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ailithnight · 2 years

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*Whoops. Forgot to title and link previous chapters. Fight me, I just woke up.

A King in Arkham

Chapter 3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

"Tim. Tim you have to get me copies of this footage." Tim is not surprised by the request. In fact, the 'Sure' is already on his tongue when he pauses, a thought creeping into his head, seeded by the notification Tim really hopes Jason isn't paying attention to in the bottom corner of the computer.

"One condition."

"Fuck you, I knew you'd want something. What? You want my cookies? Coffee? For Red Hood to go on camera singing praises for Red Robin? I'll fuckin do it. Just send me the god damn clips."

"Nope, nope, and tempting, but no."

"Name your price, Replacement. I'll pay it."

"Swear you aren't going to go rush in and extract the kid until we're done investigating him."

"What!? Fuck that! I told you was pulling him out next chance I get!" Tim lets himself groan in annoyance.

"Look, anyone that could do that-" Tim gestures to the part of the screen where they'd pulled up The Joker's medical reports following the incidents, showing pictures and descriptions of just how thoroughly Daniel had beat his ass 3 weeks in a row, "without getting so much as a scratch or fucking bruise in return, has got something going on. There may well be a reason they sent him to Arkham!"

Jason's eyes narrow at Tim as he all but growls, "No reason is good enough to put-"

"A fifteen year old in Arkham. I fucking know that, Hood. But we still need to know exactly who we're dealing with when we get him out. What his deal is. If his dangerous. What the hell was so wrong with him that someone thought it was a good idea to stick him in there to begin with."

"He could get hurt while we're sitting on our asses trying to satisfy fuckin Bat paranoia!"

"He took down the Joker! Clearly he can take care of himself."

"Then who has been hurting him!?"

"Maybe him fucking self!" Tim knew he was pushing it. The green growing stronger in Jason's eyes was proof. But he needed to buy them some time before Jason made thing exponentially harder by storming the castle. Still, now he needed to calm Jason down before he went into a full rage. So Tim held up his hands placatingly.

"A few days, Jay. Just give us a few more days. I'm already almost through the Arkham reports, and there are only a handful from Chicago and Oracle is probably going to announce any minute now that she got through the communications blackout around his home town. We just need a bit more time to sort out intel so that we actually know how to help him once we get him out."

Finally, after a tense 34 seconds, green fades back into blue and Jason let's out a heavy sigh.

"Fine. But I get to tell the Bat about Daniel's discipline slips. Wanna see his fuckin face when I do."

"Deal." Tim hurriedly puts a comm in as Jason watches with narrowed eyes.

Batman.

Red Robin. Ready to fill me in?

Not yet, you're about to be busy. I isolated a pattern earlier. Exactly 15 minutes before the locks malfunction, there's been a strange power surge. Always written off. But the surge doesn't seem to be coming from the grid. And like I said, exactly 15 minutes later is when the locks malfunction.

Jason huffs as he catches on. Apparently he hadn't thought to question why Tim was so desperate to buy time before.

Robin responds, since he's on stakeout with Bruce. Mostly because Bruce won't let him watch the asylum alone. Much as the kid hates it, the rest of the family agrees. It's only a matter of time before someone in max security manages to take advantage of theses malfunctions. So far Croc is the only one who had, though thankfully he's not one to start shit on his own. But with Joker, Scarecrow, and TwoFace all inside; any one of them, or god forbid all three, could make for a real bad situation.

Tt. So you can tell before a malfunction happens.

Think so. Last power surge was 8 minutes ago.

And you are only telling us now, why Drake?

Codenames.

Cause he spent those 8 convincing me not to go get our kid out yet.

6 minutes. See if you can stop things before they start.

I'm not far out. Want me to join you?

Tt. I doubt we'll need your assistance, Signal. We shall be done before you get here.

No wait. Signal, head in. See if you can get a read on 26B.

You think he might be meta?

Hood?

Jason glares at Tim betrayed.

"I wanted to see his fuckin face."

Tim just waves him off.

"They need to know. You tell them or I do."

Boys

Jason scowls, but relents.

He put the Joker in the infirmary on his 1st, 7th, and 15th days there. All 3 times took no damage himself. Feral child had to be pulled off and still didn't stop struggling till the clown was out of sight.

All 3 assaults followed by panic attacks, though whether about the Joker himself or what Daniel had done to him, we don't know yet.

The comms were silent for a moment.

A 15 year old...

Did what you've never had the balls to old man.

...I've fought the Joker.

Daniel hits first.

Hnn

I will admit, it is impressive that he can take the Joker down alone. Perhaps he will make for a worthy brother after all.

4 minutes.

We're moving in. Thank you Red Robin, Hood.

The fuck are you thanking me for?

For helping. And giving us time to work this out.

ETA 7 minutes out. Be with you shortly.

The advanced warning proved invaluable for Batman and Robin. After alerting the chief of security of their supposed pattern, he had guards already in motion when the doors swung open. Batman took a perch to watch for max security escapees while Robin assisted the guards in keeping inmates corralled. Many didn't even bother to leave their designated areas, having already seen the Bats in the building.

No sign of any max security inmates. Normally, Batman would find this concerning. And while he did file it away to ponder later why no one from max security ever seemed to make it out of that wing, for today he counted the blessing that he would not have to try to keep Robin safe while dealing with someone like the Joker.

Batman tracked motion through the crowds, watching as a black mop of hair moved, seemingly otherwise unnoticed, through the sea of people. He thought to move in to direct the person back towards where people were being herded to, but the small figure merely walked towards the B wing and entered one of the far cells. That gave Bruce a sneaking suspicion of which patient that was. He moved to get a closer look as Signal swooped in.

"Where is he?"

"I believe he just went into his cell. This way." Batman led Signal to the cell he'd seen that tiny person enter. It was indeed 26B and there was indeed a small, too small, frail looking boy lying on the bed there. A red blotch had appeared under his left eye even though Bruce was certain there had been no injury there as the boy had crossed the hall.

Signal froze beside him, breath stuttering. The boy briefly glanced at them through the corner of his eye, mouth twitching into a brief frown. Then his eyes turned back to the ceiling and his face smoothed out. Bruce couldn't help but reach out.

"Hello." The boy said nothing. Signal opened and closed his mouth, seeming to try to say something, but unable to get words out. Batman wondered what he must be seeing. "You seem hurt. Do you need help?" Eyes flickered back to him and away just as quickly.

"Nothing you can help with Mr. Batman." And oh, how Bruce hated the kid's voice. So quiet and so so hollow. Bruce's mind flashed to his children, imagining any them speaking with such emptiness. His heart clenched, wondering what could have happened to this boy to have snuffed the life out of him so young.

Duke found his voice again, just as the doors buzzed and swung shut again.

"What are you?" Bruce frowned, looking at his latest. Who was looking, as Bruce tracked his gaze, not at Daniel but at the space just above him. Daniel himself seemed to take interest all of a sudden, breaking away his upward gaze to roll his head and look at them. Confusion plain on his face, the first hint of life shining dimly in his eyes.

"Signal? Signal, what do you see?" Batman asked. Robin materialized beside them. The daytime hero stepped forward, then back, light sparking and fizzling around his fingertips.

