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thr-333 · 4 years

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Just Another Class Trip :) Part 6

Marinette goes on a nice peaceful trip to the pool. Me? sarcasm? how dare you sir!

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“Did you find what you were looking for Marinette?” Kagami asks oh so foolishly.

“Kagami look into my eyes and ask me that again,” Marinette dares, her eyes red rimmed with bags underneath bigger than Chloe's luggage.

“... You found your glasses?”

“Never mind,” She sighs, finishing the rest of her coffee, “At least that one isn't missing,”

“I thought you only wore them as M-you-know-who,” Chloe whispers, a purposeful look towards Lila’s posse leading the way to the bus.

“Just wanted to try them out without a mask,” She brushes off easily, she needed to be able to transport back to Paris at any time after all.

“Oh it was just terrible!” Lila cries, capturing the attention of everyone surrounding her.

“Did she finally hear a recording of herself?” Chloe scoffs, making Adrien shush her and Marinette crack a smile.

“This Starling kidnapped and tortured me for information,”

If only I had

“Luckily Batman was there to save me, but I knew he would be,” Lila croons, the class fretting over her all the while, “He was probably searching furiously the second I didn’t return his call,”

“When did she get Batman’s phone number?” Chloe whispers to her.

“No idea, think she’d give it to me?” Marinette smirks.

“Oh sure I bet it's 3825968,” Chloe laughs at her own joke.

Marinette doesn't get it but Kagami starts laughing, so she moves to stand next to Adrien while they share a moment.

“Any idea?”

“Not really,”

They reach the door going through it to find Gotham in the nice peaceful state it's always been.

Just kidding, lights start flashing in their faces and everyone around them is yelling. Lila of course tries to take this opportunity to get attention. To Marinette's great delight they push right past her, and to her horror opt to shove a million microphones in her face.

“Miss Wayne were you adopted?!”

“Yes but-” the cameras start flashing and the yelling increases tenfold.

“When?! How long ago!?!”

“A baby I guess?” She hadn't known her birth parents after all.

“How have you stay'n out of the public's eye for so long?”

By not being like Lila for one

“Mari I don’t think you’re talking about the same thing,”

“Yeah thanks, I’m getting that Adrien,”

“Adrien Agreste? Are you two dating?!”

“Great,” She ignores them, instead whispering to Adrien, “From now on Buttercup will be your codename,”

“Cool,” He leans in to whisper in her ear, “But I don’t think that’s helping things,”

It’s at this point the cameras are going crazy taking a million pictures of the two whispering in each others ear, while Kagami and Chloe try to push them all back. The class follow behind just as confused. Madame Bustier is trying to reason with the crowd, trying to . They reach the curb, fighting not to be pushed onto the road by the crowd. A limousine pulls up and for a wonderful second Marinette thinks Liam has come to save her, the wonderful manager he is. Instead Alfred steps out, surprising to say the least. He ushers her inside and tells the rest of the class the bus will be through momentarily. Marinette slides into the car right next to Bruce Wayne… well.

“Hello again, I um…” Marinette thinks back to their last meeting, “I don’t think I actually told you my name,”

“No you didn’t,” Bruce chuckles, “And Selina has been avoiding me ever since,”

“Sorry, well I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng Auntie Selina’s niece,” Marinette shakes his hand, “She didn’t tell me she was engaged,”

“Bruce Wayne, Selina didn’t tell me she had a niece,”

“Yeah, that's a bad habit isn't it?”

“Indeed,” Bruce pauses, both trying to reach for a conversation topic, “So you like fashion?”

She had said she would design her aunts wedding dress. She should probably double check that with the groom, whoops,

“I do I already sketched out some designs,” She takes out her sketchbook which has a good thirty pages dedicated to wedding dresses, “Oh you were probably going to hire a professional designer weren’t you?”

“We were considering MDC,”

“.... I think that’ll work out just fine either way,”

“Hm,” Bruce looks curiously at her as she hides away her sketch book, she would be using those designs either way.

“Anyway!” She changes the topic oh so subtly, “About those reporters…”

“Theres a certain rumour running rampant that you are a Wayne, after someone took a photo of you with my son at the airport,” Bruce explains, switching over to business mode in a heat beat, she could appreciate that, “We’ve been doing our best to contain it, but…”

“At the airport…” She mutters to herself, “Oh! Tim’s your son, that explains Alfred, that must mean Dick is too!... work at Wayne tower, yeah very funny,”

She tries not to roll her eyes at their understatement of the century, wasn't Tim Drake a CEO there?

“Impressive, have you met Damian too?” Bruce asks, a slight smile that would have called Kagami expressive.

“Not yet, but should I invest in a bingo card?”

“Maybe so,”

They fall into silence Marinette would usually hold polite conversation but her thoughts were in turmoil. Lila didn’t seem to know anything about the miraculous then again her interrogation was cut short by a certain someone . However Tikki had advised her against placing all the blame on Lila, she needed to consider other options as well. But who else could it be? she was in Gotham Hawkmoth couldn't reach her… unless he somehow...

“Marinette are you alright?”

Marinette startles look over at Bruce who is blurred by tears. She hadn't even realised she’d been crying.

“I-I’m sorry,” She hiccups trying fruitlessly to wipe away the tears, “I-it just…”

“It’s ok,” Bruce rubs her back comfortingly, but boy did he choose the wrong words.

“IT’S NOT OK!” Marinette yells not looking at anyone in the car, they didn’t matter, nothing else mattered, she had failed and people were going to suffer for it, “I left it behind! It’s all my fault! Now it’s GONE! It’s been stolen and I don’t know where it is!”

“What was stolen?” Bruce presses, getting over the shock of the polite and put together girl melting down into a puddle of sobs.

Now I’ve gone and messed up, time for a classic cover story and some half truths

��A good friend of mine gave me a very important jewellery box,” Marinette sighs, wiping the tears away and rebuilding herself, “It was stolen shortly after arriving in Gotham and I’ve been trying to find it,”

“Do you know who stole it?”

“I thought it was one of my classmates,” Marinette frowns, they should have certainly been there by now, “Still do honestly,”

“Which one?”

“Lila probably,” Marinette tries to keep her tone neutral, tries, “Brown hair that looks like sausages,”

Marinette could almost see the words ‘oh fuck’ written across his face.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng, we have arrived,” Alfred speaks up for the first time, not leaving her time to puzzle over the reaction, “Your class arrived some time ago,”

“How did that happen?” Marinette frowns, they should have arrived ages ago.

“Alfred must have taken the scenic route,” Bruce shrugs, acting like an innocent party in all this.

“Well then I guess I’ll see you for the wedding,” Marinette tries not to rush out of the car, certain her class or rather Lila would have caused some grief by now.

“I’ll make sure to send the invites to your family personally,” Bruce promises, shaking her hand before she can run off.

“And I’ll make sure Auntie Selina doesn’t destroy them,” Marinette smiles back brightly, she can see the concern for her all over Bruce's face but doesn't have time to reassure him.

Marinette walks into the indoor pool, knowing her luck the class was already inside. They were and the owner was not happy about it.

“First your class was late then you waltz in here late as well?” The manager berates her.

“I’m sorry sir,” Marinette tries to seem more sincere but her tardiness falls short on the things she has to worry about now.

“That class mate of yours came an yelled at me that one of our pools were dirty so we had to drain the whole thing,”

“Let me guess, sausage hair?” Marinette raises a bow, it really being all the energy she can put into the action.

“Yes,”

“Sorry sir I’ll talk with her,” Marinette promises, she slips into the changing rooms as they grumble about lazy employees.

There is absolutely no way Marinette was going to talk to Lila. She enters the changing room, a shower running somewhere. She tucks Tikki and Kaalki into her bag, Tikki had insisted she relax today, recharge and get ready to find the miraculous. She couldn’t find enough will to argue not after having to wake up in the middle of the night to fight an Akuma back in Paris.

She slowly changes into a red and orange ruffled one piece swimwear. She honestly just wanted to take a nap in here, hide away from the class and the well meaning questions from her friends. Instead she drags herself towards the shower, they are all open and there's someone towards the back standing underneath the spray in their bathers.

Something fires back at her to be careful, it puts her on edge but with miraculously potentially loose in Gotham city it’s no wonder her instincts are screaming at her. Instead she steps under the spray hoping to loosen up.

She doesn't, after standing there for ten minutes she still can’t relax. Maybe it’s the cold water, maybe its the other person. The were still standing there, they had been in the shower even before she entered the changing room. Marinette peaks over, they are still standing still, with their arm out… the same way they had been ten minutes ago.

“Are you ok?” Marinette calls, no answer, not even a twitch.

Marinette creeps over. They are standing stock still, she can’t see evidence of them so much as breathing.

“Hello,” Her voice echoes off the tiles, not a noise in the empty room besides from the shower running.

She is right behind them, they haven't even moved, arm still raised. She walks around to see their face. Frozen in a look of concentration, not so much as blinking with water running into their eyes. She follows their eyeline to see them peeling off dead skin from their arm, stretching towards their fingertips. There's a faint glow of yellow all around them, concentrated at their back.

Marinette steps away, walking out the showers, she closes the nearest door to find herself in the pool area. Her friends are on the other side. Kagami is dunking Adrien as Chloe waves her over. Marinette sprints over to them.

“No running!” The life guard yells.

But that doesn't matter, all that matters is that there is someone using the bee miraculous for evil, she has to stop them before they get another Hawkmoth. They probably have the whole miracle box! She'll need the back up.

“Mari-”

“Come with me,” She doesn't let them have another question helping Adrien out of the pool.

She pulls them along despite Chloe's protests, pushing them through the door.

“Mari what's-”

“Hush now Buttercup,”

“You were serious?” Adrien gasps, Chloe just giggles.

“Yes,” She walks over to the frozen body, “Look at this,”

“Whats-” Chloe pokes them, immediately recoiling, “The fuck?”

“They’re frozen,” Kagami does the same.

“We have to help them,” Adrien waves in front of their face, looking on in horror.

“We have to hide them,” Chloe pokes them again, getting slapped away by Kagami.

“We have to find the culprit,” Marinette races at the idea that this could be the Bee miraculous.

“We’ll do all three,” Kagami decides, getting their attention, “Now first let's put them in a stall so we don’t alarm anyone or the villain, then we need to look for clues,"

They all nod, Marinette turns the water off. Adrien tries to move their arm to no avail.

“Looks like we have to carry them,” Adrien suggests, he and Marinette each taking an arm.

“Ew, no I’m not touching it Buttercup!” Chloe cringes away, backing up as Kagami lifts a leg off the ground.

“Has that really stuck?” Adrien asks Marinette, as Kagami sends Chloe a powerful enough death glare to get her to help.

“You bet Buttercup,” Marinette grins, as they shuffle through the changing rooms to the toilet stalls.

“Fine then, I’m calling you Cupcake,” Adrien teases, sticking out his tongue.

“As you wish Buttercup,”

“Someone get the door,” Kagami commands.

“I will!” Chloe lets go of the leg, the body becoming no heavier.

They manage to fit them inside the stall without too much hassle.

“Who could have done this?” Adrien looks on sadly at the person, tilted at a slight angle to fit into the stall.

“I’ve been thinking,” Marinette speaks up, “If this is a villain it doesn't make much sense to attack a random person, and if they were trying to be stealthy they would have hidden the body,”

“They aren’t dead!” Adrien says aghast.

“Exactly, why wouldn’t a villain just kill them?”

“That's very dark of you Cupcake,” Kagami says, missing Adrien’s pout, “What’s your theory?”

“This is likely a new villain, one not ready to kill,” Marinette decides, not even blinking at the nickname, “They have something against the pool, they probably want to ruin its reputation,”

“You did say that this was a very safe pool for Gotham,” Chloe closes the stall door, “Minimal murders, so why would someone want to ruin it?”

“Insurance? Sick of their job?” Marinette’s eyes go wide in realisation, “The pool!”

She darts out the changing room the others close on her heels.

“No Running!”

“Where are we going!?”

“The manager said they were refilling the pool,”

“Why- oh my god,” Chloe gasps, overtaking the lot of them, “Run faster!”

They burst into another pool room, the pool noticeable empty with diving boards on the other end. They run to the edge of the pool. A frozen body wearing employee uniform frozen at the bottom the water slowly rising.

“Get them out! Get them out!”

Marinette jumps down into the pool, causing a splash, the water is up to her ankles, barely a centimeter from covering the person at the bottom. She runs over and tries to pull them up. Kagami makes a splash behind her running over to help. They drag the person, frozen in horror the yellow focused on their chest instead. The pool is far too deep to climb out of so they pass the body up to Adrien and Chloe.

“Who would do this?!” Adrien can just reach them when Marinette and Kagami lift the person over their heads.

“I heard the manager mutter about lazy employees,” Marinette gives one last push, Chloe and Adrien pull them up over the edge.

“So we have a suspect,” Kagami says, water rising up her leg, “We should check their office next,”

“Well, they went from no murder to yes murder in record time,” Chloe huffs, the employee safely to the side.

“It’s concerning, but they may have more of a grudge against them than the other person,” Marinette points Kagami towards the ladder to get out.

“More evidence towards the manager,” Kagami nods, letting her up the ladder first, “We should choose codenames if the manager is potentially familiar with us,”

“They did have the class roster,” Marinette nods along, then grins, “You should be Teacup!”

“Fine by me,” Kagami nods, not showing how happy she truly is with the nickname.

“Oh I want to be-” Chloe cuts herself off head snapping towards the door.

They hear scratching at the door, everyone tenses. Marinette crouches in a position to defend her friends. The door slowly creeps open and… a little snout pokes through followed by the rest of the dog.

“Is this what you wanted to see Cuppy?” A person wearing a lifeguard uniform follows in a second later.

“Excuse me is your dog named Cuppy?” Marinette plasters on a fake smile quickly pulling a nearby towel over the body.

“Yes it’s a weird name I know,”

“No! It’s perfect! On another note could we please borrow your dog?”

“Um... sure?”

“Thank you, we have to go! Careful the pool is empty!” She calls as they race out the room, the person tucked away out of sight, “Come on Cuppy!”

"NO RUNNING!"

The dog wags its tail following them out the pool area and through the changing rooms. They come to stand outside the staffroom door, dripping water on the carpet.

“Everyone ready?” Marinette asks, hand on the door, they nod and Cuppy lets out an 'off', the door slowly creaks open.

Marinette looks through to see, nothing, the hallway is desolate and dark.

“It’s safe,”

“You call that safe?” Adrien pokes his head through the door, followed by Chloe and Kagami.

“Be brave Buttercup be brave,” With that Chloe pushes him into the corridor.

They creep along the empty hallway, footsteps echoing around them. The manager's office door could be seen at the end of the hall. Gold color plate glinting in the few stray beams of light filtering through. Marinette could feel every hair stand on end, danger seeming to lurk from every shadow in the dark hall. The pressure of something ready to pounce and immobilise them at any moment hung heavy in the air, dragging them down into a pressure that-

“HIC!”

Everyone jumps out of their skins, Adrien actually hits the ceiling, rubbing his head on the way down. Kagami draws her sword, Marinette falls into a defensive position.

“Hic!”

“Chloe!

“I’m sorry! Hic! It’s not like I can help it! Hic,”

“Thats it! You’re Hiccup!” Kagami snaps, Marinette tries not to snort.

‘What?!” Chloe screeches stamping her foot, “No way!”

“Deal with it and lower your voices!” Marinette shouts, Cuppy barks along, “Not you too Cuppy?”

Another yip

“Traitor,”

“Cupcake stop picking fights with the dog and lets move on,” Adrien implores, still rubbing his head.

Marinette rolls her eyes speed walking to the manager's office before the tension rises again. The reach outside the door, Marinette counts down to three on her fingers and they burst through the door.

Inside is silent, the bright light blinds them for a second, she shuffles in front of her friends acting as a shield, waiting for them to adjust. When she does she sees the desk chair is turned away, Cuppy pads forward Marinette doesn't grab his collar in time.

He starts licking someone's hand, Marinette creeps around the desk, waiting for the hand to snap out and grab her. The others follow, surrounding the chair preparing to come face to face with the villain. She peeks around the edge they are sitting there, she freezes the others following her lead. A beat, another one, nothing. They’re frozen.

“It’s not the manager,” She relaxes, patting Cuppy’s head.

She lets out a sigh, releasing all her tension.

BAM

Turning around the door is slammed shut, a striped villain standing before it. They all drop into a fighting stance watching for the stinger on their right hand. Cuppy starts wagging his tail, trying to approach the villain.

“Cuppy no,” Marinette grabs his harness, bringing the Pitbull back.

“He’s my therapy dog,” The villain growls, Cuppy wagging his tail happily.

“Not a very good one is he?” Chloe sneers, looking the villain wearing her stripes up and down with disgust.

“Wait, you’re the lifeguard at the pool?” Marinette gasps, maybe she really shouldn't have run, “Why did you-”

“I work here, you can’t imagine the horrors I face every day, people are disgusting,” The villain shudders, this was the guy who stole the miracle box?

“Yes, but murder?” Kagami gets a nod from Chloe and hissed at by Adrien.

“My co workers are completely useless and the boss always yells at me,” A sinister smirk crosses their face, “Or at least they did,”

“So you thought murder before you thought quitting ,” Adrien points out, probably not the best time to imply a villain is stupid.

