#justice league watching in horror as his left overs try to kill him: what the fuck what the fuck what the fu-

[spacedace]

Okay but the Justice League finds out their new baby hero teammate Phantom is the Ghost King by virtue of the Fright Night showing up while they're in the middle of a meeting, looking terrifying and such and scaring the shit out of everyone- even more so when Constantine starts freaking out over the fact that the sworn night of the King of the Infinite Realms is in the Watchtower what the fuck that's apocalyptically bad Pariah Dark is supposed to be locked the fuck up forever - but instead of trying to smite them all or yeet them into the nightmare dimension he just pulls out a space themed packed lunch??? And gives it to Phantom??

And the mildly eldritch giant murder ghost is talking about how "The Queen Mother commanded me to ensure you ate my Lord, she says you missed your morning meal."

And Phantom is just grumbling about over protective sisters and "there's a cafeteria i would have been fine" what the fuck is happening right now?

What do you mean "oops you forgot" Phantom I thought the ghost thing was just a theme!

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Could you review The Revelation? I want to hear your thoughts on this whole dramatic development

Short answer: This one is proof that there are plenty of good ghost-written Animorphs books.

Long answer: You know what stands out to me every time I reread #45? How well it balances the different moods of the series. It isn't easy to include humor in a story that is first and foremost about a kid sacrificing his entire life as he knows it in order to save his parents from being enslaved by invading aliens... and yet, there's a pretty good balance of humor in here.

We open on a light sequence, where Marco is bragging about his unsurpassed culinary talents as he pulls a freezer pizza out of the oven. We get a hard left turn from silly family talk into horror, when Marco realizes the family talk is about z-space. We get the tense sequence that ends with Peter quietly telling his son "I get it. You've been through hell", even as Marco plots his stepmother's end. We get a hilarious sequence with Ax failing at piloting a broken Bug fighter, with a few heartwarming notes about Marco's affection for his friends. We go straight back to horror when Marco has to contemplate sacrificing his team to save his mom, and realizes that the mom he's getting back is more damaged — and way more bloodthirsty — than the one he lost.

This isn't mood whiplash between humor and horror (see: Justice League). It's not the characters randomly forgetting the stakes of the story long enough to get out a snappy one-liner (see: Umbrella Academy). It's actually quite balanced.

But, like, it's all one story. Because the light-and-funny sequence over dinner starts with:

The front door opened. Dad's... cheeks were flushed. He looked like he'd just struck oil. "Hello, family!" Okay, that was more enthusiasm than I wanted to see. And the word family, when applied to anyone but me, Dad, and my real mom, would always sound very weird. To worsen the nausea, Dad pulled a bouquet of flowers from behind his back. They were not for me.

This is sweet, it's funny. Flowers in the U.S. are overwhelmingly a romantic gesture, so Marco's unnecessary exposition about "they were not for me" reads like a sarcastic aside. Marco's also getting a positive response to having cooked, and is basking in the appreciation of his efforts. But. There's the "weird" feeling. There's the "nausea." Because Marco also knows that his dad's second marriage is built on a lie, one told by yeerks to forward their own planet-destroying goal. This isn't Justice League putting the "What's your superpower?"/ "I'm rich" exchange 30 seconds after we watched hundreds of Amazons sacrifice their lives trying to contain an unstoppable threat. It's ambivalence: a mixture of positive and negative emotion, not even bittersweet so much as some bitter, some sweet.

Later on, when they're stealing the Bug fighter, again there's that shift to the silly. Ax is trying to claim it's going so badly because "I think the cockpit was modified for a mutant taxxon... with twice the normal number of appendages" (suuure, kid). Rachel is grumbling about how he has "the makings of a great heating-and-cooling engineer" because he can only seem to get the climate control working. Finally Ax resorts to flying as wildly as possible in the hope autopilot will kick in and stop him, putting the ship in freefall straight toward the water, and Marco thinks:

Great. Killed by autopilot. Totally humiliating death. Then — the image of my mother popped into my head, as I'd seen her in the Yeerk pool, at the trial, bones broken... She'd begged me to let Visser One continue to control her. Because she knew it might give Earth a better chance for survival. If she could take that... I could deal with being at the mercy of autopilot. I glanced out one of the windows. Ocean and forest and city lights were dropping away, like a high-speed pan-out from a satellite camera. For just an instant, I could make out the dots of lights that were the city. The stadium, the business district, the 'burbs, and the boonies... It was like we'd reached the end of some massive, invisible rubber band. I'd shot off too many rubber bands during math class not to know what would come next. Was I distressed? Yes. Oh yes, I was.

There are a lot of moods in that half-a-page. Marco's hysterical and almost giddy over the ridiculousness of them all being tossed around inside the Bug fighter by a yeerk program's shitty cruise control. And then he remembers the stakes of this mission, and that his mom is awaiting execution alongside Visser One because she chose to go back right now. The shift to determination and anxiety leads into the almost magical moment of weightlessness at the top of the Bug fighter's trajectory, when they're up so high they can see the whole California coast stretched out below them. And then it's straight back into giddy-hysterical-terrified, as gravity inevitably reverses now they're out of momentum.

This is a lot of emotion to get into about half a page. Marco's giddy with fear and sarcastic about it, when suddenly he remembers why he has no right to complain. That moment of shifting from terror to resolve as he remembers his mom leads into another moment of unexpected calm, as the kids travel high enough to see the whole California coast below them. And then the pause stops as the ship runs out of momentum, and the inevitable swing back into terror takes over.

This isn't Umbrella Academy, where machine gunfire is meant to be sweet/silly when it's the Handler firing at Liliah and horrifying/violent when she's firing at the Hargreeveses the following episode. The stakes remain the same throughout this sequence; it's just that Marco's focus goes from the immediate to the broad and then back to the immediate.

And the shift from one mood to another is logical. It makes sense, and we can follow Marco's thoughts. He's afraid for good reason, he shifts from fear to determination for good reason, he shifts from determination to melancholy, and then he goes back into fear. And his mental journey is paralleled by the physical motion of the Bug fighter rocketing up to the edge of the atmosphere, hanging there for a second able to see the streetlights and the stars, and then plummeting toward the Earth. Anyone who's ever ridden a roller coaster can relate.

So, like, this one isn't perfect. The writing is rough in a handful of places. But I think it has a lot of what makes Animorphs good going on as well.

[night-fallz]

We’re Tired of Him

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Wally interrupts game night.

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Ao3 // Wattpad

previous II next

We’re Tired of Him (part 2)

Dick stared at the cards in front of him, eyes tentatively drifting to Tim and Jason.

Jason’s brows were furrowed before he slowly put down a +4, cheekily grinning at Tim. “I choose red.”

Tim’s face was blank, eyes switching from the stack of cards on the table to the ones that he was holding. In the end, he gave Dick a mischievous grin, putting down another +4. “I want green.”

Dick groaned and the cave was filled with his brothers’ laughter, they gave each other a high five while Dick grabbed 8 cards from the deck.

“You guys are cheating.” he accused.

Jason shrugged and Tim raised an eyebrow, neither one saying anything.

Jason had five cards left and Tim had three. Dick would be winning if it wasn’t for that stupid +8 trick they pulled off.

He put down a green card, leaving him with nine cards.

“Uno,” Tim called out, not flinching when Dick glared at him.

No one said anything for a few seconds until Dick’s voice cut through the silence. “I don’t want to play anymore.”

Tim gaped at him, “That’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair is the fact that the two of you are conspiring against me.”

“We are not!”

“Are too.”

“Are not.”

“Are too!”

“Jason, tell Dick that we weren’t cheating.”

Jason stared back at the two of them, unimpressed. “We weren’t cheating.”

Tim gave him a victorious look. As if he was trying to say, see. Jason agrees that we weren’t cheating, so we obviously aren’t cheating.

“That doesn’t prove anything.” Dick cried out, “Why would Jason admit that you guys were cheating?”

Jason frowned, “Are you accusing me of lying?”

“Yes!”

“That’s not very nice of you, Dickie.”

“I don’t care if it’s not nice of me. You’re cheating and I don’t want to play with a bunch of cheaters.”

Laughter filled the air and Dick turned towards it, launching himself towards the intruder.

Behind him, Tim took a defensive position, bo staff in his hand and Jason had his guns out, ready to shoot the intruder.

With rubber bullets, of course.

The intruder groaned in pain, “Well, at least I know that it doesn’t matter how old you are. You’re still a very sore loser.”

Dick glanced down, getting off the person when he realized who it was. “Sorry, Wally.” he apologized, offering his hand to pull the red-head up.

Tim frowned, “What are you doing here?”

“Yeah,” Dick added on. “Didn’t you guys have a mission or something?”

Wally sped over to the closest chair and sat on it, “Yeah, but we finished it pretty quickly.”

Wally’s eyes were focused on his hands and Tim followed the speedster’s gaze, noticing how they seemed to fidget.

Tim inwardly frowned, was there a problem or something. Everyone in the Justice League knew that the Batcave was off limits. And even then, they didn’t make an effort to try and enter it.

Wally was lucky that Dick was here or else Batman would’ve had to deal with him.

Thankfully, Jason spoke up, “There better be an emergency or something cause it's game night. And you just interrupted it.”

Wally opened his mouth, “You know Damian right?”

Tim stared at Wally, “Yeah, we know Damian. He’s our brother, you idiot.”

“No- I mean- like- I-“ Wally sighed, “I know he’s your brother, it’s just-“ he groaned, “I don’t know how to explain it.”

Tim wanted to groan as well. This was supposed to be game night. A bonding experience. He didn’t want to talk about Damian.

He would be lying if he said that he still didn’t harbor a grudge against the youngest member of the Wayne family.

When Jason tried to kill him, he was under the influence of the Lazarus Pit. And afterward, he apologized to Tim.

As far as Tim knew, Damian wasn’t under the influence of anything. All Damian said was something about how Tim wasn’t worthy of becoming the Wayne heir and tried to slice him with a sword.

Bruce said that he had a talk with Damian about it but the brat never apologized, so Tim hasn’t forgiven him.

Dick’s voice snapped Tim out of his thoughts, “Did Damian do something again?”

“Kind of.” Wally waved it off, “He was just acting like- well, himself.”

Tim winced, that was still pretty bad.

“What did he do?”

“It’s not important.”

“It must be pretty important if you risked going to the Batcave.” Jason pointed out.

“That’s actually not why I’m here.”

It was Jason’s turn to frown. None of this shit was making sense.

He knew that he should’ve just stayed with Roy.

Jason was under the impression that they would be playing games. You know, hanging out, making a mess, being forced to bond like brothers and all that shit.

He didn’t want to talk about the demon brat.

And if anyone asked, the answer was yes. He was still mad at the little Christmas gift Damian got him last Christmas.

What the fuck gave the kid the idea to give Jason a crowbar as a gift?

Jason still had nightmares about his death. The crowbar did nothing but made those horrors come more often every night.

He fought off the shiver that threatened to make its way upon his body.

“If you weren’t here to talk about the demon, then what did you want to talk about?”

Wally faced them, “You wouldn’t happen to know a way to get the bra- Damian to relax would you?”

Jason heard Tim snort at the question, “Trust me. If we knew a permanent way to get Damian to stop being so uptight, we would’ve used it by now.”

He studied the speedster, narrowing his eyes when Wally started to avoid their gaze.

“Wally,” Dick was using his i-am-the-leader-so-you-have-to-listen-to-me voice. “What are you trying to say?”

“I mean, what if we get him drunk.”

Jason blinked, “You want to get Damian drunk.”

When Wally nodded, Jason continued, practically yelling. “Why the fuck would you want to get Damian drunk? He’s gonna kill you.”

Tim shook his head, his mind already coming up with a million scenarios of how this would end up. “How did you even come up with the idea that getting Damian drunk would help him relax?”

“Getting him drunk won’t help him relax at all.” Jason pointed out, “It’ll probably only make him even more uptight and paranoid.”

Jason’s blue eyes glinted with something Tim couldn’t decipher, “Unless that’s not what you’re after. You want to get the brat drunk for another reason.”

Wally nervously nodded, “You caught me. Well us- I guess. The team and I wanted your permission to get Damian drunk so that we can learn more about him and gain blackmail material on him.”

Tim froze, mouth open in shock.

That was a lot of information.

Dick sat down, his head beginning to hurt.

He could see the appeal in learning more about Damian. He’s been living in the manor for around two years now and they still don’t know much about him.

If Damian opens up about his past, then it’ll be easier for the family to help him. It’ll be nice for Damian to start getting comfortable with people. After all, that was the whole reason that Bruce signed him up for school.

And who knows, maybe his baby bird could make a new friend or two. Cause Dick knows full well that he doesn’t have any at the moment.

The cave was engulfed with silence, except for the sound of Wally’s feet nervously tapping the floor.

In the end, the speedster himself was the one who cut through it. “So…” Wally’s voice trailed off, “Do I have your permission?”

Tim’s eyes were focused on the ground. “I don’t care what you do to the brat but I want to be in the tower when it happens.”

Wally smirked, nodding in acceptance. “Deal,” he turned to the others “What about you guys?”

Dick shifted uncomfortably in the chair, his back was stiff and Tim could see how conflicted his eyes were. With a little bit of probing, he knew that he could convince his oldest brother to agree to Wally’s demands.

“Come on Dick,” Tim said, his lips tugging upwards. “Aren’t you even remotely curious about what Damian will say?”

When Dick doesn’t answer, Tim continued. “You know that Damian has a hard time with, um, interacting with people. This is probably the only way we’ll get him to open up.”

He could see the gears turning in Dick’s head and Tim realized that he was so close. All he had to do was push a little more.

“Doesn’t Damian deserve it? Damian deserves people who understand him. People that’ll be there for him. Hasn’t Talia fucked up his life enough?”

Dick clenched his fists at the mention of the Al Ghul, “Fine.” He spat out, “But only because Damian needs this.”

Tim raised an eyebrow at him, not believing a word. “Alright.”

Dick wasn’t stupid. He knew that Tim was trying to manipulate him into agreeing. But it also doesn’t change the fact that his brother was right.

Talia did mess up Damian’s life. She was the reason that he hasn’t opened up to anyone yet. Why he was treated like such an outcast with the other capes.

If all Dick had to do was get his little brother drunk, then he would do it.

Tim turned to his predecessor, “And you Jason?” he asked. His head was tilted innocently but his eyes were calculating him.

Jason knew he would be outnumbered if he disagreed. It also doesn’t help that Tim had his I-can-get-you-to-agree-with-anything-face on.

He groaned in defeat, burying his face with his hands. He knew that he should’ve stayed with Roy tonight. After this, he would never go to a game night again.

He looked at Tim’s determined face and sighed, “I’m not gonna be able to stop any of you anyway. I’m in as well.” his lips formed a smirk, “It won’t hurt to gain blackmail material on the brat.”

Damian better watch out because the next time he puts a crowbar underneath his pillow, Jason was gonna send the video of him being drunk out of his mind to everyone that he was in contact with.

Jason knows that Tim would help him.

“So you all agree?”

“Yes.”

“You’re agreeing to getting your brother drunk.”

“Yes.”

“Huh, okay. Great.”

Wally’s face turns mischievous and it reminds Dick of when they were kids. Back when they just started with the whole vigilante thing.

“So are you guys free for the rest of the night?”

“Wait,” realization hit Tim like the brick that Steph threw at him. “You guys are planning on doing this tonight?”

Wally nods, “Well, yeah. The sooner the better you know?”

“And when exactly did you guys come up with this plan?”

Wally rubbed the back of his neck, “Like about two hours ago? We were just talking and it escalated from there.”

Tim doesn’t know how you can go from talking to conspiring an idea on getting a teammate drunk. At least, not unless-

“You know, you can admit that you were talking about Damian.” Tim leaned forward, “You guys aren’t the only ones that talk badly about him.”

“Tim!” Dick cried incredulously, “You shouldn’t talk about Damian like that.”

He shrugged in response, “You do it too.” he said, “Remember when you first met him?”

He felt his face turning red and he turned away from Tim, hoping he wouldn’t see his face. “That was a long time ago.”

“You were also complaining about him yesterday.”

“I was not.”

“Was too.”

Tim folded his arms, “So you’re a sore loser and a liar.”

Dick fought hard to suppress a groan, “You guys were cheating.” he cried out. “I don’t play with cheaters.”

Jason faced Wally. “What they’re trying to say is that yes. We’re all free tonight.”

Wally smiled brightly. “I knew that you guys would be okay with this.”

Jason nodded, deciding he should be nice for once and not point out how Wally pale and nervous the speedster was before he asked the question.

For someone with super speed, Wally took way too long to get to the point.

He could see why he was friends with Dick.

“You know,” Wally’s tone got Dick’s attention. It was the one he always used where he wanted to embarrass someone. And Dick was usually the target. “I remember you hacking the Mario Kart back when we used to play.”

“Did I?” he put on his best confused face, “I don’t remember that ever happening.”

Dick definitely remembered that happening. He beat a speedster at a racing game. Hacked or not, he was still the winner.

Tim pointed an accusatory finger at him, “I knew it. You’re the cheater.”

Jason shook his head in agreement, “Dickface over here has the biggest competitive streak. Remember when he put the steak in his shorts just so he could prove to everyone that he was Titus’s favorite?”

Dick forced a frown on his face, “Funny thing is, I don’t remember that happening. At all.”

“That took place two days ago!”

“I have bad memory…?” he meekly offered.

Tim scoffed, “We’re never having a game night with you again.”

“You say that every week.” Jason pointed out.

“Well, I’m serious this time.”

“Uh-huh.”

Tim didn’t like the amount of attention that was now focused on him so he turned to Wally, “So how are we going to get Damian drunk?”

“We were just gonna spike his drink.”

Tim swore, “You can’t just spike Damian’s drink. He’s gonna figure out that you guys are acting weird and realize what you’re doing.”

Wally fidgeted under Tim’s scrutinizing gaze, “Well what do you suggest we do?”

Tim smirked and Dick swears that the room just got colder.

“The kid is pretty much a prodigy at everything vigilante related thanks to his training, but he sucks at socializing.”

“Well, yeah. Isn’t that why we want to get him drunk?” Wally asked, not seeing the point in what Tim is trying to see.

Tim answered the redhead's question with a “Well, yes.” before continuing at his attempt to tell everyone his plan.

“But what I’m trying to say is that we can overwhelm him. Me and Jason will help set everything up in the tower and Dick will bring Damian there.”

“So we’re throwing a party?”

Tim furrowed his eyebrows, “I mean, if that’s what you want to call it, then yes.”

It was Dick’s turn to frown, “Why do I have to be the one to bring him in?”

“Cause he likes you better than any of us.”

“But still,” Dick groaned. “It’s gonna be so hard to convince him.”

“That sounds more like a you problem than it sounds like an us problem.”

“This is unfair.”

“Call it paying me and Jason back for accusing us of cheating.”

Before Dick could reply, Wally sped away, taking his brothers with him. And before he could even blink, they disappeared via zeta tube.

They left Dick alone in the cave, with the board games still out.

He rolls his eyes in annoyance, mumbling under his breath as he cleaned up the mess.

“Who gave Bruce the idea to adopt more children past me. If he wanted more children, why couldn’t he make sure that he got the ones that cleaned up after themselves and didn’t cheat while playing UNO.”

He huffed, proud of himself when he accomplished the task.

Now all he had to do was convince Damian to come back to the Titans’ tower so that they could help him.

How hard could that be?

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note: okay, I reread this whole series so that I could get inspired to write this chapter. And can I just say, my writing was not as bad as I thought it was. Like I’m actually pretty proud of myself. 

