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#honestly it’s definitely someone you could/should use as a henchman. He won’t even realize. He will also destroy your lair
kicktwine · 2 years
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made a ninjago oc but all it wants to do is party
its name is WULFTRAX (all caps) and it’s playing this with zane extra info belooowww
pronouns: IT'S PRONOUNCED WOLF TRACKS LITTLE MAN (it/he/they) species: WULFTRAX. digital? like, it HAS skin, and a skeleton, presumably, just… not a human head. likes: game, rave dislikes: no rave wants: to party character motivation: biggest loudest party backstory: we think it came from prime empire, but that’s all we got. maybe an unused rhythm game dj…? strengths: WULFTRAX does everything at 100%, and it doesn’t tend to stick around after a fight. it isn't fighting to win, it's fighting to go hogwild. on its back are one to six doc ock-like arms made of wire and interwoven with the stuff in season 9 that triggered everyone’s elemental powers. weaknesses: can only attack on the beat, will only fight if there’s music. it’s actually not that strong, its robot arms and machinery do all the fighting. it prefers to fight/party using someone else — elementals party pretty hard, all their colors and glowing and exploding is its favorite. alignment: very chaotic neutral. it does things on impulse and regardless of morals. he doesn’t seem to want to hurt anyone, just wants to party, and if hurting someone is how you gotta party, shrug! you can sway him pretty easily with the promise of a better rave. it’s not that clever, there is no scheming with this thing, but it does somehow get a lot of machinery and builds massive batteries and speakers and light shows
speech conventions: IT TALKS LIKE A FRAT BOY MET A CHRONICALLY ONLINE GAMER. NOT THE MOST COMPLICATED SENTENCES LMAO.
it also yells like everything it says due to the speakers in its mouth. its favorite people to mess with are kai, jay and lloyd. they have the shiniest explodiest powers, and are more split-second competitive.
#WULFTRAX#my art#‘I have made an oc to help/be friends with the ninja’ I have made an oc to fight them. I have made an oc to pummel them#people have done this before HAHDIDBDHDH except WULFTRAX is 1) a horrible fighter and 2) stupid#ninjago#ninjago oc#honestly it’s definitely someone you could/should use as a henchman. He won’t even realize. He will also destroy your lair#and then go OH MY BAD DUDE and that’s the end of that topic. Now it’s in your fridge#the second two images — it wanted to play DDR with jay and then went BRO YOU WANNA HELP WITH THIS SET so now Zane tricked it into -#bargaining to let jay out of the battery and it immediately agreed and then said WE’RE PLAYING OSU and didn’t leave room for argument so#now zane is playing a rhythm game he’s never played to let jay AND KAI out of the batteries and stop the rest of them from dying in#human osu! which was going to be its dance floor (it forgot people die when they’re hit by lightning)#And ALSO now they should probably stop it from holding the most dangerous rave#if the stuff they have is enough to send an elemental into superpowered overdrive it’s probably not healthy for a regular dude#as a meta note.#it’s obsessed w thrillseeking and adrenaline because he’s been alone for so so long that any new sensations are obsession-worthy#obsessed with feeling things and being real. doesn’t know how to regulate its obsession with something bc it has no sense of moderation#its primary purpose is to make big noise big party like programmed into it is its DJ sets. So now it makes the biggest loudest brightest#sets not understanding that this much noise/power can hurt someone or itself bc hurt is in fact an interesting sensation to it#it doesn’t KNOW this or underSTAND it. And it wouldn’t listen if told. BUT! that’s its pathology#IT HAS NO CONCEPT OF DEATH THERE IS NO THIS IS TOO DANGEROUS. THERE IS ONLY DA PORTY#it and porty mk would be besties#rule of cool with this thing. its cars are big its sets are big its music is loud and it’s got a giant flamethrower and a piano to drop#It broke from its programming but that doesn’t mean it broke from its programming yfeel#hrmmm.... yes........ self indulgent shiny loud digital dogmanthing#ill tag three of em theyre getting situations#kai smith#zane julien#jay walker
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Canary, Part 16
First
Previous
So… fighting people while injured, even if it’s not a particularly long or difficult fight, is apparently a bad thing. Marinette didn’t feel it until the adrenaline wore off, but the moment it did it hit her like a freight train. She’d had to lean against a nearby building, her hand cradling her ribs, trying her hardest to keep her breathing under control.