“I didn’t kill anyone,”

“Ah yeah thanks to us!”

“Shut up!” They lash out at Chloe, stinging her in a single strike.

“Run!” Marinette shouts, they all scatter.

Marinette dodges the first swipe, ducking down. They get distracted by Kagami lashing out. Marinette darts around them to get closer to the door, Kagami gets hit. Marinette reaches the door the villain comes after her, they are inches away. Adrien leaps in front of her, getting stung. With the distraction Marinette bursts out the door Cuppy on her heels.

“Traitor,” She sprints down the hall, “Did you know?”

Cuppy happily pants beside her. She can hear the villain banging around the corridor behind her and runs faster. She dodges into a room around the corner, hiding among the pool noodles. She sees the shadow pass under the door. Pause. She holds her breath intently watching the shadow, she has no one, not even Tikki. He heart beat rises, she can feel her breaths shorten, this is it, this is it, this is it, this is-

Something nuzzles her hand, she looks down to see Cuppy. He starts to lick her hand, letting her relax into it, focusing on him as the shadow continues on. With a sigh Marinette starts to take off her skirt, flipping it inside out to the cape side.

“You aren't going to tell anyone about this are you?” Marinette asks Cuppy, right before pulling up her mask, he lets out a happy bark, “Good boy,”

She sneaks out the room, looking up and down the clear hallway. She walks the opposite way of the office. She doesn't need to see her friends paralysed, she just needs to help them, she just needs to fix her mistake.

She reaches the pool area, hiding behind a lounge chair, watching through the slats as the villain gathers everyone together. Starling sneaks closer, Cuppy on her heels. There are several civilians, locals if their calm demeanour is anything to go by, although they do seem uneasy at an unknown villain. Her class is significantly less calm.

She had told them time and again that there was no coming back in Gotham, no miraculous cure. It seems for once they had decided to listen to her. Unfortunately they did not do well under pressure. Lila of course was aggravating the situation, making empty threats. The villain reared up to silence her and man, Marinette could relate.

“I don’t suppose I can wait a minute can I?” She whispers to Cuppy, he settle a paw on her knee, letting out a quiet whine, “I guess that’s a no,”

She runs up behind the villain, signalling the civilians to be quiet. Lila looks down at her, anger flashing over her face. Starling bears her teeth right back, she can just try it. Lila ultimately decides her life is more precious than petty revenge, a hard choice for her to be sure.

Starling stands up to her full height behind the villain tapping them on the shoulder. They turn around in surprise, to find her dazzling smile. But the real thing that makes them see stars is her right hook. As the fall Starling rips the bee miraculously right out of their hair, their transformation falling. Marinette stands above them as they detransform, Pollen hiding behind her. It makes her stomach churn watching them detransform, looking up at her with fear. The twisting of her insides lessens when Cuppy nuzzles up next to her. She busies herself with hiding the miraculous away.

“It’s them!” Lila screeches, ah now she can get to that petty revenge, “The one that kidnapped me!”

“Look what you did,” Staling bites instead, looking down at the villain.

“I had nothing to do with this!” Starling is highly entertained when Cuppy growls at Lila, actually getting her to back off.

“Sure you didn’t,” Starling openly rolls their eyes, grabbing the villain and hauling them up by their shirt, "Where is the rest!"

"I-I don't know what you're talking about!" She scowls, making them whimper, guess they really didn't know,

Shit

"Where did you get this?" She holds up the miraculous.

"I found it! it was just lying out on the street!"

Shit

"Did you see any others?!"

"No!" the blubber swearing by it and begging for mercy.

Shit

The police sirens can now be heard, Starling drops them and runs from the room.

“NO RUNNING!” She turns on her heel and glares down at the villain, “... sorry, it’s a reflex,”

She nods running from the room to change, grabbing her bag with Tikki and Kaalki on the way. After a small celebration at finding another miraculous and reunion with Pollen, they have to make a plan to find the other miraculous. They are cut short when sirens are heard outside. She wears the Bee miraculous under her ponytail, to keep it hidden from view.

When she is ready she goes to find her friends. They are outside talking to the police. Marinette only gets the chance to signal she’s ok before being intercepted by officers to get her statement. When she’s retold her account of trying to find the pool freezer she is finally allowed to check on her friends.

“Hey Cupcake, glad to see you missed all the fun,” Chloe teases.

“Sorry Hiccup,” Marinette looks her in the eye deadly serious grasping each shoulder, “You were an adequate shield,”

“Shut it,” Chloe pushes her away playfully.

“Teacup, Buttercup are you alright?”

“It was nothing,” Kagami assures.

“Didn’t you guys think their powers were a lot like Queen Bees?”

“You would know Hiccup,” She nudges Chloe playfully, “If it was I think we should keep that to ourselves, wouldn't want that information somehow getting back to Hawkmoth,”

She looks purposefully towards Lila, the others nod along.

“Still some random person now might have the miraculous,” Chloe glares down at the ground, “Can we really trust this Starling person,”

I mean no I'm operating on negative six hours of sleep, but also yes

“I don’t think we have much other choice,”

“Marinette,” She freezes at that familiar, low gravelly voice.

“Batman, sir,” She adds, trying to look like someone who wasn't chased down by him yesterday, “How can I help you?”

“I heard you knew the most about this villain,” How did she get in trouble for interrogating Lila when this is how he talks to civilians.

“Not really I just found someone paralysed and tried to find the culprit,” Marinette shrugs, hoping her friends wouldn't point out that she is lying to The Batman.

“You didn’t call the police,”

Well thats a good point, not that I would have

“... To be honest it absolutely did not occur to me,”

“These abilities were spontaneous and now they seem to be gone,” Batman points out, damn he already knows too much, “Do you know what caused this?”

“I do not,”

“Very well,” Batman nods turning away, “Go to your class,”

“Yes sir,” Marinette walks away far too quickly.

How was she going to search the city with that hunting her down?!

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dangerouscommiesubversive · 3 years

Text

fought on your side long before you were born

Fandom: Kamen Rider, Batman, Kamen Rider W Characters: Hongo Takeshi, Tachibana Tobei, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Hidari Shoutaro, Philip, Damian Wayne Song: "Father to Son," Queen (playlist here)

1977

Tachibana’s got a shop now, something he can use to support his family now that he isn’t traveling, and the first thing that greets Takeshi as he walks in is the thick smell of motor oil. There’s a bike in pieces at one end of the shop floor around which several young men are clustered, arguing cheerfully. Another young man is sitting in a corner near them, inexplicably playing acoustic guitar and responding briefly whenever he’s addressed. It’s new, but it feels like home, and Takeshi can feel his shoulders instinctively relaxing.

“Hongo!” Tachibana himself emerges from the shop office, beaming. “When’d you get back to Japan?”

“Just now, I came right here.”

“Damn right you did.” There’s some hugging and back-slapping and general affectionate ribbing, and then Tachibana says, “So what do you think? Nice place, right?”

“It’s wonderful. How’s your son?”

“Healthy as a horse, running me and Mari ragged.” Tachibana gestures to the huddle of young men at the other end of the room. “Plenty of help around here, though.”

Takeshi grins. “I can see that. Who’s the one with the guitar?”

“Oh, him? American kid. Funny story, really, I’m closing up one day when this young guy just materializes—no, not literally, he’s just real quiet—and asks, am I Tachibana Tobei? Only Dr. Jin in Madrid says I’m the best in the world and will I teach him about motorcycles! And he hands me a letter of introduction from Keisuke!” Tachibana sounds like he’s holding back laughter. “So he’s renting our spare room at the house and working here for a few months. Quick study, too. Shiro taught him guitar, he’s in town for a bit and they hit it off. Here, come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

They head over to the disassembled motorcycle, and the young men fall all over themselves to be introduced, which Takeshi bears with good cheer. They’re young, of course they’re enthusiasts.

The American boy is last, and Takeshi is shocked to realize that he is a boy, no more than eighteen or nineteen, a pale youth with blue eyes and a lonely look that reminds Takeshi of Shiro. No wonder they get along. He sets his guitar aside and bows, stiff and solemn, and says, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hongo. Mr. Tachibana talks about you a lot.”

“That I do! Hongo, this is Bruce Wayne, he’s the summer guest I was telling you about.”

“Good to meet you, Wayne. Your accent is excellent.” The boy’s got a firm handshake. “What brings you to Japan?”

“Study, sir,” but the boy’s tone says that’s not all of it. “I’m trying to learn all I can. Maybe I could ask you a few things later, if you don’t mind.”

Takeshi blinks. “Not sure what you’d want to ask, but I don’t see why not.”

He eats dinner at Tachibana’s house that evening, because of course Tachibana isn’t going to let him get away unfed his first night back in town. Mari greets him at the door, Joji in her arms, beaming.

He’s intially surprised to see that the American boy is there too, until he remembers, of course he is—Wayne’s renting the spare room. And he’s barely noticeable for most of the meal, silent, although he’s clearly listening to everything that’s said. After dinner he also helps Mari with the dishes, entirely unprompted, which Takeshi approves of, and then spends some time gently entertaining the toddler.

Later, Tachibana and Mari step away for a moment to get their son to bed, and Takeshi looks at the silent young man sitting in the corner and says, “So. Wayne.”

“Yes, Mr. Hongo?”

“You said you had something you wanted to ask me, and we’ve got a few minutes now. What can I help you with?”

Wayne remains quiet for a long moment, and then fixes those piercing eyes on Takeshi and says, “Mr. Tachibana says you’re the strongest person he knows. What does it mean to be strong?”

Not what Takeshi had been expecting. Granted, what he wasexpecting, he doesn’t know, but…not that. He thinks about it, frowning. “I’d say…kindness.”

Wayne’s forehead wrinkles. “What do you mean?”

“Look, Wayne, you can get as powerful as you want in life, but it’s only strength if you can use it to be kind. Otherwise it’s just tyranny.” Takeshi leans forward and holds out his hand, as if to shake. “Anyone, any fool on Earth can take their hand and make it into a fist. To reach out to someone when they need help, that’s strength.”

Slow nodding, and Wayne reaches out to him in return, clasps his hand for a brief moment, and says, “Thank you. That’s a valuable insight.”

Takeshi nods. “Ask Tachibana that question, too, and Shiro. It’s a good thing to ask. Tells you a lot about the person answering.” He considers it for a moment. “Of course, there will always be some people you won’t be able to help, we share this world with monsters. But you must always try to be kind. That’s strength.”

2017

Bruce checks his watch as he walks up to the restaurant, satisfied to be a precise fifteen minutes early, and then looks up and is surprised to realize that for once Dick’s beaten him there. Not only is he there, too, he’s talking to someone Bruce doesn’t recognize.

The stranger seems to be about Dick’s own age, a man in a black fedora and slightly old-fashioned dress clothes from a minor Japanese fashion label. His tone suggests an awkward tourist, but his stance says he’s a fighter, and the way he watches his surroundings indicates that he’s memorizing as many details as possible. He’s got a guidebook in one hand, and a notebook sticking out of his pocket, and he’s speaking Japanese, which is not one of Dick’s stronger languages. Bruce steps forward, thinking he might need to translate, but Dick replies to the other man in English, which is met with a thoughtful nod. So—they’re about the same level in each other’s languages. Better at hearing than speaking. Convenient for them.

“—so if you’re looking for something in his field, the natural history museum is great. If you want somewhere more romantic,though, the Thorndike is amazing, and there’s this restaurant right near it, I forget the name—oh, hey, Bruce! You’re here! What’s the name of that restaurant across the street from the Thorndike Museum?”

“San Sebastian Jatetxe.”

“That’s the one! Thank you!” Dick beams at him, then turns to his companion. “I’ll write it down for you.”

“<Thank you, I’d appreciate that.>”

“Of course! This is my foster father, by the way, Shoutaro-san.Bruce Wayne. Bruce, this is Shoutaro Hidari, he’s visting Gotham for a couple of weeks.” To Shoutaro again, “Bruce’s Japanese is much better than mine.”

Bruce nods. “<What brings you to Gotham, Mr. Hidari?>”

Shoutaro relaxes visibly at the question; it’s likely the only new voice he’s heard speaking his mother tongue in days. “<My partner is attending a conference here, so we decided we’d make it a vacation.>”

“<Aha. Curators and archivists?>”

“<How did you guess?>”

“<A friend of Dick’s and mine is also attending, she mentioned that international registrations are up significantly this year.>” Bruce pauses. “<If you’re looking for date spots, the Thorndike is excellent, as Dick said, but the Botanical Gardens are also very nice this time of year.>”

Shoutaro blushes warmly. “<Thank you very much for the recommendation.>”

He doesn’t think much more about Dick’s tourist friend until that night, when he and Damian are out on patrol. It’s a quiet night, so they’re stopping a mugging as gently as possible when the mugger—a repeat offender and sometime informant, Bruce makes a note to check in on him at home out of suit—says, “So, uh, Bats. Who’s the new guy?”

Bruce frowns. No one new should be operating here.“Which one?”

“You know, the bug guy. My buddy texted about him, said he was speaking some other language. Well, he said it was a bug ninja who spoke Japanese, but he watches a lotta anime and he gets real excited, so I ain’t sure he’s right.”

“A bug. What color?”

“Oh, it changes, it’s cool as hell.” He shows Bruce and Damian a picture on his phone. “He a friend’a yours?”

“Yes. He’s visiting.” Bruce peers at the photo and then hands his informant two hundred dollars. “Buy dinner and go home, Nathan. Tell your aunt I say hello.”

“Yo, sure thing. Thanks, Bats!”

They’ve only been searching a few minutes when their earpieces crackle and Babs says, “Roof of GPL Central Branch. Someone I don’t recognize, they just took out some Joker goons who were robbing a jewelry store at the corner of High and 26th. Dick’s on his way too.”

They touch down at one end of the Gotham Public Library’s roof as Dick’s landing at the other and survey their guest, who’s looking between the three of them with something that’s likely surprise, although given that their face is entirely concealed it’s not certain. The insectoid red eyes and sharp antennae on the helmet and the white scarf drifting in the air from the back of the right shoulder send a shock of recognition down Bruce’s spine. He considers speaking first, but then nods to Dick instead. For better or for worse, Dick is good at putting people at ease.

“Hi there.” Dick waves to the stranger, tone cheery but guarded. “We haven’t seen you around before, mind telling us what you’re doing in Gotham?”

The stranger cocks their head to the left for a moment before saying, haltingly, “We. Ah. We are…tourists? We did not mean to…um…” The left eye of the helmet flashes as they’re speaking. A beat, and then the righteye begins to flash, and they say, in an entirely different voice that’s noticeably accented but much more fluent, “I’ll handle this part if you don’t mind, partner. Good evening, we’re Kamen Rider W. Our apologies, we didn’t mean to intrude on your territory. Are we addressing the famed Batman and his companions?”

Bruce says, slowly, “That’s correct. You’re a Rider?”

“Oh, you’re familiar with the term! That’s wonderful. Yes, that’s correct. We’ve been in operation as such since late 2008, although of course primarily in Japan.”

“Tt.” Damian scowls. “<If you mostly work in Japan, what are you doing running around here?>”

The left eye on the helmet begins to flash again as W responds in the first voice, in Japanese now. “<It wasn’t exactly the plan, a man in clown makeup waved a gun at me and tried to take my wallet and once I’d knocked him out I noticed that there were about five more clowns breaking into a jewelry store down the street. I couldn’t just leave them to it.>”

Dick is also frowning now. “I—have we met before? I recognize your voice. The, uh, left-hand one.”

“” says the left-hand voice, and then the right-hand one breaks in with, “Actually, based on his memory of your speech patterns, I believe you and my partner met earlier today, you recommended a couple of date locations and a Basque restaurant I’m eager to visit.”

Bruce can see Dick’s eyes going wide from halfway across the roof. He’s visibly biting back the urge to address their guest by name, which would be discourteous, to say the least, with everyone in costume, so Bruce cuts in with, “Is my understanding correct that we’re speaking to two people currently?”

“That’s correct!” says the right-hand voice, sounding delighted. “We two are a single Kamen Rider.”

Dick blinks. “Is this like a Firestorm thing? Are you fused?”

“Not unlike, but no. My physical body is currently unconscious in our hotel room, which is certainly much more comfortable than some of the other places in which I’ve passed out. Although as my partner wasoriginally going out to get us something to eat when he was accosted, I ambecoming concerned about my caloric intake.” And the left-hand voice says, “<Yeah, I was thinking I’d be able to get us something decent at the Seven-Eleven, but the ones here are different from the ones at home.>”

“I think,” Bruce says, “this conversation would be better continued elsewhere.”

Twenty minutes later they’re all out of suit and seated around a table at an all-night diner, and Shoutaro’s partner, introduced only as Philip, is inspecting the menu with interest. “This is intimidatingly lengthy, do you have recommendations?”

Dick grins. “Get one of the meat-lovers omelettes. And then if you still have room get some baklava, the owner’s mother makes it and it’s amazing.”