That was really random but yeah.

(like I always ask, please comment any ideas, feedback, and criticism that you have. i love reading them. Oh! and if you see any spelling errors, please tell me. I don't have a beta reader so I mostly miss those things.)

[davidmann95]

How about those JL storyboards?

In case you haven’t heard, Zack Snyder is putting on display the ‘storyboards’ - i.e. a rough plot summary accompanied by some Jim Lee sketches - for what would have been Justice League 2 and 3, or as this puts it 2 and ‘2A’. You can see them here (I imagine better-quality versions will soon be released), and read a transcript here. This is evidently a very early version: this was apparently pitched prior to the release of BvS and Justice League being rewritten in the wake of it, with numerous plot details that now don’t line up with what we know about the Snyder Cut, plus it outright mentions it builds on the originally planned versions of the Batman and Flash movies. But it’s a broad outline of what was gonna go down, and while I initially thought it was Snyder throwing in the towel, the timing - paired with the ambiguity left by the necessity for changes, including that this doesn’t factor whatever that “massive cliffhanger” at the end of the Cut is - says to me he’s hoping this’ll be a force multiplier behind efforts to will sequel/s into existence. He’s probably right.

I’ll be discussing spoilers below, but in short: with this Zack Snyder has finally lived up to Alan Moore, in that like Twilight of the Superheroes I wouldn’t believe this was real as opposed to a shockingly on-point parody if not for direct, irrefutable evidence.

Doing some rapid-fire bullet points for this baby to kick us off:

* Folks who know the subject say a lot of this is a yet further continuation of Snyder doing Arthuriana fanfic with the League reskinned over those major players, and I’ll take their word for it.

* I don’t know whether I love or hate that in Justice League 2 the Justice League are only an extant thing for the first scene, and then it’s Snyder giving everybody their own mini-movies. It’s compressing the entire MCU “loosely interconnected solo stories leading to a single big movie later” strategy into a single movie!

*  Funniest line in the whole thing: "Even Lantern has heard of the Kryptonian, worried that he's under the control of Darkseid. He heard his spirit was unbreakable." Hal what fuckin' Superman movie did YOU watch? Second funniest being “IT WILL GIVE HIM POWER OVER ALL LIVING LIFE”

* 90% of the plot I have nothing to say about, it’s generic stage-setting crap. That to be clear is the ‘shocked it’s Snyder’ element, it feels so crassly commercial in a way I can’t believe is coming from the BvS guy.

* Most of what I have to say is unsurprisingly gonna be about a handful of characters but Cyborg’s happy ending being “he isn’t visibly disabled anymore!” is not great!

* The Goddess of War battle with Superman...never pays off? No clue why it’s there.

* What I’d originally heard was that the Codex in Superman’s blood was the last key to the Anti-Life Equation and that’s why Darkseid was coming to Earth. It’s not like all of this wouldn’t have already been averted by Kal-El’s pod smacking into an asteroid on the way to Earth so it’s not as if this makes it any more Superman’s fault, and it would have at least tied all this back to the beginning of the movies, but I suppose that was either fake or from a later draft.

* I have NO idea how this was reimagined without the ‘love triangle’, it’s the central character thing and the entire climax flows directly out of it!

* Darkseid’s kinda a chump in this, huh

Anonymous said: So: Does Zack Snyder hate Superman?

Look: the hilarity of this when Cuck Kent has been a go-to Snyder cult insult towards ‘inferior’ takes on Superman for years cannot be understated, yet at the same time I can almost wrap my brain around where Snyder’s coming from with that as the end for his take on the character. He talked in that Variety piece on how his interest in Superman is informed by having adopted children himself, and Deborah Snyder is the stepmother to his kids by previous relationships, so I can see where he’d be coming from, and I can even imagine how he’d see this as ‘rhyming’ in the sense of “the series begins with Kal-El being adopted by Earth, it ends with him adopting a child of Earth!” In the same way as MARTHA, I can envision how he would put these pieces together in his head thematically without registering or caring what the end result would actually look like. In this case, Superman raising the kid of the man who beat the shit out of him who Batman had with Clark’s wife, who earlier told Bruce she was staying with Clark because he ‘needed her’, suggesting if inadvertently that this really honest to god was a “she’s only staying with Superman out of pity, she really loved Batman more” thing.

But Clark is nothing in this. He’s sad and existential because of coming back from the dead I guess, then he’s corrupted, then time’s undone and he woo-rah rallies the collective armies of the world (interesting angle for the ‘anti-military/anti-establishment’ Superman he’s talked up as) as his big heroic moment in the finale, and then he stops being sad because he’s adopting a kid. So his big much-ballyhooed, extremely necessary five-movie character arc towards truly becoming Superman was:

Sad weird kid -> sad weird kid learns he’s an alien, is still weird and sad, maybe he shouldn’t save people because things could go really wrong? -> his dad is so convinced it could go wrong he lets himself die -> ????? -> Clark is saving people anyway -> learns his origin, gets an inspiring speech about being a bridge between worlds and a costume -> becomes superman (not Superman, that’s later) to save the world, albeit a very property-damagey version, rejects his heritage he just learned about and space dad’s bridge idea -> folks hate him being superman and that sucks though at least he’s got a girlfriend now -> things go so wrong he considers not being superman but his ghost dad reminds him shit always goes wrong so he should be good anyway, which sorta feels like it contradicts his previous advice -> immediate renewed goodness is out the window as he’s blackmailed into having to try and kill a dude but the dude happens to coincidentally have some things in common so they don’t kill each other after all -> big monster now but superman keeps supermaning at it because he loves his girlfriend and he dies -> he’s brought back, wears black which apparently means now he likes Krypton again? -> he has work friends now but he’s still sad because he was dead -> evil now! -> wait nevermind time travel -> rallies the troops -> his wife’s having a kid so he’s not sad anymore -> Superman! Who gives way to more Batman.

Do I think Zack Snyder is lying when he says he likes Superman? No. I think he sincerely finds much of the basic conceits and imagery engaging. But I don’t think he meaningfully gives shit about Clark as a character, just a vessel for Big Iconic Beats he wants to hit. Whereas while for instance he’s critical of Batman as an idea (at least up to a point), he’s much more passionately, directly enamored with him as a presence and personality. So while Superman may be the character whose ostensible myth cycle or arc or however it’s spun might be propelling a lot of events here, it’s a distant appreciation - of course the other guy takes over and subsumes him into his own narrative. Of course Batman is the savior, the past and the future (though if he’s supposed to be Batman’s kid raised by Superman there’s no excuse for him not to be Nightwing), the tragic martyr to our potential. Admittedly the implication here is also that Batman can apparently only REALLY with his whole heart be willing to sacrifice his life to save an innocent, for that matter apparently his great love, once said innocent is a receptacle for his Bat-brood, but he and Clark are both already irredeemable pieces of shit by the end of BvS so it’s not like this even registers by comparison.

Anonymous said: That “plan” Snyder had was utter dogshit. Picture proof that DC & WB hate Superman. Also I love how you’re like Jor-El: Every single idealistic take you had about Snyder, his fandom, and BvS was wrong. Snyder’s an edgy hack, his fanbase just wants to jerk off to their edgy self-insert Batgod as he screams FUCK while mowing people down with machine guns, and the idea that BvS said Superman was better than Bats was completely wrong. You know what comes next SuperMann: Either you die or I do.

In the final analysis, beyond that mother of god is there sure no conceivable excuse for the treatment of Lois in this? The temptation is to join that anon and say as I originally tweeted that these were “built entirely to disabuse every single redemptive reading of the previous work and any notion of these movies as nuanced, artistic, self-reflective, or meaningful”.

...

...

...yeah, okay, that’s mostly right. Zack Snyder’s vision really was the vision of an edgelord idiot with bad ideas who was never going to build up to anything that would reframe it all as a sensible whole. He’s a sincere edgelord genuinely trying really hard with his bad ideas who put some of them together quite cleverly! But they’re fucking bad and the endgame was never anything more than ramping up into smashing the action figures together as big as he could, the political overtones and moral sketchiness of BvS while trying to say something in that movie reverberated through the grand scheme of his pentalogy in no way beyond giving his boys a big sad pit to rise out of so when they kicked ass later it’d rule harder, and all the gods among men questions and horror and trappings were only that: trappings. Apparently he’s really pleasant and well-meaning in person, but at his core his art as embodied in a couple weeks in his 4-hour R-rated Justice League movie meant to be seen in black-and-white all comes down to that time he yelled at someone on Twitter that he couldn’t appreciate Snyder’s work because it’s for grown-ups. He made half-clever, occasionally exciting shit cape movies for a bunch of corny pseudo-intellectual douchebags, folks latching onto and justifying blockbusters that at least acknowledge how horrifying the world is right now even if the superheroes are basically useless in the face of it if not outright part of the problem until a convenient alien invasion shows up to justify them, and a handful of non-asshole smart people who vibe with it but...well. ‘Suckered’ is a harsh word, and definitely doesn’t apply to all of them re: what they’ve gotten out of it up to this point and would (somehow) get out of this. But it doesn’t apply to none of them, either.

[what-if-i-imagine]

What if Jason had gone to Sanctuary and died with Roy... how would the batfam react?

I’m sorry if this is not exactly what you asked for (I added in a splash of Jayroy) but I hope you enjoy it!

The alarms had gone off and the Justice League snapped into action. Something had happened at Sanctuary, what they didn’t know yet. All of the cameras and ways to contact them had been shot in a power surge, so they were left with having to go to the center themselves.

When they got there, it was a bloody mess.

The bodies of patents were strewn across the center in shows of bloody death, and they couldn’t find a single one left alive. Many members of the League searched among the victims in panic and grief, finding friends and family alike dead. Booster Gold and Harley Quinn were discovered to be the only survivors, neither having seen what happened.

This place that had been created for others was filled with the bodies of those it was supposed to help. They had died while looking for help.

Green Arrow and Batman were searching among the bodies, praying to not find any of their loved ones there. Nightwing followed Batman right on his tail, calling all the hero numbers in his phone in hopes that they would pick up.

Superman and Wonder Woman tried to stop them from entering one of the rooms. At first they hadn’t understood why. This was just as much Batman’s work as it was Superman and Wonder Woman’s, they had created this place together. Then Nightwing had gotten to Arsenal’s contact, and he hadn’t picked up.

“Let me in,” Green Arrow shouted at the two members of the trinity stopping them. “Let me in! Let me see my son!”

“Oliver please,” Diana started.

“No! Let me see him!”

While Oliver’s shouting distracted them, Batman shoved past his two friends. They couldn't catch him before he took in the sight of the room, and Green Arrow was soon able to push past them as well with a crying Nightwing right behind him.

The room was covered in chaos, the metallic scent of blood tinging the air. Batman remembered when this room had been designed. It was meant to help people, just like the rest of Sanctuary. He had made this place to help people, and it had instead killed them. Like lambs to slaughter.

They found the Flash’s body first. Wally West was added to Batman’s mental list of people whose lost souls would weigh down on his conscience, because he had promised Wally that he could heal here.

The next two bodies they found sent Batman to his knees.

Arsenal laid on the ground, his head rested near Flash’s. The second body lay next to Arsenal, head and one hand pillowed on his chest. Arsenal’s hand was on his head, as if trying to comfort or protect. Both were bloody, both clearly long gone. And though the second body’s face was pressed to Arsenal’s chest, its attire was immediately recognizable.

Nightwing screamed but the sound didn’t register in his mind. Green Arrow was crying beside the two bodies, hands flitting in the air as they shook.

“Roy,” Green Arrow sobbed brokenly. “I’m so sorry. I should have been here. I should have protected you.”

“B,” Nightwing said, grabbing his arm like a vice. “B it’s-”

“I know,” Batman said. His voice was rough, ragged. He didn’t care to try and control it. To hide it. This hurt too much to bear alone.

Batman reached out with arms that shook just as badly as Green Arrow’s and gently pulled the body draped over Arsenal’s into his lap. The body rolled over with dead weight, head lolling back off of Batman’s lap.

Batman reached up and cupped the face, moving it so it would face him, and let out a cry that had been building in his chest.

“Arsenal and Red Hood came to sanctuary together,” Superman said as softly as he could, reporting the information he must have read from a chart. “Arsenal wanted to kick his addictions for good, start recovery from the death of his daughter, and learn to cope with the horrors he witnessed every day. Red Hood wished to finally permanently move on from his first death at the hands of the Joker, and to cope with the grief of being disowned from his family and kicked out of his city, as well as the disappearances of the other two members of the Outlaws.”

Batman pushed off his cowl and cradled his son’s broken body close, resting his head on top of his. He didn’t hide his tears. He didn’t have to. Everyone was broken today.

Oliver refused to let them take Jason’s body back to Gotham. He had said he didn’t trust the bats with his burial, as the last time they had buried him they had done so right next to the very woman who sold him out instead of his mother or the Waynes. Instead he insisted on Jason being buried in Star City with Roy, right next to the grave of Lian Harper.

It only took a day for all members of the Batfamily to fly over to Star City. They would be staying a week there, three days before the joint funeral and four days after. With the help of the other League members, both the Wayne and Queen families achieved privacy from the public eye for their grieving.

Dick was destroyed. His two best friends and his younger brother were found dead in the same room, so no one could blame him. For once the usual support of the family, of the entire super community really, was allowed to crumble and rely on the others to pick him back up.

Cass was impossibly quieter than usual, no words escaping her mouth, no sound in her movement. Her face was blank as she resigned herself to the grief and shut down.

Tim cried. The tears never seemed to stop, and even as he tried to refuse comfort, one of his friends was by his side at all times. He cried, and when on the second day he finally couldn’t cry anymore, his tears turned to anger directed towards his father. Tim had worked so hard to get Jason back in the family, and Bruce had thrown all his work away.

Duke tried to hide away. He locked himself in his hotel room, and stayed in the back of groups, and hid. When Tim’s tears had turned to anger, Duke’s silence had turned to tears. He talked to Jason just like he had talked to his parents when he lost them.

Damian was angry. He blamed anyone he possibly could, including himself. No one could go near him without suffering his harsh, searing words. Not even Talia was allowed near him without getting burned. When he wasn’t blaming others, he was curled up on his bed surrounded by his pets.

Steph, Harper and Cullen all tried to help the others, but it didn’t do them much good. They traded off on helping put Dick together again, trying to coax Cass out of her shell, comforting Tim and Duke, and pretending Damian’s words didn’t hurt. They busied themselves so that the reality that Jason was gone wouldn’t crash down on them yet.

Leslie refused to go to Star City until the day of the funeral.

Talia showed up, and swore to Bruce that she had no intention of putting Jason through the Lazarus Pit again. She couldn’t bear to bring that pain on him again. She busied herself with helping prepare the funeral.

Alfred went through intervals of crying silently into his hand and trying to help the others. His efforts were weak despite how hard he tried. He didn’t have it in him to be strong when everything was so wrong.

Bruce blamed himself. Jason had gone to Sanctuary party because of something he had done. Jason had died a second time seeking comfort for something Bruce had done. His son was dead again, and it was all his fault. And he wasn’t coming back this time.

When the day of the funeral came they all shut down. The bats were known for their emotional repression, and the arrows had never been much better, so they stood on that grassy hill silently after the ceremony and watched as the coffins, Jason’s first followed by Roy’s. They had been engaged, so it wasn’t hard to convince the service they were going through to bury them in the same grave as they would with a married couple.

Each member of the families placed their handfuls of dirt in the grave. They watched as the graves were covered in dirt, but didn’t move or speak.

Bruce stared at the grave of his son and the man he had planned to marry. He stared at the tiny grave beside them of Lian Harper. He stared at the faces of his family and friends. He stared, and he knew, nothing was going to be okay again. Not for a long time. It was something he had known the first time Jason died, though the knowledge had been filled with much more devastation that time. This time he was resigned to the knowledge because he knew from past experience, not even the world’s greatest detective could solve the mystery of how to make this okay.

[thegizka]

Order and Control

Writer’s Month 2020 Day 2:  Quarantine

When Bruce is exposed to a dangerous virus, he quarantines to prevent further spread until the Justice League can develop an antidote. Unfortunately, his children keep ignoring his orders.

Read it on Ao3.

Note: I do not own any aspect of DC or Batman.

Bruce waited until the lock on the hidden door clicked behind him before turning on any lights.  This safehouse was unlikely to be discovered, carved into the mountains of Montana with no one in a hundred mile radius, but now was no time to be lax in security.  He moved through the small kitchen and sitting area, bypassed the bed, and tapped a pattern on the stone wall to open an access panel.  After entering the correct security codes, the wall folded away to reveal a secret room housing a computer and an assortment of equipment that might be useful in a pinch.  Someone had left an empty bag of chips in the bin beneath the computer desk.  He made a mental note to remind his children of the importance of discarding all traces of themselves when leaving safehouses.

A few minutes later, he’d turned on the computer and connected to his network.  Bouncing his signal around the globe to discourage tracking, he sent a message to the Watchtower.  A second later, Clark appeared in a video feed.

“I take it you made it safely?”

“I’m here,” Bruce grunted.  “Were you able to find any trace of this thing?”

“Barry and Victor are still in the lab analyzing the samples you sent.  They haven’t found anything yet.”

“How are you feeling?” Diana asked, leaning into the frame.

“Fine so far.”

“You should have come back to the Watchtower.  The investigation would move faster if we could monitor you more closely.”

“We all saw the bodies,” he growled.  “Minimizing exposure is the priority.  If we can stop these bioterrorists before they release this virus, we won’t need a vaccine.”

“You need it.”  Clark frowned.  Bruce knew he agreed with Diana and would prefer Bruce isolate closer to people who could care for him.

“I will run what tests I can here and link them to the Watchtower.  I trust Barry and Victor will find the solution.”

“Do you need anything?” Diana asked.  “We can be there in a heartbeat.”

“No,” he said emphatically.  “Don’t.  And don’t tell anyone where I am.  No one can know.”

Clark and Diana exchanged a look that said they didn’t agree with him about this either.  But they had seen the horrors this virus had done to these bioterrorists’ test subjects.  They knew it was too dangerous to risk.

“We won’t,” Diana promised.

“Stay safe, Bruce.”

“You too.”

The video went blank.  Bruce sat in the silence of the safehouse for a moment.  He had stared at his own death so many times that he wasn’t scared for himself.  He was just frustrated that he couldn’t be on the front lines with the rest of the Justice League.  He had been foolish to investigate alone, stumbling onto the test site and inhaling the virus from a partially-empty canister.  He should have been more careful.

With a sigh, he hauled himself to his feet and began preparing the science equipment that he had at his disposal.  He’d already shed his suit and secured it in an impermeable bag.  He would set up a secure, sanitized lab space and swab it for residue, though so far the only traces they’d detected had been found in biomatter.  He would take frequent blood and breath samples, both to monitor his condition and try to isolate the strain for vaccine fabrication.

There were a lot of tests to run.  It would be a long night.

-----

Bruce awoke late in the morning noticing two alarming things.  The first was that his throat felt sore.  It wasn’t a sign of dehydration.  He had been careful to drink plenty of fluids to help his body remain strong as it fought against the virus.  The second was a vehicle pulling into the hidden garage and killing its engine.

He scrambled to the computer to pull up the security camera.  The fact that someone had found the entrance and not set off any alarms meant it was someone who knew this safehouse.  It was probably one of his kids.