When that didn’t help as much as she would have liked, she called Danielle.
“Hey, so, hypothetically… what do you think would happen if I ignored the bedrest thing --.”
“The fuck?”
“Sorry?”
“You don’t sound sorry.”
“Hahahaha anyways so what I did was... so, like, I may or may not have, maybe, sort of, um…” She swallowed thickly. Her mouth tasted of copper, which was never a good thing. “Scaled a two-story building, crawled through some vents, flipped a guy that’s over a foot taller than me over my shoulder, lifted said guy back to his feet, and then jumped off the roof? You know… as you do?”
“You do not get to say ‘as you do’ what the fuck that is not a normal thing --.”
“How long do you think it’ll be?”
Danielle sighed and she could hear her count to ten under her breath. When she finished, she said: “... can you afford an extra few weeks? Because that’ll at least set you back half a month. I’d say an extra month and a half but...”
“I hope I can,” Marinette said, biting her lip. Had Emma told Joker how long the doctor had prescribed she took time off? Because if she already did that then there was no way Joker was going to allow the extra few weeks.
Not that Marinette thought she would be able to go that long without doing anything at all, she supposed, but she would love an excuse not to see his pasty face.
“I’ll have to prescribe painkillers if you don’t --.”
“No.”
Danielle scoffed a little but didn’t press it. A lot of Gothamites had seen what painkillers could do to people. And, from what Marinette could find about the woman, Danielle was a perfect example -- she’d struggled with the workload of going to med school and having a job at the same time, she’d gotten hooked, and it had promptly ruined her life. Of all people, she wasn't going to question why someone wouldn’t touch the stuff.
“At least try and stay out of trouble this time, okay?”
Marinette huffed a little (and then winced when her ribs protested it). “I do! The job really hadn’t been that bad today. Trouble just has a way of finding me.”
The doctor only laughed.
~
It was late at night, but it was cold in her apartment (the heater was broken, which was a surprise to absolutely no one considering how cheap the apartment complex was) and she couldn’t fall asleep. So, Marinette had been making macaroons for Tikki when she’d heard a knock...
On her window. She knew the distinct sound of gloved knuckles hitting glass by heart thanks to the occasional vigilante dropping by her safehouses for help with wounds they didn’t want the Big Bad Bat to see.
But they didn’t know that she was Canary, bats wouldn’t be coming by for her first aid capabilities.
Unfortunately, she could think of one other person that wore similar gloves that had already gotten into her apartment through the window. And he probably wanted his miraculous back, so there was a motive for his sudden appearance.
She didn’t want him in her apartment again. This was her house. It was supposed to be safe.
(Not that her houses have been feeling all that safe ever since Cobblepot had figured out who she was.)
She could hardly breathe -- a feeling she was getting far too used to for her liking. She brought a shaky hand up to the hollow of her throat, pressing on the tiny indent in her collarbone. It was a pressure point, she thought she remembered, it was supposed to help calm her down.
It wasn’t working.
She pulled a knife from her knife block and slowly crept around the wall that cordoned off her bathroom.
Her eyes scanned the apartment for anything that was off. Nope, it seemed that he’d stayed outside… she looked out the window...
Oh. It was Red Robin.
This was… marginally better. Maybe.
Marinette put the knife back and walked over. She bent down to unlatch the window lock and let Red Robin in.
He clambered through the window once she had moved out of the way. He closed it behind himself and, though she knew that was just so it would be harder for eavesdroppers to hear their conversations, it made her skin crawl.
He noticed, apparently, because he didn’t even lock it and he kept a wide berth as he walked around to stand in the middle of the living room part of the apartment, by the couch.
“You should have checked to make sure that it was really me,” Red Robin said and she fought back a wince. That was his work voice.
“Well, no one else would wear an outfit that awful.”
