#and didn't know what to do with them

[daringdarlingdt]

curious to know your thoughts about GFA if you feel like sharing some more

ok ok ok I always feel like sharing more so i will blabber about it for a while but I will preface this by saying that it was. a lot. and I don't think I've had time to really internalize it and distill my thoughts and feelings into something cohesive and intelligent yet so this will be messy. and also very very long. you've been warned. but also thanks for asking lol :)

firstly, i found the relationship between Sidney and Hawkeye while he was institutionalized really interesting. Everything about those scenes seemed really well done to me. I mean I've never repressed a traumatic memory and then had a breakdown about it to my dear friend/therapist after spending a while (a few weeks? a month? multiple months?*) trying to get out of one intolerable environment and back to an equally, but more familiar and comfortable intolerable environment,,, so I can't say authoritatively what that should look like, but I thin Alan Alda did a really fantastic job of portraying it and the dialogue in those scenes was convincing to me. Like the sort of verbal tic of glossing over the actually traumatic part of the story and avoiding dealing with those feelings where hawkeye goes "and so and so and so..." all made that process of forcing him to confront it feel pretty real to me. Also the way Hawkeye antagonizes Sidney even though in the past he's been pretty open and cooperative when he thinks there's something wrong with him (Hawk's Nightmare, Bless You Hawkeye), and gets defensive, lashing out at Sidney, and insisting he's fine, even preferring to go back to the 4077th than stay there and actually work through the problem. I thought that made it more convincing that there *was* something wrong with him because taking his frustrations out on wise, mild-mannered, friendly Sidney would have been out-of-character otherwise, but because it was clear he was avoiding something else and on edge it worked really well to actually get that point across. I feel like I could talk about all of the details of these scenes forever so I'm gonna move on but there were all sorts of little moments that really stuck with me as saying a lot about both characters and the tension between them and whatever it is that's making hawkeye act this way, up until the tension breaks and hawkeye remembers and there's a release and the process of getting better can actually start to happen.

*it wasn't particularly clear to me how long hawkeye was there, both before the episode starts and throughout the episode, although the latter couldn't have been too long because BJ only sticks around for a few days after he gets his travel orders right? but then in the time between getting the letter and coming back, BJ visits Hawkeye which leads to the breakthrough and then it's (presumably) at least a few days after that that Hawkey goes back to the 4077th and BJ has just left. idk the timeline of the episode seemed a bit jumpy to me. It's also not clear how long they're at the bug-out location before they return to the 4077th at the end. not that that's really important--timelines have also always been inconsequential on this show so why start questioning it now?

I loved the scene where they all talk to him on the phone and are so uncomfortable and walking on eggshells and don't know how to respond when he tells each of them, relatively crudely, how desperately he doesn't want to be there while also revealing the depths of his denial. Margaret calls him 'Hawkeye' which she literally never does and it just sounds so wrong coming out of her mouth because she's obviously trying way too hard to be casual. they just so clearly don't know how to handle it because it only makes it clearer that he does have to be there and while it breaks my heart and I, from a more watsonian perspective, wish BJ or Margaret or someone could've really shined in that moment and said something to actually make Hawkeye feel better or at least distract him and get some banter going, that awkwardness just adds to the overall tension surrounding Hawkeye's stay in the psychiatric war which makes sense.

moving on, the BJ-and-Hawkeye energy episode in this episode was so weird to me. I don't know how to explain it. I think know I'm not the only one absolutely insane about everything that goes on between them in this episode but it felt especially shocking to me, I think, because I finished the rest of season 11 about a week before watching GFA (i had a bunch of school work and exams to worry about and wanted to wait till I could afford to sit down and watch the whole thing and sit with it for a while) but in the meantime I've been rewatching season 1-3 episodes for shits and giggles. So the off-kilterness of BJ and Hawk in this episode felt especially stark against Hawk and Trap's easly synchronicity. I generally am not a huge BJ fan so his like I-have-a-kid superiority moments didn't sit well with me, as usual and there were a bunch of them but that's fine; I liked how BJ talking about little Erin, as he literally *always* does set Hawkeye off and how clearly afraid of/for Hawkeye BJ was in the scene where he visits him. I liked that he does pick up a pen and paper to write a note to Hawkeye but doesn't have the time to think of what to say. I feel like that was a redeeming moment for Trapper almost-- it's also parallel to Hawk not knowing what to leave for BJ in Where There's a Will There's a War (if I loved you less I could talk about it more vibes)--he even tells Margaret that there's too much to say. but I also like Hawkeye's annoyance at it when he comes back and mentioning Trapper too and that little moment of insecurity saying that maybe there's something wrong with him. even though he's overall a very self-assured and confident person, I like the moments we get to see that he has a very human response to specific criticisms or rejections from the people that he's closest to; Hawkeye loves deeply and wholly and I feel like this is him being worried that their friendship meant more to him than to BJ, and the same for Trapper. Plus it's indicative of him not being back to 100% post-breakdown and there. actually being something wrong with him.

