously she reaches up to her Bluetooth ear piece and answers.

“Hello?”

“Iris it’s me,” her brothers voice responds on the other end and an annoyance creases her brow.

“Wallace what the hell?” she demands, her eyes never leaving the road, her voice never faltering despite the nervous hammering of her heart.

“Listen you can scold me later but there’s no time for that now. You need to get to the Golden Gate Casino pronto,” the urgency in his voice is unmistakable and Iris feels herself begin to worry.

“Why?”

“Dad got a request for a hit an hour ago and you need to stop him,” he whispers.

“Wait dad’s actually going on a hit himself. Boy must be some important client,” she observes, still confused as to why her brother would send her on a literal suicide mission.

“It’s not the client that’s important, it’s the target. He has a, uh, personal score to even out.”

“Now I know you’re joking. That’s against our oath, and dad would never do that. No matter how much a person pisse-”

“It’s Barry.” Wally blurts out and the shock is enough to make her skied to a stop.

“What?” she asks feeling her lungs begin to collapse.

“The target is Barry Allen.” He clarifies.

Her skin irrupts in goosebumps at the mention of his name. It’s been so long since she last heard it said out loud, six years to be exact. A thin layer of tears gloss over her wide eyes and the sound of angered hoots is drowned out by the roar of her heart beat as memories flood her mind.

“Why Iris? Just, just tell me why? Did I do something wrong?” he begged, his voice tremulous from the effort of holding in his sobs.

“No Barry, you were perfect in every way it’s just-”

“Then why are you doing this? Don’t…” he paused, trying to find the stomach to ask what he was about to ask.

“Don’t you love me anymore?” the question came out as a whisper but Barry couldn’t bare to wait for the answer. Instead, he pulled her into his arms and she allowed herself a moment of weakness, savoring the warmth of his arms one last time.

“Don’t do this to us. Don’t- don’t do this to me.” He pleaded. She pulled away enough to look up into his saddened gaze, trying her best to hold back her own tears.

She couldn’t cry. She didn’t deserve to cry. Not with all the heartache she was no doubt causing him.

“I can’t lose you,” he begged tightening his hold on her as if he could just trap her there and keep her in his embrace forever.

“It’s for the best Barry. You, have to let me go.” She said softly though it mostly seemed like she was trying to convince herself of that.

“Iris,” he whispered her name like a cry of agony, the longing hanging from each syllable. Hurt punctuating every letter. Without thinking she kissed him, long and hard, expressing in that moment her own pain. Her own love. Her goodbye.

They broke apart and she connected her forehead to his. She kept her eyes closed but she could feel his tears dripping onto her hand like rain on a pavement.

“I love you Barry. And… a part of me knows that I always will. But I can’t be with you any longer. This- this is goodbye.” She whispered and before she gave in to her wailing heart she pushed out of his embrace and ran. She ran and never looked back. Not when he screamed out her name like he was being torn apart limb for limb the further away she got from him. Not when his footsteps no longer echoed behind her. Not when she got home and finally let herself cry. Not ever. She would never stop running. She couldn’t ever stop.

“Iris!” her brother cuts through her thoughts and she comes to, her cheeks wet with tears she thought she’d never shed again. She dabs away at them quickly and closes her eyes, shifting her mindset back to the present.

“How close is he?” Her voice was firm like a concrete wall.

“I’m not sure I had to sneak out of the office to give you the heads up but judging by the time dad left he should be there in the next 45 minutes.” He informs. Mechanically, Iris starts up the car, both her hands gripping the wheel with such force that her knuckles pale.

“I’m closer, I can make it in twenty. Get rid of your burner and be careful when you sneak back in.” She warns her foot flattening against the gass as she passes her third red light.

“I’ll be fine don’t worry. Keep me posted.” He responds.

“Wally wait!” She calls out before he hangs up.

“What is it?” he asks.

“Could you call Nissa for me? Let her know what happened and check that everything’s OK? If you can’t reach her try Jen. She usually sleeps over on weekends,” Iris asks.

“Sure thing sis. Consider it done.” He says sternly and Iris breathes a momentary sigh of relief.

“Thanks Wally,” She says softly, shedding her murderous demeanour for just a second.

“Anytime. Oh and sis?”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful.”

“Always.”

**********************************************

Iris comes to a violent stop in one of the parking slots towards the outskirts of the parking lot where no one ever parks. A brief glance at her watch tells her she has 25 minutes to get in, find him and get him out. With no time to lose she grabs her duffle bag from the trunk and squeezes into her back seat for a quick change of outfits. This will go a lot smoother if she can draw as little attention to herself as possible. Thanking her organised nature for keeping a classy yet flexible short jumpsuit in her car she slips on her heels, touches up her make up and walks towards the entrance with 15 minutes to spare. Her high ponytail sways with her hips as she clicks her way up the stairs, her senses on high alert.

To get to the gaming lounge she needs to pass through the metal detectors but the Golden Gate has been the setting for many a rendezvous with targets and clients so she barely breaks a sweat as she reaches the front of the line. Calmly, she removes the red emerald ring that rests on her ring finger, a symbol of who she is, and places it on a tray along with her clutch and her earrings. Upon seeing the ring the security guard nods his head in understanding and discreetly brushes his pass over the scanner embedded into the metal detector. It flashes green and she walks in with out a single beep. She nods back in appreciation and retrieves her belongings before stepping into a broad, red-carpeted hallway. Her pistol safely hidden in her clutch.

A clock on the wall tells her she lost five minutes in the line so she picks up her pace. As she nears the top of the stairs that will lead her down to the gambling area she forces all thoughts away from her mind and tries to prepare herself to see him again.

The only man she’s ever loved. The worst heartbreak she’s ever caused.

At the top of the stairway she scans the room, looking from any remote sign of familiarity and there, in the corner, seated at one of the roulette tables, she finds him.

For a second her heart stops and she forgets how to breathe. His back is to her but just the sight of his glistening brown-black hair, strands that once upon a lifetime she used to contently comb her fingers through, was enough to spike her nerve levels. Memories try to push their way back into her mind but she forces them down, fully aware that time is not on their side.

My side.

She scolds herself.

There is no “us”.

Taking a deep breath to compose herself she hurries down the stairs, without drawing any attention to herself, and worms her way to him. Just before she reaches him she takes a second to straighten out her outfit and plasters on her most seductive expression.

“Mind if I join you Mr. Allen?” She whispers into his ear and the chip that he had been nervously fiddling with slips from his finger, clattering on to the table.

#the flash #the gold standard #westallen #iris westallen #iris west #barry allen #barry and iris #flash fiction #flash fan #fan fiction #fanfic #fluff and angst #smutty #dangerous #dark #gruesome #heart break #secret #hitwoman

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