Her voice came out flat. She was still anxious and it was throwing her off. She picked at the fingers of her gloves, pretending to be very interested in a nonexistent loose thread as she tried her hardest to push down the emotions that shouldn’t be there in the first place.
He was there to interrogate her, sure, but that was fine. She’d faced far worse interrogations before, had interrogated people in far worse ways before. This was nothing new, she could handle this.
Knowing she would be fine, though, wasn’t enough to relax her.
She took a deep breath to get herself under control then cringed. Broken ribs shouldn’t be so hard to remember. She brought her hand up to rest over the injury.
“Are you alright?”
His tone had softened a little, but that only made her bristle. She didn’t want his pity. Not when she could see a burn she had caused poking above the neckline of his suit.
“I’ll be fine in a month.”
(Okay, actually it was closer to a month and a half to two months since she had irritated the injury, but who cares about those kinds of technicalities?)
“What about you? Are you…?” She couldn’t finish the thought. She didn’t want to know if it wasn’t going to get better. She knew they were on opposite sides, but that didn’t mean she liked the idea of them getting hurt. They were…
Well, they weren’t friends.
They were like rival football -- sorry, soccer -- teams. On opposite sides, but they held little actual malice for each other.
He seemed to sense the genuine unease she felt at the idea of him being hurt because of her, because he gave the ghost of a smile.
“I’ve had worse.”
She picked at her gloves again. She wanted to take them off to pick at her nails but even the idea of taking them off in front of someone was enough to make her feel a little sick.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to but I needed to make sure you wouldn’t come and arrest me or my friends immediately and I thought that would distract you but it was kind of a dick move and --.”
He cut her off with a chuckle.
Heat rose to her cheeks.
She cleared her throat awkwardly. “Right, the point that I was trying to get to was that I didn’t actually want to hurt you… it was just...”
She didn’t have the words to excuse what she had done. She could only shrug lamely.
Some of the amusement faded. “It’s fine. Like I said, I’ve had worse. It’s an occupational hazard. For both of us, apparently.”
“I -- yeah -- I’m sorry about that, too. I honestly didn’t think we’d all become friends and I felt kind of bad about not telling you but -- but I just couldn’t.”
“I get it.”
She raised her eyebrows just slightly.
He sighed lightly and leaned back against the couch. “I do. You couldn’t tell me. I’m the textbook definition of a narc. You were just looking out for yourself.”
She managed a stiff nod.
But now she didn’t really know where to go. Why was he there? Why hadn’t he told the other bats yet? Was it that they were also narcs and he was protecting her? Why? Sure, he said it was fine that he had blown her up, but she doubted that it was really fine. People were like that, saying things that they didn’t mean because they didn’t want it to be awkward.
The questions swirled around in her head, each one clamoring to be the first one to be voiced. But she still couldn’t seem to come up with any one question to ask.
“I don’t get it,” Red Robin said when it became clear she wasn’t going to be saying anything for a while without prompting.
And, wow, that sentence was exactly what she had needed to pull her out of her thoughts. Because what?
“You just said…?”
“I don’t get why you’re a henchman,” he clarified. “It doesn’t make sense.”
Her frown deepened. It wasn’t all that hard to understand, she didn’t think.
“... because I need money to live, and I don’t really have many other options when it comes to getting it,” Marinette said, her tone making it obvious just how stupid she thought he was. Which wasn’t fair to him, Red Robin was a born and bred rich kid (she knew this fact in her bones, though he would never admit anything like that for fear of her finding out his secret identity), but it was simply obvious.
He shook his head. “It just doesn’t line up. You look up to heroes so you clearly have morals, why would you give that up for money?”
She scoffed at that. Because the real Marinette Dupain-Cheng had done more than looked up to heroes -- she had been one. But even that hadn’t been enough to keep her from becoming Canary when push came to shove.
“Morals are a privilege, Red.”
The lenses of his domino widened.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I drew a line in the sand and, when it became clear that line wasn’t going to be enough for me to survive, I stepped over it and drew a new one. You say you’ll never break a law, and then you say you’ll never hurt anyone, then you say you won’t hurt someone that doesn’t deserve it, and then you say you won’t hurt kids… and then one day you wake up and you realize that there isn’t that many more lines left to cross and the first line you’d made is so far behind you that you can’t even dream of getting back to it.”