"There's something in there with him."

Daniel looked back up, where Signal still had his gazed trained on something Batman couldn't see. Even Robin seemed confused, though he no doubt trusted Signal's meta sight.

"Don't worry," Daniel murmured, "S'just a ghost. She can't hurt you."

This 'ghost' seemed unhappy either with the teen's words or this turn of events. Daniel's head snapped back to the side again, causing Batman and Signal to wince while Robin watched stoically. 4 red scratches appeared on Daniel's right cheek, as though he had been backhanded by someone with clawlike nails. A light chill brushed through him and Signal tensed, then relaxed, his gaze finally turning from the emptiness above Daniel to the boy himself. Batman took that as a sign that the... entity, was gone.

Daniel did not react to the obvious abuse from an invisible assailant. He mechanically turned his head back, once more dead and glazed eyes returning to the cracks in the ceiling of his cell. "You should go now. The guards will come around soon to make sure I'm still here."

Bruce wanted so badly to say 'Don't worry, we'll get you out of here.' But Batman was more restrained than that. He would get the child out. But he would have a plan first. For now, Bruce placed a hand each on the shoulders of Duke and Damien, guiding them away. Only when they were back outside did Bruce let them go. Only when they were perched on a rooftop half a block away did Batman pause.

"Robin, report."

"No escaped inmates and no sign of any from maximum security."

"Good. Signal, any information on what you saw in there." Duke rubbed at his eyes.

"A ghost, I guess? I don't know. It was weird. She didn't really have an aura. It was more like, an absence of aura. Like she was a black hole, drawing all the light in."

Even behind the domino, Bruce could tell Damien rolled his eyes.

"And what of the patient, Thomas? Was he not the one you were sent to look at?" Batman bit back the reprimand for codenames, more interested in Signal's response. Signal seemed to think for a moment, then shook his head.

"He definitely had a pretty distinct aura. It... felt powerful. But it looked weak. Dim. When the ghost... struck him, it flared up a bit, but died back down almost instantly. I... I get the feeling he was holding it back. Almost like he was afraid of it. Of himself."

"Hnn. Good job Signal. Robin. You two are welcome to head back to the cave. I'll take the rest of this Arkham shift."

At that moment, the comms crackled to life.

Actually B, you may want to come in, also. Arkham should be fine. And I found why they sent the kid there.

#A King in Arkham #DP x DC #my writing #In case ya can't tell #I have no idea what the layout of Arkham is supposed to be #So I'm just kind of imagining a tv stereotypical prison layout #Two story room with double layers cells #Congregating area in the middle #Max security off in its own section #Probably not at all what Arkham is supposed to look like #But I reckon the details can be a bit nebulous for the sake of fanfiction

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viathecloset · 7 months

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Taehyung and jungkook's relationship is overlooked by 90% of the fandom solely because they are so controlled by the narrative of the fandom/company that they cannot quite accept that anything outside is even a remote possibility. Ive been more of a quiet observer for years now [my sister's an army since 2015] and I've seen the boys, moreover I know how marketing and kpop works. It's quite evident if u observe close enough of the pattern on how this group of seven guys who genuinely love music is marketed you would understand to what extent you're being brainwashed. Im not talking about this like a conspiracy theorist. It's quite simple and right infront of you. Yall refuse to accept it that's all.

1. There are a certain set of stories that are made to be told by them, over and over again. Even if it disturbs them or they are bored. E.g: 2018 disbandment story, vmin dumpling incident, jikook rain fight/tokyo trip, mind you there are many things that happend between people who lived together for 10+ yrs but if it cuts the flow of events you are made to believe happened you aren't gonna hear from it, ever.

2. Like stories there are dynamics that each pair is supposed to portray Taegi as annoying/annoyed duo, taejin/jikook as flirty HS boyfriends, namseok/taekook the awkward old friends and no matter how much the relationships change or evolve you won't see it cuz again, it won't FIT the narrative that has already been shown.

3. Like relationships there are characteristics that thankfully some members chose to break out of during their solo era: hoseok always being sunshine and loud ( he's quite serious and very dedicated infact ), jungkook being that muscle dude who only knows how to follow his Hyungs ( he's very independent and has a lot of targets he wants to achieve individually, he's very thoughtful and organized) and Taehyung being WEIRD and weak ( he's extremely intelligent and super strong he's strategic and disciplined)

4. This brings us to the whole Taekook narrative, the fact that they've been seen so much during solo era yet people had the audacity to still call them distant and awkward solely cuz it wasn't via company but through Taehyung's ig or jungkook mentioning him in interviews etc. I think it's needless to say they aren't comfortable being touchy and showy on camera for content, hell if they were to shoot everytime Taehyung and jungkook hangout there would he enough CONTENT till 2067. They're supportive of eo and have a very big shared friend circle, when jungkook went missing for almost 2 months we got to know Taehyung was the one he was with.

5. The thing is everyone [ including my own sister ] thinks that Taehyung is being desperate or such whenever he mentions Taehyung cuz a. Yall have actually led jokers run so fucking rampant that everytime the man mentions him actually doing something you're ready to throw him under the bus and call him a liar or such. b. Im not saying jungkook isn't close to anyone else but when he isn't working or shooting content and just wants to be himself the one you saw him most was around Taehyung and yes it matters. In the name of hating shippers yall have not only dissed the quite frankly PRIVATE bond they seem to share but went as far as dissing Taehyung himself cuz of the extreme level of manipulation yall are under.

Ik imma find armys [jikookers ]under this sooner or later calling me names but to be honest I'm sick and tired of yall dissing very real people and their very real human relationships solely based off the content yall are made to believe is 100% candid. Go touch grass, get friends, go date, don't obsess over them for a while then come back and try seeing it from a neutral perspective.

#taekook #taehyung #jungkook #bts #tumbler #opinion #fandom ships

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popawritter12 · 7 months

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Hey hey heyyy im back with another request (im the same anon who requested that yandere morgana piece u wrote, absoutely loved it btw ate it up) and i was wondering if you could write some yandere! Hwei x reader? (fanfic or headcanons is up to you!) maybe the reader is an artist as well and they bond over that? Idk man up to you, also love ur takes on characters ur legit one of the best LoL writers ive seen!!

Btw if you dont mind can i be the 🍊 anon? Ive seen other blogs have their emoji anons and i wanna be one so bad fhdbfh

Hope youre having a nice day!!

Author's Notes: Of course 🍊 anon! I would love to <3

I also got tired of making so many headcanons (believe it or not, I have more saved in my drafts), I'm going to write a one-shot. I hope you like it <3. I also appreciate that you like my work. It's especially nice to know that there's someone who enjoys what I do besides me. By the way, I think Hwei is not in the Yandere “tier list” of LoL, so from how I write him and how I see him, I assume that he is a “Normal” type, because his personality reminds me a little of Ayano from Yandere simulator jjjjjjjjjj

Ｏ(≧∇≦)ＯＯ(≧∇≦)ＯＯ(≧∇≦)ＯＯ(≧∇≦)Ｏ

Yandere! Hwei x Fem! reader

Yandere character: Hwei From the videogame/anime/manga/movie/series: League Of Legends Case: Mention of stalking, allegation of theft, robbery and kidnapping. Part: 1 of 1 Warning: Excessive text LOL

Ｏ(≧∇≦)ＯＯ(≧∇≦)ＯＯ(≧∇≦)ＯＯ(≧∇≦)Ｏ

Obedience.