Sure enough, he saw a mop of familiar dark hair emerge from a compact sports car.  A shorter, crisper head of hair jumped out of the passenger seat.  A jolt of fear chilled Bruce’s spine, accompanied by a waterfall of questions.  Had they touched the Batmobile parked next to them?  Had he brushed against the walls on his way to the entrance last night?  Had he remembered to disinfect the door?

“Dick, Damian, don’t move,” he called through the comm system he’d had installed three years ago.  He saw them stop.  Bless them for having the sense to listen.

“Father, what is going on?”

“You shouldn’t be here.  Go back to Gotham,” he ordered.

“B, are you okay?”  Dick took a step forward, and the panic spiked again.

“I am.  I’m just busy.  I need you to watch Gotham for a few days.”

“Are you working on the bioterrorism case?” Damian demanded.  He shouldn’t have known about that.

“Vic told us you may have been exposed,” Dick explained.  “Babs got a ping of activity from this safehouse last night, so we came to see if you were okay.”

His eldest son always did have a bleeding heart.  He let his emotions override his good sense.

“If I have been exposed, that’s reason for you to leave.  I can’t spread it to anyone else.”

“If you are in danger, Father, we should help you.”

“You can help by keeping watch over Gotham until this is over.”

“But-”

“Come on, Damian.”  Dick took his brother’s shoulder gently.  “There’s nothing we can do here right now.”

The youngest Wayne resisted for a moment.  Bruce saw so much of his own stubbornness in him.

“Be safe, Father,” he ordered before turning back to the car.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, B,” Dick called.

“Take care of them, Dick.  I’ll be back soon.”

A modicum of relief returned when he watched them drive away, but he couldn’t shake the unease their arrival had caused.  He was surprised they’d found him so quickly.  It was a little upsetting that Cyborg felt more loyalty for his former Titans teammate than the Justice League, but Dick had that sort of magnetic pull.  Bruce felt guilty for forcing his eldest into the responsibility of Batman’s duties and watching over his siblings, but it couldn’t be helped.  He just hoped he could keep the rest of them away and safe.

He reached for a glass of water to try and soothe his throat.  A basic medical check revealed no fever and an average heart rate.  He pricked his finger for a blood sample.  He hadn’t found anything decipherable from the tests he ran last night, perhaps because the virus had been too new in his body.  Hopefully today’s efforts would be more fruitful.  He popped a lemon cough drop into his mouth and got to work.

-----

Late that night, the purr of two motorcycle engines signalled new visitors.  Bruce was still awake, pouring over data from the case and taking notes on the progression of his infection.  Most of the potential side effects could be attributed to the strain of his night life, but until they had a better understanding of this virus, he was meticulous in his documentation.

The security feed revealed Jason and Stephanie parking their bikes near the garage wall.  They must have spoken with Dick because they wore respirators and chemical-repellant suits.  Jason had towed in a trailer piled up with equipment of some sort, indicating they intended to be there for a while.  The chill of panic returned.  This was not good.

“You two need to leave,” he ordered using the comms.  His sore throat and lack of conversation made his voice sound hoarse.  He reached for his water.

“Hey Bruce, you don’t sound so good.  Are you doing okay?” Stephanie asked in concern.

“I’m fine,” he insisted.  To support his claim, his voice came through more clearly.  “I’d be better if you both left.”

“No can do,” Jason grunted, lifting a stack of tarps sealed in plastic out of the trailer.  “We’re under orders from Alfred to make sure you don’t die.  We’re not going anywhere.”

“Yes you are,” he insisted, starting to feel helpless.  They couldn’t be here.  The risk was too great.  “I am ordering you to leave.”

“Too bad, Old Man.  I stopped following your orders years ago, and Stephie ain’t your kid or your Robin.  Your orders mean nothing to us.”

“Alfred’s, however,” Stephanie interjected, “sure do.  But don’t worry; he gave us very specific instructions on how to disinfect everything and keep you safely quarantined while we help.  You’ll be in good hands.”

He didn’t need to be in good hands; they did, and them being here was not safe.  But they had obviously come with the intention of staying, and they were more likely to ignore him than his other kids.  He wanted to argue, but he had to turn away to cough.  His throat felt raw, and it took him a while to regain his breath.  By the time he looked back at the garage feed, they had finished unloading and were going about Alfred’s instruction.

“Please,” he croaked in a final effort to discourage them, “just leave.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Stephanie asked, ignoring his plea.

“Save your strength Old Man.  We’re not going anywhere.”

Bruce sighed.  He didn’t have the energy to argue with them.  At least they were taking safety precautions.  They pulled one of the tarps over the Batmobile and sealed the edge to the garage floor with tape.  Jason started constructing a portable sanitizing chamber right in front of the door while Stephanie grabbed cleaning materials and went about fumigating every exposed surface.

“Make sure you ventilate properly,” Bruce instructed.  She raised a hand in a thumb’s up to acknowledge his advice but didn’t pause her work.

“Hey Bruce,” Jason said, laying tarps over the framework and sealing them tightly, “Dick seems to think this is pretty bad.  Is it?”

“You’d be more helpful working with the League to find the source, not here.”

“You never do answer our questions,” he grumbled.  “That’s only going to make them worry more, you know.”

Bruce noticed that he’d said “them”, and it stung a little that Jason had omitted himself.  He wondered if he had ever felt like part of the family, or if Bruce’s cascading screw-ups as a mentor and father had driven him away.  Even now, he had no idea how to connect with him.

“Get some rest, Old Man,” Jason said, sorting through filtration hoses to hook up the sanitizing system in the chamber.  “Steph and I don’t need you supervising if you’re not going to help.”

Bruce couldn’t think of anything to say, so he turned back to analyzing the data from the case.  He kept the security feed up in the corner of the computer screen so he could check on them while he worked.  There was some comfort in that.

-----

He awoke the next morning disoriented.  His throat burned, and his breath felt slow to fill his lungs.  He was fairly certain he had fallen asleep at the computer in the safehouse, but the conversation he was hearing was reminiscent of days in the Manor.

“Sleep.”

“He has to get up at some time, Cass.  Otherwise the food Jason made will go to waste.”

“And I need to ask him some questions about this data.”

“Tim, have you heard anything else from Leslie?”

“No.”

“So even the doc is stumped.”

“She has assured me that the best resources will be allocated to our mission.  Pennyworth will contact us as soon as progress is made.”

“Vic is monitoring her research, too.  He’ll let us know if the League comes up with anything.”

“It’s kind of nice having a friend in the League.  We used to have to hack the Watchtower to get their data.”

“The old man would have a conniption if he knew.”

“Security breeeach,” Tim growled in a Batman parody voice.

“Con-nip?  Shun?”

“One word.  It’s basically a tantrum,” Barbara translated automatically.

“Don’t worry about learning it, Cain.  Todd is the only one who speaks with such outdated language.”

“I’m pretty sure I heard you call your wallet a pocket book the other day, so maybe rethink that statement.”

Bruce sat up slowly.  His limbs felt heavy, and both feet tingled from a lack of oxygen.  He could tell this wasn’t normal fatigue.  He’d pushed his body to its natural breaking point often enough to feel the difference.  He felt as though he were barely in control of himself.

“Hey guys, it looks like Sleeping Beauty is awake,” Barbara called.  “Hi Bruce.”

A chorus of voices and a jumble of words penetrated the ringing in his ears.  There was a new video feed on his computer.  Glancing at the security feed, he saw that someone had set up a sort of control center in the garage.  Wires criss-crossed between the monitors and blinking machines, disappearing into carefully concealed access points in the floor and wall.  Tim and Barbara were camped in the center of it all, but everyone crowded together when they heard he was awake.

“How are you feeling B?” Dick asked.  He and Damian had returned, bringing Cassandra, Tim, and Barbara with them.  The growing number of people camping in the garage was perplexing, especially when he wanted everyone to stay away for their safety.

He tried to say he was fine, but his voice wouldn’t work.  He devolved into a coughing fit.  It took a good minute to catch his breath afterwards.  He wished he didn’t have to see the looks of worry on their faces.

“There’s a nebulizer outside the door in the sanitizing chamber.  Leslie provided some medicine that might help,” Tim said.

“Jason made some soup, too,” Stephanie added.

“Alfred’s worried about you living on whatever freeze-dried nonperishable shit you have in there.”

“Language, Todd.”

“Can you get up, or should I bring it to you?” Barbara asked.

“No,” Bruce croaked, the panic oozing through him.

“Relax Bruce, we have a robot we can send in,” Tim reassured him.  “We won’t get anywhere near you.”

“We have thought of everything, Father.  Do not resist this care.”

Barbara tapped a few keys on her keyboard, and Bruce heard the lock on the door slide.  A moment later, the mechanical whirring of wheels grew gradually louder.  A multi-tiered platform rolled into the room.  A sealed bowl of soup sat on one shelf, the condensation on the lid indicating it had been packaged some time ago.  Someone had placed a few bottles of water next to it.  A portable nebulizer sat below it with a bag of medication and supplements from Leslie’s clinic.

“You should let me drive that sometime,” Stephanie whispered to Tim as the robot came to a stop.  The lock on the door clicked back into place in the other room.

“When you get a chance,” Tim said, “I have a few questions about the data you gathered from the test site.”

“Hang on there, Timmy.  The guy just woke up.  Let him eat his soup in peace.”

“This is a time-sensitive issue, Todd.  The sooner we get information, the sooner we can stop these terrorists and help Father.”

“Eat, then questions,” Cassandra insisted.

“I agree,” Dick declared.  Bruce could see the intention to argue further leave his siblings.  Did he know how influential he was over them?  “The League and half of our contacts are working on this.  We can spare twenty minutes to let Bruce eat in peace.”

“It’s time for patrol anyway,” Jason announced, pushing himself away from the crowd.  “Demon Spawn, you’re coming with me.  All this motor traffic may have caused some curiosity and suspicion.”

“From what?  Mountain goats?” he scoffed, but he followed Jason out of the garage.  Bruce was surprised he hadn’t commented on the nickname.

“Clean plate club,” Cassandra said, looking straight at Bruce through the camera.  She was serious enough to make him chuckle, but his throat couldn’t muster the sound.  She followed her brothers out to patrol.

“I’m going to see if I can boost our signal now that there are seventeen machines trying to use our network,” Tim announced.  “Want to help me, Steph?”

“Sure.”  She skipped to catch up with him as he headed for the exit.

“No making out until you’re done,” Barbara called.  “I want to see results!”

“You’re one to talk,” Stephanie teased before she and Tim disappeared.

That just left Dick and Barbara, the original Robin and Batgirl.  Bruce opened the soup under their watchful eyes, moving carefully with his slow limbs.  He knew they were waiting for him to say something, but they also knew to give him time.  He didn’t mind their scrutiny as he sipped his soup, unable to handle more than little gulps with his sore throat and labored breaths.  They would read into every movement he made to extrapolate how far the virus had progressed.  Bruce wondered how much they had shared with the others.

“Gotham?” he whispered when the soup had soothed enough of his throat to give him a voice.

“Duke, Kate, Luke, and Harper are taking care of things.  Alfred is coordinating from the Batcave.  Dick reached out to Zatanna, and she’ll be around for backup.  Everything’s under control.”

“You, on the other hand, have definitely looked better.”  Concern was written all over Dick’s face.

“Have we found them yet?” he deflected, always dodging questions, always hiding behind the mask.

“The League has narrowed the attack down to three targets,” Dick shared.  “They’re en route to stop it as we speak.”

“DC, Moscow, Shanghai,” Barbara listed, anticipating his follow-up question.  She always was sharp.  “A strike force already went to their base in the Canadian Rockies and cleared it out.  This should all be over in an hour.”

So the end was in sight.  No wonder everyone was so tense and had sought things to do while they waited.  No wonder they had gathered together since they couldn’t be part of the counterstrike.  He set down his spoon and focused on his breathing.  He’d never been good at waiting on the sidelines either.  His nonexistent appetite was gone.

“The comms,” he wheezed, reaching for the keyboard.

“No,” Barbara replied, her fingers typing some sequence that locked everything on his computer except the video feed.  “You have to keep your heart rate steady.  Any excitement will spread the virus faster.”

“There’s nothing you can do, B.  Let the others handle it.”

He knew they were right, but he hated not knowing what was going on.  He hated not having any control over it.  He had never been good at relinquishing control, and now he had no choice.  His body wasn’t responding the way it should, and his children had ignored every order to stay away.  His control was falling apart.

“Hey,” Barbara said, pulling his mind back to the present, “don’t keep that spoon idle.  You don’t want to disappoint Cass.”

Bruce obeyed and brought the spoon to his mouth, letting the soup trickle down his throat without tasting it.

“Antidote?”  He didn’t trust his heavy tongue to form a full sentence coherently.

“Last we heard, they were analyzing an active sample to make sure they didn’t miss anything.  They should have it done soon.”

“Leslie was a big help,” Dick said.  “Tim sent her your tests and notes because, and I quote, ‘Barry is great but he usually works with dead bodies, and I’d like the expertise of someone who works on keeping them alive’.  It was a good call.”

Bruce tried to chuckle again, but instead he coughed.  With the stiffness of his lungs and muscles, he was left gasping for oxygen.  His body wasn’t working right.  He coughed again, and coughed and coughed and coughed.  He heard Dick and Barbara calling to him through the monitor but he couldn’t stop coughing.  He couldn’t get oxygen fast enough.  His vision blurred, and the ringing in his ears grew louder, or maybe it was the shouting?  He couldn’t tell anymore.  It was just pain and coughing until his diaphragm ceased up and he couldn’t breathe.  He couldn’t breathe.  This was how it would end.

He couldn’t breathe.

He could only pray his kids wouldn’t enter the room and get infected.

Everything went dark.

-----

Bruce came to with the disorienting feeling that he shouldn’t.  His throat felt raw and his limbs felt heavy, but he could swallow and move.  His body was tired, but his lungs filled with air without hesitation.  His heart was beating.  He had control.

He opened his eyes slowly.  He was still in the Montana safehouse.  Somehow he had been moved to the bed.  He could hear the soft hums and beeps of medical equipment, as well as a low murmur of voices.  The smell of cooking reached his nose.  He was hungry.

Bruce carefully sat up so he could get a better look around.  A pile of portable cots and sleeping bags had turned up in a corner.  So had a rather large TV on which Dick and Damian were currently playing Cheese Viking.  Tim was on his laptop on the couch, and Stephanie leaned against him, napping quietly.  Barbara and Cassandra were at the table working on some language exercises.  Jason and Duke were working in the kitchen under the careful guidance of Alfred.  It seemed impossible to fit so many people in the small safehouse, yet here they were.

Ever vigilant, Alfred turned as though sensing the movement of his patient.

“Ah, Master Bruce, you are awake.”

“Hey, looking good Bruce,” Duke greeted, waving a wooden spoon.

“Well what do you know,” Jason said, stepping away from the stove to get a better look at him.  “You came through faster than I was expecting.”

“That stir fry needs your attention, Master Jason.  The rest of you, occupy yourselves while I look him over.  You’ll have a chance to say all you want over dinner.”

With minimal grumbling, everyone returned to what they had been doing.  Alfred’s word was law, even when they had outgrown taking orders from Batman and Bruce Wayne.

“How do you feel, sir?” the butler asked, checking some readings on the monitor next to the bed and proceeding through the routine of a medical check.

“Alive,” he rasped.  “What happened?”

“Mr. Allen and Mr. Stone were able to fabricate a cure.  It was en route to you when you collapsed and arrived just in the nick of time.  Of course, the others had all rushed to your aid and exposed themselves before then, so you’ve all been ordered to quarantine for a few weeks to monitor your recovery and eliminate any chance of further spread.”

“The bioterrorists?”

“Successfully thwarted and captured.  Once again, the Justice League saves the day.”

“It’s over,” he sighed, relaxing against the wall.  Alfred gave him a wry look.

“For the rest of the world, yes.  For you, it’s only just started.  Your body must recover from the toxins, and on top of that, you have eight very strong, very different personalities to live with in a small space.  I expect it will be a bit challenging for you.”

Bruce looked around at everyone.  The teasing and familial bickering were already on display.  No matter how many times he told them to behave, they still got up to mischief.

“Like herding cats,” he sighed.  Alfred chuckled.

“More like herding bats, sir.”

[shadowjack12345]

Old Dogs

I promise I’m working on the (long overdue) next part of Three’s Company, but I needed to get this idea out before I carried on with it.

The old man watched the world go by from his preferred spot in the park. They had replaced his favourite bench years ago, the one in which he'd carved his name all when he was young, and the smooth, artificial surface was impervious to something as mundane as a penknife. He watched as the people milled around - some things never changed - in an array of hues and races he would never have considered possible. At this point, Earth was a full participant in wider interstellar politics, meaning humans spread out into the universe, and the universe came to Earth. Blue, red, pink, purple, orange. Aliens were so common here now that no-one paid them much mind, and no-one gave a second thought to a green-skinned old man on a park bench.

The air shuddered. His pointed ears twitched, still more sensitive than most even when dulled by time. Some things never changed. Villains still plotted. Heroes still fought to stop them. He turned his left hand up and the device around his wrist projected an image of the local news above his palm. This was a new guy who had already started to make a name for himself: Carnus. And he was a Red user, with skin to match - he had animal powers, which was especially irritating. Still, the local Titans were there already, and he let a little pride inflate his chest

.

There was the current Kid Flash. And the new Wonder Boy. And the newest Robin, a girl this time. Ah. And there was the man's Grandson, Crow. He watched as the boy enveloped himself in wings of black energy before charging at their enemy. It was an old, familiar dance, and he waited for the familiar ending. But it didn't happen that way. To the man's clear distress, Carnus quickly and savagely tore into the Titans and batted them aside, shifting into one form after another, all carnivores.

"Oh sprak," a young woman said as she plopped down on the bench beside him, staring at the same footage in her own hand. "The Titans are getting scorched! They need backup or something," she muttered. This was a terrible idea. It was an objectively terrible idea. It couldn't possibly end well.

"They need backup," the man said to himself.

"You say something?" said the young woman, still watching. She looked around when no answer came. "Hello?" She heard the beat of feathered wings.

"The much-vaunted Titans. Ha!" Carnus spat. "You're no match for the power of the Red, and I am its champion, Carnus!" He stood, laughing, gloating over his fallen enemies. Only when his own died down did he realise someone was laughing along with him. He turned and saw a withered, green old man, his fingers on the pulse in Crow's neck.

"You think you're the champion of the Red?" the man asked, pushing himself to his feet with both hands on his cane. "Now that's funny."

"Foolish old man," Carnus growled before shifting into a panther and lunging forward. The old man, to Carnus' amazement, shrank into a hummingbird and darted aside while Carnus' jaws clamped around the cane. The bird flew above him and morphed into a hippo, which crashed down on Carnus. The hippo became a bird again which hopped away and shifted into a tired old man, hands on his knees as he breathed heavily. Carnus took his human shape.

"You're a Red user... You're the Changeling!" he snarled.

"Took you long enough," Changeling chuckled.

"You are old and weak and stupid," Carnus barked.

"Hey! I am two of those things at most," Changeling griped.

"Enough! Your time is over. Your death will signal the beginning of my time, the time of Carnus!"

"You, uh...  you really like your name, huh," Changeling drawled.

"Show me your power! Show the world you are no match for Carnus!" With that Carnus shifted and grew. And grew. And grew. He took the form of some alien creature, a biped with thick, grasping arms that stood as tall as most of the buildings around them. Changeling sighed.

"If you were my student, I'd remind you that power or strength isn't the key to victory unless it's wielded with equal skill,"

"I am no student!" Carnus thundered, the creature's voice booming.