I was a fan of how sort of distant Hawkeye felt to everyone when he got back as well. I'm a bit foggier on this train of thought so I'm not entirely sure if this was intentional or not but there weren't a lot of scenes with Hawkeye and the rest of the characters after he returns and they don't really ever talk about the fact that he was literally in a psychiatric hospital and it also felt kind of appropriate to me. I think, again, it would have been nice to have a heart-warming open conversation about feelings and such after this and Hawkeye generally is pretty big on sharing his feelings and telling his stories and I think he would have if asked, but the fact that no one really wanted to linger on the issue makes sense both for the time (~stigma~) and for the characters who don't want to be reminded that they could theoretically have had the same reaction, and who just want things to go back to normal. They do express concern for him in small ways but mostly they just pretend like nothing happened. I think Margaret was the least like this, she was worried before Hawkeye operated for the first time and I really loved the small scene between them after bandaging a kid up when she says they can take a break and asks how he's doing. She's really making an effort to be there for him check up on him and since I'm a sucker for a Margaret/Hawkeye bestie moment I really appreciated that. But we do sort of get to see that hawkeye gets gradually better, from his extreme shakiness first time back in the operating room to operating on the young girl despite being a bit freaked... but also in terms of slowly re-integrating himself into the social flow of the camp. He seems pretty isolated when he first gets back, not really present in a lot of group scenes, leaving the party, and then by the party at the end he seems pretty much at home again. I do like, though, how he never really returns to the energy he had before. he just seems a bit muted and while that breaks my heart, it's another example of how both he and the narrative can't just bounce back after seeing the extent of the war's toll on Hawkeye and pushing him basically to his breaking point.

some non-Hawkeye-centric drabble:

I really wish some time had been put into developing Klinger and Soon-Lee's relationship, as well as Soon-Lee as a character on her own, before GFA. I think we do get a good sense of what kind of person Soon-Lee is and I like her a lot and I think GFA handles that storyline relatively well considering the minimal set-up it has but it would've been nice to see Soon-Lee more involved in the camp before the episode and know what she's like beyond her desperate need to find her family, as well as how she's interact with other characters besides Klinger--like Margaret is bridesmaid at the wedding and they have a very sweet goodbye moment but we don't see them talk to each other once before that. that could have been an interesting friendship if they'd had the time. I also have mixed feelings about Klinger staying in Korea as an ending for his character overall. Like it's very sweet and is a meaningful choice within the Soon-Lee plot because he's sacrificing returning to the home he adores so much for her which shows how much he loves her but selfishly i feel cheated out of the satisfaction of Klinger finally getting to go back to Toledo, after 9 seasons (I don't think they mention he's from there before Adam's Rib in season 3) of him waxing poetic about it .

I liked Charles' arc in the episode too. He had the two things going on with the Chinese POW musicians and tiff with Margaret. I don't have much to say about it except that it all felt very in-character for him and sort of encapsulated the gradual breaking down of his walls that'd happened over the past 5 seasons within those two hours just to really remind you of how far he'd come. I don't have super strong feelings about Charles as a character but David Ogden Stiers' performance was phenomenal, as always.

I kind of wish more had happened with Father Mulcahy i think. All of the characters were so isolated, actually, not just Hawkeye. Aside from Margaret, Charles barely talks to anyone, Klinger and Soon-Lee are their own thing and Mulcahy relies on BJ and God alone in regards to his struggle as he comes to terms with being deaf. I feel like he doesn't really have much catharsis.