Bruce, meanwhile, is turning Shoutaro’s business card over in his hands. “<You’re a detective?>”

“”

“<I’ve heard of the Fuuto Museum, they hosted an intriguing exhibit on Mesopotamian artifacts last year.>”

“<You heard about Nitoh’s exhibit here? That’s amazing, I’ll have to let him know.>”

“<Please tell him I was very impressed with his thesis.>”

Damian’s been scowling silently into his milkshake, but suddenly he slaps the table and everyone jumps. “I knew I recognized that name!” Then, to Shoutaro, “”

“<I—you did? Really? It hasn’t had any translations, how did you hear about it?>”

“<My, uh.>” Damian shifts awkwardly. “<My mother gave it to me, I like detective stories. I enjoyed it. Although that copy was lost.>”

“<Oh, I’ll send you a new one if you like, I don’t imagine it’d be easy to get here.>”

The waitress comes by, and her eyebrows slowly rise as everyone orders, presumably at the quantity of food on request. When she’s left again, Philip turns to Bruce and says, brightly, “I also take it that you’re the sponsor Ms. Gordon mentioned, we had a very stimulating chat at the conference earlier today.”

“Somehow I’m not surprised to hear that you met her.”

“Coincidence and fate figure largely in our lives, Mr. Wayne.” Philip smiles like a cat; it’s oddly charming. “We’re superheroes, after all. Here,” to Damian, “Dick mentioned to me that you like animals, would you like to see a picture of my cat? He used to be a supervillain.”

After they consume a truly astonishing amount of diner food it’s time to part ways, and Bruce shakes hands with Shoutaro and Philip and says, “<It was good to meet you both.>”

Philip beams. “<Likewise, thank you, it’s been a pleasure. And I’m looking forward to seeing more of Gotham.>”

Shoutaro looks up at him for a moment. “<It’s been good talking to you, Mr. Wayne. You…remind me of someone I used to know.>”

“” Bruce turns to go, but then turns back. “”

They nod, precisely in sync, and Philip says, “<Yes?>”

“<What does it mean to be strong?>”

Silence for a moment, Shoutaro and Philip glancing at each other while Dick and Damian wait in puzzled silence, and then Shoutaro says, “<Kindness,>” and Philip says, “<Love.>” Another shared glance before Shoutaro continues. “<Anyone can hurt someone else. Helping them, that’s strength.>”

Bruce nods. “<Somehow that’s what I knew you’d say.>”

#hongo takeshi #tachibana tobei #bruce wayne #dick grayson #hidari shoutaro #philip #damian wayne #fanfiction #30 day shuffle challenge

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fridayfirefly · 4 years

Text

Lost and Found [Part Eleven]

Masterlist | Ao3

Despite the fact that he didn't get to bed until 2 AM that morning, Damian still woke up at 6 AM with the sunrise. Sleep deprivation was the last worry on his mind when his Soulmate - beautiful, breathtaking Marinette - was sleeping just one hall down from him.

He met Alfred in the kitchen, already preparing for the meals of the day. The waffle batter was already mixed, coffee was already brewing, and butter was already softening on the counter. "Do you need any help preparing breakfast?"

Alfred shook his head. "Thank you for the offer, but I pride myself in my ability to keep this kitchen under control, no matter how many visitors we have. Besides, I'm sure you would rather spend your morning getting ready for your day with your Soulmate than in the kitchen with me."

Damian nodded. "I'll see you at breakfast, then."

"I look forward to meeting Miss Dupain-Cheng."

Damian left the kitchen and made his way to the gardens, thinking about the night before.

They had gotten back to the Manor at 1:30 AM, too late for the Parisian guests to meet the Wayne family. Damian walked Marinette to her room to let her get some rest, wishing all the while that they could stay up together until the sunrise. Rationally, he knew that Marinette needed her sleep, especially with the drastic time change, but his emotions refused to let her go so soon. However, logic won out in the end, and he kissed her cheek and wished her goodnight. As Damian walked Chloé to her room, taking over for Jason while his brother packed his bags back in his Gotham apartment, Damian asked Chloé for a favor. There was a certain plan he wanted to put into action, that he needed some assistance with. Chloé agreed to help him out and their plan was set: in the morning, Chloé would bring Marinette to her room so that the two girls could get ready together, while Damian brought to Marinette's room a vase of fresh-cut flowers and a handwritten letter asking to take her on a date.

Chloé called his plan "sickeningly romantic", but said it with the sort of wistful smile that made Damian send a text to Jason advising his brother to bring flowers for his own Soulmate. Maybe it was sickeningly romantic, Damian thought over the concept, but he knew that it wasn't a bad thing. Emotions had been difficult for him at first, growing up the way he did, but he now knew better than to try and hide that part of himself from Marinette.

Damian already picked out which flowers to cut days in advance, fragrant purple wisteria and delicate white roses, which he got from the garden before the morning dew had burned off of them. He placed them in the glass vase, arranging and re-arranging them the whole way up to Marinette's room. He knocked on the door, and when there was no reply, he nudged it open. A flash of red by the window caught his eyes, but by the time his eyes focused on the spot, nothing was there. Shrugging it off as a trick of the light, Damian placed the vase of flowers on her bedside table and set down the note beside it. The note, which despite its simplicity had taken several drafts to perfect, read: Dear Marinette, I hope you slept well last night. Breakfast will be served at 8:00 AM. With your permission, I would like to spend today showing you around the city. Once the wedding approaches, I'm certain that we will both be busier, so I would like to get as much time with you now as possible. Sincerely, your Soulmate, Damian

With his plan completed, Damian left the room to go get ready for his first day with Marinette. He quickly sent a text to Chloé, giving her the all-clear to let Marinette return to her room.

Damian had just gotten out of the shower when he saw a note sitting on his bathroom counter. In what was unmistakably Marinette's handwriting, Dear Damian, I would love to go on a date with you today. Sincerely, your Soulmate, Marinette.

Damian breathed out a sigh of relief as the lingering doubt that Marinette might have changed her mind in the last six hours faded away. It is a silly fear, one that Damian wasn't used to indulging in. However, Marinette seemed to bring out all the little human characteristics that the League of Shadows had trained out of him when he was young. A younger Damian would have hated Marinette for it, but in the present day, in the privacy of his room, Damian smiled and let the feeling of relief wash over him.

——————————————————————

Marinette, Chloé, and Nino were all at the dining room table with Jon when Damian entered the room. Marinette brightened up as soon as she saw him. "Damian!" If Damian thought that Marinette looked beautiful last night (which he did) with tangled hair and tired eyes from a seven-hour plane ride, she looked downright breathtaking that morning, in a pretty pale pink dress, with her hair done up in a bun, tendrils curling around her face.

"Good morning, Marinette. I hope you slept well."

"I slept great." A look of annoyance took over Marinette's face. "Even though someone woke me up early on someone else's orders." Marinette's expression shifted from indignation to a bright smile. "I did appreciate the flowers, though, so thank you for those."

"You're very welcome." Damian was pleased that she liked them. He was a little troubled by how intently he was watching her facial expression. "Concerning our date tonight-"

Damian was cut off by the sound of voices coming down the hallway. Richard walked in beside Babs in her wheelchair, the couple having a lively debate about what to do for their respective bachelor and bachelorette parties. "We have to hire one. How often in your life do you get the opportunity to hire a stripper?" argued Babs.

"Alright," conceded Richard, "We get one stripper, and we have him split time between both parties. Now onto decorations - I'm thinking we each pick the decorations for each other's parties, and then it's like a surprise when we get there. And I'm not only saying this because I found the best bachelorette decorations on eBay and I already placed a bid."

Chloé broke the silence that followed in the dining room, as a muffled laugh escaped the hand she had pressed over her mouth. "I'm sorry, but aren't you Waynes billionaires? Can't you afford to hire two strippers?"

"Not billionaires," Tim chimed in as he walked into the room with Connor. "Every time Bruce comes close to being a billionaire, he increases the wages of all Wayne Enterprise employees except for himself and donates a ton of money to charity."

"I suppose we could hire two strippers, but then what if one of them is better than the other. That wouldn't be fair," mused Barbara.

"We could have them switch halfway through, that way we each get the same experience," Richard added.

"How about, instead of arguing the logistics of strippers, you greet the Soulmates who just arrived last night?" asked Jon, with a tone of voice that very clearly demonstrated how absurd he felt their conversation was. Damian had spent too much time with Richard and Babs over the past few weeks of wedding planning - nothing that came out of their mouths phased him anymore.

"Oh, hello Soulmates of my brothers and Soulmate of my brother's Soulmate's brother. I'm Dick."

"Babs," said Babs with a wave.

"Tim."

"Conner."

Richard started pointing to each of the Parisians. "You must be Marinette, Damian's Soulmate. You're Nino, Jon's Soulmate. And you are..?"

"Chloé, my platonic Soulmate," said Jason as he walked into the room.

"I can introduce myself," snapped Chloé, glowering at Jason, who looked a bit sheepish as he sat down in the chair next to her.

Jason picked up his fork and waved it between Chloé and Marinette. "So you two know each other."

Marinette nodded. "We've all known each other since we were kids. Chloé, Nino, and I have been in the same class since maternelle - which you call kindergarten in America. We've been best friends for years now."

"Now that's a coincidence. Both sets of three Soulmates knew each other before they met up with their other halves." Richard nodded, looking the three Parisians up and down.

"Coincidence is putting it mildly. Statistically, it's incredibly improbable. I didn't run the numbers, but I'm sure if I did, it would be in the range of one in a trillion," Tim piped up.

"Good luck, I suppose," said Marinette with a shrug.

"Luck, coincidence, statistical improbability - call it whatever you want to call it. It's still mind-boggling that out of 7 billion people, you three - best friends who go to the same school - end up with Soulmates who are all family."

The conversation turned to other topics as the table waited for Bruce to arrive before they started breakfast. Richard got Marinette talking about her aspiring career as a designer, and it instantly brought Marinette out of her shell. Her passion and enthusiasm were contagious; Damian couldn't help but smile softly to himself as he watched her explain to Richard and Babs the inspiration behind her latest collection of dresses named The City of Lights, which incorporated elements of Parisian fashion throughout the ages, with a focus on finding innovative ways to incorporate light into the dresses. As Marinette was explaining in depth the pros and cons between tea candles and real candles (according to Marinette, an open flame near your hand-crafted creation is a very big con, but she felt so strongly against tea candle that she would rather her dress catch on fire than ruin the integrity of her design), Bruce walked in, wearing a bathrobe with the words World's Best Dad on the back, plaid flannel pajama pants, and fuzzy slippers. Overall, he looked nothing like the intimidating Batman and everything like a regular Dad on a Saturday morning. Damian had to admit, it was a good strategy for putting their new houseguests at ease, especially Marinette and Chloé, who were meeting their Soulmates' father for the very first time.

"Good morning everyone," said Bruce. He grabbed his coffee mug off the counter, filled it to the brim, chugged it all in one go, then refilled it and took it to the table. "What's for breakfast?"

"Pancakes," Alfred replied as he walked in with a platter stacked full of them. "Please don't spill any syrup on the tablecloth, it's a pain to get out. And before you ask, yes, I am talking to you, Richard."

"One time," Richard grumbled. "You spill an entire bottle of syrup on the tablecloth one time, and suddenly that's all anyone remembers."

Marinette laughed. "I take it I'm not the clumsiest person at the table, then."

"I'm not clumsy. I'm just sporadically situationally unaware," Richard defended.

"Clumsy," teased Babs, flicking Richard's nose and stealing the last bite of pancake off his plate. They were so effortlessly domestic, affectionate with each other all the time in a way Damian was beginning to envy. Damian kept his expression still as he sat in internal shock at the realization that he was jealous of what Richard and Babs had together. Damian was a naturally private person; he had assumed he would despise public displays of affection. However, with Marinette, he could see the appeal. Marinette had flipped his whole worldview on its head. Now he wanted romantic outings and for everyone to know that she was his. It was a strange and foreign feeling, but deep down it felt right.

——————————————————————

As breakfast winded down, Damian offered to show Marinette around the house. The first place he took her was to the gardens. Damian knew that Marinette didn't like surprises all that much, so he planned on explaining to her exactly what they would be doing for their date.

"The gardens are so pretty!" exclaimed Marinette. "Is this where the wedding will be held?"

"Yes. The ceremony will be at the gazebo in the center of the rose garden."

"I'm sure it will be lovely," said Marinette with a soft smile on her face.

"For our date today, I was hoping I could show you around some of my favorite spots in the city. If you would rather stay at the Manor, I understand but-"

Marinette cut him off. "I would love that. I might need to change my shoes though." She gestured to the three-inch heels on her feet."

"I would advise bringing along a pair of good walking shoes. I would hate for you to get hurt."

"It would be a shame to break my ankle on our very first date," agreed Marinette. "I'll just go grab a change of shoes and my purse, and then we can go."

Damian smiled at her. "I'll wait for you here."

Damian watched Marinette leave, thinking of all his favorite things he could finally show her, and all of her smiles he could finally see.

Taglist: @fanboy7794 @mikantsume @hetalia-lover-is-here @howtoshuckatlife @you-will-never-know-how-i-think @redscarlet95 @derpingrainbow @friedchickening @melicmusicmagic @beautym3 @kunstner1 @shizukiryuu @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @crazylittlemunchkin @black-streak @darkshadowguardian @mystery-5-5 @trubel43 @fandomfan315 @vincentvangoose @royalchaoticfangirl @mooshoon @drama-queen-supreme @kae690 @unabashedlyswimmingtimemachine @zoerayne2426 @littleredrobinhoodlum @lunar-wolf-warrior @dani-ari @sam-spectra @be-happy-every-day-please @xxmadamjinxx @interobanginyourmom @northernbluetongue @eliza-bich @romanoff-queen @scribblinggraveyard @dur55 @jeminiikrystal @sassakitty @miss-mysterys-blog @aegyobutpsycho2 @pirats-pizzacanninibles @chaosace @pepelachanel @sturchling @amayakans @athenalovesredsblog @boxercity1

#maribat #daminette #maridami #miraculous ladybug #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Damian Wayne #marinette x damian #lost and found #my work #fanfic #miraculous ladybug fanfic

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animatedminds · 4 years

Text

Let’s Get Dangerous Review!

It’s dangerous. In a good way. <cue dramatic music> Okay, obviously there’s more thoughts than just that. I’ve been waiting for it for weeks, and it arrived just as awesome as I hoped. For the first time, let’s give my full movie style review to the double length Ducktales special: “Let’s Get Dangerous.”

The spoilers are open and widely discussed, so maybe don’t look past the following image if you haven’t seen the episode yet.

To note, I’m not entirely convinced that this was actually meant to be a pilot. It definitely does introduce a new status quo for the Darkwing trio of characters (minus Honker for now, here’s hoping they haven’t forgotten him), but it’s also a very remote story that still tries to take place within the context of Ducktales’ universe, so it really depends on what they choose to do.

But let’s just get down to it.

First off, as I mentioned in my earlier post… Taurus Bulba. He was maybe the biggest and most eye-catching aspect of the first part of the episode, as one of the few elements we hadn’t already seen yet, and his reputation as a really, really bad guy has quite preceded him. As I may have gushed somewhat about, he’s one of the best parts of the special.

James Monroe Inglehart, for those living away from the Disney scene for a decade, is an actor and voice actor most famous for being the original Genie on Broadway’s Aladdin. A grand, bombastic presence, he generally plays characters who - much like the genie himself - a big, jolly, kind but maybe a little mischievous souls that take the attention of a room and brighten up the characters’ day - like Lance, in Tangled the Series. The most interesting thing about Bulba is that Inglehart brings that exact same energy to the role, and so Bulba keep that jollity and lofty personality in a package that becomes increasingly less nice as the story goes on. As someone who keenly remembers Taurus Bulba as cruel monster willing to hurt kids and capable of crushing Darkwing like nobody’s business, the contrast was immediately fun to watch - and I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.

In this story, Bulba is recast from a crime lord intending to use a super weapon go on an endless plundering spree to a FOWL scientist with a respectable reputation who intends to use a super weapon to take over the world, and the transition goes off fairly well. The end result is a pretty standard mix of superhero fight and Bond plot, as Bulba ends up holed up in his lab with his squadron of elite supervillain minions - all plundered a particular fictional universe - with the heroes having to break in / escape from his captivity and stop him before he destroys everything. It’s very Silver Age, with Bulba in the role of maniacal villain, and he’s contrasted very well with Bradford - who is as always an antagonist who prides himself on pragmatism. This contrast leads to some great moments: Bradford’s increasing frustration with the cavalier attitude of both the heroes and the villains gives him the best stint of characterization he’s had since the beginning of the season - he basically spends the whole episode arguing with everyone about how badly thought out their actions are, while also badly hiding his own secrets.

The Fearsome Five (of which Quackerjack is voices by his original actor) are great to see, though used minimally. If you’re expecting to see classic show dynamics between the villains and Darkwing, that’s not really what they’re used for. Mostly, they’re minions with personality, and they’re more there to establish both to the audience and to Drake the character himself that he is ready to take on really big threats even with his lack of superpowers.

But enough about the villains, on to the heroes!

A couple episodes ago, with the Halloween episode, I criticized that story for not balancing its A and B plot all that well. This episode does not have that problem. The story is actually maybe about three fifths Darkwing’s story, and the rest of it is Scrooge and the nephews as they figure out what Bulba is up to independently of Darkwing and try to stop him themselves. It’s somewhat similar to Timephoon, where they’re there constantly and are doing their own bid to solve the story but the focus isn’t primarily on them. Instead, we have some of the best “HDL actually matter to the story” bits of the show, where they escape Bulba’s prison on their own and lead Bradford out, all the while slowly figuring out that something is shady about the guy. Meanwhile, Scrooge gets stuck in the original Ducktales universe’s most memed scene, which was a fun gag (but not the best gag - that would be the one and only Bonkers D. Bobcat as the Harvey Bullock-style cop in the Darkwing show).