"No. But I can still teach you something." Suddenly, Changeling started to shift. And grow. Green poured out of him, it spilled into the sky above and grew so its shadow encompassed the entire city. Then it kept growing.

Aboard the Justice League satellite, alarms blared and beeped as the fight in Jump City raged on. The woman on watch, semi-retired in her mid to late fifties, was known as Corvid, and she watched in open-mouthed horror as a creature appeared and grew so large as to block her view of the entire City, only to keep growing.

"What is it?" she heard. The current Batman was next to her, and his voice made Corvid jump.

"I'll try and find out," she said. She closed her eyes and let her empathic senses reach toward the creature, trying to sense its motive, where it had come from, how it... "Oh. Oh no," she said, her voice trembling.

"Corvid? What is it?" Batman asked. His eyes widened a little when Corvid turned to face him with very uncharacteristic tears in her eyes.

"It's my father."

The Carnus creature looked up at his foe, some sort of massive insectoid creature, with a long, segmented body that seemed to reach the clouds. Multiple legs were folded under its belly, and great, transparent wings rested along its back. It blotted out the sun. With a low, distant, indecipherable rumble, electric arcs coruscated across the giants eyes, and a jagged bolt of lightning cracked the sky, striking Carnus in the chest. With a cry, he fell backward and shrank back down to himself, smoking and defeated. The giant blurred and shifted, and its entire form poured itself into the shape of an exhausted old man who stood just in front of the injured Carnus. When the shift was complete, he fell to his knees and winced at the pain.

"The Red is a power that can't belong to someone like you. The world can't afford it," he gasped. Carnus looked up, shaking his head weakly.

"You... you wouldn't kill me," he said, without much certainty.

"No, I wouldn't. But I can't let you keep it," Changeling said. Carnus tried to sit up but barely moved.

"You can't do that," he whimpered. "No one can, not even the Red's champion." Changeling smirked.

"Want to see a trick my wife taught me?" he said. He shuffled a little closer and clamped his hands on either side of Carnus' head, leaning down to stare into his eyes.

"Please..." Carnus whimpered. Changeling looked regretful, but didn't remove his hands. His eyes started to glow and Carnus squirmed feebly.

"Azarath. Metrion. Zinthos." Carnus' body was suffused with red light and Changeling released him, sitting back as the light coalesced above them. When the flow from Carnus stopped, Changeling raised his hands and the energy rushed into him. There was a lot, Carnus' connection to the Red had been strong and profound, but to be honest, compared to the vast energies the Red had poured into him over the years, Changeling barely felt the difference. He leaned to one side, his hand on the ground. He leaned a little more and let his body lie down. The sound of Carnus crying sounded muffled. He blinked up at the sky  as dark shapes appeared in it, too blurry for him to identify...

Garfield Logan woke up in bed. Not his own. Last he remembered, his wasn't surrounded by so much medical equipment. And his head felt like a bass drum after a concert.

"That was very dangerous, you know," he heard. His heart swelled and he grinned. Corvid. Rachel.

"Hey, pumpkin," he said. Corvid sighed but failed to hide her own smile. Crow was stood behind her. "Hey, pumpkin junior." He waved.

"Hi grandpa," he said shyly. "Um. Thanks. For saving me and my friends."

"You're welcome, kid. Now unless there's something medical stopping you, you better give me a hug," Changeling laughed. With another, less shy, smile, Crow stepped closer and leaned down to hug his grandfather, who hugged him back. "Oh, that's a good one. Good thing I'm already in a hospital bed seeing as you probably just cracked all my ribs." Crow shook his head and laughed. Even at 17 years old, he couldn't resist his grandpa's dumb jokes.

"I uh, I healed you up best I could," Crow said. Changeling looked up at him with wide eyes.

"You got your healing working? That's great!" he cheered. Crow flushed a little under the praise.

"Yeah. Yeah, I did. Anyway, you'll be sore for a while but you didn't actually have any injuries apart from some scrapes on your knees. You were mainly just worn out. Sorry I couldn't do more."

"You did plenty. Thanks. Your friends all okay?" Changeling asked.

"Yeah. I healed them too, a little. It still takes it outta me," Crow admitted.

"You'll get used to it. You'll do fine," Changeling assured him. Crow opened his mouth to speak again but Corvid spoke first.

"Crow, would you please give us a moment?" she said.

"Uh, oh, guess who's in trouble," Changeling stage-whispered. Crow snickered for a moment before seeing his mother's face and leaving quickly. "What's up, pumpkin?"

"You know you aren't supposed to use your powers any more. The doctor said-"

"I know, pumpkin. I know. I decided it was worth the risk," Changeling interrupted. Corvid shook her head.

"If Mom was still here-"

"If your Mom was still here, she would have beaten me to it and you know it," he laughed. Corvid let herself smile.

"Yeah. Yes, I suppose you're right," she admitted. "Thank you. Thank you for saving my son."

"Any time," Changleling answered, more seriously but still smiling. Corvid pushed some of his thin hair back from his forehead.

"Still a hero, huh? Mom would be proud," she said.

"Thanks, honey," Changeling said.

"I'll let you rest for now," Corvid said, stepping away. "Maybe... maybe you could spend some time with some of our recruits. We have a few Red users, and it seems like you still have new tricks to show off."

"I think I'd like that," he said quietly. When Corvid had left, he looked up toward the ceiling but didn't see it. "Sorry, Rae. I'm gonna keep you waiting a little longer - I think this old guy still has a little story left in him."

­END

[lemonagaga]

Demonbirds

Chapter 4: House of Mystery

The battle was over. The titans rested on the cold hard ground gasping for air, unable  to process what just happened. They've been fighting non-stop for hours, killing off every parademon they see. It seemed like it would never end at first, and they feared that they might not be able to hold them off any longer. But then, to everyone's surprise, all of the parademons suddenly shut down.

"What just happened?" Beast Boy asked,  shifting back to his human form. His left arm was broken, his legs and face bloodied and bruised. A look of confusion covered his face, not knowing if he should be happy or terribly worried. 

"They're all down!" Superboy said in disbelief,  he sets himself down on a piece of metal that fell off from a building. "I can't believe it..."

"That must mean they succeeded." Damian said matter-of-factly. He wanted to look calm and collected but his face betrays him. A wave of relief hits him, his lips curving up.

Everyone cheers. They hugged each other, cried tears of joy, and healed each others wounds. Now it was a matter of waiting for the justice league to come back.

Three hours passed and finally a boomtube appears on the sky. The familiar faces of heroes fly down and land softly on the ground. Their bodies were badly wounded too, but they seem to be holding up better now.

Damian runs towards his father but says nothing. He looks around, noticing the lack of numbers. 'Where is she?' he thought.

"They will follow us shortly. Cyborg couldn't handle opening a boomtube big enough for everyone to enter. Constantine will be opening a portal anytime soon for the rest." Batman announces to everyone as if reading his son's mind.

"Were there any heavy casualties?" Donna speaks up, worried about Diana who stayed behind to teleport with Constantine's group. 

"None." Batman answers. "There's no need to worry, it was a success. Everyone did a great job."

The titans let out a sigh of relief and cheered again. "Let's celebrate!" Beast Boy shouts happily, Shazam and the others join him.

"We'll celebrate after we fix up the mess." Superman said, killing the atmosphere. "Don't get me wrong I'm not against it, after we're done with this we'll have a big celebration sponsored by Batman." he adds quickly, feeking guilty for ruining the mood.

Batman glares at him but he doesn't protest. Everyone cheers again and chatter excitedly about the future party.

"What's taking them so long?" Damian asked. He didn't care about the party, instead he felt impatient and uneasy. He worried about Raven, his chest hurt thinking about  her. 'Is she injured too? Did Trigon hurt her? Is she healing now?' Countless thoughts run in his head wondering if she's alright.

"Be patient dude." Superboy said, patting Damian's shoulder. "Raven's a strong girl, I'm sure she's fine."

"I know she's strong." Damian felt offended that Superboy thought he saw Raven as someone weak. "But you've seen how Trigon has hurt her,  and that's him being trapped in the crystal imagine if he was set free."

"Well Batman said everything was fine. If something bad happened to her I'm sure he wouldn't lie about it especially to you. " Superboy shurgs. He enjoyed seeing Damian being a lovesick fool, it's a fresh breath from his usual rude and cold demeanor. Whenever he teased her about Raven he would always get annoyed but he could see that he didn't actually hate it. Although he worries that his friend is clearly still in denial of his feelings and how this may become a hindrance in developing their relationship.

"I suppose you are right." Damian admits with a defeated sigh. He didn't understand why he felt so overwhelmingly worried about Raven.  He didn't understand why seeing her made him feel so at ease. Lastly, he didn't understand why he didn't feel those same emotions towards his other team mates. 'Why do I feel like I'm being biased towards her? Why do I have these feelings?'

Suddenly a bright golden circle cuts through the air, and in it John Constantine steps out carrying Raven, with the the other heroes following behind him. Panic swells in Damian as he watches John carry her seemingly lifeless body.

"Calm down boy she's asleep." John said quickly, noticing Damian's look of horror the moment he steps out of the portal. At first he thought he looked horrible and disheveled to the point of shocking the boy, then he remembers who he was dealing with, why would Damian care about he looked? He followed Damian's eyes which landed on the girl he carried and he remembers. 'Oh yeah, I nearly forgot. That boy fancies this girl.'

Damian releases his fist, he wasn't even aware he was clenching it so hard. Behind him Donna rushes forward towards Diana. They hug and nod at each other, having an unspoken understanding.

"Why is she in that state?" Damian's voice was calm but terribly cold. "You said there were no casualties father."

"Trust me, it could've been worse." Batman replies. "Be thankful Zatanna and Constantine knocked her out before her unstable magic cause any damage to herself and to others."

Damian felt frustrated at how only Raven seemed to be the only one carrying the burden of this whole plan. "Let me carry her."

"Yeah about that..." John hesitates, looking at Zatanna for backup.

"Damian," Zatanna speaks up. "We sense something strange about Raven's magic so for the moment John and I will take care of her at the house."

Damian was speechless. 'I dont have the right to protest.' he thought. He simply stared at Raven's sleeping face and memorizing every detail, scared of never seeing it again. "Make sure you take care of her well." He shuts his eyes and force himself to turn away, looking for any distraction.

"When can we see her again?" Starfire speaks up. Damian felt thankful for her voicing out exactly what he wanted to say. 'When will I see her again?'

"She's still part of the titans. We need to know when we can have her back or when we can see and visit her." Nightwing supports Starfire.

"We're not taking her away forever, she's your team mate and if the house lets you in then sure you can visit." Zatanna explains.

"Since you want to hold her so badly,  carry her for a minute while I summon the house of mystery." John said to Damian.

Damian doesn't hesitate to carry her, he held her as if she was the most precious treasure in the world. "Quite heavy isn't she?" John jokes.

"Not really." Damian replies. "Maybe your arms have gotten weak."

John rolls his eyes and proceed to summon the house of mystery. A few seconds later, a huge wooden house appears out of thin air. "Viola! This is the base for the Justice League dark,  where Raven will be staying temporarily."

Damian was amazed but he wouldn't admit that. The other heroes gather around the house, wanting to seek refuge where they can rest properly. "All of you can try to enter, if you're accepted by the house then you can relax but if you're rejected...well you better use that flying skill of yours."

John steps in the house first, followed by Zatanna. A couple of heroes entered too but many of them were sent flying out a few seconds later. Damian was relieved to have his feet remaining on the floor, the house accepted him and Raven.

"Where's the bedroom?" Damian asks.

"Aren't you a little young to be doing such things?" Green Lantern teases, much to everyone's surprise he wasn't kicked out of the house.

"Not cool dude." Flash comes to defend Damian. "That joke is so not appropriate right now."

Damian ignores them and proceeds to go upstairs. Somehow it felt like the house was guiding his feet to go to the right direction. Soon enough he found himself in front of a dark door labelled 'Bedroom'.

He opens it, and to his surprise the room was furnished nicely. He carries Raven to the bed and placed her down carefully. He sits on the bed, watching her sleeping figure. 'It doesn't seem like she's having any nightmare.' he thought. 'Trigon really is no longer trapped within her crystal.'

Seeing her sleep so peacefully made him feel drowsy too. The tiredness from the fight earlier seemed to finally settle in his body. He rubs his eyes and slaps himself, trying to fight off the fatigue. Too bad he couldn't fight it off any longer, eventually his eyes close and his body fall on the bed right next to Raven's.

'Only for a few minutes.' This was his last thought before he succumbed into deep slumber.

***

________________________________

Anyway I wrote this when I was sleepy af last night so I hope this chapter isn't a complete mess.

Hope you enjoy it :)

Wattpad:

[aion-rsa]

The Dark Knight Trilogy: Horrifying Scenes That Still Make Us Cringe

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Later this month, Zack Snyder’s Justice League is hitting HBO Max. Despite the anticipation and a near-guaranteed positive reception from the vocal #ReleaseTheSnyderCut fan contingent, this will likely be Snyder’s last foray in the DC Universe. Indeed, one of the studio’s chief complaints with Snyder’s vision, which they believe impacted box office receipts, was his darker tone when compared with the quippier MCU. However, Snyder’s approach only mirrored many of DC’s most popular storylines, from Frank Miller’s violent The Dark Knight Returns to the on-screen The Dark Knight Trilogy from director Christopher Nolan. Snyder can hardly be blamed for expanding on what audiences were already responding to when it came to DC characters on film.

Less than a decade ago, Warner Brothers was hot off of the success of Nolan’s trio of films that no one would describe as light-hearted or quippy. The Batman of Nolan’s films was not inspired by the kid-friendly or campy iterations of the character found in the Batman TV series from the ‘60s or Joel Schumacher’s films, but by Miller and David Mazzucchelli’s Batman: Year One, and Jeph Loeb and Tim Sale’s Batman: The Long Halloween. That is to say Nolan and Christian Bale’s Batman sought to be a street-level, gritty, interpretation of the character that emphasized noir and a grounded reality.

Snyder didn’t make Batman too dark for film audiences, that was already done by Nolan. Below are just a few examples of the darkest, most horrific moments from The Dark Knight Trilogy.

“Swear to me!” – Batman Begins

Audiences knew they were in for a different type of Batman from the moment they heard Bale’s gravelly voice while he was in the suit. Whether Bale goes too far with his growly tenor and into comedic territory is up for debate, but the choice is certainly memorable.

Bale really gets to rough up his vocal cords during a specific scene in Batman Begins where the Dark Knight confronts crooked cop Arnold Flass about Dr. Jonathan Crane’s mysterious drug shipments. After failing to strike fear in Flass, Batman hangs the portly man upside down from a building. When Flass swears to God that he doesn’t know anything, Batman replies, “Swear to me!” his face tremoring with rage. This is the opposite of one of George Clooney’s one-liners during his time under the cowl. Bale’s Batman establishes himself as something to be scared of and as an all-seeing force to be reckoned with.

The Demon Bat – Batman Begins

While horror has seeped its way into Batman comics many times, particularly during Scott Snyder and Greg Capullo’s recent run with the character, there hasn’t been a ton of nightmarish imagery present in the film adaptations of the character. However, the hands down scariest portrayal of the Caped Crusader on screen comes in Batman Begins. When Bruce Wayne said he wanted to strike fear in the hearts of criminals, this must have been what he was talking about.

In the climax of the film, when Cillian Murphy’s Scarecrow attempts to poison Gotham City’s water supply with his fear toxin, the good doctor is confronted by Batman and given a taste of his own medicine. The fear toxin takes effect and Crane begins to see Batman as a demonic, literal interpretation of the Batman, with black goo dripping from his mouth and jet-black eyes. This monster version of the Bat was certainly a step in the right direction for comic fans hoping the Batman films would get the terror element of the character right.

Bruce Attempts to Kill Joe Chill – Batman Begins

This scene from the first film in Nolan’s trilogy is the darkest because of how real it feels for the main characters. The moment happens not when Bruce Wayne is masquerading as a vigilante dressed as a bat, but when he’s a young man still trying to come to grips with the murder of his parents. Bruce learns that Joe Chill has been paroled so that he can testify against Gotham crime boss Carmine Falcone. Bruce waits outside of the courtroom with a gun, intending to kill Chill after his testimony. But when Chill arrives at the public lobby, one of Falcone’s goons beats Bruce to the punch, shooting Chill dead.

Bruce’s childhood friend Rachel Dawes discovers Bruce’s intentions and slaps him across the face. She berates Bruce and tells him that his father would be ashamed of him, something that undoubtedly must be hard to hear for the angry, grieving young Bruce. This moment serves as a sort of rock bottom for the character before he decides to leave Gotham behind and travel the globe, immersing himself in the criminal underworld, a journey that would inevitably lead to him becoming… the Batman.

Joker’s Pencil Trick – The Dark Knight

No one needs to spill more ink about how brilliant Heath Ledger’s portrayal of the Clown Prince of Crime, the Joker, was in The Dark Knight. It’s an iconic performance that has forever shaded the public’s perception of Batman’s greatest nemesis. He’s simultaneously funny and scary, brutal and sniveling, chaotic and cunning. He can make you smile then suddenly want to shield your eyes.

It’s all right there from his first real introduction in the film when he struts into a meeting between Gotham’s crime lords and offers his services in killing the Batman. Nailing the core components of the character, his penchant for showmanship, his violent tendencies, and his twisted sense of humor, the Joker pulls off a “magic trick” by slamming a gangster’s head through a pencil that was stuck upright on a desk. Not exactly the kind of party trick that you’ll see Ant-Man performing in the MCU!

The Death of Rachel Dawes – The Dark Knight

While the Joker hatches many unsettling schemes in The Dark Knight, like televising himself murdering Batman imposters, threatening to blow up hospitals, and the game theory ferry experiment, his most despicable crime is also his most personal one. After being taken into custody, the Joker reveals that he has set up a no-win trap for Batman, forcing him to choose between Rachel, his love, and Gotham’s White Knight, district attorney Harvey Dent. The Joker has them tied up in different locations, rigged to explode on the same timer, and Batman only has time to save one of them. Joker gives the hero their addresses, but in a cruel twist, switches who is where. Bruce believes that he’s saving Rachel but saves Harvey instead. Meanwhile, the GCPD tried to rescue Harvey, but arrives just in time to watch the building holding Rachel burst into flames.

While Rachel may have been an underserved character, only really used as a victim and love interest until her ultimate fridging, her death was still a shock and a dark turn that other superhero movies, barring the otherwise forgettable The Amazing Spider-Man 2, have always refused to make. Rachel served somewhat as Bruce’s moral compass, and her death left the vigilante adrift and prone to his darkest impulses.

The Transformation of Harvey Dent – The Dark Knight

The flipside to the above is that Batman’s last-minute rescue of Harvey Dent leaves him scarred, traumatized, angry, and fundamentally changed. It’s not just that Harvey loses half of his face and becomes a grotesque victim; it’s that the minute Rachel dies, all of his idealism and motivation to be a force for good and change dies with her. With one act, the Joker takes away the hero that Gotham really needs to end corruption and injustice.

It’s not just that Dent falls; he falls hard. He murders police officers (corrupt though they may be), kidnaps children, and introduces as much anarchy into Gotham as the Joker. Ultimately, he’s stopped by Batman, but his death and fall from grace is a demoralizing moment, and the decision to lie and prop up Dent as the hero he was rather than the monster he became is a necessary but deeply troubling withholding of the truth. Don’t let the triumphant score and imagery at the end of The Dark Knight fool you; this is a supremely downbeat ending.