I really liked that Margaret decided to work in a hospital as a nurse instead of stay in the army after the war. I love that she decided to make a choice based on what she felt was most important instead of just to get approval from her father; and also her priorities have changed. She always took nursing very seriously and was concerned with being competent as well as compassionate but early seasons Margaret would not have made that choice regardless of her father as a factor. It seems self-evident that a main character in a supposedly anti-military show wouldn't want to be promoted in the military but by season 11.. who knows it could have gone another way. but that wouldn't have made sense for Margaret's character at all so I'm glad that they actually showed how much she grew and let her have a happy ending with herself at the center of it instead of the army, or her father, or a love interest.

The actual goodbye sequence at the end felt a little bit stale to me actually. Maybe because it was just so formulaic and practical like with them each taking off individually on different modes of transportation after saying an individual goodbye to each person. It felt a little bit hokey in that way, although i guess it did make sure that each character duo got a proper parting moment. Still sweet though and there were things I liked about each character's departure. the Hawkeye/Margaret kiss moment i have mixed feelings about. I really hated BJ and Hawk saluting Potter. and with all its faults I did like the Goodbye sign from BJ to Hawkeye.

I liked that it was actually kind of bittersweet because of BJ promising Hawk that they would see each other and that the note was "just in case" except Hawkeye doesn't hear any of that, he just sees the note. He doesn't hear the promise. but he got the goodbye he wanted. but maybe he thinks it's just BJ admitting to what he already thought which would be sad. just. so many feelings. so I guess it kind of works for me idk. I will also say that despite being a staunch piercintyre defender and generally disagreeing with most beejhawk theories, the final goodbye between them did more to convince me of repressed BJ than the other 8 seasons combined. Idk what it was about Mike Farell's performance in those few moments but i Got It for a minute before they hugged and Hawkeye ran off.

ok I think that's all I have to say for now. sorry for how long this ended up being but I did warn you lol. I'd love to hear any thoughts you, or anyone on mashblr reading this, have on my thoughts or just about GFA in general although I absolutely do not expect anyone to respond to everything I talked about here because it was kind of everything about the episode.

[qiinamii]

we'll do fine.

[inkskinned]

the thing is that they're so fascinated by sex, they love sex, they can't imagine a world without sex - they need sex to sell things, they need sex to be part of their personality, they need sex to prove their power - but they hate sex. they are disgusted by it.

sex is the only thing that holds their attention, and it is also the thing that can never be discussed directly.

you can't tell a child the normal names for parts of their body, that's sexual in nature, because the body isn't a body, it's a vessel of sex. it doesn't matter that it's been proven in studies (over and over) that kids need to know the names of their genitals; that they internalize sexual shame at a very young age and know it's 'dirty' to have a body; that it overwhelmingly protects children for them to have the correct words to communicate with. what matters is that they're sexual organs. what matters is that it freaks them out to think about kids having body parts - which only exist in the context of sex.

it's gross to talk about a period or how to check for cancer in a testicle or breast. that is nasty, illicit. there will be no pain meds for harsh medical procedures, just because they feature a cervix.

but they will put out an ad of you scantily-clad. you will sell their cars for them, because you have abs, a body. you will drip sex. you will ooze it, like a goo. like you were put on this planet to secrete wealth into their open palms.

they will hit you with that same palm. it will be disgusting that you like leather or leashes, but they will put their movie characters in leather and latex. it will be wrong of you to want sexual freedom, but they will mark their success in the number of people they bed.

they will crow that it's inappropriate for children so there will be no lessons on how to properly apply a condom, even to teens. it's teaching them the wrong things. no lessons on the diversity of sexual organ growth, none on how to obtain consent properly, none on how to recognize when you feel unsafe in your body. if you are a teenager, you have probably already been sexualized at some point in your life. you will have seen someone also-your-age who is splashed across a tv screen or a magazine or married to someone three times your age. you will watch people pull their hair into pigtails so they look like you. so that they can be sexy because of youth. one of the most common pornography searches involves newly-18 young women. girls. the words "barely legal," a hiss of glass sand over your skin.