You had heard that word for so long that it was already embedded in your memory. But not in the way most expected.

You hated that word, and for that same reason you almost never hung out with the teachers or students of the temple you went to.

But we are getting ahead of ourselves, we better go to the beginning.

You had been born into a family that had never been close to other nations apart from Ionia, your mother was a strict woman, sometimes bordering on abusive, who always hated temples. Especially religions… Let's say she never had good experiences with it.

And your father, oh your beloved father… He was a saint in every sense of the word. He was kind, a joker… And a smile was always on his face. He had never yelled, in fact even when he was angry, he would just sit in the corner, ignoring everything around him until his mind cooled down.

And, being an only child, your life around them was quite chaotic. While your mother always tried to stay out of her entire family situation—a rather complex issue even for you—your father was the “husband of the house,” so to speak. He was in charge of teaching you both cooking and home care in general, including carpentry and, mainly, the art of home decoration.

He always dreamed of being a great artist, but in his family it was never frowned upon for a man to make the decision to undertake such a complex world of art, because, you know… that's a “women's thing.” But anyway, a lot of things have happened since the last time you talked to your uncles and cousins so… They aren't very important in your life right now.

But do you know that it is important? Where did you study.

Your father insisted a lot on your talent with sculptures and the human form; You really liked making ceramic vases manually, so much so that from the age of 8 you made your first sculpture; It was the strange shape of a dog with small eyes and a giant nose. At the time you barely knew how to paint sculptures, and your father barely knew about sculptures, and the shape of it so… Let's say it looked more like an "alebrije" than a dog with a big nose.

But that was a long time ago, and now the only proof of that memory is the figure on your father's furniture; kept as a beautiful memory.

As time went by your sculptures became more complex; from simple vases for flowers to sculptures with human figures of such a level that, at this point, we could compare them with the statues of Michelangelo.

And your father wanted that talent to be exploited to the fullest. So, after years of arguing with your mother, they both agreed that you should go to the great temple where you would learn about the art.

But there was a small problem, one that was going to haunt you a lot.

You weren't used to how strict that school was.

The first and second day at that school were quite chaotic for you. It wasn't just because it wasn't as you expected, but because everything was very limited.

If you wanted to make art, you had to do it how they wanted, when they asked you to, and how they expected it. However, not only was that not your style, but it seemed like the teachers (especially the principal) always had one eye on you. And only for a few weeks did you endure that strict issue of obedience.

But there was one boy who was particularly kind to you, and he was a young man of always unkempt appearance. His dark circles always stood out on his face, along with his hair that was rarely organized in a linear manner. From the first time he saw you, he felt charmed by the way you expressed yourself; You were good at painting and using magic, but when he saw the ceramic sculptures you made…damn, you really drove him crazy.

But you obviously didn't notice, you were too focused on trying to get along with your surroundings in general that you didn't notice his desperate attempts to get along with you.

However, in the pleasant conversations you had with him, you always saw him as the stereotype of the exemplary boy; someone who dedicated his entire life to his art, to the temple and was admired by everyone for his great talent. You thought he was assured of a great future thanks to his eccentric abilities.

And you, unlike most, learned very well from your mother that you could not let yourself be trampled; especially by anyone you barely knew. So the blood that ran through your veins and the passion for your own art that you kept for so long was slowly being tied to be limited, but with barely strong ropes. It hurt a lot to know that you were in a place that didn't belong to you, it was as if you were a squirrel in the Freljord, or a mouse in a perfume store.

And in the end, when you mentioned all these things to your mother, she didn't take it very well.

—Did you really go through all this while you were in that temple? —She asked, a cigarette between her fingers as she arranged her needles on the table.

You just nodded your head, not looking at your mother at all. The woman, at this, clicked her tongue.

—I knew that those bitches are only good for the basics, they didn't evolve at all —The woman brought the cigarette to her lips, taking a gentle drag —so, do you know something, my child? Send them to hell.

You were used to her bad vocabulary, so much so that at this, you just nodded your head again.

—I know perfectly well that you are not like me, that you want to venture out and learn about “the ways of art” and that I know —The woman moved her free hand in the air, while with the other she only lightly squeezed the cigarette. —, but if you're going to go alone so that that bunch of nuts can do you less, I'm going to get you out even by kicking you in the ass.

Your mother was tough as a chain in the teeth, and you knew that she couldn't last long without making trouble in the temple if there was someone bothering her only daughter. She cared very little if it was a student, a teacher or even the founder of the temple himself —Even though she knows that she died a long time ago— she would go and give her her dose of shit if she messed with the pride of her as a mother.

She advised you to kick their ass if they messed with you, but your father later talked to you about it, advising that you couldn't take all your feelings and thoughts to such an extreme, but that you should think coldly, and not give importance to people that were not to your specific liking, regardless of their social status. You were no less for coming from a family that came from the middle of nowhere.

During your temple walk, you always walked alone, which gave you plenty of time to think about your actions; You had been passive most of the time, however, more than once you let out those classic off-color comments when they already crossed your limit. Words like “Fuck you if you don't like it” or “You're barely able to use colors and you're going to tell me what I have to do?” escaped you in very rare cases.

You entered the less traveled part of the temple, hoping not to encounter those looks that made you uncomfortable. The song of nature resonated in your ears harmoniously, while the sound of the materials inside your bag resonated from time to time.

In the midst of your ramblings, you remembered your lost sculptures, and your forgotten materials; You were not a forgetful pardon, and it seemed strange to you not to find your favorite materials —That were metal, so they were worth a lot of money —, and even though you asked and asked, you couldn't find it anymore, so it depressed you a lot to think that you had lost something that had cost yout parents so much effort, and the mere memory of it caused you to feel that pang in your heart.

Even if your parents said it was nothing that couldn't be fixed, it hurt to know that you had lost one of the most expensive things your parents had cost you to get you.

But it was curious to think what a surprise you would get.

However, you get to hear some noises; without being the whining of baby birds waiting for food or rodents walking in search of food, but rather it resembled the voice of two people talking. You recognized both of their voices, but you thought it wasn't too important to stay there, in fact, you were already planning to go somewhere else when you heard it.

—So that girl, (Name), right?

—Yes, I didn't think you realized that issue.

The second boy's shy voice reminded you of that young man you rarely spoke to, which took you by surprise. Hwei wasn't the type of person to talk bad about someone behind their back, or at least that was the idea you had based on your interactions.

—You don't have to worry, after all it's normal for you to feel attracted to someone —Jhin mentioned, almost in a mocking manner—. So why don't you tell me about her?

You had already noticed the intention behind that interaction, however, after what happened, you thought that maybe you could calm your heart with some sweet words that you weren't meant to hear at that moment.

—Well, she is… incredible —He begins, you hear how the young man sits on a log due to the sound of the hollow wood —, she is beautiful, kind, tender… and her way of expressing her art is so… unique.