Bane Breaks the Bat’s Back – The Dark Knight Rises

Batman is a badass who is rarely bested on screen. Even in Zack Snyder’s interpretation of the character, he’s able to subdue a figurative god in Superman. However, in Nolan’s third and final Batman film, The Dark Knight Rises, Batman finally meets his match, and it’s not pretty. After being lured into the sewers by Selina Kyle, Batman walks right into a trap and fight with Bane, the jacked terrorist who was excommunicated from the League of Shadows, and is every bit as badass as Batman. After eight years sitting on the shelf and a career of crime fighting that has left him battered, Batman is absolutely demolished by Bane, who pummels Bruce before finally picking the hero up over his head and snapping his back over his knee. Heroes occasionally lose on screen, but not like this.

Alfred’s Arc – The Dark Knight Rises

Alfred Pennyworth is a crucial character in the Batman mythos, and he’s typically portrayed as a compliant, if slightly disapproving, enabler. However, that’s not so in The Dark Knight Rises. Portrayed by Michael Caine, Alfred breaks hearts by revealing to Bruce that Rachel intended on marrying Harvey Dent and sternly telling his surrogate son that his war with Bane will eventually lead to his death and that he “won’t bury” another member of the Wayne family.

It’s one of the most emotional moments of the film. Alfred basically abandons Bruce, a decision that heightens Bruce’s isolation and hero’s journey. Alfred only returns toward the end of the film for Bruce’s funeral where he tearfully confesses to the late Waynes’ gravestones that he “failed” them. While Alfred’s story ends on a hopeful note, with him spotting Bruce alive and well in Italy, it’s still quite the breakup between Master Bruce and his most loyal advisor.

The Story of Talia al Ghul and Bane – The Dark Knight Rises

While the best villains typically have sympathetic backstories, few have as a traumatic and scarring one as The Dark Knight Rises’ villains, Talia al Ghul and Bane. Toward the end of the film, it’s revealed that Talia grew up in the same place that Bruce found himself in after Bane broke his back. Born in a primitive prison known as the Pit, Talia watched as her mother was assaulted and killed by the other prisoners. The pair were placed in the Pit in exchange for Ra’s al Ghul, with Talia’s mother agreeing to take his place in exchange for his freedom. Talia only survived through the protection of Bane, who eventually helps Talia escape the prison, but he’s badly beaten and disfigured in the process.

Following Talia’s escape, she locates her father and he returned with the League of Shadows to exact revenge on the prisoners that killed his wife and the men who put her there. Afterward, Ra’s and the League saw to the treatment of Bane, but were unable to stop the continual pain he experienced. Eventually, Bane is recruited into the League, wherein he is given a mask which supplies him with analgesic gas to curb the constant pain from the injuries he sustained while protecting Talia. If you thought Bruce had a traumatizing backstory, you must have merely adopted the dark.

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[tragedybunny]

The Blade’s Edge - A League of Legends Fanfiction - Chapter 20

Hello, Lovelies. Here we are again, closer to the end. Thanks for waiting for this. You all mean the world to me. ❤❤❤

They had a simple arrangement. She was the weapon to be used on his enemies. Things get more complicated when emotions bleed into what should simple. Now the two of them find themselves on the precipice of something that was entirely unexpected.

“WAKE UP!” I can’t, everything hurts. The blackness is soothing. “Get up girl!” I force my eyes open despite the blinding pain.

Through bleary vision, I find a massive black bird perched on my stomach, though I can’t feel its weight. “Bea?” No, my thoughts are muddled, that can’t be Bea. I cough, the dust swirls, and my vision begins to clear. I take it in with dawning horror, a creature of blackness and wings that came from some nightmare.

“Wrong.” Its voice reverberates with power and rage and I shudder unintentionally. “Now get up, Noxus requires your service.”

As the world comes back into sharp focus, I see it’s red eyes boring into me. I’ve seen them before, in the birds that gather wherever he goes, in those moments where Jericho lost control. I inhale and pain radiates out from my core. My mind still struggles to grasp the situation, and I utter the only words I can think of. “You can talk?”

“What did you think? I was some mindless gibbering thing?” It sounds offended and I laugh weakly. Of course, the demon he shares a body with is as prickly as he is. Or maybe it takes from him the way he takes from it. “Enough. Are you going to save the Grand General or not?”

I let my eyes close for a second. Opening them, I try to push myself to sit, but pain forces me back to the ground. “I’m useless, go find Darius.”

“He’s not here!” It thunders at me. “Likely that is very much by design.” It walks along my chest to my face, poking what I would loosely describe as a beak at my chin. “YOU are here. If you don’t get up he will die and the Empire will fall.” It takes to the air, flying, maybe, my mind is still pulling things together. It perches on a piece of rubble and stares at me.

I finally force myself up, letting out a pathetic sounding cry as I do. I’ve been his weapon, his lover, his confidant, his wife, why not his savior as well? I cough, causing the dust that’s settled around me to rise again, and I force my legs under me, to start bearing my weight even as the shake. I rise despite the screaming pain now in my abdomen, the real possibility I’m bleeding inside. Behind my rage and disorientation, fear is starting to take hold, fear for him. Will I be enough to save his life. “Fine, where did they take him?” I stretch, testing knees and ankles, hoping they will hold up.

“Finally, I can see some of what he sees in you. So you choose to save him, this you do willingly?” It tilts its head, a gesture that’s disturbing in its bird-like manner.

“Yes, now tell me what I need to do.” I order it, perhaps too bold, but I feel as though I could die at any moment. I don’t need the ridiculous games of some demon, I need to get moving.

“Perfect.” It’s beak clicks with a resounding snap. With a flap of ethereal wings, it rises from its perch, taking to the air and rushing straight at me.

I feel a burning ignite in my skin as it makes contact with me, disappearing in a blaze of flickering black and red. A fire ignites in my veins and I collapse back to my knees for a moment. My breath comes in strangled gasps as my body knits itself back together. The pain is surreal, and I know something inside me was terribly broken. Soon enough though, I am standing, a sureness of purpose filling me, creating confidence such as I have never known. It’s as though all the knowledge and power in the world are mine for the taking. Is this what he feels at every moment? In my hand a dagger of spectral force forms. I aim and let fly it, watching as it buries itself in the bricks. Perhaps I can do what needs to be done after all.

The deafening sound of ravens pierces my mind and I clutch my head for a moment, trying to silence them. Then I see it, an image forced into my thoughts, a chamber below the forbidden center of the Immortal Bastion, a cage of stone, the route clear to me as though I’d tread it a thousand times. I take off down the ruin of the stairs, full tilt, leaping over the rubble with ease. The noise hits me as I descend to the bottom, soldiers falling into order, officers taking command. A din permeates the background, unrest is growing in the city in the wake of the explosions. I vaguely recall hearing the noise of the multiple blasts before blacking out. My heart bursts into agony, I was alive to hear them because Jericho had me pinned under him, using the demon to protect me.

I fight back a cry. Would he have been able to escape if I hadn’t stopped him to talk? What if I can’t save him? Godsdamnit why do I still care so much after all the pain? “The Grand General is missing...Secure the City...Form up for search parties...send word to the Hand…” I fly through them, catching snippets of conversations, startling those that catch a glimpse of me. “Was that?... It can’t be...Commander?”

There are no guards left at the gates that lead into the fortress proper. Here the central towers rise from the ground, a forbidden haven of dark magic. In the shadows, wandering paths lead to doors, some secret, some not, that give entry down into very bowels of the fortress. I instinctively know the one I’m looking for, slightly hidden as it is, my fingers activating the concealed lock as though I’d done it a thousand times. I enter into the stone hallway opened before me with caution, still unsure of the power I temporarily possess. It’s only moments before I stumble on the first of the traitors, one of my former Guild members. He hears my steps and spins to face me, smile wide. “What luck, the Usurper’s whore.” He begins a charge.

“I don’t have time for you.” A spectral blade flies from my hand driving deep into his throat. Another forms almost without thought and I bury it in his chest, watching as he falls. With his dying breath, the ravens come, bringing me his secrets, burning my mind with them. I see Talon and my rage is reignited, he leans in to speak. “Once we deliver the false Grand General to her, justice will be done.”

I shrug off the vision quickly, trying to focus on my current reality, there’s no time for it to distract me any longer. I hold onto my fury at Talon, a fury that’s simmered for years, ready to unleash it when needed. I should’ve known he’d be involved. I sprint ahead, the small shaft of light from the outside fading. The only other light comes from torches set along the walls, glowing sickly green as though their illumination was from some foul magic. Another comes into view from behind, I leap onto her back, blade to her throat. She’s gurgling blood before she even can react to my presence.

There’s a fork ahead, hard right, again I simply know the way. One more guard stands before the open doorway to a large chamber, a sword already drawn. Concentrating and curious I bring my hand up, crackling bolts of energy emerge from it, similar to something I’d seen Jericho do. The guard twitches and flails, and I close the distance, another throat slit. More ravens, my head feels as though it will burst, I choke back a scream from the pain. Finally, the last of what I need, the key to the cage, and the word in old Noxian that will activate it.

The opening leads to a landing, then a set of stairs descending to an open torch lit chamber that reeks of earth and decay. A small band mills about, possibly twenty or so, I duck below the rail of the landing and try my best to get a count. Not truthfully as many as we had thought when he’d finally shared his suspicions with me, but that doesn’t mean more aren’t coming. On the other end of the chamber, as though they are purposefully avoiding it, is the cage of stone. Inside I just barely make out Jericho’s form, he’s not on his feet, and my heart catches in my throat. I need to get to him.

I know I’ll be spotted if I take the stairs, only one way to go, and I hope I know what the demon will do. A quick jump and I bound over the side railing of the landing and drop down into the shadows beside the stairs, a fall that could kill. I tuck my legs and try to land with the least amount of impact. Pain still blossoms in both my knees, too far down it seems, but it could have been worse. A sensation of warmth washes over me and the pain fades, I know whatever I did just healed. No time to think more on it, I sprint off toward the cage, throwing a glance at the conspirators to ensure I haven’t been noticed. They seem to be wandering aimlessly, perhaps waiting for something or someone, and at least keeping their distance from where I need to be.

I circle around to the back of the damned thing to keep concealed and I have a moment to study it. Petricite, of course, that’s how it works. Ancient inscriptions of old Noxian encircle it, the same faint green emanating from them as the torches. And then I finally let my eyes settle on him, he’s seated with his knees pulled up to his chest, a grimace on his features. I hold myself back from crying out to him. “Jericho!” I whisper desperately instead, kneeling as close to the cage as the demon will let me. His eyes open slowly and he turns to face me, taking my breath away. Blood runs down the left side of his face, matting his hair down over an angry, swollen bruise, and his nose looks broken. Rage like I’ve never known wells up inside me and I feel my hands begin to shake. THEY HURT MY HUSBAND. I shove it down, for once I’m fighting to not give in and lose control.

“Kitten?” That nickname is a blade in my heart, regret for what I said the last time I heard it engulfing me. “What are you doing here?” He seems to have trouble focusing on me. I need to get him out of there before that head injury does him in.

“Rescuing you.” I smile slightly, desperately trying to put him at ease.

He shakes his head, I should have expected his resistance. “It’s too risky for you alone. Leave, help secure the Empire for Darius. It needs him.” He really thinks this is an order I’m going to obey.

“We both know it’s you the Empire needs. And I’m not really so alone.” I coax out the demon’s aura, and I feel it change me as I watch his dawning recognition. I send it back to resting in the depths of my soul before I can attract unwanted attention.

He closes his eyes for a second, and I can tell he’s resigning himself to not arguing with me further. Finally he exhales and opens them. “If you must.” The slight tremor in his voice says so much more than his words alone and my heart aches at the sound of it. “Kat, I…”

“Shh.” I cut him off, feeling the hot sting of tears in my eyes. We don’t have the time. Before the turmoil can get the better of me, I stand and suck in a deep breath. “Thank me later.”

I turn, wiping my eyes, and stride out from behind the cage toward the milling group. “Hey, idiots!” No going back now. “Where’s the moron in charge of this shit plan?”

All eyes now turn to me, some of them whisper to one another. Through the demon I can just barely hear them. How did I get here? What am I doing? Are there more to come? One hooded figure steps forward to speak out loudly. “Finally, I’ve waited for this for months. One step closer and I’ll sink my blade into you.”

That voice, the Guild betrayer revealed at last. When I think on it, it never could have been anyone else, but it stings deeply and I wish it had been. I’ll mourn later though. “Ah, Inara. Couldn’t find your own way out of my shadow? Had to throw in with these traitors to feel important?”

She breaks from the crowd, charging forward to stand in front of me. So easily played. “Did you actually think I would follow you? You’re-”

“Shh.” I hold up my hand and cut her off, I don’t have time for theatrics. “You assume I care.” My hands reach back and grip my daggers, it’s not time to reveal my little surprise yet. “Fight me or remove yourself from my path.”

She sputters, I’ve stolen her momentum. “Enough Inara, I’ll handle my darling sister.” His voice comes from the back of the crowd, at last, the nobody who would’ve replaced me.

They part and let him through, the deference paid to him that I can only assume is a mark of leadership. The smug look on his face nearly pushes me over the edge. Years of hatred and bitterness stoke my rage, but I reign myself in, I need to keep control. I give him a quick look over as he approaches, and there, on his belt, is the amulet that serves as the cage’s key. “Let him go Talon, this is the only warning I’m giving.”

He throws back his head and laughs, how typically irritating. “You really came to rescue the Usurper? After everything he’s done? And to think, I tried to offer you mercy for Markus’s sake. I spent months warning you what was coming.”

A growl escapes me in spite of my efforts. The stalker, it was him, when I look into every dark spot of my life he’s there. I inhale and assess the situation, I can’t lose control now, I’m so close. I don’t need Talon dead, I just need to get near to him. And if I stoke his anger, he’ll go right along with what I need. “He’s the rightful ruler of Noxus and you are a traitor.” I stare him in the eyes, daring him to act.

“I’m a traitor?” He scoffs at me. “Who’s here to beg for the life of their father’s murderer? Who’s been playing whore for that same murderer until recently?”

It’s my turn to laugh now. “I’m not here to beg. I’m here to present a challenge. One duel and we’ll see who’s the better of father’s pupils. I win and the Grand General goes free. You win and you may do as you wish with both of us.” I mentally urge him to take the damn bait.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” I bite my tongue, he really doesn't want me to answer that. “I have him in my control, and justice will be done for father once our Matron arrives. I don’t need to answer your challenge.”

I lock my eyes on his and smile with all the malice in my soul. “Oh Talon, you poor confused moron.” Time to play all my cards. “Jericho didn’t kill father.” I lean forward, smile ever widening, and entranced, he mirrors my movement. “I did. Sunk my dagger down into his throat, and watched him bleed. It was glorious.”

He gives a primal scream and I take a step back, landing in a defensive stance. “You bitch! I’m not shocked you wielded the blade. But he had his hand in it.” He snarls again in frustration, eyes still wide with shock at my revelation. “Fine, I’ll accept your challenge, to expose you as the failure you are.” He almost makes it too easy.

At his signal, a loose circle forms around us, drawing a collective intake of breath. Before most could even react, several blades fly from his hands. I dodge them, intentionally slowing myself, and feel one nick my shoulder. I see a smile tug at the corner of his lips, he’s satisfied with what he thinks he’s done. Let him believe he is superior. I retreat a few steps and strike, a dagger loosed in his direction, meant to graze, striking only his thigh.

I leap toward him, following its path, swinging wildly, missing as expected, my momentum carrying me forward. I feel his blade carve into the flesh of my back and I bite my lip to keep from crying out as hot blood trickles down my skin. I push the demon down, refusing to let it heal the minor wound. Behind me, he gets confident and lets out a chuckle. “Losing your touch Kat? You’ve spent too much time playing Lady of the Manor.”

“Fuck you gutter rat.” I hear his sharp exhale, he always did hate being reminded of where he really came from. I turn and another of my daggers goes his way, just a hair too wide. He grins and that should seal it. He leaps at me with every bit of that uncanny agility he’s always possessed.

He’s on top of me before most would even be able to comprehend the situation, a downward slash meant to cut straight into my heart. I surprise him by slamming my body into him rather than attempting an escape. It serves as a distraction and brings me close enough to wrap my hand around the amulet and tear it from his belt. The price is that the blade meant for my heart drives deep into my shoulder and I cry out as my arm goes limp. “You could never beat me. You’re a failure who doesn’t deserve his legacy.”

“Idiot!” Now the demon makes itself known, veiling me with its power. A glance around reveals growing horror in their faces. I feel them, the wings unfurling from me, I find myself standing just above the ground, as fire sings in my veins. I use the moment and take a leap toward the cage, the distance covered in one single bound. My wounds burn as my body stitches itself back together before I land in front of the door to the vile thing. “This was never about beating you!” Talon begins to rally them leading a surge toward me. I slam the amulet into the circular depression on the door, breaking the circle of glyphs, feeling the power drain from my body. “Amon-ana-noxa.” The words ripped from the secrets of a traitor’s soul.

The sound of the lock reverberates through the chamber like thunder and the inscriptions cease to glow. I draw my daggers, readying myself for the onslaught as I feel that incredible power pass by me. “I’m going to enjoy tearing all of you apart.” My heart leaps to hear his voice, strong and confident again.

Within seconds he’s beside me, power and rage emanating from him. There’s hesitation among the conspirators and they slow. “Are you cowards?” Talon shouts, growing desperation evident. “There’s still only two of them.” He’s gone too far down this path, he can’t turn back now.

Jericho looks down at me. “No mercy.” He commands, my Grand General, and for a moment I feel a sense of awe for him that reminds me why it is he who controls the Empire.

“Understood.” I assess our situation, no matter his seeming power of the moment, I doubt he’s fully healed. We need to be quick about this. I’ll be more effective at their back lines. “I’ve got an idea, give me a hand getting behind them.”

He nods and holds out his hands, hands cupping them together. A quick run and I leap into them, the demon’s strength easily propels me behind them. My dagger finds its first target as those in front get close enough to feel the force of an arcane blast.

One turns to me and I make a swift movement, running him through before sending a blade through the air into the first that tries to break away. Several screams pierce the air, Jericho is easily dealing with those that have closed in on him. I spy Inara within the melee and set my focus on getting to her. I leap to retrieve my thrown dagger and then to my next target, opening their throat from behind. I look up, and two of them held still by arcane energy are being dragged back to Jericho.

Another falls before me and my path to Inara is clear. I ready a blade for the traitorous bitch. Over those still remaining, I see Talon make a desperate leap toward Jericho, blades flashing through the air. “Enough!” He roars, demon fully loosed, rising to meet Talon in the air, scorching those that still remain around him. I feel a chill that prickles my skin and notice a strange mist that has begun filling the chamber.

It feels me with a sense of unease that pulls my attention from the mob that is now breaking and running. “Talon, we need to leave, now!” Inara pleads. I’ve lost track of her in the chaos. No, they can’t do this and just walk away. Blackness seeps into the edge of my vision, I’ve contained my fury far too long. Not willing to let them escape, I scan the crowd for them. They need to pay for what they’ve done. Another of the cabal rushes past me and I grab her to open her throat, still searching for my now singular focus. There, a doorway with a pair of figures entering it. “Damn it!’ I snap and charge toward them, this isn’t over.

“Kat don’t.” He shouts after me, but it’s too late. Lost in my thirst for vengeance, I’m already following the passage from the door deeper into the catacombs, the mist thickening around me.