barely legal. there are bills in place that will not allow people to feel safe in their own bodies. there are people working so hard to punish any person for having sex in a way that isn't god-fearing and submissive. heteronormative. the sex has to be at their feet, on your knees, your eyes wet. when was the first time you saw another person crying in pornography and thought - okay but for real. she looks super unhappy. later, when you are unhappy, you will close your eyes and ignore the feeling and act the role you have been taught to keep playing. they will punish the sex workers, remove the places they can practice their trade safely. they will then make casual jokes about how they sexually harass their nanny.

and they love sex but they hate that you're having sex. you need to have their ornamental, perfunctory, dispassionate sex. so you can't kiss your girlfriend in the bible belt because it is gross to have sex with someone of the same gender. so you can't get your tubes tied in new england because you might change your mind. so you can't admit you were sexually assaulted because real men don't get hurt, you should be grateful. you cannot handle your own body, you cannot handle the risks involved, let other people decide that for you. you aren't ready yet.

but they need you to have sex because you need to have kids. at 15, you are old enough to parent. you are not old enough to hear the word fuck too many times on television.

they are horrified by sex and they never stop talking about it, thinking about it, making everything unnecessarily preverted. the saying - a thief thinks everyone steals. they stand up at their podiums and they look out at the crowd and they sign a bill into place that makes sexwork even more unsafe and they stand up and smile and sign a bill that makes gender-affirming care illegal and they get up and they shrug their shoulders and write don't say gay and they get up, and they make the world about sex, but this horrible, plastic vision of it that they have. this wretched, emotionless thing that holds so much weight it's staggering. they put their whole spine behind it and they push and they say it's normal!

this horrible world they live in. disgusted and also obsessed.

[confessedlyfannish]

Writing Prompt #12

Bruce is reading the paper when the pour of Tim's coffee goes abruptly quiet. It would be hard to pinpoint why this is disturbing if it wasn't for the way the soft, tinny sound the vent system in the manor makes cuts out for the first time since being updated in the 90s. The pour, Bruce realizes, has not slowed to a trickle before stopping. It has simply stopped. And there is no overeager clack of a the mug against the marble counter or the uncouth first slurp (nor muttered apology at Alfred's scolding look) immediately following the end of the pour.

Bruce fights the instinct to use all of his senses to investigate, and instead keeps his eyes on the byline of the article detailing the latest set of microearthquakes to hit the midwest in the last week. Microearthquakes aren't an unusual occurrence and aren't noticeable by human standards, which is why this article is regulated to page seven, but from several hundred a day worldwide to several hundred a day solely in the East North Central States, seismologists are baffled.

Bruce had been considering sending Superman to investigate under the guise of a Daily Planet article requested by Bruce Wayne (Wayne Industries does have an offshoot factory in the area) when everything had stopped twenty seconds ago. That is what he assumes has happened (having not moved a muscle to confirm) in the amount of time he assumes has passed. His million dollar Rolex does not quite audibly tick but in the absolute silence it should be heard, which confirms the silence to be exactly that—absolute.

While Bruce can hold his breath with the best of the Olympian swimmers, he has never accounted for a need to remain without blinking without being able to move one's eyes. Rotating the eyeballs will maintain lubrication such that one could go without blinking for up to ten minutes. But staring at the byline fixedly, he estimates another twenty seconds before tears start to form.

These are the thoughts Bruce distracts himself with, because he doesn't dare consider how Tim and Alfred haven't made a (living) sound in the past forty-five seconds. About Damian, packing his bag upstairs for school after a morning walk with Titus that was "just pushing it, Master Damian".

There is a knife to his right, if memory serves (it does). In the next five seconds—

"Your wards and guardian are fine, Mr. Wayne," the deepest voice Bruce has ever heard intones. For a dizzying moment, it is hard to pinpoint the location of the voice, for it comes from everywhere—like the chiming of a clocktower whilst inside the tower, so overpowering he is cocooned in its volume.

But it is not spoken loudly, just calmly, and when he puts the paper down, folds it, and looks to his right, a blue man sits in Dick's chair.