You gently leaned your back against the wood, trying not to make any sound. Something in your chest moved abruptly, as if your heart was fluttering like a butterfly in glass.

—I adore her sculptures, I feel that they are the most beautiful thing I have seen —He continues talking, slowly his emotion rose more and more —. I looked sometimes at her work in class or in the room away from her, and they are… beautiful.

—So much so that you had the need to steal them, right?

It was a single sentence, one which echoed in your head for several seconds.

—What are you talking about? —Hwei asks, arranging his hair a little, trying to place several strands behind his ear —. I would never do that.

You didn't hear how Hwei's tone of voice changed, becoming staccato, as his hands clung to his backpack, which he had in his lap.

At this, the other student laughed, almost like a subtle laugh, while his eyes wandered to where your shadow was looming. A mischievous smile forms on his face.

—So, I imagine that the sculptures that are in your room were made by you, right? —He questions, looking subtly into Hwei's eyes—. Or you bought them from her.

Your thoughts slowly formed a thread of the events that had happened. A lump formed in your throat, almost painfully so.

—Or her favorite utensils, she asked me if I had seen them last week, since she had left them near you the last time she saw them —He continued, almost introspectively—, but when I asked you, you only mentioned that you didn't see them that day either.

You shook your head, from the depths of your soul you prayed that it wasn't true, that you didn't have the school prodigy after you in such an extreme way.

—Well, I admit that I have some of her sculptures in my room, but they are the ones that she forgot in class or anywhere! —The pale boy snapped—. And I don't know what you think I did with her utensils, I don't know how to sculpt.

Jhin laughs again, barely audibly now, as if he knew that now he would have to act more vividly.

—And why were they in the box in your room? —Jhin asks him —, it even had remains of dry ceramics. Could it be that they were already used?

Hwei gritted his teeth, while his gaze met Jhin's again.

—That side of you… It's so peculiar. —He smiles —, I thought no one would see it, but you risk being seen in exchange for getting some things from (Name).

Hwei knew that darkness within his soul had awakened since the first day he saw you. And that darkness spread throughout his soul, mind and body, to the point that it seemed to consume all of his heart and mind.

—Your paintings were always warm colors —Jhin changed the subject, the smile disappearing from his face —, they were never about anything specific, but since you met that girl, something changed —He bowed gently in front of Hwei —. If it was about her, you focused on her in a way that made her seem pure, you used colors that highlighted her body or her emotion on her face. But she never looked at anyone —He subtly changed his focus —, she looked at the painter, or she didn't look at anyone, tell me, do you just want her to not look at anyone but you? Do you want her to the point that you don't want her to look at anyone but you?

He remained silent, in such a way that you could feel the weight of the words lingering in the air, causing an almost inexhaustible tension there. It was such that you could no longer hear the song of nature that you longed for so much.

—I won't criticize you, Hwei, you know that I understand better than anyone the dark feeling inside you —Jhin tried to sound empathetic —. And, if you want, I can help you make (Name) yours. I can make her fall in love with you and make that she can never leave you.

The obsessed young man understood how wrong it was to have those thoughts terrifying his mind, but he couldn't stop it, it was a feeling that had already taken root in his heart, and he couldn't tear it out no matter how much he wanted to.

—I can't… —Hwei whispered, his voice breaking —…, I don't want to harm her; She is so nice to me, I don't want to put her through all my feelings.

You heard him sob.

—You're not going to hurt her —Jhin comforts him, a hand running over his cheek —. I know you love her very much, and you notice how others hurt her. But, tell me, don't you think about those people really hurt her? —He subtly wipes away the tear that slipped down her face—. You should take care of those people, you know? So she could express her art as she loves it. Maybe she could even make thousands of statues without anyone to pressure her, and you could “borrow” them for yourself.

You had heard enough, you couldn't stay there for another minute.

However, before you could move, Jhin leaned close to Hwei's ear, his lips close to her loose strands of hair.

—Or you could take it right now, you know? This opportunity is perfect. —Jhin's mischievous smile spreads across his face.

Hwei opened his eyes to her peak, at the same time he heard a rope move abruptly.

And you felt your foot being pulled up, forcing you to hit your face against the ground, causing you to moan in pain.

—Shit. —You whispered, feeling your head spin, a small wound on your head began to make small drops of blood come out.

—That is…? —Hwei whispers, his heart sinking in his chest —(Name)..?

Ｏ(≧∇≦)ＯＯ(≧∇≦)ＯＯ(≧∇≦)ＯＯ(≧∇≦)Ｏ

Today I came wanting to write. I loved how this one-shot turned out, and I hope those who read it do too haha.

I hope to receive more orders if any of you wish, until then, I will be dedicated to my hobbies and my studies.

#yandere #obsessive love #yandere league of legends #yandere x you #poppa thoughs #league of legends #yandere male #yandere lol #hwei #league of legends hwei #hwei league of legends #Yandere hwei #Yandere hwei x reader #x female reader #female reader #x reader #yandere x reader

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sangwooooh · 2 years

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can u do another bruce x male reader angst

Definitely 😌 I’ve got a lot of angst in me.

Since you didn’t specify, I took it and ran with it. Anywayss Enjoy 😉😮‍💨

Soo, this is longer than I planned 🧝🏻🥹 And there’s gonna be a part 2, probably 🫣😮‍💨

Warnings of sorts: major injury, character death, diverging from canon.

Small summary: After an attack by the Joker, the bat family is thrown into an unlikable situation, unfortunate even. M/n is stuck in the hospital, barely living. And who knows what happened to the rest? Alfred won’t really talk about it.

“This is your legacy. Watch careful, love, as it all falls and burns. To the ground with your house of stone.”

They were tied together by the moon, under the stars of a clear sky, on the rooftop of the manor. A lapse in time, a glimpse of the universe. They were happy in that moment. Only them and the quiet world.

M/n recalls it being a clear sky. Yes, it had to be in order to light up Bruce’s face just so. Or maybe it was the man’s eyes, those who lit up the whole sky. Often times, M/n thinks about this and that, and everything is muddy, but the brightest memories still shine through.

That’s what makes him sure they’re real. They are too strong to be stomped down by the heaviness, too alive to dissipate.

There are days in which he feels he forgets everything, but then Alfred visits, and the memories are alive again. Painfully so.

“Master M/n,” Alfred would say, “How is your morning?” And M/n would understand it was indeed morning.

“Hello, Alfred.” Momentum, he remembers both of their names. “I see you better today.” He tries for a smile, uncertain of the success.

“That is great news, sir.” M/n can’t make out the details of Alfred’s face, but he hears the extension of a smile in his voice.

Later, they are drinking tea, the tension in M/n’s shoulders not soothed by the liquid, “Alfred, when can I come home?” Silence follows.

M/n sees the movement of Alfred placing down his cup, “Soon, sir. Probably next week, if things go well.”

“Yes, but you’ve been saying this for a while now.” He recalls in the haziness. “I reckon, if I stay here more, I’ll go crazy, Alfred. I wanna come home. I wanna see Bruce and the kids.” His voice is overwhelmed with tremors. He can’t feel his face half the time, but now he feels the stinging in his eyes.