I catch them just as they turn sharply and plunge into a room illuminated by a haunting blue-green light. They’ve disappeared as the mist conceals all here, and quickly I find myself disorientated. A voice snaps from within the mist. “You fools, what have you done?” It’s her of course, the Black Rose Matron. How could this plot have come from anyone else?

A deep resonant laugh echoes throughout the mist, it’s origin lost. It freezes the blood in my veins and I suddenly feel like a child, small and alone. “It can’t be!” LeBlanc’s voice holds a rising panic that leaves me even more shaken. Her frantic chanting fills the air as I try to turn and retrace my path back out of the chamber.

“Behold this lovely little consort of death who strays so close to me. Come further into the mist, come to me, join me in my kingdom, Katarina. I will make great use of your talents.” Trance like at this malevolent presence, I’m rooted where I stand, his terrible voice filling my head. I know I should flee, but I can’t. “We will do many great things with you serving at my side.” I can’t think, but I feel myself begin to move, drifting further into the mist.

Pain blossoms in my core and shakes me from the stupor. A force grasps me and begins to pull on me. “Get away from my wife.” No, he shouldn’t have followed me, he should’ve escaped. The pulling cannot move me from where I’ve been stuck, and soon it dissipates.

Again, that sinister laugh echoes around us. “Your ‘power’ means nothing to me, Grand General. I am the embodiment of forces you cannot even comprehend.”

“I comprehend well enough the fragility of your ego, you who must brag from the shadows.” The entity lets out a primal growl. “Come on out and face me if you are so mighty.” My head begins to clear, Jericho’s taunting served as an ample distraction, no doubt as he planned. He laughs at the creature and now free, I fly towards the sound.

It seems as though I travel farther than the chamber should have allowed. “I’ve slain countless who would dare threaten me and you’re no different.” He sounds so close, but I can’t find him. Panic begins to take hold, is there no way out. “Kat.” He’s there before me, grasping my hand, pulling me to him. The mist begins to thin.

“Well played Grand General.” It sounds as though it is fading away. “Know this, when I return, she will be the first thing I take from you. The second will be your Empire.”

No more time for bandying words, neither of us react, focusing on navigating our way out of the chamber. Leblanc is still somewhere in mist and there may be threats above in the city as well given the explosions earlier. We need to get to someplace safe where we can fortify our position, plan, undo whatever harm that has been done.

[slurpingsoba]

Game Over

Relationship: Shigaraki x Spinner

Word Count: about 1.9k

Notes: What started out as me trying to connect back to my childhood gamer days quickly became more Spinaraki propaganda. I think I wrote this a month ago, but I never finished it, mainly because I thought it was trash. I still think it's trash, but I slapped an ending on it so hopefully, it sounds better than it did before!

Also, this picture is the setting of the story. Sometime after Kamino

“Shigaraki”

Spinner called out his leader’s name quietly, not wanting to startle him. Shigaraki was currently cowering near the far edge of his bedroom, his eyes a bit puffy and his body curled up; the disembodied hands he held were overflowing in his arms.

He looked like he was trying to make himself as small as possible, but that was something hard to achieve with his lanky figure. Even in his own chamber, he stuck out like a sore thumb.

Shigaraki grunted as a response, and he shifted his weight from his right foot to his left foot, to his right foot again. His jittery, uncomfortable energy was seconds away from spreading to Spinner, who picked at his scales. 

“Shigaraki,” he called out again, a little louder this time. Shigaraki grimaced and dropped one of his hands to the floor.

Spinner cringed as well when the hand hit the ground. It was hard to watch Shigaraki with his face on display. You could see the intense anger and hopelessness oozing out of every expression he made. With saturated features, Shigaraki bent down to grab the hand on the floor but dropped the ones he was holding in the process. He fell to the floor along with his prized possessions. 

“Stop sulking in the corner like a fucking loser and get over here, for fuck’s sake!” Spinner’s voice cracked a bit. 

He caught a glimpse of Shigaraki’s eyes, and for a second, Spinner was scared for his life. Nobody else was in the room except for them, so Shigaraki could get away with murdering him if he wanted to. But Shigaraki was above killing his own allies, right? Right?!

Shigaraki, as lethargic and languid as he could be, got off the floor at a snail’s pace. He left the hands where they were. Spinner thought he heard some of Shigaraki’s bones crack as he inched himself up.

“Christ, it hurts to see you like this.”

“Then why don’t you leave? Everyone else did.”

Shigaraki’s tone made it seem as though everyone’s departure was a form of betrayal. He was aware that they had lives outside of the League, but he hoped that they would at least stay and comfort him in his time of need. 

Spinner’s heart felt heavier, aching in his chest as he sympathized with Shigaraki. Honestly, Spinner didn’t have any place better to be, but in order to spare Shigaraki’s feelings, he fabricated a white lie.

“I didn’t think it would be a good idea to leave you when you’re… like this.” Spinner motioned to the pile of hands on the ground, and the mess of a man standing among them.

Spinner changed the subject. “I assume you play video games, right? With all the gaming terminology you use.”

“I do.”

“Okay, so let’s play one.” Spinner pivoted on his feet and made his way towards Shigaraki’s monitors. Part of him didn’t want to know what dark and bizarre things lurked on Shigaraki’s computer, but the other part was curious. He pressed the power button on one of the monitors to boot it up as Shigaraki slithered over like a shadow.

Spinner rubbed his eyes, unaccustomed to the brightness emitting from the computer screen. It was the only source of light in the room, and he wasn’t used to using electronics in such poor conditions. 

Shigaraki, appreciating the juxtaposition between dark and light, stretched before taking a seat in front of the screens. After typing in his password, he clicked on an application on his desktop. One resembling a dirt block.

“Minecraft? Seriously?” Spinner was expecting Shigaraki to pick a horror game or at least something more on-brand. But Minecraft...

“Yeah? And what about it?” The only reason Shigaraki was playing it was because All For One bought it for him. He said the game would help him think creatively and collaborate with others in a controlled environment. Not like Shigaraki used the game constructively, anyway.

From the loading screen, Shigaraki clicked on multiplayer and went through his saved servers. After some contemplation, he selected Mineplex.

“Have you ever played?” 

“Yeah, of course. You can’t call yourself a gamer unless you’ve played Minecraft.” Spinner spoke without an ounce of sarcasm in his voice.

“I hope you’re not serious about that.”

“And what if I a- oh shit, look at that Gamertag!” Spinner interrupted himself, crowding Shigaraki’s personal space in order to get a better look at the screen.  

“‘I_Sucked_Stains_Nuts’? The Hero Killer’s groupies are fucking horny, aren’t they?” 

“With a tongue as godlike as Stain’s, why wouldn’t they be?” Spinner licked his lips. With wide eyes, Shigaraki gave Spinner a judgemental look.

“You know he stabbed me.” Shigaraki navigated his way into a mini-game. Survival games, to be specific. He entered a lobby.

“You probably deserved it.”

An exasperated expression settled on Shigaraki’s face. With a huff, he took his hand off his mouse and folded his hands. Spinner took the opportunity to seize control of the game.

“‘HeroKillerLover <3’, ‘xx_DaddyStain_xx’... would you look at that?! Stain’s quite popular in the gaming community.”

“One Minecraft server does not equate to the entirety of the gaming community. Now, give me back my mouse.” Shigaraki right hand reached towards the mouse but got swatted away.

“You know what? Fuck it. You control the mouse and I’ll control the keyboard.”

“Sounds good to me. Queue up the chat log.” Spinner said, ogling over the game like he’s never played it before. 

Oh, Shigaraki thought, a lightbulb going off in his head. Perhaps Spinner never played Minecraft before, and his earlier statement was just him trying to seem cool. 

Shigaraki found this amusing, and for the first time in a while, he cracked a smile. 

Meanwhile, Spinner read over the chat log, soaking in the nonsensical lingo that made the log incomprehensible to him. He was too old to understand the slang that tweens used. However, one thing on the log caught his attention.

A girl with rainbow hair and the Gamertag ‘Detroit_smash_me_69’ was crouching and un-crouching rapidly in the middle of the screen. She was typing in the chat.

“‘Yo, yo, Minus_U1tra_4, answer me. I like your skin,’” Spinner read out loud to himself. “What’s your Gamertag, Shigaraki?”

“Minus_U1tra_4.”

“Huh. I was expecting it to be ‘I_Hate_All_Might_’ or something.”

“That’s a bit too self-incriminating, don’t you think? My name is perfectly edgy.”

Spinner screwed up his face and raised an eyebrow. “Sure it is. Anyway, the rainbow-haired girl is trying to talk to you. She said she liked your skin.”

“I’m using the default skin.”

“Okay well still, reply back to her.” Spinner had a goofy grin on his face. He had a feeling this would be a funny encounter.

“Alright, if you say so.”

Hovering his fingers over the keys before typing, Shigaraki decided to type ‘i like urs to’ into the chat.

“That’s the wrong ‘to’. And you spelled ‘yours’ wrong.”

“I’m typing a message, not a fucking essay,” Shigaraki responded.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t use proper grammar.”

Shigaraki ignored him and read ‘Detroit_smash_me_69’s new reply. “‘Thx. Wanna smash?’”

“Whoaaa, wait a minute. Hold on a second.” Spinner backed away from the monitor in disbelief, pacing in the space behind Shigaraki’s computer setup.

“Dude, I think she’s just referencing her username. Calm down and get back over here.”

Spinner, after taking a few deep breaths, returned to his former position. “What are you gonna say now?”

Shigaraki typed into the chat window, chuckling to himself. Satisfied with his message, he pressed enter. 

‘I’ll Detroit smash you any day darling.’, showed up in the chat log under Shigaraki’s Gamertag. 

“You don’t realize how creepy that sounds-“

“Shush, I’m ~flirting.”

“She could be twelve.” Spinner attempted to reason with Shigaraki. It’s as if he’s never talked to a girl before, real or virtual. 

“‘She’ might not even be a she. Besides, what twelve year old has a Gamertag like that?”

“You know this is public? Like, everyone in this waiting room can see this right now.”

“I don’t give a shit, I’m enjoying myself. I don’t even remember the last time I’ve been able to sit down and play a game like this.”

Shigaraki’s comment caught Spinner off guard, but it reminded him that Shigaraki has been a villain for most of his life. Spinner didn’t quite grasp the twistedness of Shigaraki’s relationship with his master until now, and Spinner felt sad knowing Shigaraki never got to experience a normal life. 

“Well, I’m enjoying this as well. Even if you’re being a freak online.”

“I’m a freak offline too, you know.” Shigaraki turned around in his chair to look at Spinner. He was smirking and seemed to completely forget about the game he was playing. 

“Oh?” Spinner wasn’t sure where this conversation was going, but he would be deceiving himself if he said he didn’t want to find out. He and Spinner were kindred spirits, gamers starving for justice and murder, so he didn’t dismiss the prospects of growing closer to Shigaraki in a more than platonic way. 

“Especially in bed.”

“Oh?” Maybe the Hero Killer fanatics on Minecraft weren’t the horniest people after all. 

Shigaraki stood up and advanced towards Spinner.  “To think I was moping around earlier, when I could have been doing this.”

Spinner had no choice except to walk backward. He continued until his legs hit the side of Shigaraki’s bed and he was forced to fall onto the worn comforter. With Spinner’s back pressed against the blanket, Shigaraki bent over him, trapping him between his arms.

“...doing me?” Spinner squeaked, his cheeks heating up. Spinner was an avid gamer, and therefore a virgin, so he didn’t know how to react to the predicament he was in. Sexual intimacy was new territory for him, but he wouldn’t mind exploring it with-

“Kurogiri said you guys can’t use the WiFi. With All For One gone, nobody’s here to pay for the internet anymore.” Dabi interrupted Spinner’s train of thought. 

Dabi’s voice made chills run down Spinner’s spine. He left Shigaraki’s room about an hour ago, so Spinner was surprised he was back so soon. Why was he here? Why did he have to be such a cockblocker??

“Shit,” Shigaraki exclaimed, not moving from over Spinner. 

“Why don’t you nerds try going outside for once? I heard the graphics out there are incredible!”

“Why don’t you try minding your own damn business for once? I’m about to get some.” Shigaraki barked back at Dabi.

“Yeah! I’m about to get some!” Spinner echoed from under Shigaraki, his every word dripping with excitement. Somehow, Spinner felt breathless already, although Shigaraki hadn't even touched him yet. 

“Gross,” Dabi muttered before walking out of Shigaraki’s room and closing the door behind him, leaving Spinner and Shigaraki alone again. 

Faint sounds from Shigaraki’s computer provided a distraction for Spinner, who was too overwhelmed to function. He looked into Shigaraki’s ruby eyes and found himself starstruck by the man he called a loser just a while ago. Reality was so much better than fictional worlds at times, and this was one of those times.

“Guess I wasn’t that bad of a flirt after all,” Shigaraki said, before leaning down over Spinner’s trembling form.  

Stain’s nuts weren’t the only thing getting sucked tonight.

[thecomicsnexus]

SWAMP THING #22-24 MARCH - MAY 1984 BY ALAN MOORE, STEVE BISSETTE, JOHN TOTLEBEN AND TATJANA WOOD

SYNOPSIS (FROM DC DATABASE)

Abby Cable and her husband Matt search the Louisiana swamp for Swamp Thing. They discover his body, but it has taken root in the swamp, and is seemingly unresponsive. They are accosted by Jason Woodrue, who explains how Swamp Thing had been captured by the Sunderland Corporation, where he had discovered that the Swamp Thing was never Alec Holland at all, but simply plant matter infected with Holland's consciousness. When Swamp thing discovered this, he escaped, and took root in the swamp, giving up his quest for humanity, and accepting his plant nature.

Meanwhile, Swamp Thing has surreal dreams of Alec Holland's life, and then his quest for humanity as the Swamp Thing. All the while, Woodrue performs experiments on him, hoping to connect to The Green through him. He goes so far as to eat one of the tubers growing from the Swamp Thing's body.

Elsewhere, Abby has anxiety over the thought of her husband being with another woman, but never finds any evidence. She drags Matt back to Swamp Things' resting place, shouting and crying, hoping to convince him to embrace his humanity. Woodrue, watching in the shadows, is disgusted.

Finally, Woodrue taps into The Green, and it strips him of all of his humanity. He embraces his new identity as the Floronic Man.

Swamp Thing is residing within The Green after the shock of discovering that he is merely composed of plant-matter that was somehow deceived into thinking that it was once the human Alec Holland.

Elsewhere, The Floronic Man, formerly Jason Woodrue, commanding the power of all plants, goes on a rampage of murder and destruction throughout Terrebonne Parish, Louisiana. Abby Cable drives alone, and discovers the bodies of some of Woodrue's victims, and in her fragile state, cries out for Alec, before being set upon by some of Woodrue's vines.

Woodrue uses plants to increase the oxygen levels within peoples' homes to the point that it causes an explosion when someone lights a cigarette, and destroys everything in the town. He has a local boy film everything, and then deliver the tape to the authorities. As a result, the authorities call the Justice League of America.

Through The Green, Swamp Thing hears Abby call to him, and begins to piece together recent events, coming to grips with the fact that he is not Alec Holland, and slowly beginning to perceiving Woodrue's negative presence within The Green.

As Woodrue's vines nearly strangle Abby to death, Swamp Thing finally wakes, and uproots himself, saving her. Then he goes to confront Woodrue himself.

The Justice League of America watches the tape they received depicting the attack on Terrebonne Parish, and try to formulate a plan of action. The Floronic Man has used his connection to The Green to kill humans in Lacroix, Louisiana, and plans to unbalance the earth's atmosphere by causing plants to produce more oxygen - and the inflammable gas will eventually ignite and kill all animal life.

Meanwhile, the Swamp Thing confronts Woodrue. Initially, the madman assumes that Swamp Thing is joining him as a companion, since he also holds a connection to The Green. He offers the Swamp Thing the opportunity to kill a prone woman, but rather than join Woodrue, he punches him in the face, and rescues the woman. Angrily, Woodrue stabs Swamp Thing through the chest with a sharpened tree trunk.

Noticing that the Swamp Thing and Woodrue are fighting against each other, the townspeople take the opportunity to escape. Nearby, Abby Cable meets an old man who refuses to admit defeat, and runs off to retrieve an object he calls 'Evangeline.' In the meantime, Woodrue traps Swamp Thing beneath some rubble, and suddenly becomes aware of Abby's presence. At that moment, though, the old man returns bearing a chainsaw.

Woodrue kills the man before he can attack, and recalling her sympathies for Swamp Thing, who he deems a traitor, he decides to kill Abby with the chainsaw. As he raises his arms over his head, Swamp Thing grabs one of them, and snaps it. He explains to Woodrue that he is hurting The Green by his actions.

Woodrue is disbelieving, claiming that he is the servant of the Green, and that he has been carrying out the will of the wilderness. Swamp Thing responds that the carnage and destruction that Woodrue has caused are the way of man, and not the way of The Green. He says that Woodrue's illness has poisoned The Green with his desires. Finally, he causes Woodrue to realize his error by reminding him that plants require carbon dioxide, created by humans and animals, to continue producing oxygen and live. The realization causes The Green to draw away from Woodrue, leaving him alone. In horror, he runs away.

Abby remembers that the Swamp Thing said to her that he is not Alec Holland, whom she believed him to be. He responds that he has since learned that he is merely a plant that thought he was Alec Holland, and now, he is happy with that knowledge. Pleased, they embrace and return to Houma.

Desperately, Woodrue returns to the swamp, sensing that the Justice League is coming for him. He searches for his Flexi-Flesh spray, hoping to appear as a human before they arrive. Unfortunately, as Superman and Green Lantern approach him, he appears before them as a grotesque version of his former self; as his spray flexi-flesh spray has worn off. His mental state is fragile, and Superman and Green Lantern take him to Arkham Asylum, hoping he can get help there.

The Swamp Thing returns to his swamp, wondering why he would ever have left it, and finally embracing his life as a plant, and not a man.

REVIEW

If you are more familiar with this version of the Swamp Thing, this story will be awesome for you. But I wonder how people at the time felt about this change, as it stripped away all of Alex Holland from the main character.

In any case, this is a beautiful story both in writing and art (with a lot of symbolism hidden on plain sight). And this war between the Green and the Red is something we can all relate to. There is a sequence when a policeman comes back home knowing what’s about to happen and starts killing all the plants around his family, this is a primal war for existence, a war neither the green nor the red can win. A war that echoes the Cold War of the time, where one power winning over the other would doom the planet.

Swamp Thing went through his Apotheosis in this book since issue 20. And now he became a plant, a proud one. And you could think of issue 24 as the conclusion of more than 10 years of stories. It really is. There are even multiple references to previous issues from both Pasko and Wein’s runs, but without interfering with Moore’s story.

But the Swamp Thing world just got bigger, and with it, new opportunities for stories.

I give this story a score of 10

[azx-re]

Good Intentions | Peter Stone

Word Count: 2.378 words

Genre: Platonic angst, honestly writing this broke my heart all over again

Trigger warning: death, guns, blood

Summary: (Taking place right after Season 20 Episode 12 - “Dear Ben”) Peter wasn’t ready to forgive his father yet, although some revelations from the infinity rapist case flipped his views upside down. He meets up with a friend who helps him realize that it’s about time he let the grounding weight of guilt and regret off of his shoulders.

A/N: guess who’s back after binge watching a TV series I stumbled upon lol. Honestly I wrote this because my heart aches every time because Peter isn’t dealing with his feelings right, so I decided to give him a platonic friendship that helps him deal and overcome the massive guilt he has:(

Although the sun had disappeared, Central Park remained just as beautiful during daylight, as the burning lamp post and the looming New York buildings illuminated the large natural sanctuary within the city. It wasn’t hard for you to spot Peter’s figure in the night, as he was sat on the bench facing the Gapstow Bridge alone, the yellow lamppost illuminating his slumped body, seemingly staring at the bridge and the buildings behind it with a somber look.