He wears a three piece suit made entirely of hues of violet, tie included. He has a black brooch in the shape of a cogwheel pinned to his chest pocket, a simple chain clipped to his lapel. Black leather gloves delicately thumb Bruce's watch (no longer on his wrist, somewhere between second 45 and 46 it has stopped being on his wrist), admiring it.

"You'll forgive me," the man says with surety. "Clocks are rather my thing, and this is an impressive piece." He turns it over and reveals the 'M. Brando' roughly scratched into the silver back. He frowns.

"What a shame," he says, placing it face side up on the table.

"Most would consider that the watch's most valuable characteristic." Bruce says, voice steady, hands neatly folded before him. Two inches from the knife. To his left, there is an open doorway to the kitchen. If he turns his head, he might be able to get a glance of Tim or Alfred.

He doesn't look away from the man.

"It is the arrogance of man," the man says, raising red eyes (sclera and all) to Bruce, "to think they can make their mark on time."

"...Is that supposed to be considered so literally?" Bruce asks, with a light smile he does not mean.

The man smiles lightly back, eyes crinkling at the corners. He looks to be in his mid thirties, clean-shaven. His skin is a dull blue, his hair a shock of white, and a jagged scar runs through one eye and curving down the side of his cheek, an even darker, rawer shade of blue-purple.

The man turns the watch back over and taps at the engraving. "Let me ask you this," he says. "When we deface a work of art, does it become part of the art? Does it add to its intrinsic meaning?"

Bruce forces his shoulders to shrug. "It's arbitrary," he says. "A teenager inscribes his name on the wall of an Ancient Egyptian temple and his parents are forced to publicly apologize. But runic inscriptions are found on the Hagia Sophia that equate to an errant Viking guard having inscribed 'Halfdan was here' and we consider it an artifact of a time in which the Byzantine Empire had established an alliance with the Norse and converted vikings to Christianity."

"The vikings were as errant as the teenager," the man says, "in my experience." He leans back in his chair. "I suppose you could say the difference is time. When time passes, we start to think of things as artistic, or historical. We find the beauty in even the rubble, or at least we find necessity in the destruction..."

He offers Bruce the watch. After a moment, Bruce takes it.

"The problem, Mr. Wayne, is that time does not pass for me. I see it all as it was, as it is, as it ever will be, at all times. There is no refuge from the horror or comfort in that one day..." he closes his hand, the leather squeaking. And then his face smooths out, the brief severity gone. He regards Bruce calmly.

"You can look left, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce looks left. Framed by the doorway, Tim looks like a photograph caught in time. A stream of coffee escapes the spout of the stainless steel pot he prefers over the Breville in the name of expediency, frozen as it makes its way to the thermos proclaiming BITCH I MIGHTWING. Tim regards his task with a face of mindless concentration, mouth slack, lashes in dark relief against his pale skin as he looks down at the mug. Behind him, Bruce can see Alfred's hand outstretched towards the refrigerator handle, equally and terrifyingly still.

"My name is Clockwork," the man says. "I have other names, ones you undoubtedly know, but this one will be bestowed upon me from the mouth of a child I cherish, and so I favor it above all else. I am the Keeper of Time."

"What do you want from me?" Bruce asks, shedding Wayne for Batman in the time it takes to meet Clockwork's eyes. The man acknowledges the change with a greeting nod.

"In a few days time, you will send Superman to the Midwest to investigate the unusual seismic activity. By then, it will be too late, the activity will be gone. They will have already muzzled him."

"Him."

"There is a boy with the power to rule the realm I come from. Your government has been watching him. The day he turned 18, they took him from his family and hid him away. I want you to retrieve him. I want you to do it today."

"Why me?"

"His parents do not have the resources you do, both as Batman and Bruce Wayne. You will dismantle the organization that is keen on keeping him imprisoned, and you will offer him a scholarship to the local University. You and yours will keep him safe within Gotham until he is able to take his place as my King."

This is a lot of information to take in, even for Bruce. The idea that there could be a boy powerful enough to rule over this (god, his mind whispers) entity and that somehow, he has slipped under all of their radars is as frustrating as it is overwhelming. But although Clockwork has seemed willing to converse, he doesn't know how many more questions he will get.

"You have the power to stop time," he decides on, "why don't you rescue him? Would he not be better suited with you and your people?"