M/n is almost startled by Alfred’s hand over his own. “Master M/n… I’ll see what I can do. I’ve been trying, remember?”

Right. He… remembers. “Thank you, Alfred.”

Later that week M/n is allowed to go home. Happiness fills him. Like fireworks on the night sky, his chest is filled with emotion.

Home.

Yes, he is finally going home.

Alfred comes to pick him up around 1 p.m. He is moved in a wheeling chair through the hospital. He can’t see all the faces around him, but the doctor and the few nurses he does see and recognize, he says goodbye to. He is happy, so he leaves them all with a smile.

In the car, Alfred tells him all about the changes around the house and the land around it. Like how the rose garden is gone —there is a momentary pang in M/n’s chest, but he doesn’t let himself be deterred by it—, or how the paintings from the hallways had been moved to a guest room now turned storage room, or how Jason moved all of his stuff back into the mansion, but he didn’t actually come around to inhabit his old room, or how Damian is now taking care of most of the affairs of the mansion and company.

“Since you’ve been gone, young master Damian has been given a lot of new responsibilities.” Alfred adds, not as an after thought, but carefully building up to it. “He should be home, at the moment, but there is always the possibility of him being away. He is leaving two weeks from now, for a conference in Vienna.”

“That’s wonderful. Such a nice place. I… Bruce took me there. Yes. A few years ago. Very nice.” M/n is sure his smile persists. How could it not? He is finally going home. To his Bruce. To his sons. To his life, after the endless time in that horrid hospital room with white walls and shadows and the buzzing of the fluorescent light above, barely perceptible.

The car parked, Alfred helps M/n up the ramp and into the foyer.

The door opens before Alfred goes for the handle. Beyond the opening door, the tired face of one Damian Wayne comes as the most welcoming sight. As soon as the boy’s —he is still the small boy M/n used to read to sleep, or sing to— eyes landed on his parent, he visibly relaxes. His stance falls into something more fitted for his age. M/n can’t see a smile on his face, but that isn’t saying much. He can’t really see much anyway, in the light. Nonetheless, even through the sting caused by daylight, M/n can’t help the unabashed happiness slipping onto his every feature. He extends his arms, wide and welcoming. And Damian falls to his knees, into his parents arms.

“Hi, dad.” The boy whispers softly.

“Hello, baby.” M/n feels tears soak his shirt. “Oh, baby. What happened, love?” The man gives Damian’s head comforting caresses.

“I just missed you.” Damian gets out through a shudder. Oh, why is his baby crying? No, he shouldn’t be crying. M/n is here now, it’s okay.

“I missed you too, honey.” Damian lowers himself until his head rests in his father’s lap. M/n’s hand still moves through Damian’s raven locks.

Damian squeezes M/n’s waist, “I’m sorry, dad. I’m sorry.” His son is trembling. He must be so tired. Did he sleep well? His poor baby. M/n should’ve been here for him.

“Why are you sorry? You have nothing to be sorry for, love.” M/n feels his own eyes sting harder, but not from light.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come see you. I’m so sorry.” Damian’s voice is muffled by him being pressed against M/n.

“Hey. Hey. Honey, it’s okay. Alfred told me you’ve been working so hard. My baby isn’t a baby anymore. You’re taking care of the family. I’m so proud of you, Dami.” M/n feels a tear falling. Alfred places his warm hand on M/n’s shoulder, but he can only look at Damian’s blurry form falling apart at his feet.

“No, dad. I… I didn’t come because… I was afraid. Of what I’d see. So I used everything as an excuse to stay away. I’m sorry, dad.”

M/n’s lower lip is filled with tremors, tears glistening in his eyes, “It’s okay, it’s okay, Dami. I’m home now.”

M/n holds his son for a while, caressing him, trying to reassure him with all the love he has.

“Where are the others?” M/n asks as Damian raises to shaky feet.

Damian visibly freezes, but forcibly relaxes himself, “Well… I’m not really sure what Todd is up to, but he literally moved his stuff here, then proceeded to up and go.” The boy pauses as he moves behind M/n, wheeling him to the stairs, where there is already a built in type of elevator just for him, one you see in movies. Damian attaches the back of his wheelchair to the machine. “And father… Father doesn’t leave his room during the day, only at night, but as Batman.”

“What?” M/n stares at his son incredulously, as he is raised by the machine, Damian following closely by, walking up the stairs.

“I know Batman is doing a great job, as always. But I don’t know how father is doing. He wouldn’t talk to us.” Damian looks into his parent’s eyes pleadingly. The boy can guess that his dad doesn’t see this detail. But, still, he can’t help but want to beg for M/n to make things better, like he always did.

“I’m sorry, baby, that you had to go through this. I’ll talk to Bruce myself. Only with a bit of help.” M/n chuckles as the machine gets to the top of the stairs.

Damian’s lungs and heart finally seem to realize that M/n is home, that he isn’t alone, that maybe they can do this. Call it false hope, but it’s everything the boy can cling to.

Once at the door leading into the master bedroom, M/n looks at Damian with the intent to reassure. As if telling him ‘it’s okay, you can rest, I’ll take care of things now’. And so, he is left alone by his son, followed closely by Alfred, who also seems different all of a sudden, lighter even. He is gonna make them a nice dinner, for four, and not for one.

M/n would be lying if he says he doesn’t hesitate. Because he does hesitate. And he hates himself for that. His Bruce needs him. This is no place or time for backing away.

“Bruce?” The silence is deafening. “Are you there, honey?” He wheels himself —his arms are weak, so he finds it a tiny bit more difficult than he originally thought it would be— closer to the door. Where he places his open palm on the hard oaken door. There is no answer from the other side, but M/n isn’t known for giving up easily. It’s how him and Bruce got together, then married. He knows when to push and he knows when Bruce is keeping himself from his own happiness.

“Bruce, I’m home now. You can open the door.” M/n says a bit louder. And this time he is startled by the sound of hurried steps and crashing from beyond the door.

The door opens before he can say anything.

And his Bruce is there. He looks tired, and his features are clearer because in the manor there is darkness. And M/n sees how much Damian is becoming more and more like his father, for Bruce falls to his knees in front of him, hands grabbing at his face and hair, cupping his cheeks in hurried strokes. M/n believes the tears that fall from Bruce’s eyes and onto his blotchy cheeks. He doesn’t know how many times he’s seen Bruce cry before. It hasn’t been much, but there were plenty times to know that M/n’s husband doesn’t trust people with his tears and his pain. And most of the time, he doesn’t even trust himself with it. It pains M/n to see the man he loves in pain, so he ends up placing his hands over his darling’s hands, keeping them on his cheeks.

“… M/n” His husband’s voice is coarse, unused.

“Bruce.” M/n says his name, to ground Bruce with his own voice. “What happened to you, my Bruce?”

Bruce doesn’t say anything at first, but after long seconds, there are those same two words that came out of his son’s mouth, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, love.” He has never seen Bruce like this. This broken. Falling apart. What happened? Where are Dick and Tim? Nobody said anything about them yet. What were his memories trying to keep away from him? M/n really needs to know. “I can’t remember what happened that well. Please, tell me what happened, my Bruce.” M/n squeezes Bruce’s hands into his own and brings them to his lap.