Which I suppose can lead to a digression about the mad science bit here. The alternate universes here are… interesting. I always pay special attention to how things like time travel or other dimensions or alternate universes work in a series, and this one reminds me the most - I think - of DC’s Dark Multiverse: a collection of universes that are both explicitly fictional but made real because people created them. Ultimately, it’s less as if the OG Darkwing universe exists independently of the Ducktales universe and more that the in-universe Darkwing show as a world based off of it that the characters can reach into. I wish the episode had delved into that more, and now you’ve got people trying to use it to look for more establishment of OG Darkwing elements (though I was fine with it being separate, perceiving anything else as rather needlessly inexplicable), but ultimately that is not specifically what the episode is about, and is kept rather separate.

So what is the episode about? Like you didn’t already know…

As always, Gosalyn Waddlemeyer is a little girl whose grandfather was done away with by Taurus Bulba, and who falls into Darkwing’s lap over the course of his adventure with him. Here, her grandfather is (possibly) still alive, just lost in the ether a la Gravity Falls’ Grunkle Ford. And like the mighty glazed McGuffin, Darkwing’s goal in the episode is less strictly defeating Bulba as it is helping her get her grandfather and her home back. Gosalyn here is self-sufficient and action oriented (it may be my inner Brooklyn 99 fan talking, but I loved Stephanie Beatriz as her, and kind of wish she had gotten a wider range of lines), taking on her own crusade against Bulba until she realizes she can go to Darkwing for help, and is constantly trying to pull him into the fight - even while he is reluctant, and no matter what the danger - so that they can win and she can get justice. But in the end, she has to accept that they might not be able to.

As a longtime Batman fan, I immediately recognized a plethora of Robin references with Gosalyn. She’s a kid who’s family was taken from her by a villain, given a surrogate home by the hero - like Dick Grayson. She’s a street tough who originally met the hero committing a crime, and who is both skeptical of his heroism and heavily critical of his flaws - like Jason Todd. And she’s a young genius with a lot of scientific knowledge, tech skills and common sense - just like Tim Drake. There’s even elements of Carrie Kelley or Terry McGinnis there, in her determined if not gung-ho approach to heroism despite her circumstances and the hermit-like behavior of the hero.

And in the end, this is a fairly apt comparison, because Gosalyn essentially ends the story more as a Robin figure than previously, now as Darkwing’s more of a ward and official sidekick alongside Launchpad. The story does not, to note, involve her being adopted by Drake or becoming Gosalyn Mallard. Indeed, they don’t really end up having that sort of relationship. They’re distant and don’t really know how to relate to one another, and not about to broach the subject of family except in distant terms. There’s ultimately far less emphasis than before on Gosalyn and Drake being similar and hitting it off on a personal level, or even really Drake keying into Gosalyn’s potential and spirit as a person vs an element in his adventure. Throughout the story he regards her as a victim to be saved, then ultimately as an ally with potential to be respected, and in the end he gives her an offer to take up the mantle along side him while they search for her family… which ultimately creates something very different.

For people expecting something a little more akin to the implications the show made with Gyro and BOYD, Gosalyn here. The implication that they could be a family is brought up by Launchpad, but neither Drake nor Gosalyn are really there at the end of the story - I want to say they’re not there yet, but the way the story goes gives off the impression that the dynamic duo dichotomy is the relationship for the two the writing is most comfortable giving them.

Again, I’m a longtime Batman fan, so I understand and appreciate the nod. It gives them a really cool status quo that’s distinct from what came before it. Still, the strong father/daughter relationship between the two was very much the heart and soul of the original show, an endearing quality that created the character traits we love about both characters, and ultimately one of the primary characteristics that set the Darkwing family apart even from most comic book superhero stars - so even if they made something great out of it, it’s a shame to see Ducktales ultimately keep that relationship at arms’ length.

But that’s less a criticism and more just something I wish they had chosen to do differently - and it makes sense for the 2017 team’s take on Darkwing, which has always been more focused on “irrepressible hero who doesn’t give up” - a pluckie rookie growing into his competence - than “former fool whose great potential is unleashed through the people around him.” The latter is there, sometimes, but it’s not prominent. Original Darkwing was a man made better by his daughter, while the modern Darkwing doesn’t quite need that to find the hero within.

The only (and I mean only) criticism I have is the way the characters kind of jump around in how they respond to things. Drake wanting more crime, and then freaking out when super crime shows up and it’s way more than he thought he can handle is fine, and is one of the better character bits in the special. It being unclear whether Drake is against fighting supervillains because he thinks they’re too powerful vs because he doesn’t want to risk Gosalyn’s safety is another thing, though - it seems the show intended to imply the latter but forgot to include the line somewhere, so it’s not inferred until later and Drake suddenly benching Gos towards the end lacks set-up.

For her part, Gosalyn is suddenly and quickly afraid to fight for a brief moment so Launchpad can inspire her to face impossible odds, even though it was hardly the first time she had done so in the special. The ending I think wanted the characters to be somewhere that the rest of the special hadn’t gotten them to yet. But it’s all good - it ends well, so all’s well. Best gag of the episode, btw? Fenton, who is awful at keeping his secret identity secret, has hooked up Darkwing with his own hi-tech hero lair. Darkwing, despite supposedly being a detective (or at least an actor playing a detective), ends up as one of the two or three people remaining on Earth who hasn’t figured out that Fenton is Gizmoduck. Darkwing considers himself good friends with Fenton, despite hating Gizmoduck. It’s actually very funny.

It’s as of now unclear what is coming up for Darkwing. We know the St. Canard characters are going to factor in more as the FOWL plot progresses, and this episode kicks that plot into high gear - the characters now know about FOWL and their intentions, and are preparing themselves for a far more dangerous fight than usual. In short, with the midseason comes the renewed focus on the primary plot of the season, as per the usual. Like I said before, while I’m not as on board as most with the idea that this was a pilot, St. Canard was definitely established here - with series regular Zan Owlson as it’s new mayor, and a general aesthetic and set of protagonists. It wouldn’t be remiss for a future episode this season to take place there (though we know Negaduck isn’t happening this season).

The new few episodes, however, are focused more on the quest for Finch’s treasures and FOWL, so that’s going to have to wait for a while. We’ve been promised, as I recall, an episode that brings all the kids together (unless that’s part of the finale), which is nice - I may have mentioned before that the best episodes of the series have been the ones that put the kids (who are the characters with the most focus throughout its run) together and let all their personalities run through an adventure together - and with the cast growing somewhat constantly, it’s nice to know that no one is being forgotten.

Either way, I give the episode a great deal of recommendation - I only had a couple things that bothered me, and a few wishes for different choices, and ultimately I’m planning on watching it a ton of times just like I did the first Darkwing episode. From a classic Darkwing fan, and in the words of Bat-Mite, it’s a different intepretation to be sure, but not at all one without merit.

So thanks to Frank Angones, Matt Youngberg and the Ducktales crew! I hope my virtual thumbs up reaches them somehow, but either way, it was a good day to be dangerous.

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watchtower-feed · 4 years

Text

Death Do We Part (Part 8)

SSA Spin-off ✧ Jason Todd ✧ Physical Link ✧ 1 ✧ 2 ✧ 3 ✧ 4 ✧ 5 ✧ 6 ✧ 7 ✧ 8 ✧ 9 ✧ 10 ✧ 11 ✧ 12 ✧ 13 ✧ 14 ✧ 15 ✧ Notes: Oh boy. This part and the next were supposed to be just one part. At the end of this fic, I’ll have enough words for a freaking novel! Please, though, tell me what you think of the story! Loving and violent reactions are welcome. Words: 2,800+

You’re startled. You quickly scan the property for any movement but you just miss the figure retreating into the distance. Back into Gotham City.

As soon as they get back to the cave, you’re waiting for them on your toes. “He was here!” you shout frantically. “He was at the manor!” You hover over them until they’re running towards the monitor where you have all of the surveillance cameras up and running.

You all watch silently, hands leaning on the desk, eyes straining for the slightest movement in the darkness.

“There he is!” you point at the camera placed directly in front of Jason’s room. Alfred replays the video like he has for the hundredth time that night. You wait as they watch the seemingly boring video, and then there it was, the slightest movement of the tip of a nearby hedge nearly off-camera, as if someone passed through it.

“Are you sure it’s not the wind?” Dick asks in a serious tone. He believes you but he wants the details. Needs them before he brings his hopes up.

You nod. “I knew something was different tonight. At the time I wasn’t feeling different temperatures. And I could hear…”

“You could hear?” Tim tries to prompt you to keep going. What’s the point of keeping secrets now when it’s what got everyone in this mess in the first place?

“I was talking to myself-- talking to Jason-- like I do every night. And I could almost hear myself in my own ears--”

“Like he was listening to you,” Bruce interrupts, eyes wide.

“That means he’s in Gotham! He was here! At the manor!” Dick says excitedly.

You suddenly frown, making all three of them stare at you. “He was.”

Alfred sighs, “That’s what Y/N has been trying to tell you, master Bruce. Before we came down to the cave, Y/N felt seasick again.”

The sudden news greatly diminishes their spirit. Bruce wanted to be angry. He wanted to scold you and Alfred for not telling them about this sooner. Instead, Bruce turns around and enters the bat plane again, leaving his two partners behind. You know where he’s going. You know Bruce is going to spend all night tracking every boat, every ship, and every yacht that left Gotham docks until he finds Jason.

But you also know he won’t find him. You’ve been at this for a year but it’s becoming very clear that you’ll only find Jason if he wants to be found. And maybe that’s for the best.

In the meantime, your new life has to keep going, or in your case, it has to start.

“Being dead for two years and a ghost for another has nothing to do with your education, Y/N,” Alfred argues with you for the tenth time this month, “We’re enrolling you into Gotham University. You start next week.”

“Next week? That’s too soon!”

Tim is the same age as you and Jason, biologically, but you always argue that you’re older than him and death just held you back two years. It bothers you that you’re both going to be freshmen at Gotham U but Tim is going to leave you three semesters behind.

Tim chuckles, “You’ve been hiding in the manor for too long. It’s time to re-introduce you back into society, Y/N.”

“Ew. You’re starting to sound like Dick.”

“Hey!” Dick yells out as he enters the kitchen.

Ever since Jason ran away from Gotham, you’ve gotten closer to Dick and Tim. You use each other to keep Jason’s presence alive, telling each other stories about him while Tim listens and chimes in whenever familiar Jason-Robin stories would come up. At some point, you stopped talking about Jason and just told each other about what life was like before. With friends. Your family.

You decided not to return to your own family. You knew one day Bruce or Alfred would ask you but you prepared yourself to say no. Your family and friends have already mourned for you. Given what your life is now and who it’s linked to, you don’t want them to have to experience that kind of heartbreak again.

“Welcome to Gotham University, Robin Wayne. Hmm,” The sophomore in charge of freshman orientation has set her sights on you and Tim, being Waynes and all. “Bruce can’t seem to stay in a stable relationship for more than a month but he sure does like to adopt kids.”

“I’m 18,” you say frankly, trying to get this moving along.

Tim snickers beside you. It was his and Dick’s bright idea to choose your name for you. They both think it’s a great inside joke but you think all that crime-fighting has seriously messed up their sense of humor.

You’re thankful though that they don’t really call you that. They still call you by your real name.

College and your new identity aren’t about starting a new life and closing the old one. Robin is your identity to the outside world and Y/N L/N is your secret identity. Much like how Robin is to Tim and Nightwing is to Dick and… Batman is to Bruce Wayne.

Bruce.

He’s the one who’s taking Jason’s absence much harder than all of you. He disappears all night doing his usual routine of keeping the city safe and then spends any downtime looking for any trace of Jason in Gotham or anywhere else in the world.

He would catch you by surprise every now and then, asking you if you’ve felt anything about Jason. Anything at all. A change in temperature. The direction in the wind. Sudden hunger. And you always shake your head sadly.

You actually saw Jason that night. You vividly saw his shadow leap over the property and back into Gotham. It took everything in you to not run after your soulmate.

You didn’t tell Alfred or Bruce or anyone because you wanted to give Jason time to get away. If he heard you that night, you hope he followed your advice. That he’s living a better life and this time you won’t let Bruce mess it up.

Even though you don’t talk about Jason as much, to Tim and Dick the search for Jason continues as well. At least once a week, they would join Bruce in his search and they always ask you to join them.

They’re not forcing you to do it. You can say no if you don’t want to. But how will that look? Everyone wants Jason back except for you, the one person who can actually find him and knows where he is.

You feel it. You feel the familiar wind in your hair and the flying sand in your face. You know he’s back at the fortress and it makes you angry. You thought he would choose a better life so why is he back there?

But of course, whenever Tim or Dick asks you, you lie.

“I haven’t felt anything new. It’s like he’s gone completely radio silent on me or something.”

Tim chuckles and teases, “That’s not what radio silence means.”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up,” you joke back.

Dick stares at the two of you and then leans in close with a smirk, “What’s this? What’s going on here?”

“Nothing!” you both snap at Dick. You shove him but it doesn’t really do anything. Regardless, he fakes being hurt to appease your feelings which only makes you more frustrated.

Partly, because he’s right. After being sensitive to another person’s every sense and feeling, you’ve become adept at reading people. You know that Tim has been spending more time with you than Dick has and he always tries to talk to you about almost anything.

You’re also aware that your body seems to find every excuse it can to touch Tim, to be close to him.

And even more so, you’re aware that nothing can ever happen between the two of you.

Tim is Jason’s replacement. Jason is your soulmate. The very existence of Tim in your life is due to the fact that Jason is your soulmate. You can’t even look at Tim without looking for a single trait of Jason’s, a sign that he’s the one standing in front of you.

So then why? Why are you lying next to each other in the garden, staring up at the stars, sharing a blanket, and fingers twitching to touch the other?

You’re just talking about being Robin, the crime-fighting Robin that soars the Gotham skyline alongside the dark knight. You’re exasperated by the idea that the three of them would want to endanger their lives every single night.

Tim half-agrees that you’re right and then he tells you about Batman’s training, how in-depth it is, and accurate, that it’s what keeps him going out there. Tim knows that the three of them never did it for the glory or the fame and infamy. Speaking on Jason and Dick’s behalf, Tim tells you that it was all about being able to stand next to Batman and help him in his mission to save the city.

You listen in awe because you never thought of it that way. Boys. Children. Putting themselves on the front line for Batman. The savior of Gotham City.

You look at Tim and say, “He’s lucky to have you.” Then you look up again. “Gotham should really appreciate you more. Maybe a Robin signal would be just the thing,” you chuckle and Tim does too.

But it’s quiet now. All you can hear is your breathing and Tim’s breathing. You turn to the side again, hoping to start another conversation, but you find Tim is looking at you as well. You watch as a red shade grows on his cheeks and his eyes dart away from your gaze.

He’s surprised to find that you’re still staring at him when he looks back. Slowly and gently, Tim raises his head so he can lean down close to you but he stops only an inch from your lips, waiting and hoping for you to close the gap, to decide for yourself.

You can feel his short breaths on your lips and you close your eyes before you lean in. His lips are soft and small. Neither of you move and it’s over so soon. Tim’s smiling and the redness on his face has gone up to the tips of his ears.

“You’re so red,” you tease happily.

Tim’s flustered but he teases back, “So are you, Y/N! You’re like a beetroot!”

You laugh and smile.

Tim holds your hand when he walks you back to your room. He holds your fingers together while you walk side by side. There’s a warmth to them you can’t deny. You’re smiling the whole time and even you can feel the redness traveling to your ears.

Tim walks you to your door and says goodnight. You wait for him to enter his own room before you close your door. You lie down on the bed and sleep comes to you easier than it ever has this past year.

In the morning, you wake up with your name written on your arm.

Y/N.

Suddenly you can smell the scent of your bed and it smells like Jason. Everywhere you look you see every single item Jason has touched. You see his clothes peeking from the open door of your wardrobe. You see his picture on your nightstand.

You feel sick to your stomach and you vomit on the floor. You’re crying as you’re heaving out acid yet again. Why? Why now? Why do you get to feel guilty over a kiss when Jason had sex with Talia? Why do you feel betrayed and guilty at the same time?

“This isn’t fair, Jason!”

Your sobs and retching start getting louder. Bruce quickly enters the room, followed by Tim and Alfred. “Y/N, what’s wrong?” Bruce asks and you know he’s not asking for you. He’s asking for Jason which makes you cry harder.

“Get out!” you scream at them, making everyone flinch at the shrillness of your voice.

“Y/N…” you know Tim is about to place his hands on your back and you quickly snap and slap his hand away.

You glare at the ground, “Don’t touch me.” You refuse to look at the hurt expression on Tim’s face. But he sees the newly written mark on your arm. Defeated, Bruce gently leads him out of the room.

“Y/N,” Alfred’s stern voice gets through to you. You know you did something extremely wrong. You know it before you even did it. “One day you will come to understand that we are trying to help you. We care for you. Not just for master Jason, but you as well.”

You wait until Alfred closes the door behind him before you crumple back onto the bed. You keep crying and massaging your coarse throat while staring at your name written on your arm.