"Within every monarchy, there is a court," Clockwork. "Mine will be unhappy with the choice I have made," he looks at Bruce's watch, head cocked. "In different worlds, they call you the Dark Knight. This will be your chance to serve before a True King."

Bruce bristles. "I bow to no one."

"You'll all serve him, one day," Clockwork says, patiently. "He is the ruler of realms where all souls go, new and old. When you finally take refuge, he will be your sanctuary." He frowns. "But your government rejects the idea of gods. All they know is he is other. Not human. Not meta. A weapon."

"A weapon you want me to bring to my city."

"I believe you call one of your weapons 'Clark', do you not?" Clockwork asks idly. "But you misunderstand me. They seek to weaponize him. He is not restrained for your safety, but for their gain."

"And if I don't take him?" Bruce asks, because a) Clockwork has implied he will be at the very least impeded, at worst destroyed over this, and b) he never did quite learn not to poke the bear. "You won't be around if I decide he's better off with the government."

"You will," Clockwork says, with the same certainty he's wielded this entire conversation. "Not because he is a child, though he is, nor because you are good, though you are, nor even because it is better power be close at hand than afar.

"I have told you my court will be unhappy with me. In truth, there are others who also defend the King. Together we will destroy the access to our world not long after this conversation. The court will be unable to touch him, but neither will we as we face the repercussions for our actions. I am telling you this, because in a timeline where I do not, you think I will be there to protect him. And so when he is in danger, even subconsciously, you choose to save him last, or not at all. And that is the wrong choice.

"So cement it in your head, Bruce Wayne," the man says, "You will go to him because I tell you to. And you will keep him safe until he is ready to return to us. He will find no safety net in me. So you will make the right choice, no matter the cost."

"Or, when our worlds connect again, and they will," his voice now echoes in triplicate with the voices of the many, the young, the old, Tim, Bruce's mother, Barry Allen, Bruce's own voice, "I will not be the only one who comes for you."

"Now," he says, producing a Wayne Industries branded BIC pen. "I will tell you the location the boy is being kept, and then I would like my medallion back, please. In that order."

Bruce glances down and sees a golden talisman, attached to a black ribbon that is draped haphazardly around the neck of his bathrobe, so light (too light, he still should have—) he has not felt its weight until this moment.

Bruce flips the paper over, takes the pen, and jots down the coordinates the being rattles off over the face of a senator. By his calculation, they do correspond with a location in the midwest.

"You will find him on B6. Take a left down the hallway and he will be in the third room down, the one with a reinforced steel door. Take Mr. Kent and Mr. Grayson with you, and when you leave take the staircase at the end of the hallway, not the elevator."

The man gets up, dusts off his impeccably clean pants, and offers him a hand to shake.

"We will not meet again for some time, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce looks at the creature, stands, and shakes his hand. It feels like nothing. The Keeper of Time sighs, although nothing has been said.

"Ask your question, Mr. Wayne."

"I have more than one."

"You do," Clockwork says. "But I have heard them all, and so they are one. Please ask, or I will not be inclined to answer it."

"What does this boy mean for the future, that you are willing to sacrifice yourself for him?"

There is a pause.

"So that is the one," Clockwork says, after a time. "Yes. I see. I should resolve this, I suppose."

"Resolve what?"

"It is not his future I mean to protect," the man says. "It is his present."

"You want to keep him safe now..." Bruce says, but he's not sure what the being is trying to say.

"I am not inclined," Clockwork repeats, stops. His expression turns solemn, red eyes widening. In their reflection, Bruce can see something. A rush of movement too quick to make heads or tails of, like playing fast forward on a videotape. "Superman reports no signs of unusual seismic activity. With nothing further to look into, you let it go in favor of other investigative pursuits. You do not find him, as you are not meant to. He stays there. His family, his friends, they cannot find him. His captors tell him they have moved on. He does not believe them, until he does. He stays there. He stays there until he is strong enough to save himself."

Clockwork speaks stiffly, rattling off the chain of events as if reading a Justice League debrief. "He is King. He will always be King. He is strong, and good, and compassionate, and he is great for my people because yours have betrayed his trust beyond repair. He throws himself into being the best to ever Be, because there is nothing Left for him otherwise. We love him. We love him. We love him. My King. Forevermore."