Marinette swallowed thickly. She was too close to this, this was way too close to real for her. She hated the old feelings that this case was dredging back up. She hadn’t felt this awful -- this helpless -- in such a long time and she didn’t want to feel this way.
Red Robin didn’t seem to notice, at least, far too stunned by what he was hearing to notice the tears brimming in her eyes.
“But -- but you haven’t even been here that long!”
And he was right. The process had gone fast for the fake Marinette, she’d gotten a job not that long after she had officially arrived in Gotham… but she had an explanation for that:
“I don’t have any other options. You can look up my name and find article after article talking about how I stalked a hero. There goes all the legal options, no one wants someone like that representing their company. And, since Canary exists and has no problem going undercover, most of the Rogues don’t hire Asian women if they don’t have a Rogue vouching for them, saying that they’re a real person and not just someone trying to give information to their competitors. So, I’m stuck with Joker.”
He reached a hand out like he wanted to hug her. She didn’t make any moves to stop him, but he still thought better of the action and let his hand fall limp at his side.
The silence in the room was deafening.
And then, he broke it: “Let me help you.”
That simple sentence had nearly broken her.
Because those were the exact words she had been longing to hear.
They were just many years too late.
Why now? She wanted to scream.
“Why me?” She asked instead.
“Because I care about you,” Red Robin said softly.
The tears in her eyes were getting harder and harder to hold back and she needed to channel that into something more productive.
Anger. Anger was productive. Usually.
“Your job means you’re supposed to care about everyone. Why me?”
He didn’t answer that. Instead, he said: “You clearly want out.”
“Everyone does. Why me?”
He looked a little frustrated. Marinette knew the feeling.
“If everyone wants out then why are you so mad about it?”
Why would she be mad about it?
Marinette found an answer with ease: “I don’t know, Red, probably because I almost had to fight a kid to the death in order to get a job with Joker -- and the best option I could give was to send him to Scarecrow instead. Or because there’s two sixteen year olds working with me… and Benny is smart, he was in honors classes, he skipped grades, he got a full ride scholarship, so it’s not a lack of potential. They’re all good people -- and, above that, they’re kids. If anyone deserves out, it’s them. So, for the last time: why me?”
He couldn’t seem to find an answer. His mouth hung slightly open, as if he was shocked at the outburst.
“Say it. Say the quiet part out loud,” Marinette dared him.
She didn’t actually want to hear it, though. She didn’t want him to say that ‘I care about you more than them’. Marinette liked to think that she’d ended up the way she had because she was inadequate in some way, that if she had tried a little harder or that if she had been just a little more skilled maybe she might have gotten out in a legal way. It was what kept her sane. It was a personal problem, not a systemic one. Personal problems could be fixed, systemic problems never would be. But this entire job challenged that very ideal. Because this ‘Marinette Dupain-Cheng’ she had created was close to the one that had existed ten years ago, but this Marinette was getting so many more opportunities... she was friends with a Wayne and the bats. It had only been three and a half months and she had already found two different ways that she could have gotten out, but if she could do it now then that meant she had always had the capability. It meant that the thing that could have saved her -- no, that the thing that had doomed her was nothing more than bad luck and a lack of good connections.
Maybe Red Robin knew that she didn’t actually want to hear it, or maybe he just couldn’t bring himself to say it… but, whatever the reason, he turned around and made his way towards the window.
“I know I’m a bad person, Red. We both can see that. And that’s fine. But you don’t seem to know that you’re not a good person, either.”
He glanced back at her, lips drawn in a thin line, but didn’t say anything. He simply slipped out the window and disappeared into the night.
She let herself sink to the floor and bury her face in her knees.
She’d gotten what she’d wanted.
So, why did it feel so awful?
~~~
SpoilerAlert: canary totally has a knife kink
TheBetterCanary: what the fuck
SpoilerAlert: why else would you use knives almost exclusively
TheBetterCanary: because theyre quiet
TheBetterCanary: and stabby
SpoilerAlert: you’re so right i’m so sorry
~~~~~
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