Jason never does write anything else. He also never rubbed off your name on his arm. You would stare at it and touch it every night and wonder why he wrote it.

Absentmindedly, you would even touch it during the day. Tim sees you doing it during a lecture and you’re aware enough to turn and see the look of shock and then anguish pass over his face before it became stoic.

You stop talking to Tim completely after that and you even find yourself distancing yourself from Dick. An easy feat considering, he’s only at the manor once a week. But you could never keep yourself away from Alfred. He wants you to apologize to Tim but you can’t, not just yet. And you know Tim doesn’t want that at the moment.

You spend most of your time in the cave again. This time you’re actually helping Bruce find Jason.

“I checked the fortress. There was no one there. Not a single assassin,” Bruce relays it to you over the comm while he’s in the bat plane.

“How about the sacred city? I sensed the same feelings from the fortress. That might be the only other place Jason is familiar with.”

“On my way now.”

You wait and you watch but deep down you already know he’s not going to find him there. It has been a week since you last felt that, another week before you finally decided to help Bruce. But you didn’t feel seasick afterward so maybe Jason hasn’t gone far.

“Still no sign of him, Y/N. Any other ideas?”

“Any other cities in the area?”

“Not for hundreds of miles.”

You sigh and fold your knees close to your chest, “Come back, Batman. Let’s call it a night.”

You’ve been spending a lot more time with Bruce at night and he doesn’t question you about it. The only things you talk about are the missions and Jason. Every little thing you feel, you try to relay to Bruce but you don’t really come up with anything useful. Nevertheless, Bruce always checks out your suggestions.

“That’s the last of the League’s fortresses.”

“And still no Jason.”

“Hn,” Bruce grunts, “maybe. But it is a little odd,” he looks at the monitor, almost like he was talking to himself. “Every single fortress was empty and turned into rubble. It’s almost like someone’s been methodically attacking every known base of the League.”

“You think someone has it out for them-- You think Jason is doing this?”

Bruce looks at you, “Other than the weather and the environment, do you feel anything different about your body? Things you wouldn’t be feeling in relation to your own activities.”

You think about it for a while. But your first thought is how strange it is that you would’ve lashed out at such a question just last month.

“My body is still always fatigued even though I’m barely exercising. I feel them more on my arms, too.”

“How about now?”

Now you close your eyes and you numb your senses to your own body. You can feel an even steady wind hitting you in the face and noise coming from where the wind is coming from. “I feel a fan…” The wind isn’t that strong or the noise too loud but you’re disappointed to find out that that’s all you feel. “That’s it.”

“Strange.” Bruce is already looking at the monitor. His elbows on the desk while his hands hold up his chin. “These past few weeks, whenever you try to tune in to Jason’s feelings, you always come up with nothing. But he’s obviously up to something.”

You try to run through all of the implications in your head and only come up with one thing. “Do you think he found a way to figure out when I’m tuning in? And turns off his own senses?”

Bruce turns around, eyes narrow. He stares at your worried face for a second before he puts on a pensive expression. “It’s not impossible.”

✧ 1 ✧ 2 ✧ 3 ✧ 4 ✧ 5 ✧ 6 ✧ 7 ✧ 8 ✧ 9 ✧ 10 ✧ 11 ✧ 12 ✧ 13 ✧ 14 ✧ 15 ✧

✧ Watchtower Masterlist ✧

#ssa #superhero soulmate au #DC fanfiction #DC imagines #DC reader insert #Jason Todd fanfiction #Jason Todd imagine #Jason Todd x reader #Red Hood fanfiction #Red Hood imagine #Red Hood x reader #watchtower-feed #atbucud #jason todd #red hood

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darling-i-read-it · 5 years

Text

Rusty Swings

Jonathan Byers x reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: breaking up

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this I actually really enjoyed writing it. I love mama bear Joyce!

Requested: by @ikindawrite , hey! could I request a Jonathan Byers imagine. The reader and Jonathan are in a loving relationship but break up, none of them are dealing with it and Joyce notices how bad the reader is taking it, talks to her and then they get back together? Thanks!! X

Summary: The request!

Genre: angsty fluff

Song:

(not my gif)

You couldn’t even remember what the two of you were fighting about. It was a regular afternoon that had lead to screaming, standing up from a comfortable place on the Byers couch and then there was more screaming.

He was spouting something about school and you were saying something about houses and that's when he said it. It was something you would never forget.

“We should break up.”

You and Jonathan had been together for as long as you could remember. Friends since you were in grade school and dating since the year before you entered high school. Most of your friends couldn’t even remember a time when the two of you weren’t together. No one could say they had ever heard Jonathan raise his voice at you and no one could say you never gave him a kiss before parting.

And yet here you were.

You were so surprised that he had said something so appalling that you just agreed. Jonathan was so calm all the time that seeing him raise his voice scared and hurt you.

“Okay,” was all you were able to say. You didn’t mean it, your heart was screaming against it but your mouth spoke before your heart could cut in. You grabbed your coat and left.

Tears streamed down your face as you passed Jonathan's car, the place of many make out sessions and excited voices over silly things and began your walk home. You thought about maybe calling someone from a gas station, your friend Nancy or her boyfriend Steve.

It began raining when you had already passed the gas station. You barely saw the car approach you at the side. You noticed it right away and thought for a moment Jonathan had come back to get you but when you looked inside you saw his mom, Joyce.

You really liked Joyce. She cared fiercely about her kids and when you and Jonathan got together you were practically adopted into the family. You hated that you might never see her again after this night. Jonathan probably didn’t want you in the house anymore.

“Y/N get in sweetheart,” she spoke softly. You obliged, freezing from the cold, clutching your jacket to your chest. She started driving to your house, a home she knew by heart when she had to pick you up when you and Jonathan were to young to drive.

“What's wrong?” she asked quietly. Her voice soothed you and you tried to wipe the tears away as best you could.

“Jonathan broke up with me,” you muttered. You figured she already knew because she had to go home to get the car but hearing you say it made it all the more real. It was harder to wipe away the tears.

“Oh darling.” She raised a hand to place on top of yours on your lap. You appreciated the gesture.

It was something Jonathan would have done if he was in her place.

“I don’t even know what we were fighting about Joyce and I just agreed when he said it because I was so surprised!” you cried. She nodded knowingly, her mouth a thin line of understanding.

“It's alright. Everything is going to work out.” You wondered how she could say that, seeing the state you were in right now. You tried not to think about how Jonathan was. You hated to see him sad. “You and Jonathan have been through everything together. Couples have fights. They say things they don’t mean. I promise you this is all going to work out eventually.”

You stared at her and her eyes didn’t say she was lying. She pulled up to your house and you thanked her before going inside.

24 hours. It was Saturday now and you were beginning to doubt Joyce’s words even more.

24 miserable hours, spent in bed with tissues and sad romantic movies. You cried over movies you usually loved, remembering how Jonathan used to watch them with you. Your parents tried to shove food at you but it was too hard and no use. You decided to go outside on that Saturday and just sit on the swings of the park across the street from you, alone with your thoughts. It was still raining so you figured you’d be alone with no children to ridicule you for being at the park in the first place.

The worn down metal polls to the swings looked more rusted than they did the last time you had sat beside them. Jonathan liked to take pictures from them because they were so far behind some trees. You could barely see it from your house.

You saw Jonathan's car pull up through the trees and made no attempt to move. It was probably Joyce, coming to check on you which made your heart wrench. Your hair hung in front of your face as you looked at your shoes, trying to ignore the problem as you had been doing for a day.

“Y/N?!” Jonathans voice called from across the street. Your head shot up and there he was.

Keenly aware he knew exactly where you were you wipped your eyes, trying to look as though you haven't been crying. You didn’t protest as he approached the swings.

His eyes looked bloodshot and swollen, most likely a mirror of your own.

“I don’t know what I was thinking when I said we should break up. I didn’t mean it, I was just worried you were going to break up with me so I thought maybe if I did it first it would be easier and then you said okay and I just-”

You brought a hand to his face when he got closer. Habit you hadn’t broken in the past day.

“I didn’t mean to say okay,” you muttered.

“Can you forgive me?” he asked. His voice was so quiet. Seeing him hurt actually pained you. You loved him so much.

Instead of arguing more you just melted into his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him. He immediately returned the gesture, burying his face into your neck. You felt him release a shaky breath of relief and kissed his collarbone lightly, to let him know you were still here. He was whispering and you barely heard it but knew what he was saying.

“I love you I love you I love you I love you…”

All day: @swanky-batman @caswinchester2000 @alexander-reformed

#jonathan byers x reader #jonathan byers imagines #stranger things imagines #stranger things

268 notes · View notes

renaroo · 4 years

Note

17, JLI

A/N: I literally squealed with delight, it would’ve been embarrassing if I was embarrassed by my passionate love for these losers lol

Best Boy

She has a childish instinct to try.

That, more than anything, is what Ice thinks is her ultimate downfall. Ice has allowed many things to happen to her, happen to the League, all in the name of making solid attempts toward something bigger and better. In this childish hope and dream that when all things are equalized, she can push their rather infamous luck toward being something greater than it used to be.

And Ice really wants this to work. She wants it to work more than she wants the recent photoshoot. She wants it to work more than she wanted her date with Guy to work out. She wants it to work more than she wants to see what Booster and Beetle have planned when the reruns of Next Generation hit too many same-old notes.

Most of all, Ice wants to be able to keep him in her room, too. If Martian Manhunter allows it.

***

It starts as a team-up with Green Lantern ironically.

No, not that Green Lantern. And not him either. And she’s never met that one.

She doesn’t say anything about it when she initially leaves the embassy with him because Guy is always strange about any of them hanging out with other Green Lanterns. It’s rather cute in Ice’s opinion — he likes being their one and only Green Lantern.

But this Green Lantern, the first first one, reminds Ice of her grandfather in some ways, he mentions that he likes her advertisement pictures and that he has a daughter of his own in the industry. So how can Ice not help him out with a mystery involving the fashion industry?

When Fire gets back from her European shoot, she’s going to be so jealous that Ice got to be both a superhero and supermodel in one single adventure.

It doesn’t take that much detective work — nothing to call Elongated Man or Batman about — but at least part of that is because of their help.

Ice, being from another country, has never heard of having a super pet before this adventure.

His codename is Wonder Dog and his civilian name is Streak.

He is the best boy in the world and Ice, in fact, loves him.

Which makes it easy for her to answer Alan Scott’s last-minute request to provide supervision for his furry partner while he goes on a business trip.

***

She goes to Blue Beetle first because, if anything, she figures Blue Beetle has the most experience trying to cover up things from the rest of the League.

He’s sitting cross-legged on the ground, arms folded to his chest, starring intently at the short, furry corgi like it owes him money.

Streak licks Blue Beetle.

“Yeah, I’m a cat person,” Blue Beetle says.

Ice decides immediately that Blue Beetle is no longer someone that should ever be trusted.

Aghast, she pulls Streak into her arms and twists away from Blue Beetle.

“Do you know how many artificial potted plants that thing is going to pee on in this building?” Blue Beetle asks. “At least ten! That’s ten spots of urine stinking up the embassy alongside whatever smells are coming out of Guy’s room.”

“Wonder Dog would never!” Ice gasps. “He’s a… he’s a good boy!”

Blue Beetle holds up his hands and pulls a face. “Hey, it’s your funeral when J’onn finds out.”

“If you tell him, I’m going to tell him about the diet Chacos!” she hisses at him.

Immediately, Beetle puts a hand to his heart. “You wouldn’t!”

“I will!” She promises. “Anything for Streak.”

She receives a lick on her cheek and she knows, at that moment, she will die for this dog if she must.

***

When Guy scoops up Streak and cradles him like a baby, Ice feels her heart melt. He even rubs the good boy’s stomach and nuzzles nose to nose with the Wonder Dog.

Beyond pleased, Ice practically hugs herself and looks at Guy.

“I always knew you were good, Guy,” she informs him happily. “And look at his little face, Streak agrees! And is happy!”

“Sure he is!” Guy says back, full of bluster. “I grew up with dogs. My sister and I always took care of them, couldn’t count on the ol’ man to. Just as well, huh, li’l guy?”

No matter what others say about Guy, no matter what Ice even knows about Guy, she has always seen the goodness there beneath the surface. She feels so validated and warmed to see the evidence of it so clearly on display before her now.

“Will you help me keep him in the embassy until Alan gets back?” she asks sweetly.

Guy, immediately, stiffens and looks at her. “Alan? Who’s Alan? Are you seeing him? How tall is he? I bet I can fight him.”

Ice huffs, rolling her wrist at Guy’s antics. “You know Alan! Alan Scott. He went on a business trip and needed someone to watch after Streak.”

A strangely judgmental look grows over Guy’s face as he looks down at Streak. It hardens. “This is Alan Scott’s dog? The first — unsanctioned, mind you — Green Lantern who uses the Starheart instead of an Oa issued ring?”

Frowning, Ice tries to make sense of Guy’s serious tone and expression. Is this the more serious side of Guy she’s always known was there? The one that trains in the Green Lantern Corps and acts as an officer of the peace in space? To be frank, she’s never been acquainted with him.

“I don’t know about much of any of that, but Alan seems very nice and noble and Streak helped us solve a mystery last week,” she explains.

For a moment, Guy nods and that seems to be the end of whatever interrogation is happening until Guy lets go of Streak. The dog yelps but is caught by a bright green construct that looks and is emerald green cuffs and chains around the dog’s paws and tail.

“Yeah, I’m taking this guy in for questioning,” Guy says.

Working on instinct, Ice lets out a shriek and blows Guy back with a gust of wind, freezing his ring hand until he drops the construct.

“You will do no such thing!” Ice declares, scooping up Streak and stomping out of the room.

“OW! Ice! TORA! It was a joke, are you kidding me!?”

Ice, though, is not kidding. And she doesn’t look back as she marches through the embassy to her next stop.

***

Fire is her best friend and, when she’s not blowing her top, she’s the closest thing Ice can find in the embassy to a voice of reason.

She’s back from a trip that went well, so Fire isn’t really near blowing her top. But she is skeptical and standoffish toward Streak.

Ice finds this rather insulting to her newfound canine loyalties.

“Is it going to be tearing up the furniture and,” Fire lets out an exasperated noise as she waves her hands, “my clothes or something?”

“He’s a Wonder Dog, Bea,” Ice admonishes. She lowers to her knees on the floor and pampers the corgi. “Of course he wouldn’t.”

Immediately, Streak hones in on the scrunchie around Ice’s wrist and begins timidly grazing his front teeth on it. Then, after a few misses, he grabs the scrunchie in his canines and pulls it off of Ice’s arm entirely. It’s one swift motion, very well-rehearsed.

There’s not enough willpower within Ice to resist the giggle that bubbles to the surface as a result.

Once again, Fire looks unimpressed. “You’re just going to let him tear that up?” she asks.

“It’s his scrunchie,” Ice answers.

“Oh, really? For how long?” Fire presses, bending over enough to get a full view of Streak viciously shaking his head, scrunchie in tow.

Using a babying tone, Ice wiggles her shoulder at Streak playfully. “For as long as his little heart has wanted it!”

Groaning, Fire pinches at the bridge between her eyes. “This isn’t going to end well, and considering I’m still paying off the fire damage I did to my room, I do not want to be roped into this,” she informs Ice. Like a traitor.

“Then you will not be his Auntie Bea,” Ice says, pulling Streak into her arms to the dog’s playful dismay.

“Somehow I feel like we’ll both live with that,” Fire rolls her eyes.

***

“Should it be in the kitchen?” Booster Gold asks over the loud blender.

“He,” Ice corrects.

“What?” Booster yells a little louder over the blender, though he doesn’t stop mixing his shake.

“He not it!” Ice repeats.

Post-workout Booster is sweaty and not wearing his signature goggles, so Ice gets to see his squinting confusion at her. At long last, he turns off the blender and then points at Streak who is patiently sitting right on top of Booster’s feet. “Dog. Should he be in the kitchen?”

“Where else would he eat?” Ice asks pointedly.

“Probably your room under the bed in hiding,” Booster jokes, pouring the contents of the blender into his awaiting glass. “Protein shake! You want some?”

“I am now vegetarian,” Ice says, staring seriously at Booster and completely ignoring the angry rumblings from her stomach.

Licking the sides of the blender for the drips of shake, Booster smirks at her. “Since when? You had bacon yesterday.”

“This morning,” she says, crossing her arms. “I will never harm an animal again! Wonder Dog has shown me the light!”

“Okay,” Booster snorts. “The carnivore inspired this?”

“I thought you were complaining the other day about twenty-first-century diets,” Ice argues. “You said it was weird that we ate so much meat.”

“It’s weird because of what it did — is doing,” Booster quickly corrects himself, “to the environment at the level you — we — make it. That was my point. And grease. You guys ruin things with overcooking. But we need protein. And it’s weird that you guys made fun of me saying meat-farming is going to go away, but you meet one admittedly adorable dog and you’re completely changing your lifestyle.”

“It’s just meat,” Ice says, hugging herself to muffle the growls.

“I meant your lifestyle of not being homeless since J’onn is definitely going to throw both your adorable butts out on the street when he finds out,” Booster jokes. He pats Streak on the head and Streak humors him by acting appreciative.

That’s okay because Ice knows that Streak knows to pee on Booster’s bed later.