The red film in his eyes stall out, and Bruce is forced to look away from how bright the image is, barely making out a silhouette before they dull back to their regular red.

"I am not inclined," Clockwork says slowly, "To this future."

"Because of what it means in the present," Bruce finishes for him. "They're not just imprisoning him, are they."

"They will have already muzzled him."

Clockworks is right in front of him faster than he can process, fist gripping the medallion at his neck so tight he now feels the ribbon digging into his skin.

"Unlike you, Mr. Wayne," and for the first time, the god is angry, and the image of it will haunt Bruce for the rest of his life, "I do not believe in building a better future on the back of a broken child."

"Find him," the deity orders, and yanks the necklace so hard the ribbon rips—

Clack!

"sluuuuurp!"

"Master Timothy, honestly!"

"Sorry Alfred!"

[thottybrucewayne]

I think what I want to get into with the "Anyone can do harm." thing that I keep beating yall over the head with is that literally anyone, anyone at all can do harm it's not "in your DNA" to be an abuser or written in the stars that you'll be a predator. Whatever image you have of an abuser in your head, drop it and replace it with your favorite person in the world and you'll probably be closer to the truth than you realize. It's easy to address harm when it's coming from someone you already hate. I see it happen all the time. Someone you couldn't stand for no real reason does something heinous then all of a sudden here comes the avalanche of "I always knew they were a fucked up individual." No, you didn't. There is no possible way you could have known, you just already didn't fuck with them before they started doing something you could use to justify your hatred of them. I'm guilty of it too! I'm petty, mean, vindictive, and yes! I'm way quicker to believe something bad about someone I hate versus someone I love because I'm human. Still, y all gotta learn to move past that initial "Well, they were always nice to me!" gut feeling and understand that nobody truly knows anyone and anyone can be capable of anything. Even victims. Even you.

[bet-on-me-13]

Steph's Year of Recovery

So! Danny noticed that a new face had made it's way into town. Two new faces actually, an older lady known as Dr Leslie, and a girl about his age called Steph.

He first met them when he was at the hospital for one of his parents. They had stood too close to an explosion again, and he met them while he was in the waiting Area.

Dr Leslie was a strict but obviously caring older woman, who seemed to be the one taking care of Steph as a kind of maternal figure, or maybe more like an Aunt. She greeted him simply and then walked away to talk with the Secretary, leaving him to talk to Steph.

Steph was a blond girl in a Wheelchair, and he could see bandages piking out of her clothes as he talked to her. She explained that she had been in an Accident a few weeks ago that left her wheelchair bound for a while, and that she had come to Amity for their surprisingly good Medical Centers.

He and Steph got along really well, and by the end of it he asked her for her Number so they could continue talking later. They stayed in touch, and when she was finally permitted to leave the Hospital, he introduced her to his friends. They all got along like a House on Fire, both figuratively and in one memorable case very literally (Vlad had pissed them off okay!)

Eventually Steph recovered enough that she moved from a Wheelchair to Crutches, and their shenanigans got even more chaotic (Vlad hadn't even pissed them off, this time was just for fun)

The only thing Danny could complain about was the fact that Steph was hiding something from them.

She said that she had been in an Accident a while ago, which was why they had come to Amity in the first place. But Danny knew it was more than that.

He could sense lingering traces of Death coming from her after all.

...

Steph honestly loved her current life.

Sure she had lost everything, her home, her health, her friends, her life, but she had gained new things too! Like Danny and the Gang! They were honestly some of the best friends she had ever had, and for some reason they just clicked with her instantly.

Danny was interesting and funny, Sam was vegan and a badass, Tucker was smart and witty, they all fit with her personality perfectly! It almost felt like she bad been friends with them for years. (She ignored the way her heart skipped a beat when she saw them)

But she still couldn't shake the sense that they were hiding something from her.

She knew it had something to do with the Ghost Problem in the town. And wasn't that a kicker, there was a whole Supernatural Ghost Outbreak in this Town and nobody knew about it. Dr Leslie had said that Amity was off the map enough to hide from Bruce, but she hadn't mentioned it was hidden from the Justice League itself!