M/n is afraid of the unknown. What is he missing? Why is everyone so down? Why was he in the hospital for weeks on end?

“What did you do, love? Why are you upset?” Bruce raises to his feet, slowly and weak, and M/n has never seen him like this. Bruce goes behind him and wheels him into their bedroom.

Bruce lifts him up with care. Closer to his face, M/n can see his expression better and it hurts him to see his husband in this pain. Bruce places him on the bed, with soft movements and soft touches.

“Talk to me, Bruce.” M/n cups Bruce’s cheeks in his palms when the man sits next to him on the bed.

“No, no, I can’t, M/n, I can’t, no.” Bruce shakes his head. M/n can’t help but feel out of balance, out of place, out of touch. He has never seen his husband this startled. They’ve had moments in which they’ve shared their fears and problems and what not. But M/n has never seen his Bruce this shaken up.

“Come on. Talk to me, Bruce.” He presses on.

“I.. Oh god…” Bruce whispers through a clenched jaw.

“Love, please…” There is desperation in M/n’s voice.

“God… God, how, how can I tell you? How can I possibly tell you?” Bruce puts a distance between them as he rises from the bed. Covering his face, he blocks away M/n’s view of his expression.

“Bruce? Bruce… Bruce!” M/n raises his voice, feeling his tongue become numb and surplus in his mouth.

“Ah, I, I…” Bruce takes a deep breath looking at the ceiling, “Di…” His voice fades. “Dick and Tim,” M/n fees the air become stale around him, and the constant pressure in his chest that never seems to go away increases. Breathing suddenly becomes harder and there is the faint feeling of suffocation. “They are gone. Because of me. I …killed them.”

And that suffocating feeling is back tenfold.

The world is swimming around them and he can feel it all flowing beyond the ground, and he is falling too, into his own hell. He doesn’t know where he is anymore, but his body is too small for him and his heart is so big and so loud it breaks at his thoracic cavity. His lungs aren’t big enough, however, cowering before his beating, pumping heart, smaller and smaller by the second. There isn’t enough air. There will never be enough air. This is how he is dying. He wants to die. He wants to die now, to disappear.

He hears screaming. After long seconds it becomes obvious it is him who is screaming, clawing at his throat, eyes hurting with tears that burn him to the core. He scratches his throat like he wants to get out of his own skin. And if he were any more conscious, he would now exactly how to kill himself in that moment. The words keep repeating in his head, however, in an endless loop that wants to keep him there, caged in his disbelief.

He must’ve passed out.

Because, when he wakes up, he is in the rose garden, somehow.

#bruce wayne x male reader #bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #batman x male reader #batfam #batdad #batdad reader #angst #batman angst #character death

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lilcatdraws · 2 months

Text

Crack A Smile and Cut Your Mouth

Ledger!Joker Origin Story

Chapter Five - Hell On Earth

Warnings: Violence, war, blood, (light?) gore

Chapter Summary: Jack waits outside the promotion board and as he prepares, he thinks on his deployments so far.

Author’s Note: Okay it's currently 1:40 am. I stayed up late writing this and after I post I'm going to bed 🫠 This chapter is everything the title suggests. Trigger warning I guess? If war and all that it entails triggers you then I would suggest skipping ahead. Just know that the war messed up poor Jack pretty badly and you can imagine why. But the worst is yet to come... I just love foreshadowing ;)

Taglist: @alittlesmartcookie @furisodespirit

If you would like to be added to the taglist please let me know! <3

Picking at his nails nervously, Jack sat outside the promotion board room waiting to be called in. Today was a big day. If things went well, and they probably would, he was getting promoted to Sergeant. In the scheme of things this wasn’t such a big deal. But it was to Jack. This would be the first time he was put in a true leadership position.

Jack had been in the army for almost 5 years now and completed two tours in Afghanistan, returning from his latest one several weeks ago. The war made him a different man. He was rougher, tougher, and more resourceful. His eyes became keen and his hearing became sharp. He had no choice but to adapt. It was either that or be killed.

Afghanistan was the closest thing to hell on earth Jack thought he could get. One of the worst parts was when nothing would happen for days but they had to be ready because the enemy could strike at any time. They’d start to let their guard down and then, seemingly out of nowhere, the chaos would ensue.

The gunfire, the explosions, the bodies… Men that were here one minute and then gone the next. And the screaming…so much screaming. All things that Jack would never forget no matter how hard he tried.

Resting his head on the rock behind him, Jack blinked as the bright sun shone in his eyes and a bead of sweat trickled down his forehead. His squad had been sitting here for hours, watching and waiting, endlessly waiting, for something to happen.

He sighed quietly to himself and gazed up at the cloudless sky as a hawk soared overhead. He felt a small pang of envy at watching the bird fly so freely. A weird sense of longing washed over him as he imagined what it would be like to be the bird. No war, no responsibilities, the rush of the wind against him, and a break from the fucking hot sun.

Jack stopped himself in disbelief. Was he really so miserable he was jealous of a stupid bird? He was losing it already. He chalked it up to the intense heat. It had a way of making everyone question their sanity.

Time dragged on and still nothing. Slumped against the rock, he counted the limbs on a nearby dead tree, bored out of his mind and sweating in places he didn’t know he could.

Then he heard it. A slight whoosh went past their heads and then boom. A grenade went off several feet in front of them. Many of them, including Jack, were smart enough to move away in time and get behind the rocks. Unfortunately some of them were too slow and got caught up in the blast.

“Fall back!” The squad’s sergeant shouted.

As he ran, Jack didn’t dare look down out of fear of seeing the bits and pieces of the barely recognizable corpses strewn across the sand. He turned his head just before he climbed in the humvee and saw a truckload of their attackers speed by, jeering in another language. He was too shocked and disturbed to care.

Jack sighed as he simmered on the memory. The grenade incident was something he always thought back on since it was the first time he truly experienced the horrors of war. The images of the fallen soldiers and the bloody mess they left behind would be forever imprinted in his brain. He was 20 years old at the time. If only his younger naive self knew that the horrors would only get worse from then on.

To Jack one of the most tragic aspects of the war was the innocents. The most prominent example he could think of was during his second tour when his platoon had to travel through a village to get to their destination. That day would never leave him either.

As the humvee ran over another rock, Jack banged his head on the ceiling for the umpteenth time that day. Thank God he was wearing his helmet. That didn’t stop him from being annoyed though. He rolled his eyes discreetly out of his superior’s line of sight and glanced out the window at their surroundings.

The village they were passing through wasn’t as active as others they’d encountered before. A woman or two could be seen walking past them and a few kids here and there were playing in the streets. They paused their games and stared up at the military vehicles with interest as they drove by. The lack of activity seemed odd to Jack but he paid it no mind as the line of humvees continued down the road.

The eerie stillness of the village ended abruptly as the humvee in the front burst into flames. The other vehicles slammed on their brakes to avoid colliding with the explosion, tossing the soldiers aboard out of their seats.

“Jesus! What the hell just happened?” A dazed private sitting behind Jack exclaimed.