And as you neared, you could already guess what he needed to talk to you about so badly. Peter’s beautiful green orbs were empty, vacant of the sparkle you’ve come to know. The lawyer that sat on the bench wasn’t the strong, confident, and arrogant Peter Stone that was shown during court. This was another side only few who’s known him could see: broken. He let himself feel vulnerable for tonight, wearing his shattered heart for all to see, and there were only two reasons when he would let his guard down like this:

“It’s about your father and Pam, isn’t it?” Peter snapped from his trance, his startled eyes calming down as soon as he saw your small, comforting smile.

“You know, I hate to say it, but Liv’s right.” He started, scooting aside and taking the two coffee cups sat beside him, handing one to you. Muttering a small ‘thanks’, you settled yourself beside him and sipped the warm hot chocolate. Somehow, knowing Peter still put time and effort to buy you your favorite drink caused a small ache in your heart. When your mouth was about to open and say ‘you didn’t have to’, Peter was already one step ahead, raising his pointing fingers indicating you to stop. Perhaps this was Peter’s way of repaying you, you thought.

“Well, Liv’s always right,” You shrugged, causing Peter to roll his eyes, “You gotta be more specific about what she’s right on, Peter.” In that moment, you saw Peter gulp in the cold January air, and the contents of your stomach dropped, scared for what Peter was going to say, judging by the grimace on his face.

“She said it’s about time I forgive my father,” He finally muttered, and the slow signs of Peter’s heart breaking into pieces were evident from the waver of his voice and the rapid eye blinking, “The case about the infinity rapist? That case turned my perception about him upside down. He wasn’t the greatest father figure of all, he wasn’t a saint like what everybody said, (Name). I despised him then, I really do. For neglecting me and Pam when we were kids, for disappearing from the family, and for being a bad father in my eyes.” He bit his lip, eyes in concentration as if to find words to formulate all the anger and regret in his soul. You moved closer to where he sat, gently placing your hand over his arms, and soon his body relaxed from its tense position.

“Turns out, he wasn’t as bad as I made out. That trip to Montana where he sent me and Pam off for three months? He was trying to protect us from the infinity rapist, as that time was the peak of their conversation, as that bastard kept on mentioning us in his letters. That little league game he missed that meant so much to me? The infinity rapist actually struck the night before.” He took a deep breath, and a single tear trickled down his cheek, his composure starting to break.

“My point is: my father was never physically there for us. I was mad, because we were supposed to be family, and family sticks together no matter what. Pam and I only had each other, and all those years growing up without any parent figure really twisted my perception of him. I despised him as I grew up, and even as he died I continued to hate him even more. For leaving without any goodbyes, let alone an apology or an ‘I love you, son.’.”

At this point, Peter’s voice started to crack, he was blinking rapidly to contain his tears from falling even further. You knew, behind the brave face he puts, that Peter can crack even from the smallest mentions about his family. And this case was all about Ben Stone, it hit home for Peter. You wished you could take his pain away, but all you could do was hold him close as he drowned in his own pool of emotions.

“Turns out, he was just never there for us physically. He was there for us in some way, indirectly protecting us from the horrors of his job, trying to make our environment as safe as he can so we could go outside without having to constantly look behind our backs. He wasn’t the best father, but he had good intentions, and I hate myself for thinking so awfully of him. I wished I could have seen past all of this anger earlier, you know? Save myself from all the hate that’s eating me alive, maybe he’d be a little proud of me, and maybe Pam wouldn’t have died if I wasn’t so self-absorbed in this-“

“Peter, don’t blame yourself!” You cut him off, your own voice betraying you as you swallowed the ever-forming invisible lump in your throat, “Pam’s death isn’t your fault, and Ben have always been proud of you.” Peter finally dared to glance at you, but quickly looked down when you’ve seen the tears he fought so hard already streaming down his cheeks. Slowly you moved your hand to cup his cheeks, and he was forced to look at your determined, although watery, eyes, as you wiped away his tears.

“Peter, Ben’s always been proud of you,” The low whisper from your lips reached his ear but he shook his head in disapproval, causing your grip on his cheeks to tighten, “I’ve noticed it when he introduced us back in Chicago: there was this pride swelling in his chest as he introduced his son, fresh from law school, continuing his legacy as a lawyer. And I remember thinking back then, ‘no wonder he’s so proud of Peter.’, as you made a name for yourself in the city and helped the victims get justice.” Peter’s breath stopped when he heard your description, a look of disbelief apparent in his eyes.

“And not only that, Peter, you’ve grown to be a kind young man, with a huge heart that’s ready to help anyone in need. Any parent would be happy to see their son not only grow successful, but turn into an amazing, kindhearted human as well. And I’m sure Ben’s proud of that too, despite not having him around to do normal family stuff, you defied the odds and turned out as an amazing kid!” Peter slowly pulled himself away from your grasp, but choosing to hold your hand against his instead. Even after your long explanation, Peter still felt that it didn’t sit right with him. That Ben Stone couldn’t possibly be proud of his let-down, full of hatred son.

“He must’ve hated me now for hating him, and for taking away Pam’s life. I was supposed to protect her, and now she’s dead because I insisted on taking that case to court and was so confident that they wouldn’t be able to lay their hands on her. It’s only logical that he hates me now.” Peter said, denying the pep talk you gave him earlier. Taking a deep sigh, you broke away from his contact to take a gulp from the long forgotten hot chocolate, now cold from the long exposure of the cold air. Maybe it was finally time to reveal a little secret of yourself that you’ve kept hidden for so long, so that Peter would finally understand, you thought.

“Peter, I’m going to tell you something that only my family knows, and just listen to me until I finish because this will help clear things up for you,” You took a deep breath and braced yourself, and this raised the alarm within Peter’s still functioning mind, “I’ve been in your position before, Peter. I killed my own father because I didn’t dare to call 911 for help.” In that moment Peter’s heart stopped, as he sobered up from his sadness to stare at you in shock.

“What? What do you mean?” He inquired further, searching your face to see if you were joking. But he didn’t found any, instead Peter found bitterness and longing inside your eyes.

“It happened when I was five, while my sister was only three. It was just us and dad, he came home early since it’s the day the paycheck comes in. And he was about to pay the debts he had from loaning so much money that night, I remembered this relieved expression in his eyes when he was about to step into the night. But he didn’t even make it out of our house: a burglar came in, a gun on his right hand ready to shoot him and his left hand beckoning my father to give him the money.”

“I knew something bad happened when I heard screaming, the guy yelling ‘hand me the money’ over and over again. I hid in our parent’s wardrobe with my sister, and I could’ve reached for the telephone on the nightstand to call for help, but I knew that the loud noise from the telephone would cause a ruckus and the burglar will get to us. So I stayed silent, biting my lips while I covered my sister’s ears, hoping she doesn’t hear the horrors that went on. And then the gunshot rang, and soon the sound of footsteps retreated. I called 911 then, when I could’ve called the police before if I was brave enough and willing to take the risk. When I finally came out of the room to check on him, his chest didn’t hold any breath, there was blood slowly oozing out of his chest. My mom came home to a bloody living room and police surrounding our apartment, when I could’ve prevented it all from happening.”  

Peter stayed silent, a fresh wave of guilt now washing over him. He was about to speak up, say his condolences and say that it wasn’t your fault, you were just a kid after all, but you beat him to it, raising your hand and stopping him for even saying a word.

“I kept on letting that guilt eat me up Peter, for years and years. It wasn’t until my mother was at her death bed that she convinced me that it wasn’t my fault, that I was protecting my sister, that I had good intentions. In my father’s eyes, she said what I did was the right choice, that he would rest easy knowing I was there protecting my sister, and we made it out of that incident alive.” You were so caught up retelling the painful part of your past that you didn’t realize you were crying when Peter’s calloused thumb collided with your cheeks in the gentlest manner. This time he had a small, pained smile, and deep down you’ve realized that maybe he’s starting to understanding things now.

“My point is Peter, you had your best intention when you chose to defend the victim then, and your choice helped to take down a notorious cartel on both sides of the border and free the victims held there, give them a new purposeful life! Yes, Pam may have died in the process, but you didn’t mean for that to happen, Peter. And now’s the time to not only forgive Ben, but to forgive yourself as well. My father wouldn’t let me suffer through this guilt all my life, and I’m sure Ben and Pam wouldn’t want to you go through that as well, Peter.”

To those passing by the park, the both of you looked out of place. Wet cheeks sparkling in the dim light, the heavy tears that finally rolled down your cheeks reflecting the gleam. Hair tousled from the wind and the constant Holding onto each other’s hand in a tight grip, both of you seemed to be communicating through telepathy, although the both of you wore a similar, pained expression. Yet in that moment, even bystanders could see that you’ve both reached a point of understanding, that you’ve bonded through the same, aching past.

“So Peter, it’s not your fault,” You started again, although your voice was muffled as you tried to contain the whimpers threatening to break free, “Don’t put yourself in this position, Peter, it sucks feeling guilty and having it eat you alive for years. Ben, Pam, and I are so proud of how far you’ve come, but blaming yourself will do no one any good. So I’m going to say it to you every day so that you’d understand: it’s not your fault. It was never your fault, Peter.” He finally let all of his composure disappear, as he crashed into your shoulder and cried, letting all the anguish and regret he carried for a year to slowly disseminate through heavy tears and chocked sobs.

And you held Peter in the cold, distant night of New York, paying the people walking about no mind as you caressed his brown locks with delicate care, letting Peter pull you close in a tight embrace as he cried his heart out, while whispering over and over to him that it wasn’t his fault, that he was so loved, and that his family is proud of him.

And as Peter pulled away from your hold, eyes bloodshot and puffy, nose red with snot running down, he felt lighter, like the weight he was carrying was slowly lifted off. And as you chuckled at his ruined face and dabbed his wet cheeks with tissue, Peter leaned into your touch, smiling along with your soft, angelic giggles. And for the first time, Peter Stone knew he was going to be okay, that he can finally see that his father never resented him for his misdirected hate, that his sister forgave him for what happened, and that they were proud of him because Peter always had good intentions in mind.

[raywritesthings]

Granted

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Laurel Lance, Oliver Queen, Felicity Smoak Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: “It was about faith, really. Trust. No one ever wanted to know who their soulmate was, if they’d been right. Not until the last possible moment.” // A person loses their ability to see color after their soulmate tells them they love them for the last time.   Notes: Angst and Tragedy, Canonical Character Death, mentioned Ol*city *Can also be read on my AO3*

She lost color two years ago.

It came on her gradually, in the midst of her spiral. By the time Oliver was walking away from her down a hallway, the words, “I have loved you for half of my life,” echoing around in her head, it was complete. And what was there to do but swallow down the fear and loneliness and rage — how dare he do this to her? how dare he bleed the color from her life so young? — and walk away herself. What else was there to be done?

It was about faith, really. Trust. No one ever wanted to know who their soulmate was, if they’d been right. Not until the last possible moment. Her mother’s favorite film, Technicolor, told the fairytale: a couple fell in love in their youth, built a life together, struggled through, and then on their deathbed in old age each confessed their love for the last time before falling peacefully into eternal sleep. The film faded from color to gray, before finally to black as the orchestra swelled and The End was projected onto the screen in curvy letters. That’s what everyone wanted.

Who would want to know the truth only to know their soulmate would never say the words to them ever again? Better the uncertainty.

But somehow, the world did not end despite hers being in shades of black, white, and gray. Maybe out of spite Laurel pulled herself out of addiction, got help, threw herself into her relationships with family and friends. And yes, that included him. Even if she was to never know that kind of love again, she could find some kind of equilibrium.

In times of strife, it was still Oliver who was there, as himself or the Arrow. Sometimes he would even say things that made her hold her breath — “It’s because I care about you.” — but there was no point to hoping. No point to wondering if those flashes of color were real or just desperately imagined. The last time was always meant to be the last time.

She stopped trying to remember what green or red or blue looked like, which of the grays they were. When Ted asked her which color she wanted to wear at the gym, her answer was a firm, “Black. Definitely black.” It was the one color she could rely on anymore.

She never told Oliver. Tempted as she was sometimes. Would it shock him? Would he even care? Sometimes she wondered if he’d already experienced it the same as she had, just one of a thousand hurts he kept shut up inside of himself.

Just once, she thought maybe she glimpsed the moment it happened. Thea had come to her with the truth of Sara’s death and Oliver’s knowledge of it. She approached him, tried to see if he’d admit to it himself, and his lie blinded her with an anger that nearly made her think she could see red.

“You know it’s hard to remember a time when I was actually in love with you.”

The words left her before she could stop them, and his face — but she turned away, just as he had only a year ago. She calmed eventually, as she always did, and there was no mention or indication from Oliver. Nothing that made her think he’d realized the despairing truth.

Did she really have it in her to say the words again? Even if she knew in the deepest reaches of her heart that they were still true, she couldn’t think of a way they might ever come out.

Not when he appeared to betray them to the League — “Oliver, we believed in you!” — not when he left with Felicity — a smile at his goodbye speech, little spoken between them at all — not when she and Thea set off to retrieve him — “We’re hoping you can’t change who you are in your bones.” — not even when he journeyed to rescue Sara from the other realm with her — “How can I say no to the man that helped me save my sister’s soul?”

Perhaps that the meaning underneath the words was there at all was enough. Perhaps love was more than four letters. Perhaps he would never know.

But a night months later found her in the hospital, weariness in her bones and yet clarity to her mind. She told the team she loved them, and all but Oliver echoed it. He couldn’t, after all.

The others began to file out while he remained. Forever lingering near if not with her. And it would be that way forever, unless she let him go now.

It was time.

—-

If there was one solace, it was that he still had color.

Through the years on the island and the horrors he endured, through the deaths he caused and learned to stop counting, through everything that had damaged him beyond repair, he’d never lost it. That had to mean there was something to keep striving for, wasn’t there?

With each failure of a relationship, he made it past the heartbreak with his sight the same as ever. Eventually, he knew the gamble would not pay off, his luck would have to run out. He would find and then drive away his own soulmate. But it hadn’t happened yet.

Not even when Felicity gave him back the ring. Not even when she packed his things and watched him leave their home. Not even when she denied the vows she had recited at their sham of a wedding to ensnare Cupid had meant anything to her at all.

Maybe there was still hope for him, for them. Hope that he would continue to hear I love you for years to come, that he wasn’t so much of a monster. That his soulmate could still love him, that had to mean he was doing at least one thing right.

Oliver was braced for those words, for the last time he would hear them. He thought he was prepared for it at any time.

Which was why when they did come, he felt it like a punch straight to his heart.

He didn’t know why he couldn’t say it back as he stood there by the foot of Laurel’s bed watching her and the team. “We love you.” They were simple words, true words, yet they bubbled up and caught in his throat so that he just nodded and felt his lips half form around the first syllable. Love was a complicated word for him and Laurel, after all.

Oliver stayed behind instead. Actions had always been his arena more than words. He would watch over Laurel all night to make sure she was safe and happy and knew how he felt, the deep bond and affection that all the years and hurts had yet to destroy.

When she asked him to fetch something out of her belt, he thought nothing of it. Until he saw what it was.

The photo rested between his thumb and forefinger as his eyes burned. When he asked, Laurel was at last free with her explanation, honest in a way that the two of them rarely were. It was enough to make his heart drop. But he couldn’t stop her; he owed her that much.

“I know how passionately you love, and how much it hurts once that love goes away,” she had said to him as she comforted him through his failed engagement. She had known. She had known all this time, and what had he done—

“And I know that I’m not the love of your life, Ollie. But you will always be the love of mine.”

It was a gradual fade. It seemed to leak in around the corners of his eyes at first, zeroing in until Laurel was the only bright spot in his vision. The blonde of her hair, the faint pink to her lips, her green gaze watching him with compassion until that too went.

Oliver choked on a sob. His legs buckled and he sat hard on the edge of her hospital bed, his hand landing on her knee. His mouth opened, her name on his lips, but she shushed him and reached, her fingers just barely brushing his. “You don’t have to say it,” she told him, words barely above a whisper. “It’s okay.”

He stayed there until he couldn’t, until the seizures began, and the doctors pushed him out towards the door.

He knew even as he stood there muttering prayers under his breath — “Come on, Laurel. Come on.” — and holding Thea with one arm — her hair was a deep gray now, and they all looked so old — that it was no use. Laurel would have never told him until the end, until the last possible moment. She would have wanted him to have the colors.

They pronounced her dead at 11:59, but Oliver’s world had already darkened several minutes prior.

He was in a daze over the next days. Funeral preparations, an impostor in her suit, John’s guilt and rage, it all felt both too much and far too in the background to be real. Nothing felt real except the gray of her tombstone. That, he knew he could see in perfect clarity, if not the flowers that rested below it.

He couldn’t tell what kind they were without the colors to aid him. Something he had taken for granted before. He’d taken so much for granted, and just as his sight was limited now he felt it a wonder he hadn’t been blind before. He had not been lucky; he had been selfish, scared to risk his heart and his feelings on the woman who had always been in his life no matter how hard it must have been for her.

Felicity’s car was still waiting when he at last got up and left the grave. He got in on the other side, glad she remained staring out the window. It was hard to look at her.

“You know what you have to do?” She asked him. “You have to kill that son of a bitch.”

Oliver’s eyes closed. He wanted to. Oh, how badly he wanted to. But in the end, he knew it would never be what Laurel had wanted. Not for him.

“Darhk will face justice,” he promised.

Felicity sensed the denial of her request, her head turning sharply. “Oliver, I’m telling you it’s okay.”

She was giving her approval, something only until recently he would have done anything to have. Yet though many claimed they had found happiness without their soulmate, though there were self-help books and TLC shows about Loving Without Color, he knew it wasn’t enough. Not for him. He was all-or-nothing, as Laurel had once so accurately described. God, she’d known him better than himself.

“It’s no use, Felicity,” he said. “I lost the colors.”

Her eyes widened for one long moment, and then her expression closed off. “I see.”

She faced forward in her seat, and it was a clear dismissal. Oliver opened his door and got out, watching as the car pulled away. He then turned and walked back to Laurel’s grave. It would be night before he managed to tear himself away and make the solitary trek back to the base.

He had been so determined to be alone through most of his life. Now that he knew for certain that he would be for the rest of it, his earlier resolve did little to comfort.

They should have had more time.

[transhawks]

Aequitas DabiHawksWeek Day 7

AO3 Here

Hawks is the man who goes too fast.

But today he can’t go fast enough. Last night he flew off from the truth under the cover of night, and today, in the harsh light of midday sun, he flies back to it. The wind doesn’t deter him, he can’t hear anything in the sky except for the beating of his heart like a war drum.

Its booming patterns provide a soundtrack for his tumultuous thoughts. Thoughts of betrayal. Thoughts of love.

He wonders if it’s too late to go back now. He left Dabi last night, a night where he made love with him briefly, gave as much as he could and took little, all that the other couldn’t pry his indecision out of him. A liar through and through, so tied in them he might as well be strung up.

Hawks is a liar.

And liars eventually have to face up to the truth.

What was that ancient phrase?

Veritas odium parit.

Truth breeds hate.

But Truth also came with Justice, and if anything, at least he could bring that. At least he could set things right, even if he’d be hated.

And everyone would hate him.