Danny, Sam, and Tucker definitely knew more about it than they let on however. Whenever a Ghost Attack would happen, at least one of them would rush off with some practiced excuse and return after the Ghost Attack was over all dirty. She could guess what was going on, and she really didn't like it.

(This had killed her, she had died doing what they were doing, she didn't want to lose them)

Eventually she had to confront them, coincidentally on the same day they decided to confront her.

"Are you Vigilantes?" / "Did you die?"

"..."

"What?" / "What?"

[darkeneddawning]

Escaped clone au

You know all those fics where Danny and Damian are twins but everyone first assumes Danny must be a clone? How about an au where Danny is Damian's clone who escaped the League after he was assumed dead. Damian could even have been the one to have "killed" him, back when Danny was a newly created, fully brainwashed clone minion and trying to kill Damian himself.

Danny gets adopted by the Fentons and canon goes on as normal, until Dan. Witnessing what would happen to the world should he turn evil really drove home to Danny how dangerous he is.

Even if he was confident he could be trusted with his absurd amount of power (which he isn't), what if the League of Assassins found out about him? Does he still have programming triggers from his evil assassin clone conditioning?

So, Danny does the responsible thing: he goes to Batman to turn himself in.

Cue Danny showing up on Bruce's doorstep with ghost hunting equipment, intel on the afterlife, and an almost unbelievable backstory. Somehow he still managed to be more well-adjusted than Damian.

More thoughts under the read more

Here's how I'm thinking Danny leaving the League went down:

After surviving his wounds but failing his mission, Danny (then an unnamed potential Damian replacement) knew there was no point in returning to the League. As a failure, he was meant to be disposed of. He even thought of simply allowing himself to perish, since that was what the League would do.

But he couldn't help but feel as though that would be a waste of a resource. Surely he could be of more use to the League alive than dead?

That tiny bit of rebellious logic is what caused Danny to go into hiding, only living on based on the off chance he would find opportunities to further the League's goals. Obviously, that mentality didn't last long after being exposed to the real world and meeting one Jazz Fenton.

Being adopted by the Fentons was the best cover Danny could have asked for, since any odd behavior he couldn't hide while he was learning how to be "normal" was totally overshadowed by the sheer bizarre eccentricity of his new parents. He was still the neighborhood weird kid, but even that was a major upgrade from disposable tool, so Danny considered it a win.

Anyway, if anyone likes this idea, please feel free to have at it! Interpret it as you please :)

[claraoswalds]

#mrs flood who are you: time lord edition

[greencarnation]

eleven is fascinating to me because he came right off the back of tens horrible traumatic breakdown after he lost everything and he immediately tried to establish himself as the opposite of that. he is funny and goofy and almost childlike, and he bulldozes on in his adventures with amy like nothing happened at all. but then something happens and his masks slips and it's like oh! the core of this man is still anger. he is so so angry all of the time and this façade is the only thing stopping him from being consumed by it. he isn't over any of it and he hasn't moved on. he is wearing a fez and laughing but under that all that exists is age old anger and grief and it is going to consume him

[koiihpon]

Don’t wait up…

colored this panel from @thegunnsara's Back to the Past comic (part 6) :]

the bottom panel was so striking when I first saw it that I just needed to color it heheh sorry it took a while to finish ><

orig under cut vvvv

[lucabyte]

So does anybody else ever think about how Loop felt the need to demonstrate that the party's deaths wouldn't have any effect on the loops. I know I do but that's besides the point. Anyway I don't think Loop actually needs to bathe, they just like to feel included.

[theerastour]

the eras tour + details

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

[egophiliac]

so on the subject of the "Crowley is secretly Revaan/Laverne/Levin/please Twst give us his name" theory, I think my feelings are best summed up as "I don't really buy it, but it's funny". like, in all seriousness, I'm not opposed to it; I have enjoyed the writing in Twst so far and I'm willing to trust that whatever happens will, you know, make sense and not be terrible. but I'm just not really convinced by the current evidence! maybe that'll change once we learn more, we'll see!

with that said, may I propose a few alternate theories about the possible Crowley/Revaan connection:

[sysig]

Ah, childhood memories (Patreon)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Who will deal the most damage?