His answer came when a series of cries rang out in the streets and shots were fired. They were being ambushed. No wonder the village was so lifeless. The residents knew what was coming.

Jack heard someone in authority shout. “Get down!”

He couldn’t decipher who it was but they didn’t have to tell him twice. He crouched down between the seats and took cover. Something busted through the window above his head and sent glass shards everywhere. He realized they were rocks as more flew through the window.

The attack was only getting worse and more deadly by the minute so eventually the platoon had to leave the safety of their vehicles and fight back.

Jack slung his rifle off his shoulder and fired a few rounds, effectively hitting his targets the majority of the time. He blamed his poor shots on the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He hid behind one of the humvee’s back tires as bullets started to move in his direction.

This was utter hell. He was sure he was gonna die at any moment. But somehow he made it out alive. The battle dragged on and on until finally the platoon began to gain some ground and overtake their attackers. What was remaining of the enemy was killed while a select few managed to retreat and get away.

Once it was safe, Jack stood up and slung his rifle back over his shoulder. He exhaled in relief, glad the firefight was over. He walked over to what was left of his group and waited to be told what to do.

The smell of smoke and burning flesh gave the air a pungent odor, making Jack’s eyes water. He scanned the area solemnly, noting all of the fallen soldiers and the structural damage caused to the village. Suddenly an ear splitting scream broke out behind him, causing him and a few others to jump.

The scream came from a grieving woman, hunched over what looked like her young son. Jack froze. Civilian deaths were always the worst and he’d witnessed many, but this was totally different. This was a child. The boy barely had a chance to live and his life was ended simply by being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

A little girl ran to the mother’s side and knelt beside what appeared to be her brother. Tears streamed down her face. Blood was splattered on her clothes and her dark hair. She looked up in Jack’s direction with innocent eyes that shattered his soul.

The mother picked up her son’s body, turned, and carried him away, with the little girl following close behind. He knew he wasn’t responsible for the boy’s death but he couldn’t help but feel awful.

“Napier! Get over here!” Jack’s superior shouted, bringing him out of his daze.

He jumped a mile. Was he really standing there that long?

“Oh, sorry sir.” He said in a soft tone and followed the other soldiers back to the now damaged humvees.

The memory of the little girl stayed with Jack for a while after the attack in the village. It was hard to forget those eyes. Even to the present day he thought back on her sometimes. There were so many like her. Innocent children caught up in a conflict that wasn’t their fault. He recognized that sometimes civilian deaths were unavoidable and were even a necessary evil at times but it just felt so wrong. Especially when kids were involved.

He glanced at the clock on the wall and took a deep breath. Anytime now he could be called in for the promotion board. Thinking about bad memories was not helping his nerves at all. Of course his mind had other plans.

It’s like he was intent on torturing himself. He couldn’t help it. The war was always fresh on his mind. He was getting promoted soon and in a few months he would be up for a third deployment. Combat never left his brain.

He had no clue how he was gonna adjust back into civilian life when the time came. He’d cross that bridge when he got there. But something told him it was going to be a lot easier said than done.

A First Sergeant appeared in the doorway and informed Jack that they were ready for him.

Okay, here goes… He thought as he stood up and followed the man inside the boardroom.

#ledger joker #jack napier #the dark knight #heath ledger #nolanverse #cross posted on ao3 #lilcat writes

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paladin-of-nerd-fandom65 · 3 months

Note

1: What is the starburst duo biggest mistake? one that they look out to never do again.

2: You know how Older! Jon Kent took the title of Superman when Clark went to war world? Did Chris & Jake ever have to take their father's title of Superman & Nightwing?

3: If Jake & mar'i were in canon, when do you think they were born? Most likely right after their parents wedding :)

4: What is something the Starburst duo thinks they are good out but aren't?

5: What is something the Starburst duo is legitimately bad at?

Chris: Leading Jake, Jasper and Lian on a small mission to bust what seems being a regular drug dealing (almost regular as the contraband content was replicated Fear Toxin) by Blockbsuter without properly checking to see who his business partner is and how much of their power they’ll need; this let them completely off guard when that business partner tuned up being Mongul, who proceeded to pounded them all brutally, nearly killing both Lian and Jake in the process. The deal was stopped but Chris has made himself a promise that for now on, he’ll always double check the intel for cases like this and make sure they’re still properly prepared for surprise attacks like this

Jake: Once letting his temper get the better of him when he encountered a bank robbing criminal he was searching for a good bit and always came up frustratingly short every time he has a lead on him. Once he finally had the crook cornered, he fail to notice the desperate and scared eyes of the crook and definitely not noticing they were outside the criminal’s house, revealing his wife and two children who no doubt were spooked by the green fury glowing eyes Jake had as he was pounding the desperate criminal to a near pulp. He eventually snapped out of it when the crook’s wife begged him to stop and Jake then looked around realizing he wasn’t beating up a major super villain but a man who only resorted to his criminal acts out of desperation further his family. Even since then, Jake has made it a considerable effort to try to temper and control himself against petty crooks and those who hadn’t committed the more grievous crimes.

2) I would say….maybe or maybe not. As grown ups, their mantles simply either grew up with them or they change into complete new ones as either their children and/or fixture apprentices take over the Skybird and Nightwing Phantom mantles. Maybe Jake can take over the Nightwing mantle his father has once Dick does retire though it’ll be a tall sell as Jake feels no one can truly be the same Nightwing Dick. As for Chris, the Superman mantle is evenly split by both Conner and Jon, Red and Blue respectively.

3) Oh for sure; Kory became pregnant with Mar’i about a few months after the wedding, likely her being conceived during the Honeymoon itself. Jake followed up a mere two years later. Oh in my version, they get married much sooner, around when Jason was Robin therefore Jake would’ve been about maybe 1-2 year when Jason was blown up by the Joker.

Bonus: for how Tim Drake can still be a teenager when Jake is ten; simple, he got hit by a de aging ray which not only tuned him back into a 14-16 year old but moreso allows him to age much slowly. Or at least if he ages normal, he still looks very young even as a teen…and small

4) Chris: Playing Soccer and Tennis. In both sports he keeps forgetting which way is his half of the court to defend and which one is to score points

Jake: Naming all the Star Wars characters from every show, tv series or animated show even if he’s otherwise good with memory. The problem lies with how many of them sometimes are background characters despite the lore behind them

Chris: Learning how to use VR headsets. Those things are just confusing and where to go, how to move inside the game and what buttons to press while his hands are in motion

Jake: Much to his surprising delight, being able to hold in his laughter, cackles and giggles anytime his sensitive spots are even as so much as brushed softly or gently poked. It’s something both Dick and him have inherited from Mary Grayson, jokingly what’s referred to as a curse in their lineage, all because Mary’s father, Jake great grandfather, took a career as a dentist rather than as a mortician like the rest of that family line.

Thanak for the asks @pin-crusher2000 ! These are fun XD

#chris kent #jake grayson #starburst duo #sfw #Jasper Logan #lian harper #connor kent #jonathan samuel kent #dick grayson #koriand'r #jason todd #tim drake

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romanticizingmurder · 2 years

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Okay I have to rant about something that doesn’t matter. Since you’re here, I assume you’re used to this.