He flies through narrow openings in buildings, careful of the incoming smoke and rubble. The League is bringing out everything today, this is a last stand if there ever was one. A cataclysmic showdown between Heroes and Villains, and all of Japan is watching them. Part of him wanted to hide, sit this one out like he did with Kamino, out of shame more than anything. Because the League would know once they saw him, they would know whose side he is on – right?

But he couldn’t. He saw smoke and fire on his phone screen and couldn’t because there’s someone he has to save. And he can’t help it any more than he could help being a six-year-old and throwing himself off that overpass on the highway, flying down into the car collision he’d witnessed. He’d no certainty he could have saved those people, no certainty at all, just pure instinct to do what he could, even if he crashed and burned along with them.

He’s always been that way, deep down, every patrol, every rescue.

Give, give, give until there’s nothing left and what a beautiful way to go. Save, save, save, and who cares if it kills you.

Hawks never wanted to be a hero, but deep down, he knows he can’t be anything else.

Even for the people who don’t want heroes.

Hawks finally reaches the epicenter. The ground is shaking – Gigantomachia is so big that they can barely contain him, though he sees Mount Lady trying her best. There’s too much damage to this city all around, an inferno blazes close by. To his horror he can see that students of Yuuei are involved too, even recognizes some. There’s that bone-breaking kid fighting Shigaraki, of all people, aided by the rabid boy with explosions. Hawks’s chest tightens as he looks for his intern, wondering where Fumikage had gotten to.

And…the civilians.

His feathers fly out immediately, gripping those wounded to safety. He even flies by a villain, poor Spinner bleeding out and clutching his stomach, and he sees fear in the young man’s pink eyes.

“You traitor!” He cries out upon seeing Hawks hover above him. “This is your fault!”

“It is.” Hawks agrees, a feather coming down on him. Reptilian eyes seem to brace themselves for death but instead he’s picked up, carried off to safety – in the distance where he sees Twice and Toga with a bunch of noumu. Whatever Spinner says, whatever confusion he’s caused, Hawks doesn’t care.

He’s a hero and he’s here to save them all.

He picks up hero and villain, subdues and isolates noumu, it doesn’t matter, his feathers return for more. It’s never been about the body count, it’s about the screams and sobs he can feel through his feathers, each vibration shared through them another reminder of how universal human misery is.

He reaches the inferno soon enough, a clash of bright blue and orange flames. It’s beautiful, in a fiercely deific way, and he knows he’ll be enveloped within them soon enough.

Such is his fate.

Neither father nor son expect him when he flies in, wings tucked so that he doesn’t burn them out yet, no, he knows that will happen, but not now.

Dabi reacts first.

“You fucking da-…” He screams at him with the rage of a betrayed lover, and he is, Hawks knows.

“Hawks, out of the way!” Endeavor yells back. “This is my fight! He’s my son and I have to deal with him!”

“Oh, you’ll deal with it alright, old man!” Dabi screams, the stitches on his face ripping, and there’s rivulets of blood and smoke pouring out of him. Not even a day ago Hawks had kissed those stitches, pressed his lips on them as if impressing prayers on flesh. “I’ll burn you both alive for what you’ve done!”

If the mention of them both didn’t clue Endeavor into what was going on, Hawks gently landing and turning towards Dabi should have.

“Touya,” He starts, voice far too tender for such a scene. “Touya, I’m sorry.”

If Endeavor gives a startled gasp at Hawks knowing Dabi’s true identity, it can’t be heard over the pure anguish that comes out of Touya’s mouth, grief and rage bottled up into one. He aims a blast of flame at Hawks now, and Hawks rolls out of the way, too accustomed to the tells of how Touya aims his blasts to let his reflexes fail him.

It proves an excellent moment for Endeavor to counterattack and Hawks watches as the older hero sends a flaming arrow during the brief opening when the recoil hits Touya. His heart seizes up and he clutches his chest as if he’s the one being pierced, except…

When the smoke clears, it’s apparent Endeavor never managed to hit Touya. He’s twelve feet in the air, feathers surrounding and pulling him away even if he’s struggling so hard against them. Hawks had took him away at the last second.

And Endeavor has a feather impaled through his arm.

The look of betrayal Endeavor sends him is hurtful, but Hawks has cried enough over what he has done and will do today. He’s a hero, he knows this, but there’s no way this was going to end with someone not getting hurt.

“So, you’re with them.” Enji says, clutching his bleeding arm. “All this time, you were betraying us.”

“No,” Hawks corrects him, and he doesn’t mean to sound so cold. “I was Hero Society’s for as long as I could be. But I’ve changed my mind.”

He turns back to look up at Touya, who is still fighting the feathers that constrain him and keep him in the air. They have his wrists pinched tight and smack him whenever he tried to burn him off, but there’s a look of confusion and disbelief on the villain’s face.

“Why are you doing this, Hawks?” Touya’s voice is back to the quieter, less hysterical husk that he’s familiar with, but there’s a scared edge to it, and Hawks could hear the frightened hurting little boy in it, the same boy he wants to save, to make amends for. “You got what you wanted! You betrayed us! Why help me now?”

“Because…” Hawks says, and wonders what to tell him.

Because he regrets lying in the first place?

Because these past months have been torture, pure joy and anguish that he never thought he’d experience?

Because being with Touya was like having his world shattered, the blinds of his world opened to show him a light he’d never seen before? The cage that had been his home could no longer encompass him; Touya had seen to that. He’d shown him a side of his society that he’d never wanted to acknowledge, and also shown him resilience, perseverance.

Touya, in all his rage against the world, knows more of liberty and choice than Hawks has.

And it all comes down to choices, doesn’t it?

“Because I’m a hero.”

Two sword feathers are raised up as Hawks enters into a stance. But he turns his head to look back at Touya, who is being whisked away against his will. Hawks knows he’ll make it to the place where he deposited Spinner, and then the League can take care of him. They’ll patch him up and he’ll live for another day, even if in anger. Even if he’s robbed of his personal vengeance, Hawks knows Touya will make the world a brighter place no matter what.

Touya realizes what Hawks is going to do mid-air and tries to burn the feathers off himself, but he’s too high in the sky, above nothing that will break his fall. Hawks can hear his protests clearly but he’s made up his mind.

“Goodbye, Touya.” He whispers, turning back to look at Endeavor who is standing up again, having bandaged his injured arm with a piece of his costume. In the distance are other heroes, probably rushing to them to help with the situation.

“Hey, number one?” He calls out, and Endeavor grimaces at him, clearly hesitant, even after Hawks saved Touya from him. “Don’t ya go easy on me. Bring the heat, from one fake piece of shit hero to another, ‘kay?”

His name is Hawks, and even if he never chose to be one in the first place, Hawks will die someone’s hero, he’s sure of it.

[elementalwriter67]

The Death of Penguin

Pairings: Best friend Jason x Reader, Best friend Roy x reader

Word count: 3019

Summary: Jason has just killed the Penguin on live TV and you and Roy rush to help me knowing that a certain Bat isn’t going to be too happy about what just happened and fearing for the life of your friend. 

You dropped the coffee cup that you had been holding your mind racing a mile a minute as you tried to process what you had just seen on TV uncaring of the fact that you were currently being scalded by fresh coffee. Your mouth was hanging open and your hand was still hanging in the air as you stared at the TV that had cut away to a news report, you couldn’t believe what you had just seen. Your best friend, the man you had known pretty much your entire life, had just shot the Penguin at point blank range on live television in all of Gotham. Jason Todd had just killed the Penguin on live TV after he had promised that he wouldn’t kill anyone. You stood there for a few moments still staring at the TV not even listening to what the newscasters were saying before your brain finally caught up to what was happening and you jumped into action pulling your phone out of your pocket as you raced to your bedroom.

“Come on, come on, come on, come on pick up, pick up you son of a bitch pick the fuck up.” You muttered as you rushed about your room gathering your gear and hurriedly pulling it on as you listened to the annoying ringing of the phone desperately waiting for the person you were calling to pick up.

“Hey! This is Roy Harper speaking how may I help you?” Roy’s voice came over the speaker you hadn’t felt so relieved in a while as you pulled on your body armor.

“Roy! Thank god. It’s (Y/N) how quickly can you get to Gotham?” You asked him as you fell on to your bed pulling on your shoes.

“Depends what’s going on?” He asked but you could hear him getting ready on his end, you weren’t one to call and immediately ask if he could get here without there being a good reason.

“It’s Jason he just shot the Penguin on live TV, so I need you here like yesterday.” You informed him and there was a beat of silence and for a second you almost thought that Roy may have hung up on but he spoke up before you could say anything.

“I’ll be there in a hot minute, any idea on where he could be?” Roy asked and you shook your head as you pulled on your own helmet switching your phone call to the one in your helmet.

“No idea he hightailed it off the scene but Jason going awol isn’t my biggest concern it’s Batman that’s my concern.” You said as you grabbed the rest of your gear and then climbed out of the window of your bedroom and out onto the fire escape.

“Shit you’re right, ok, alright, how far away are you from where it happened?” Roy asked as you climbed up onto the railing of the fire escape and dropped down to the ground below rolling on impact and coming to the stop beside your motorcycle.

“I’m on the other side of the city, but I’m heading out now to find him how quickly can you be here?” You asked him as you hoped on your bike, starting her up and peeling out of the alleyway without a second thought.

“A minute maybe three, I’m leaving now add on some time to find Jason but I’ll be as quick as I can,” Roy responded and you nodded as you raced down the streets of Gotham weaving in and out of traffic as you went ignoring the angry honkings of other people.

“Ok, just get here as quickly as you can, we have to find Jason before Bats does.” You told him.

“Got it, be there soon,” Roy responded before the line went dead.

“Call Alfred Pennyworth.” You stated as you took a sharp turn kicking your leg out and dragging your foot across the ground to stabilize you as you took the turn. In the corner of your eye, you watched as Alfred’s little profile pic popped up followed by a calling icon for a couple of seconds before focusing on the road again and pushing the bike to go faster. The phone rang a couple of times before Alfred finally picked up the phone just as you zipped around another corner speeding towards the last place that the cops had seen Jason.

“Alfred please tell me that Bruce saw none of that.” You begged him and there was a moment of silence before he sighed and you already see the look on his face.

“I’m sorry miss (Y/L/N) but he’s already left to deal with master Jason as he put it,” Alfred responded and he didn’t sound happy about what was going on either.

“Fuck! God damn it! For once in his life could he not be a fucking stalker.” You cursed as you pushed the bike to go faster hitting the nitro button because now this was a race against the clock, if you didn’t get to Jason before Bruce did then there was no telling what Bruce would do to him.

“(Y/N).” Alfred’s tone was heavy and serious pulling you out of your panic thoughts and back to the current call you were on.

“Make sure that Jason is ok, while I do not approve of what he did he has never been one to kill just because he can so you make sure that Jason is ok and. You give Bruce hell.” Alfred’s voice was filled with determination and a part of you was relieved that Alfred didn’t hate Jason because of what he did, a fact that you knew Jason would need later.

“I’ll do my best.” You stated before hanging up the call and sighing heavily as you burst out on to one of the main roads only to come to a screeching halt as you looked up at the sky above you in complete and utter disbelief.  There was a building the size of a city block was currently falling from the sky. You blinked a couple of times as you continued to stare at the building your first instinct said to find a way to stop the building from crashing into the city, but you were coming up blank as you stared at the building. How the hell were you supposed to handle this and find Jason at the same time? A crashing spaceship maybe you could have managed that, a crashing plane you definitely could have handled but a crashing flying building as big as a city block fuck that the city was screwed. You’d need the justice league to handle that and there was no way you were calling the justice league lord knew what they would do with Jason when they found out what he did.

“Can this night get any better? I mean can it?” You muttered to yourself as you drove into an alleyway. Cutting the engine you jumped off the bike and grappled up onto the nearest building getting a better look at the building which was still very much falling.

“Please tell me you see the falling building too?” You looked over at Roy as he landed next to you staring up at the sky just as dumbfounded as you.

“Yes, I see the building too.” You responded and he nodded.

“Ok good, where’s Jason?” Roy asked moving on from the building accepting what was going on and how the two of you couldn’t stop it as he looked around the area trying to see if he could spot Jason anywhere. You, however, looked up at the falling building your stomach sinking as you remembered a conversation you’d had with Jason about how cool his new super secret hideout was and how no one would find it.

“How much do you want to bet that he’s up there.” You said pointing up at the building and Roy looked up at the building sighing heavily as he dragged a hand down his face.

“So first he shoots Penguin in the face and then he’s in a flying, crashing, building the size of a city block? Do you ever wonder what we did with our lives that made them so boring in comparison to his?” Roy asked and you shrugged.

“I don’t need to wonder I know, we didn’t die when we were sixteen.” You responded and Roy chuckled as he notched an arrow and aimed up at the burning building while you raised your grappling hook.

“Damn us and our inability to get kidnapped by the Joker when we were sixteen.” Roy joked and you smirked barely hiding your own chuckle as you shifted your finger to the trigger and prepared to fire at the building.

“Yeah damn us.” The two of you were about to fire at the building when suddenly the entire building exploded right before their eyes.

“Jason!” You and Roy shouted in unison as the two of you stared at the explosion in abject horror. You dropped your hands to your sides the grapple hook dangling loosely from your fingers as you stared at the falling remnants of the building, that was when you noticed there was something that didn’t look anything like falling debris. Blinking you reached up and pressed a button on the side of your helmet your vision zooming in on the falling object to see that it was Jason who crash-landed on a roof a few buildings away.

“Roy! Over there! You shouted dropping your hand from the side of your helmet to instead grab ahold of Roy’s arm and pull him towards the edge of the roof.

“Woah? What? What’s going on now?” Roy asked watching as you raced forward without any hesitation jumping off the roof and onto the next roof rolling on impact because of the significant drop in height.

“Jason’s alive and he landed on that roof not too far away! Follow me!” You shouted back as you jumped and grappled on to the next roof. Roy’s eyes widened but he didn’t question you as he chased after you, the two of you running and jumping over the rooftops only to come to an abrupt stop as you saw Jason and Bruce fighting on the next rooftop. Well, fighting wasn’t exactly the word you would use for it, it was more like Bruce was currently using Jason as a punching bag. Gasping you took a step back when you saw that not only was Bruce using Jason as a punching bag but he had also been hitting Jason so hard that he shattered Jason’s helmet.

“Oh, my gods.” You breathed out as you watched Bruce punch Jason so hard in the face that he went flying backward landing several feet away from Bruce.

“He’s beating the shit out of Jason, we have to do something now before he beats him to death,” Roy stated as his grip on his bow tightened and he glared at Bruce.

“I know, but what the hell are we going to do? There’s no god damn way we’ll be able to take on Bruce by ourselves we’re not strong enough to do that.” You responded as you watched as Bruce ripped Jason’s symbol off of his chest and tossed it to the side. You clenched your jaw as you put your grapple hook away, your hands twitching to grab your guns and shoot at Bruce.

“Then we don’t fight Bruce, we distract him enough to get Jason out of there and then we go somewhere safe,” Roy stated and you nodded watching as Bruce started dragging Jason across the roof by his broken helmet anger raging inside of you at the sight of that.

“I’ve got a safe house not to far away from here that Bruce doesn’t know about we can go there and make sure Jason isn’t dying before we get out of the city. You know what to do?” You asked him as you stepped up to the edge of the building and Roy nodded as he pulled an arrow out of his quiver and aimed it at Bruce.

“The old shoot and gas got it,” Roy said. You nodded in silent agreement as you pulled your guns out of your holsters and you waited until Roy had moved to another roof not too far away before speaking up. Once Roy was on the other roof you jumped down onto the one that Bruce and Jason were on.

“Hey, Batass!” You shouted as you raised your gun and fired at Bruce, nothing that would kill him but it was enough to get him to drop Jason in order to dodge your bullets. You winced at the sound Jason’s head made when it smacked against the roof but you didn’t take your eyes off of Bruce your guns still raised and pointed at him.

“(Y/H/N) what do you think you’re doing?” Bruce asked his hands balling into fists as he glared at you taking a step towards you. The anger that was radiating off of him sent chills down your spine and had the hair on the back of your neck standing up. You had never seen Bruce this angry before and if you were being honest it was starting to scare you and you forced yourself to stay where you were your eyes never leaving Bruce.

“Stopping you from continuing to beat the shit out of Jason what does it look like?” You asked him your voice firm and aim steady as you stared at him waiting to see if he would attack you like he’d attacked Jason.

“Stand down (Y/H/N),” Bruce said after a minute of silence and you shifted your grip on your guns slightly as you also shifted your stance, there was no way that you were getting out of this without a fight.

“I’ll stand down when you leave Jason alone and walk the hell away from us right now.” You stated your words dripping with firm anger as you continued to glare at him. There was no way that you were going to let Bruce keep doing what he was doing.

“You know I can’t do that, he killed Penguin he deserves to be punished,” Bruce stated and you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You got being upset with Jason about killing Penguin, you got being pissed off about the fact that this is the second Bat to kill a villain under his watch, but what you didn’t get was how he thought that Jason deserves this. Deserves to be beaten until he was barely conscious and looked like he was about to die any second now.

“He deserves this? He deserves to be treated like your own personal punching bag? He deserves to be beaten to near death? He deserves to be treated like he’s nothing more than another one of your goons?! HE DESERVES THIS?!!! Do you even hear yourself?!! How does he deserve this?! How does he deserve to be treated like your personal punching bag?! How does he deserve any of this?! All he did was kill penguin! How is this any different from what Batwoman did to Clayface?!” You shouted at him doing an amazing job at keeping your hands still because all you wanted to do right now was slap him silly with the butts of your guns.

“This is completely different from what Batwoman did!” Bruce shouted back and you shook your head in exasperation as you stared at him like he’d grown a second head.

“How is this different from Batwoman?! Because he did it in front of all of Gotham?! Because you can’t sweep this under your all magical Batman rug and hide it from the eyes of the public?! Because he killed another one of your little play dates?! This isn’t any different from what Batwoman did! They both killed one of your little play dates the only reason you're more pissed off at Jason is because this is the second one of your little cronies to go off the deep end and kill someone! Face it! You’re just pissed off about the fact that you can’t control them anymore! That they’re not your good little soldiers like you want them to be! BECAUSE ALL YOU CARE ABOUT IS YOUR STUPID LITTLE REPUTATION AS THE SUPPOSED PROTECTOR OF GOTHAM!!!” You shouted and that little jab seemed to be the final straw as Bruce lunged at you.

“Roy! Now!” You shouted as you jumped away from Bruce narrowly missing his hands as he tried to grab you. You rolled away from him landing next to Jason and Bruce spun around to attack you again but before he could Roy fired his arrow and it landed directly next to Bruce. The sudden appearance of the arrow caused Bruce to pause for a fraction of a second, but it was long enough for the bright pink smoke in the tip of the arrow in one giant puff of smoke. You were quick to grab ahold of Jason’s body pulling him away from the smoke that was quickly enveloping the area as Roy landed next to you and helped you pick Jason up off the roof.

“(Y/N)... Roy?” Jason groaned out as he leaned heavily into the two of you.

“It’s ok buddy we’ve got you,” Roy said as he placed a hand on Jason’s chest stabilizing him slightly and making sure that he didn’t fall over.

“Come on Roy we’ve got to get him out of here before it’s too late.” You muttered to him and Roy nodded. The two of you hauled Jason towards the edge of the building and got him down to the ground and into the nearest car before speeding away from the building and to one of your safehouses as fast as possible. All before the smoke even cleared leaving Bruce standing there alone on the rooftop more pissed off than he had been before but for now the three of you were safe.