***

Really, it’s only a matter of time before she opens her door and sees the Martian Manhunter on the other side.

Ice still dares to think it should have been longer, but then again J’onn is a telepath.

And also not a fool.

“May I come in?” he asks, red eyes already honed in on the corner of Ice’s bed where Streak is curled up napping.

Puffing out her bottom lip, Ice steps aside and watches as the martian crosses her room and rather quickly begins patting on the dog. She folds her arms self-consciously and watches.

“He’s a good boy,” she defends unsaid accusations.

“Perhaps,” Martian Manhunter agrees and looks back to Ice almost softly. “I know of this dog, he belongs to the original Green Lantern.”

Perking up, Ice steps forward. “Yes! He is Wonder Dog! Mister Scott needed someone to watch him while he had business out of town! And we had just teamed up together and got along so well…”

He stands tall, towering over Ice as he looks down at her. There isn’t the darkness and fear that Batman inspires but Ice does feel a large dose of anxiety wash over her.

“Ice, we cannot keep animals on the property permanently,” he informs her.

Deflating, Ice bites nervously on her nail. “I know.”

“However, taking into account the considerable merit of our current houseguest, and the temporary status of his stay, it is only fair to amend the rules,” J’onn says kindly.

Ice squeals as she throws her arms around him. “Thank you!”

“It seems only right, considering the rules are basically meaningless in this embassy by now,” he says more grimly with a sigh. “I believe we will have more luck house training Wonder Dog than Beetle, Booster, or Guy Gardner.”

***

When Alan Scott comes, Ice isn’t ready. In fact, she’s the furthest thing from ready. She considers freezing her bedroom door shut and staying inside with Streak forever.

Fire assures her that, if that happens, Fire will be forced to burn the ice away and it could hurt their friendship. Even Streak isn’t worth that, Ice decides.

The boys are all lined up in the foyer with Alan Scott, Beetle has popcorn, like they’re anxious to see some big production.

The moment Ice walks down the stairs with Streak, she can feel the little guy struggling in her arms.

Lowering herself on the bottom step, Ice feels her lip quivering and she holds Streak even tighter. “You are such a good boy, and I know you’re gonna miss me just as much as I miss you,” she begins to say.

Wonder Dog earns his name with a well-placed kick to Ice’s chest, twisting himself like a noodle out of her grips, and barking as he races down the foyer to his owner who is happily awaiting him. Ice isn’t sure if she’s ever seen a tail wag so much before.

“Thank you, Miss Olafsdotter,” Alan says, chuckling as he bends over and latches an old fashion clip leash onto Streak’s leather collar. “I know Streak was on his best behavior — it’s the only mode he has — but it was good to feel assured he was with good people.” He gives skeptical glances to the snickering trio beside him and grips the leash a little tighter. “Mostly good people. I’ll send you a check for your troubles.”

“Whoa, check? She gets paid for this?” Booster pipes up.

“We have dog sitting services, too, y’know,” Beetle begins selling as he follows Alan out the door.

Beside Ice, Fire puts a hand on her shoulder. “Okay, he’s gone now, you don’t have to keep up the brave face.”

Before Fire is even done, Ice bursts into tears and flings her arms around Fire’s waist.

“Oh, boy,” Fire says, patting Ice’s head.

“Aw, Tora, don’t worry, I can get you a better dog,” Guy says, attempting to stroll up while avoiding Fire’s direct line of attack.

Martian Manhunter’s head snaps in Guy’s direction. “No more pets in the embassy.”

“Okay, but what if we’re cutting you in on the dog sitting business?” Beetle asks while Booster is already looking through craigslist.

“It doesn’t matter,” Ice sobs, “there is no better dog than Wonder Dog.”

“Okay, that dog slept for eighteen hours a day and wouldn’t even eat scraps on the floor, only in his little silver dish,” Fire reminds her. “It was the most bourgeois dog ever.”

“And I loved him,” Ice continues, rubbing at her eyes.

Martian Manhunter actually looks pained by Ice’s crying. “I will take another look at our leasing agreement,” he mutters.

#JLI #Justice League International #Tora Olafsdotter #Streak the Wonder Dog #Beatriz da Costa #Ted Kord #Michael Jon Carter #Guy Gardner #J'onn J'onzz #Alan Scott #dc fic #writing #secretlystephaniebrown #ask and you shall receive

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asifindmypath · 5 years

Text

Pop Culture Paganism: A Mental Exploration

My own personal thought experiment regarding a mental exploration of Pop Culture Paganism and Witchcraft. Don’t like it, you don’t need to read it. Flamers will be ignored. Constructive discussion and rebuttal is encouraged.

It’s worth noting that I’m a fairly recent “convert” to a pagan setting. I consider myself an eclectic polytheistic pagan witch. I worship a number of gods from different pantheons, and have a generally mixed Eclectic spirituality. I’m still learning and experimenting and discovering my craft and my path. I am not an expert by any means, and the following are my personal opinions. The only reason this post is not Private like most of my entries on this blog is because I feel this discussion may be validating for some who are put down for their faith.

Now without further ado, if you’re interested, check under the Cut. ;)

I’ve been doing a lot of research recently. It started by my looking up if it’s offensive to the gods to watch/enjoy/associate them with pop culture. Is Hades offended by my love of the Disney version of him? Would Bast or Serket be offended by my using images of them as they appear in video games like Smite?

I’ve come to answer myself with; it depends. It’s going to require experimentation, meditation and asking each specific god their preference, but in general, I think the answer is mostly no. If you have the proper intent, I think the gods appreciate it all the same.

I found an interesting Reddit Thread in which their was a discussion about Pop Culture Paganism. I didn’t realize that was even a thing, but reading the discussion was fascinating, and validating. While some are offended by the mere thought of not strictly following the old ways as closely as we can, others argue that myths of the old gods began as stories.

It’s doubtful that if these gods existed as real people or divine beings before humans, that these stories we know of them are one hundred percent accurate. Humans are fallible, we embellish, we exaggerate, and even when trying to be as accurate as possible, we still insert personal bias into everything. We can’t help it, it’s in our nature. So any story, true or not, is going to, at it’s core, be subject to the bias both of the original first-hand account, by every subsequent retelling, and by the person hearing it.

Therefore, why is it offensive to the gods to follow a new retelling of them? a modern version of a god, like, Loki and Thor, for instance, should be just as valid. It’s doubtful that the comic writers and film producers over at Marvel have consciously been contacted by Loki and Thor to tell them how to depict them, but does that mean that the gods weren’t influencing their own stories? Could Loki not have inserted the ideas, placed sources of inspiration into the lives of the writers? Of course he could have.

Another point that was brought up was that new gods spring up all the time. There is a new goddess being worshiped in India by the Dalit community. There are authors who have unwittingly created new gods or religions with their writings. There are sects of people who worship the Valar from Tolkien’s universe, the Jedi Way is a recognized religion now, Lovecraftian monsters are widely accepted as actual ancient beings and have permeated so many areas of culture. Some Celtic deities are traced back to seeming works of fiction.

Some people use pop culture figures as associations for their gods; more tangible, relate-able and realistic than their ancient stories. I recently made a strong association between Benedict Cumberbatch’s Sherlock and Thoth. I’ve also used a Tolkien Mantra of sorts to honor Anubis; Patience being a struggle for me, and one of His attributes, I will occasionally find myself thinking of Treebeard’s signature philosophy, “do not be hasty.”

Some do actually worship fictional characters, even those not intended to be deified. Some use archetypal characters for worship and find pop culture associations for them, but some literally worship Batman or Sailor Moon. Some use fictional characters in spirit work, or create spells around them. The concept of the energy, the love and adoration, the living and breathing history and collective thought poured into and about these characters, this whole process makes absolute sense to me. I’m not sure if I’ll go quite so deep into it, though perhaps. Vi has already mentioned potentially worshiping Clavicus Vile. I’d be okay with that.

Given that many works of fiction draw from real life mythology, legends or properties, a lot of fictional deities and characters have some real-life counterpart. One can find strong correlations to the Gems in Stephen Universe having similar properties to their real-life crystal and stone counterparts. Many fictional deities are amalgamations of real gods. Hell, many “primary” sources of old gods are works of fiction in and of themselves, such as the works of Homer. While there may be truth the stories, they are embellished and theatrical to make it interesting to read, and are at best an artist’s interpretation of events.

I saw another post today that was so validating. Can’t find it right now, or I would link it. Basically it said that a god becomes a god when someone believes they are one. It could be a single person. They are a god. The older the god, the more energy put towards it, the more followers they have, the stronger they become. So in my mind, old gods like the Egyptian, Roman, Norse, Celtic, ect. gods, those of ancient civilizations, most of these will be far more powerful than a new god with a small following. Millions of people did and still do worship Anubis. There are probably only a select few who worship Dipper Pines (though given GF’s cult following, I’m sure I’d be surprised at that number-). Therefore Anubis has more influence and power as an established god, able to reach out even to those unaware of him at the time, and sometimes bring people to the fold this way. Versus Dipper, if deified, would have a harder time calling to a random new child to join the cult of the Mystery Twins.

My concept, which I originally considered a sort of excuse or explanation of my odd and unusual spiritual beliefs, is that energy is a force, it’s neither created, nor is it destroyed. If magic is just channeling one’s will into existence, expending your energy and maybe using other energy aids (a burning candle, a charged crystal, stored energy in plant matter, ect) to yield a desired effect, then why can’t the same concept be put towards anything? If we can will the spirits to read our futures, if we can will two people to fall in love, or will the universe to cause someone bad luck or harm, why can we not will a new being into existence?

In the same way that offerings, prayers and even uttering the name can strengthen older, established gods; in the same way, why can I not make offerings, prayers and epitaphs to Smaug, or Winnie the Pooh, or any fictional character?

Personally, the concept of pop culture magic is also fascinating to me, and that makes even more logical sense to me. If we take a character like Ash Ketchum. A character of indomitable spirit, fierce determination, immortality, and innocence; a character beloved by millions, who’s journeys have inspired generations of children, even shaped the lives of some - there is magic there. There is so much collective thought, energy, love, adoration there. So many know his name, his image, his stories. There are myths and legends about him, theories about other adventures, other possibilities. Artwork is made, statues created, there are buildings dedicated to his world, his friends and family, the animals and creatures of his world.

Even if you don’t see the correlations to a god from an outside perspective, that amount of power centered around some pixels on a television screen is real. It’s there, it exists. No witch or magic user should be able to deny that. Using that stored energy in a spell would be simple when looking at it from this perspective. In the way we can take an animal, look over all its aspects, and channel it into our spells. In the same way we can invoke Mother Bear for strength, maternal protection and love, we could invoke a character like The Doctor for wisdom, compassion and a drive to do what’s right.

The other angle here, is that anyone who subscribes to the Many Worlds Theory can’t really deny the possibility of most of this. This theory proposes there are an infinite number of universes full of infinite possibilities. There is a world where the Roman Empire never collapsed and we’re all living under the new Caesar. There is a world where modern day man is still living alongside dinosaurs. There is a world where ours does not exist. There is a world exactly the same as this one, except that you ate cereal for breakfast today instead of scrambled eggs. There’s a world where dogs are the dominant species and keep humans as pets. There is a world where the Avengers are fighting against Thanos. One where Luke Skywalker is teaching younglings in the Jedi Temple. One where Ash and Pikachu are traveling to another new region in the Pokemon world. One where we live in a giant computer simulation. Infinite. Possibilities.

I’m not here to convince anyone, I may or may not even practice any of this, it’s just some interesting thought exercise. I like thinking about things like this sometimes. I also think that in a world where we are beginning to pave our own Paths; we’re inventing identities for ourselves, discovering new genders, sexualities, magics, gods, everything; that we should be kind to each other as we discover these new avenues. To each their own, and live and let live <3

Blessed be, everyone, and may you all find whatever Path you wind up on fulfilling and full of joy.

#pop culture paganism #pop culture pagan #pop culture magic #pop culture witch #theology #pc paganism #thought exercise #an exploration #my journey #beliefs #spirituality #pop culture witchcraft #pc witch #pc witchcraft #pc pagan

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scandalsavagefanfic · 6 years

Note

Prompt: Alternate route to the ABO thing where instead of working together, A! Ra’s killed his competition and claimed both O! Tim and O! Jay, with or without resulting pregnancies and Ra’s stealing them away while framing Roman for the crime.

I was having trouble coming up with what to do about these (especially that last one because I don’t see Ra’s agreeing to that unless he gets something big) and found my answer in combining them.

Is it maybe cheating a little because I only have a couple left and I’m losing steam, and I really miss my wips? Maybe.

Buuut you get a longer fic so yay!

This is based off the Double Omega ask/verse thing that ended up being taken to the next level by Queen_Louise.

Here are the links to the relevant posts: One, Two, Three, Four (last two are Queen_Louise’s lovely stream-of-conscious fic which is how she phrased it and Iike it)

200 Followers Celebratory Prompt-A-Thon

(Prompts are closed. Thank you to everyone sent one in! I’ll be filling them the rest of the week! And a big thank you to everyone who follows me!)

Ra’s/Tim/Jason (Alpha!Ra’s/Omega!Tim/Omega!Jason)

Words: 2340

Rating: Mature (nothing explicit just mature themes, mentioned rape, forced pregnancy, forced abortion, coerced sex)

(This is really long but I haven’t had a chance to put it on AO3 yet. I’ll add that link later)

Ra’s is grateful that Roman is so careless. It’s going tomake things so much easier when they’re finished.

He doesn’t seem concerned about leaving his seed all overthe place, he’d removed a glove earlier to feel warm flesh against his palmwhen he started slapping his omega around, and now he has that bare hand bracedagainst the wall while he knots the poor boy’s mouth.

Far too easy. With Ra’s’ own deliberate movements so that hedoesn’t perspire, keeping his gloves on, careful to keep each drop of his own cometrapped securely inside Timothy… there will be no evidence that he was everhere. Any trace left behind can easily be explained away with how often he interactswith both boys but what Roman is leaving behind will make it impossible tosuspect anyone else.

The crime lord probably figures it doesn’t much matter.Jason will remember him and what he’s done, then the ferocious omega will goafter him. Roman’s probably counting on it, with the deep, bloody bites he’sleaving all over the boy. It’s unlikely he’d be able to resist Roman’s commandsin any meaningful way.

It’s almost a shame. Black Mask is a vicious sadist but he’sclever and adaptable. Their partnership in this endeavor has been wildlysuccessful and a very smooth going for an altercation with the Bats.

But Ra’s al Ghul is going to get what he wants. Someone hasto take the fall for that.

In the end, Roman Sionis is replaceable.

He waits until they’re in thetransport, Black Mask’s helicopter hijacked by League assassins, then shoots thecrime boss with a powerful tranquilizer. He’d have preferred to kill him. Buthe’ll need to assert his dominance over Roman, in front of Jason, in order tooverpower the bites.

Ra’s sighs at the addedinconvenience. He’d miscalculated Roman’s lust for the boy. Never expected himto bother with mating bites the way Ra’s had with Timothy.

The second team calls to checkin. They’ve secured the omegas, wiped, stolen, or destroyed the securityfootage, and searched for any sign that Ra’s had been there, destroying anythingthey might have found.

He wastes no time when theyreturn to the League’s headquarters. There’s only a day or two left of theomegas’ shared heat. He fights and kills Roman in front of both boys. It waslaughably easy. The mobster wasn’t a fighter like Ra’s. Then, taking advantageof the heat haze, the wash of hormones telling an omega they want the mosteligible Alpha mate, he claims Jason too, digging his teeth in deep, past howfar Roman went. It’s the only way.

When both boys come out of theirheat, collared and leashed to his giant bed, Ra’s explains their situation tothem. The growls and threats and curses are to be expected. As is the snap ofteeth when he gets too close. But it won’t stop him. They’ll fall in line soon.

Several weeks later, Ra’s isirritated when it’s Jason who ends up with child. He knows it’s not his.

The omega spends the next monthsseverely distressed after Ra’s has the pregnancy terminated without the youngerman’s consent. Timothy’s presence seems to comfort Jason but even with Timthere, the older boy is distant and unresponsive when Ra’s breeds him.

He ends up giving Jason somespace and focusing his attention on Timothy. But he still allows the boys tospend most of their time together.

It may be that small courtesythat helps them to gradually accept their new place. It takes Jason nearly ayear to come out of the deep depression of having his pup taken. And even then,Ra’s thinks that it is largely thanks to the fact that Timothy, the one Jasonconsiders his mate, is now expecting and that has soothed away some of thepain.

Meanwhile, Batman tears apartGotham, and then the world looking for Black Mask.

Jason shifts a little to get a better position and Tim smotherssome giggles when his mate’s nose brushes lightly at his swollen belly.

“Hello little one,” Jason whispers, lips moving against thesoft green fabric of the robs Tim wears, thumb rubbing little circles nearTim’s bellybutton, “Your mommy and I very excited to meet you, Jackie.”

“Jackie?” Tim smiles down at him, running his fingersthrough Jason’s hair and appreciating how he finally looks healthy again. For along time after his—after Ra’s took his pup, Jason wouldn’t eat until Ra’sforced him (and later, when the Demon finally realized that was doing more harmthan good, not unless Tim encouraged him), wouldn’t sleep until his bodycollapsed. He’d been pale and gaunt and… sad.