So there’s this exchange between Damian and Jason, right?

Now putting aside the victim blaming, what bothers me here is that... Damian shouldn’t know this. Bruce shouldn’t know this.

No one but Jason knows that Sheila betrayed him.

That’s...actually very important, to me. Jason is buried next to Sheila. Why would Bruce do that if he had any inkling of what had happened! And Sheila doesn’t tell him! All she says to Bruce before she dies is that Jason protected her and was “much better than I deserved”.

It also...like look the way the entire family made Jason into an example of what not to do and victim blamed him after his death is bad. But it’s sort of...you can understand it, almost, if they think he genuinely went after the Joker. Your child is dead, but maybe you can use that horrible grief to protect the others.

But if Bruce knows about Sheila? It’s vile. Bruce knowing about Sheila would mean knowing his 15 year old son was tricked into his death and still allowing him to be used as an example of recklessness. Not even like...an example of ”be careful who you trust”, just 15 years of Jason being the too confident, too reckless, etc. one when we know that wasn’t true. And I’d like to believe Bruce would’ve at least slightly altered how he spoke about Jason’s death if he had known.

Now you could argue Jason might have told Bruce after he came back but that seems...unlikely. 1) It’s never shown to my knowledge? Correct me on that though if it is and I’m misremembering 2) An interesting trait of Jason is he’s actually very inclined to lie to protect the reputation of mother figures. In Batman #408 he sticks to saying Catherine got sick, despite Bruce independently confirming for the audience it was an overdose & in Task Force Z he simply describes Sheila as “someone he cared about”. So it’s not been shown and seems out of character, to me, so why would Damian or Bruce know this?

That’s all. I know this doesn’t matter but Sheila is so often forgotten about entirely in recountings of Jason’s death that to see her brought up in a way that doesn’t make sense was frustrating me.

#jason todd #long post #meta

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continuous-spec · 7 months

Text

ME Fic: The Messages In Between Ch.1

Summary: Shepard and Garrus messages to each other throughout the events of the Reaper War.

Link: Ao3

Notes: GST: Galatic Standard Time. Cycles are one-day cycle of the Citadel per the GST. One Orbit has 40 Cycles. There are ten Orbits in a GST year. 2686 GS is also 2186 for the Alliance.

Galactic Standard Time: Cycle 20, Orbit 9, 2686. Day 6 of the Reaper War.

Garrus breathed in the stale air of his cabin, trying to relax in his makeshift cot. He had been without sleep for almost two days.

Four days since the Reapers hit Palaven and six days since they hit Earth. Six days without contact with the Sol system. Six days not knowing if Shepard was still alive.

Garrus rubbed his brow plates, trying to push the thoughts of her out of his head. He needed to sleep. He had spent the last two hours stuck on top of a comm tower, sniping any reaper forces within scope of Vitcus' men—All while fixing the comm tower too. That was somehow just this morning. Garrus' mind whirled with fog without sleep, trying to keep track of the time. He needed to rest, but the adrenaline still kept him stirring in bed.

Just as he felt himself drifting to sleep, his omni-tool pinged dozens of times. Messages upon messages poured in. Almost all from the same source: Datapad Model OXIV, Alliance Addition. Garrus shot up out of the cot, trying to scan the messages. The words shifted and moved with his exhaustion, but there was no way he could sleep now.

***

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 30, Orbit 4, 2686]

Garrus, It’s Shepard. I'm sending this out. Hotwired a datapad they’re allowing me to have to prep evidence. I doubt the Alliance is reading. I'm pretty sure they won't notice when this datapad goes missing, either.

Give the Hierarchy hell, and hopefully, we’ll get somewhere with it.

Send back if you can. I think this is going out?

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 35, Orbit 4, 2686]

House arrest, you got to be fucking kidding me. Is this on the news? Can you see this? I’m sure Khalisah is having a field day with this.

At least Joker can still get on the Normandy. I'm stuck. Maybe I'll take you up on that offer to break me out. You know, we can steal the Normandy again, too, just like old times.

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 5, Orbit 5, 2686]

You’d hate this. It’s all pointless jabbering. Tribunal after tribunal. They won’t listen. Aratoht is all they care about. I’ve shown them the proof. They keep putting their heads in the sand.

Do you know that saying? Does it even translate? It just means that, as always, they’re ignoring the real problem. Why is that not a surprise?

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 15, Orbit 5, 2686]

Did you know today is my birthday? On Earth its April 11th. I'm only a little disappointed you didn't get me a gift.

I think I’m 32 or 30. Does being dead count towards age? Do turians celebrate birthdays?

30 is a big one, a big milestone for humans. When I was a teenager, I never thought I would get to it running with the Reds. I guess, technically, I didn’t get to celebrate it. Humans don't generally celebrate it in a jail cell either.

I just wish you were here with me for it. We could have shared another glass of wine. Among other things…

Right now, I’m so bored that I’m trying to figure out how to make prison wine. Hopefully, I won’t go blind.

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 23, Orbit 5, 2686]

If I could go without hearing about the Reds for one more day, I might not scream. They have spent a week dissecting my time with the Reds. Seriously? I left them when I joined the Alliance. I’m just some drugged-out teen junkie on Red Sand to them still.

When do we stop paying for the sins of youth?

I hope this is getting to you. I hope you’re getting further than I am. Good thing you left. Imagine both of us in an Alliance interrogation room?

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 25, Orbit 5, 2686]

Want to take any bets on how long until the Reapers are here? I'll give it two more months. that what like three orbits? You think the Councils cares?

What are you wagering? How about we wager like we did with Strip Skyllian-Five? This isn't a bet I want to win this time though. Even if I like seeing you in your skivs.

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 29, Orbit 5, 2686]

Still no answer from you. You playing hard to get Vakarian?

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 37, Orbit 5, 2686]

The prison wine is nasty, almost as bad as the stuff you brought last time. Still not blind, although I am having visions of you pinning me up against the aquarium. Did I get you blushing yet?

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 1, Orbit 6, 2686]

I’d like to think you’re just playing hard to get, and I’m not just sending these off into the ether. It's hard doing one-sided sexting you know?

No one tells you how boring prison is, even with the datapad. I wish they’d give me a keyboard so I can practice. Also, to hotwire it to get a better signal to you.

Now I’m starting to know why they try to limit how much electronics I get. It’s the Alliance's fault, they trained me how to do this. Yeah, that’s the excuse I’m going for.

If you can, send a voice recording, I miss it. You I mean.

I miss you.

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 35, Orbit 6, 2686]

God, it’s so annoying. They have these guards watching me constantly. What do they think I’m going to do? Fight someone? or someones gonna fight me? Ridiculous.

It'd be nice to have some privacy to take care of myself since you're not here. I guess I'll just have to think about you in the shower...

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 15, Orbit 7, 2686]

I got tarred and feathered today by the Brass. This is totally something humans do, not an expression like the sand one. Don’t look it up. Just believe me.

If I have to hear one more thing about the geth, I might blow a gasket. Okay, now that one is an expression, although, with the cybernetics, I think that might be possible for me.