But now the sun from the balcony lights up cheeks full ofcolor and Tim can see his mate in those turquoise eyes again instead of theemptiness that had been there for so long.

“I don’t know. Could be a cuted up nickname for Jack or shortfor Jacqueline or even just be Jackie.”

“Jack? Like my dad?”

Jason pauses, fingers twisting the fabric and letting goseveral times. “He tried to stop you from being Robin. If he’d succeeded youprobably wouldn’t be here. Seems like an ok guy.”

“He was,” Tim hums, tightening the arm he has draped overJason’s waist and twirling his black curls between his fingers, “I like it,Jay. It’s sweet.”

Jason sighs sadly. “It doesn’t matter,” he nuzzles his faceinto Tim’s belly, “Ra’s will call it whatever he wants.”

They sit in silence for a moment and Tim can’t help butglance toward the door. It’s locked from the outside. Their suite of rooms isexpansive and luxurious and Ra’s allows them to stay together. But there areonly two doors to stronghold beyond and they’re both well guarded, only openedon Ra’s’ orders.

“Jason?”

“Hm?”

Tim tugs on his hair gently and he comes up easily, carefulto keep his hand on Tim’s stomach.

When Jason is looking at him Tim moves his hand from hishair to cup his face.

“This is our baby.Whatever else has happened or will happen, youare my mate. And I’m yours.”

He wants to add that any children they have are theirs. But he’s hesitant to remind Jason that he’llbe expected to breed. Ra’s has already been making prodding comments aboutwhether Tim thinks he’s ready. He doesn’t expect the older man will wait muchlonger. Especially as Tim gets further along and Ra’s will undoubtedly wish tosee his other omega heavy with the evidence of his Alpha virility.

Jason gives him a small smile and rests his head on Tim’sshoulder.

“It’s thoughtful of you to try to protect me,” he says,breath puffing against Tim’s chin, “But I know it’s just a matter of time.”

Another short silence as they just sit, quietly takingcomfort in each other. Then Jason speaks again.

“And I know they’ll be our kids, Tim. But they will also behis. And we’re not in Gotham. We’re not in the manor. This is the League ofAssassins. We won’t get much say in anything. We won’t get to name them. We won’tget to argue over how best to raise them because we won’t be given a choice.They’re going to be raised like Damian. They won’t get childhoods. They’ll bemolded into weapons.”

Tim swallows. He knows this. He’s been thinking about it alot. He’s come up with the best plan he can think of. Even if he hasn’tcompletely given up hope that Bruce will save them or that Ra’s will let hisguard down.

He’s wanted to talk to Jason about it, he deserves to know,to have a say. But again, Tim’s been reluctant to broach the subject with thestate he’s been in.

Well. Jason brought it up.

“Now that you mention it,” he begins carefully, “I’ve had anidea that might get us some more control over that. But, in the incrediblyunlikely event that Ra’s accepts… it’s still going to be a very big sacrificefrom us.”

Jason blinks at him for a moment. Then they both start whenthey feel the baby kick.

“Tell me.”

Ra’s narrows his eyes.

They are being unusually subservient. Both boys are on theirknees, gaze downcast in deference.

It’s a beautiful picture, especially since getting them tosubmit is still such a chore. His cock stirs but he doesn’t trust it for amoment.

“What is this?”

“A small preview of what we’re offering,” Timothy says,voice steady but pleasantly obsequious.

“Which is what, precisely?”

“For starters, we won’t fight you anymore, we’ll give youwhat you want,” Jason’s voice is less sure but Ra’s is a little surprised toeven hear it at all. This is first time the older omega has spoken to him sincehe had Roman’s child aborted.

“We’d like to make an arrangement,” Timothy finishes for hismate when Jason doesn’t continue. The sight of the boy kneeling, not meetinghis eyes, belly swollen with his progeny, makes him want to throw them both onthe bed and put a child in Jason as well. The idea of them carrying at the sametime, willingly and eagerly giving into his whims… at the moment, it’s his mostfervent desire.

“What kind of arrangement?”

They look at each other out of the corners of their eyes.Jason gives Timothy the tiniest of nods.

“We don’t want our children raised like Damian—“

“My children,” Ra’scorrects. They better come to understand this simple truth very quickly.

His statement earns him twin scowls of anger and their eyesflicker up to his and stay there.

“That’s the deal we’re asking for,” Tim says, much lessservile this time, and Ra’s thinks it’s a small reminder that they’re actingagainst their instincts and their own wants to bring this to him. The least hecan do is listen. “That they’d be our children,all three of ours. We’d like to work out a balance between League training andletting them have childhoods.”

“Out of the question,” he’s disappointed in Timothy. The boyshould know him better than this, be smarter than this. “My heir needs—“

“That’s the other part,” Jason interrupts quietly, eyesdropping again now that the attention is on him. Ra’s likes this meek look on biggeromega. “The kids get to choose for themselves, when they’re old enough, whetherthey want to stay with the League or make their own way. When one chooses tostay, the Lazarus Pits will give them all the time they need to learn what youwould need them to learn, so there’s no need to make it their entire life from thejump. And we’d… we would…”

He falters again. Closes his eyes and takes a deep breathbut stays silent.

“We’d stay with you,” Tim all but whispers, “For as long asit takes for one of our children toagree to inherit your empire.”

Ra’s’ brows shoot up. He was certainly not expecting anoffer like this.

“You would subject yourselves to this? You would willingly enterthe Pit? Allow it to wash away age and illness to stay by my side until theterms are met?”

“Yes,” both boys mutter together.

“And if you’re allowed to have such an active role in theirupbringing, you would undoubtedly encourage them to pursue alternate paths?”

They glance at each other again. “We… will try not toinfluence their decisions,” Timothy answers.

“Unless you do,” Jason adds, voice thick with conviction,“If you’re whispering in their ears then we will too.”

They’re thinking about their future children, notthemselves, like all good omegas. That’s why they misunderstand.

He won’t mind if they try to nudge his offspring away frombecoming his successor. A willing pupil is better than one forced after all andthey’re correct about the Pits.

So they misjudge his motivation for asking. He he can waitfor one of his future sons to agree. He’s in no hurry if they’re willing to sitat his feet, warm his bed, and bare his children. If these two beautiful prizesof omegas bow to his will and do his bidding, obey and serve as they were meantto, through possible centuries…

Ra’s closes the small distance between them, runs hisfingers through Timothy’s hair before gently grasping Jason’s chin and tiltinghis face up.

He gives the boy a pleased hum when he keeps his gaze on thefloor.

“Accepted,” he rumbles in that low Alpha register, makingboth boys shudder, “We can work out some details in the morning.”

He runs his thumb over Jason’s bottom lip. He can feel Timothy’seyes on them, watching closely, untrusting and protective.

“In the meantime,” he pushes the digit into the omega’smouth and smirks when he meets no resistance. Even if Jason’s eyes havesqueezed shut and his breath has quickened, he seems determined to hold up thesubmissive part of the deal. “I believe it’s past time you resume your longneglected omega duties.”

Jason’s chest heaves up and down even more rapidly as Ra’smoves his hand from the boy’s mouth to his hair, grip firm but not unkind. Theboy’s eyes remain shut tight.

Ra’s waits patiently for him to gather himself, certain theomega knows, and will give him, what he wants.

Finally Jason’s lids flutter open. He stares resolutely atthe floor and wets his lips.

“Yes, Alpha,” he whispers, almost inaudibly.

He glances back to Timothy in time to catch him sigh in whatseems like defeat but this is their deal and Ra’s has accepted it withoutalteration.

“Go sit at the head of the bed, Timothy,” Ra’s orders, “You’llwatch while you wait your turn.”

The boy swallows hard under Ra’s’ piercing stare and Jason stiffensunder his hand.

“Yes, Alpha,” Tim mumbles and moves to obey.

#jason todd #Tim Drake #Ra's al Ghul #ra'stimjay #double omega verse #omega!jason/omega!tim #Queen_Louise #200 follower celebration #prompt-a-thon #not nice stuff is mentioned

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fyeahwonderbat · 6 years

Text

In the Middle of a Broken Constellation - Pt. 15

Pairing: WonderBat (Wonder Woman x Batman) Rating: T / 14A Universe: N/A - Reader’s Choice Previous Chapter: <- Chapter 14

Author’s Note: This chapter is a little late because I am trying to figure out what direction to take this all in. Originally, I planned for a serious thriller of a story, but it doesn’t seem like that appeals to many readers. I worry that if I don’t have obvious WonderBat moments in most chapters, most WonderBat fans aren’t interested in the build-up of this plot. If I could get some feedback on this chapter/story, that’d be great. If people don’t like it, I can just abandon it, but I want to know what the consensus is. Thanks!

There was an itch at the back of her neck that she couldn’t seem to scratch. Diana had simmered in her fury since the night before and it made her feel like as though a rash was running over her body. Her so-called allies had spent the morning arguing with her about what they were supposed to do with Arthur’s trident, and how they should go about solving the mystery of it appearing suddenly in the back of Falcone’s shipping truck. The team she had collected to help Bruce suddenly turned against her when she arose that morning, with Dick’s words still ringing in her ears. “You’re here because you’re worried about Bruce, right? Let us worry about Aquaman.”

Couldn’t she be worried about more than one of her friends at the same time!?

As devastating as the sludge monster infestation had been, the situation had simmered down considerably after Bruce stopped fulfilling his role as Batman. However, once she had decided to move into Gotham and participate in a solution, more and more concerns kept popping up every day. She had confessed to Jason how overwhelming everything had become, but that didn’t mean she wanted to be excluded from anything. Perhaps finding Arthur and Barry would lead to helping Bruce, which was definitely an area of interest for her.

“Ah, I was just about to go looking for you,” said none other than the billionaire she’d been thinking of, surprising her as he stood in the open doors of the elevator at Wayne Tower. Diana hadn’t realized that she’d been so deep in thought, she’d nearly missed her chance to exit the car. As startled as she was to see him, Bruce looked undeniably smug to catch her off guard for a moment. “I almost thought you’d called in sick or something.”

“No,” she promised a little too quickly. Diana fixed her rose-colored dress despite its loose fit while Bruce joined her in the elevator. He pressed the button marked forty-two and watched the doors shut at a rather sluggish pace. It was when she tried to peek over at him did she recall the pair of glasses she’d brought with her. Staring down at her clutch as she held it tightly under her arm, she knew she’d want to bring them out as soon as they sat down in his office.

“Did you manage to get any sleep last night?” Bruce inquired, breaking the silence.

Looking over at him with a pleasant smile, Diana answered him honestly. “Actually, I did. Only a few hours, though.”

He released a hefty breath, looking much more flummoxed than he had yesterday when she’d returned from the hospital. “That’s more than I expected. I can’t imagine what you went through in there.” Bruce admitted softly.

Despite his genuine attempt at empathy, his words actually struck her deeply. He did know what that kind of battle was like – the ones where you feel powerless in the face of an unknown enemy, where any slip up could be the end of you. The Bruce Wayne she knew had so much more experience with these types of matters than he ever gave himself credit for, however, he could probably imagine exactly what she’d been through with one of his many adversaries from his rogue gallery. Hearing him speak with such a lack of awareness of his own life experience left her speechless for the rest of their time in the elevator.

Luckily, the ride to the forty-second floor was rather swift.

They stepped out of the car in sync with one another, each with their right foot first. There was a large desk for a pool of secretarial staff divided by a hallway, leading to an impressive pair of black doors that was only a few feet beyond them. “Good afternoon, Mr. Wayne.” A chorus of voices greeted him, and a wall of sound collided with Diana as they passed the group.

“Afternoon.” He answered them emotionlessly. Instead of devoting a moment of his time to his staff, Bruce walked with a noticeable impatience down the length of the hall. When his hand reached the doors, he threw them open as if he was tapping into the strength of the Batman. Diana felt the rush to enter his office and heard the doors close behind her just as much as she felt them. “Someone’s eager to get started.” She was compelled to tease his sudden forcefulness.

Then, she looked around his office with wide eyes. The motif of the floor-to-ceiling windows was carried throughout the building it seemed, from the lobby to Lucius’ conference room to Bruce’s personal space. The walls were decorated with spliced shelves in the shapes of shadowboxes, some containing books while some held cultured accessories. His desk was the same wooden color, a deep brown shade contrasting the brightness brought in by the natural light of the sun. It was a modern room that was particular cold if she focused on it for a moment too long. But that was very Bruce-like, she acknowledged.

To appear distant while trying to be progressive.

Diana strolled over to her seat in front of his desk, loving the echo she heard from her steps. Bruce noticed right away, and even dared to make a joke. “Glad to know you had another pair of heels at home to wear, after losing your shoes yesterday.”

It made her feel much more comfortable to hear him say something so ridiculous. “My belongings haven’t arrived yet so I had to make sure I had at least one more pair of shoes on hand. Although, I was more concerned about one of the heels breaking, not losing them at a hospital.”

“Well, let’s get through this report quickly then, so we can go out and get you some more.” Bruce suggested while he clicked away on his computer, most likely searching for the forms they’d need to fill out.

“Mr. Wayne,” Diana stopped him right there with a sharp pronunciation of his name, “I really don’t need you to buy me anything.”

His fingers froze over his keyboard. Slowly, he turned to look at her and she immediately recognized the challenge in his eyes. It appeared as though defiance was a natural trait for Bruce Wayne, no matter what he could or could not remember. As he spun his body to face her in his seat, he brought his palms together and clasped them tightly, presenting himself as a firm, unmoving boss. “I thought we agreed yesterday that your belongings would be replaced by the Wayne Corporation, as an apology for the horrible incident you endured yesterday.”

“We did,” she agreed easily enough. Sitting up straight, however, allowed her to emit a strikingly powerful air as well. “But after careful deliberation, I realized that if I accepted your offer, it could look like favoritism for your new hire and could create animosity between me and my peers.”

“Why? I’m not going to tell them.” Was the reply of the CEO.

“That’s not the point.”

“Look, Diana, we replace many people’s belongings here all the time. From company pens to affordable housing, I’ve given out a lot of money. After what you went through yesterday, I doubt anyone would accuse you of taking advantage of the company if we offered you shoes in exchange for you not suing us over your first day on the job. Without any kind of insurance, there a lot of people who would do much worse than by taking our kindhearted gesture of a trip to a boutique--”

“But it’s not ‘we’.” Diana pointed out.

“What?” Unafraid to look unpolished, his expression of confusion shifted the entire look of his face.

Refusing to back down, she pressed on. “It’s not ‘we’, Mr. Wayne. It’s you. You’re offering me this kindhearted gesture verbally.”

Again, just as aloof as a CEO should not be, he answered, “So?”

It infuriated Diana to no end that he could be so full of himself whenever it best suited him. That itchy feeling crawled up her spines and rushed over her shoulders, forcing her to sit up straight to lessen the sensation. “There is most definitely a conflict of interests, then!”

There was an impenetrable pause after she shouted at him, so obvious that it made her bite back saying anything else. It was embarrassing that he managed to get a rise out of her over something she believed shouldn’t have been an issue in the first place. His ability to rile her up was yet another facet of his personality that was forever a part of him. What she wouldn’t give to spar with him in that moment!

As if he heard her internal wish, Bruce arose from his seat and walked around the length of his desk to meet her. He sat himself down in the seat next to her, silently observing her as he moved. It took him a moment too long to speak, in her opinion, when he finally responded to her claim. “I respect you, Diana.”

Unprepared for his sincerity, she didn’t have a response ready for him.

So, he continued. “I can appreciate how aware you are of your situation here, but you have to understand something: I’m not asking you for permission here.” “Mr. Wayne—!”

“Were you on company time when you lost your shoes? Were you doing something that pertained to your job here? Were you put in harm’s way while fulfilling your role as the Community Outreach Specialist for the Wayne Foundation? Yes? Then I have every right as both your boss’ boss and the man who funds that hospital more than anyone else in the world to do what I want. Now, you can either come with me and pick out a specific pair of shoes or trust my judgment, even though I do not claim to be a fashion expert. You don’t want me wasting hundreds of dollars on ugly heels, do you?”

For a few moments, she sat in awe of his argument. Then, she regained her consciousness and spat out, “You are the most stubborn man I’ve ever met.”

“Only when I need to be.” He smirked at her, proud of himself.

Eager to deflate him, she muttered, “I highly doubt that.”

Bruce hadn’t expected that response and nearly expressed his shock with a gaping mouth. Luckily for him, he caught himself before looking like a total fool, ready to blurt out the next obnoxious thing that came to mind. “If I wrote up a contract and we signed something physical, would that make you feel better?”

“It would make me feel ridiculous but much less ridiculous than if I simply agreed to your words.” She explained.

“Great,” Bruce sighed and immediately spun his computer screen around on his desk. Grabbing his wireless keyboard, he sat back in his seat, opened an empty document that was drawn up with a contract-like template, then began filling in the blanks with the terms they’d set. “I, Bruce Wayne, agree to replace the missing belongings of Diana Prince. Said belongings were damaged and have gone missing after an incident that occurred yesterday afternoon at Gotham General Hospital. The list of items to be replaced includes one pair of woman’s heels, one woman’s handbag, one cellphone…” “One set of car keys,” Diana added, trying her hardest not to laugh. She realized she had lied when she said it would feel less ridiculous to have a physical copy of their agreement. It felt like they were teenagers that need the law to act as their parents, ready to intervene if things became obscure.

With a brow arched, he turned to her and asked specifically, “How many keys need to be replaced?” Unable to hide her awkwardness, Diana accidentally chastised him personally. “Bruce!”

He didn’t appear disappointed by her usage of his name. Instead, he looked as though he was relieved to know she found the entire situation as hilarious as he did. “And one set of car keys. It is the responsibility of Mr. Wayne to provide transportation to and from any shops visited, as well as any meal that is consumed whilst shopping. When Miss Prince is satisfied with the purchases, Mr. Wayne is to escort her home.”

Diana leaned over the armrest of her chair. It was her turn to add her own legalities to the contract since her name would be on it too. Making sure she spoke with proper articulation, she stated, “Should Mr. Wayne fail to fulfill any of his obligations, he must provide Miss Prince with one week of paid vacation to any destination she chooses, all expenses paid.”

“What? What happened to being too virtuous to take any money from me?” Bruce complained immediately, indignation heard in his tone.

“A contract has clauses, you know. I’m merely protecting myself in our agreement.” She claimed, all while visibly fighting off the urge to smile. After the way he made her feel when he fought her polite refusal of his gift, it was nice to turn things around on him.

That would only last a moment or two, however. Typing furiously, Bruce read aloud what his clause would say in their contract. “Should Miss Prince refuse a replacement for all of her belongs, the transportation to and from any shops visited, the meal consumed whilst shopping and/or the escort to her home, Miss Prince will be required to…attend the 37th Martha Wayne Charity Auction.”

Instantly, Diana cocked her head to one side. “That doesn’t sound at all like a punishment.”

“Trust me,” Bruce scoffed as he typed away. “It is.”

“When is it?”

“Next weekend.”

“Alright, I don’t have any plans.” Diana accepted the terms, sliding back into a proper seat. Having attended many galas and high society parties in her day, she knew that some could be rather mundane, but it wasn’t something she couldn’t survive.

Whereas Bruce would most likely suffer internally for years if she bested him and managed to get a free vacation out of their inane contract.

“By signing below, both parties indicate that they have read, reviewed and agree to the terms of this contract.” Bruce declared. Once he was finished typing, he stood up, returned his keyboard to his desk, and signed his signature on the touch screen of his computer. Following his example, Diana arose from her chair and did the same. Since the computer was positioned off to the side, she was forced to lean forward and cross over his personal space in order to reach the screen. She scribbled her name as quick as can be before looking up at him, shooting him a confident grin of her own.

But when she met his gaze, she didn’t see the jovial man she had been teasing a moment ago. The confidence that radiated off of him was something she’d seen before, in meetings where he would get his way, in moments where he could put down even the strongest Metahumans in the Justice League. She moved carefully so as to preserve the image in her mind, as it encouraged her to see the version of Bruce Wayne she was trying to save. The Batman existed inside of him even if she couldn’t reach him directly.

But this version of him, the one she would be spending her day with, had the charms of Bruce that she wasn’t always privy to.

Face to face, she saw a glint in his eyes that was mischievous, no matter how fleeting it was. He cleared his throat and offered her his hand, but Diana didn’t take it right away. She couldn’t help but feel like she was searching more, like she was greedy for… something. Everything she was doing – everything she had done with her civilian life and all of her resources as Wonder Woman – was all geared towards this enigma of a man. Having him next to her, alone, where she could truly marvel at the person he was beneath the Kevlar and the trickery was worth more than any pair of shoes they’d find at the mall.

And it made her feel flush in a way she didn’t dare acknowledge while standing with him in his office.

Carefully, she shook his hand and offered a cordially smile. Then, she said. “Before we can move on to fulfilling the promises of the contract, we have a report to fill out first, right?”

Bruce withdrew his hand and stomped around his desk in the blink of an eye. The absence of his presence was felt right away, but it was the coldness of his answer that stood out to her. “Yes, of course.” He dropped into his seat, fixated himself with his computer and began setting up the report file. It didn’t shock her to see him retreat into himself, but Diana noticed right away that it wasn’t such a harsh separation as she was used to with him.

Maybe, once the old Bruce returned to her, some of these softer traits of his would remain.

Maybe.

#in the middle of a broken constellation #maiden writes #wonderbat #diana prince #bruce wayne

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jonathanraychapman · 5 years

Text

Why I Don't Think NES Games Will Be Cheap in 10 Years

There seems to be a consensus right now that the retrogaming market is in a bubble. I don't necessarily think this is true because that implies things are artificially inflated (instead of just growing over time the way other hobbies do). Though I do concede that prices have certainly shot up more quickly than expected, I think we have years to go before they drop (and that drop will just be a correction if anything).

I'm a collector of several things - comics, toys, collectible card games, etc. There are items that have shot up in value and that manage to hold value over time (i.e. comics) and items that had their time but then fell in popularity (i.e. beanie-babies and possibly Pop figures).

I want to go into reasons that NES games will continue to hold value (from what I can see are the following (and how the relate to NES collecting). I realize that some games are very common and had a very large distribution run and so I'm going to address that at the end.

1) Merit. There's some innate merit to the collectible as an artistic and/or craftsmanship aspect. It's either got great visuals, innate craftsmanship, or tells a narrative. For example: People collect old VHS tapes because of the artwork - not because of the contents or the functionality of the tape. For visual items, they keep their value because of the merit of what they are (i.e. a comic cover can be appreciated visually while the story can still be read for narrative appeal). Sure, there are other ways to get the same effect without the original (i.e. a scan of a cover or a cheaper bound collection of comics). But the original item keeps its value because it’s the first time this came into being.

A lot of NES boxes and labels include fantastic artwork (sometimes fantasy cover art borrowed from novels) - despite the game not having much merit on its own. An example is Gauntlet on NES. Moving on to craftsmanship, sometimes games have amazing pixel artwork or music (such as games from Sunsoft like Batman). And sometimes a game is just really well-made (like Super Mario Bros. 3 or Metroid). People want to own the game - the original vision.

On the flipside, Atari 2600 artwork is also great, but that's a system that has fallen by the wayside (outside of rare carts). People often bring that system up when they predict the future for the NES. But I don't think this is a proper parallel, because the 2600 didn't have the cultural reach that the NES did and the games weren’t the original vision. Let me explain.

The home ports (i.e. Space Invaders) were there on Atari 2600 first and foremost because of the popularity of the arcade cabs. While the artwork is great on the Atari boxes, the cart labels didn’t reflect that art and the games themselves were lackluster as well. So when you factor in the game crash, the lackluster ports, the cultural reach being really that of the arcade instead, you get this situation where the demand just isn't there. That a high value is still there for original Atari 2600 games and rarer landmark games for the system just backs up this hypothesis of why the common bulk of the library is not reflective of the NES.

Basically, being resigned to the dollar bin won’t be so much of a problem with the NES - of course depending on the game. Sure, there's not going to be much of a demand for Blackjack (it will drop from $50 to probably $10) or the sports games as time goes on, but the heavy-hitters are going to keep their price (though it might settle over time). And much like the better Atari 2600 games, the better NES games will also maintain value. There are so many more original (non-port) NES games in the library that the bulk of the set will see a continuing value.

2) Nostalgia. Sometimes we want things that remind us of our childhood (usually between the ages of 7 and 14). This is why people collect Castle Grayskull playsets, old tin toys, or old refrigerator magnets. The previous generations would have wanted western memorabilia (like Roy Rogers toys). This is also why we buy a 1st appearance comic we had as a kid - only now graded and slabbed in plastic enclosement. At this point, it's a useless item from an everyday perspective, but when we gaze on it, it gives us a certain emotional resonance. I know it’s hard for some people to understand, but NES games have this same sentimentality. When you flip through a Zelda instruction booklet, you get that same tingle that reminds you of when you were a kid. It feels great and it’s a reason people collect.

So - besides the gameplay obviously - this is the reason that games like Zelda and Castlevania are still so popular and have snowballed in popularity over the years (as multiple generations have experienced them at different times). The NES Zelda has that cool gold cartridge we remember from our youth. Castlevania has that amazing cover and label artwork that brings us back to when we first played or rented it. These are the highlights for a retrogame collector - even though we may - in practice - play them with flash carts.

Despite these games being best-sellers, so many people will hold on to them and will continue soaking up the games from the market. It’s not that the best-selling games are unobtainable at the distribution rates. So of course there’s going to be a ceiling on the value (Zelda may stay at $20-50 for decades). But I’m arguing that there will continue to be a floor and you may even see these games slowly rise in value over time (especially since the games checks several boxes as far as a collectible and is only held back in value by the number of carts out there). Also keep in mind that collectors want better copies of these games - so they may upgrade the gold cart with damage to a pristine one (same with the box).

3) Popularity/Prestige. We tend to hold on to prestige items in our collection. As a collector we might collect rare items just because they're rare. Partially this is to show off and impress people, but most of the time it's because we cherish a thing because other people cherish it (we all start to think a thing is cool and so it becomes cool). Human emotions are pretty complicated and this reason might not seem valid. But it's real. This might also be seen as speculation (assuming you’re going to trade or sell the item later), but I’d argue that emotion plays a part and the majority of people that acquire a rare game once it’s show up in value somewhat aren’t playing the long-game for profit. They’re just hooked themselves.

As far as the NES goes, games like Little Samson and items like the NES World Championship carts certainly fit this line of value. People want them because other people want them. They’re cool.

Little Samson is also really fun and has the other aspects of collecting (which was the catalyst for it shooting up in price), but it's hyped up because of its late-release low print run (and also because it has some historical merit). And because it's a holy grail type of item, people really want it in their collection - even if they're not going for a full NES run.

The NES World Championship cart (involving both the gold and gray carts that are out there) has been an interesting item to see go up in value. If the entire NES library was of common items, there might not be as much of a collector crowd for it. When there’s only a few of a thing, this drives up interest. This is no different than Air Raid for the Atari 2600 - which drew in news reporters just like it did collectors. The championship carts are the equivalent to the first Superman comic for game collectors. It’s both a prestige item and it’s of historical significance to a certain degree. While you see carts going for upwards of $100K at auction in news stories, and it’s hard to imagine that item keeping its value, you’ve also got Action Comics #1 (first Superman) selling for over $3 million. I just don’t see this item going for less than the auction amount.

4) History. A sought-after or expensive comic might be a key issue - meaning that it has significance for the development of a character. And this will probably be the reason it’s went up in price over the years. It might not matter much to consider on its own artwork and story, but as part of a collection, it's a critical find. People tend to hold on to these and they are the linchpin to a collection - filling a gap in a franchise’s story. This is where items like The World Championship Carts and the much-cheaper Tengen games come into play (i.e. the gray Namco Pac-Man vs the black Tengen Pac-Man). There's a story to tell with these items and people want them to feel like they're a part of the history of games.

It’s not enough just to be relevant for the story to preserve or increase the market value of a game. The item must also have a rarity to keep a value (as they usually don’t have the same popularity, nostalgia, or merit to keep a value (outside of the history-seekers). In the case of the Pac-Man cart, the grey one (that’s licensed) goes for $15 while the more-common (unlicensed) black one goes for $10. That’s not really a big difference.

Maybe a better example is the Tengen Tetris (which was pulled when Nintendo did their own deal with the USSR to acquire the rights). The Tengen version looks worse than Nintendo’s, but it has a label referencing the “Soviet Mind Game” and also has 2-player co-op. It was also pulled from store shelves following a lawsuit - so it’s also rare. The Tengen version of Tetris goes for upwards of $60 while the Nintendo version goes for less than $5. I don’t see the value on either version dropping either.

I know for a lot of people it’s hard to imagine that these games will retain value and even go up over time. In the 80’s and 90’s NES cartridges were ubiquitous; they were everywhere. In the early 2000’s - as gamers dropped them to move on to other gaming systems - you couldn’t give them away. Even rare games went for less than $2. Now the games are harder and harder to find at yard sales and they’re commanding a decent price. We live in the digital age. People have access to price guides and auction sites no matter where they are.

To many the increase in game prices appears to be a bubble. And yes, maybe there’s some pricing corrections coming (especially on some of the hotter items that may be overvalued). But the trend for these games will continue to rise and the prices that games go for now will seem like bargains later on. It doesn’t matter that we’re moving to a digital age where the physical media isn’t required. This has happened with comics (they were put into graphic novels or cheaper bound drug store copies) and the prices have only continued to rise (though maybe that’s due to the movies in recent times).

Video games undoubtedly are a collectible now - just like coins, toys, comics, and even old advertising. For example, even the video game advertisements ripped from magazines have value these days. This is also true of strategy guides, instruction booklets, and store demo items. And when you look at collectible card games like Magic: The Gathering, the pricing of comics and games seems very modest by comparison. There will certainly be ups and downs, but I don’t believe there will be a pricing crash. You will have people move on with their lives and sell off their collection. But you won’t see the flood of games back into the market that some people think is coming and you will see a steady rise in price over the years and decades that follow.

#retrogaming #collecting #NES #Nintendo Entertainment System

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thatfanficstuff · 6 years

Text

Bound - 7 (take 2)

Pairing: Klaus x OC

Warnings: none

A/N: Have this boring photo free post because dumblr flagged my one with the header. Idiots.

***

Several hours passed before we heard from Rebekah. She sent Elijah a text that said Elena and company knew nothing. They were only digging for information.

“Do you believe that?” I asked before I could think better of it.

“Are you suggesting Rebekah would lie to us?” Nik’s voice held an edge I didn’t care for.

“Careful, Niklaus,” Elijah said, his gaze darting between the two of us.

“I’m not suggesting anything, Nik.” I arched a brow as I took him in. “I don’t know her well enough to know if she would lie or not. I do know Elena however and I find it unlikely her and Damon would expose their play unless they were ready to act.”

He closed the distance between us. “My sister swore a vow. She would not betray me. You may think you know everything about our family but you do not. So kindly refrain from commenting on things of which you are no part.”

“Niklaus,” Elijah snapped, but it was too late. The damage was done.

I turned to the elder Original. “If you insist on trying to keep him from self-sabotaging, you face an eternity of disappointment, Elijah.”

I moved to leave the room and Nik’s hand on my arm stopped me. “Where are you going?”

“To visit my uncle. Is there a problem with that?”

He looked as if he wanted to argue but decided against it. “Then I will take you. I don’t like you out alone.”

I brushed his hand away. “I think I’ve got it covered. Besides you should save your worry for those that actually are a part of your family.”

***

I was more frustrated with Nik than I was angry. By now, I was more than used to him saying the wrong thing usually at precisely the wrong time. A couple of hours with Elijah bitching at him for his thoughtlessness should be sufficient punishment. The thought was enough to have me feeling better as I knocked on Ric’s door.

“Come in,” he called.

“I hope you aren’t making a habit of blindly inviting people into your home, Ric. You should no better than that,” I said as I walked in and shut the door behind me.

“Cassidy!” He grinned then glanced around his apartment at the photos scattered on every available surface. “Just…uh…give me a minute,” he stuttered and started to sweep the photos into a hasty pile.

Taking a step to the nearest surface, I grabbed one and looked it over. A white symbol scratched onto a dark wall. It must be the language from the cave Nik mentioned. “You don’t have to hide this, you know. I already know about the cave.”

“The cave?”

I smiled and took a seat on the couch. “You would think that you might have reached out to the person that’s studied ancient cultures, but whatever.”

Ric sighed and sat beside me, resting his hand on my knee. “Yeah, well, I suggested that. It seems as though Elena and Damon don’t trust you.”

“I’m getting a little fed up with the two of them if I’m honest.”

“Elena’s just a kid.”

“Maybe someone should remind Damon of that fact,” I suggested.

“Come on, Cass. Damon’s not that bad. He’s just a little—”

I cut him off. “Didn’t he kill you not too long ago?”

Ric made a sound of agreement but didn’t say anything else.

“Listen, can I crash on your couch tonight?” I asked after a moment.

It was obvious he wanted to dig deeper but he was a good man. “Actually, you can have the bed. I’m staying with Jenna.”

***

I spent the next day lazing around Ric’s apartment and watching bad sci fi movies in between texting the Mikaelson brothers. I was ready to go home but I was holding out for an apology. He’d been close but hadn’t cracked yet. I just had to be patient.

When my phone dinged again, I picked it up with a smile which fell quickly when I saw the message was from Rebekah. I want to talk to you. Could you come to Stefan’s.

I sat up with a frown. There was no question. I didn’t trust Rebekah. Not in the least. But it was important to Nik that we get along so I supposed I could at least make an effort. I told her I’d be right there then shot a message to Elijah to tell him what was going on. The phone immediately rang.

“Rebekah requested to meet with you?” Elijah’s smooth voice said when I answered.

“That she did.”

“Did she say why?”

“No. I’m hoping Stefan managed to convince her that I’m not that bad. I guess we’ll find out.”

“Be careful, Cassie. As much as I love my sister, it would be remiss of me not to be aware of her more possessive tendencies when it comes to her family.”

“Well, that’s just lovely, Elijah. I’ll keep it in mind.”

***

Elena was the one to answer the door. “Cassidy!” She threw her arms around me. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

My hug was a little more restrained. “It’s good to see you, too. Is Rebekah here?”

“Oh, yeah.” She pulled away. “She’s waiting for you in Stefan’s room.”

I kept my gaze on her as I made my way up the stairs. She was acting oddly too. What was going on?

I paused in the doorway of Stefan’s room as my gaze fell on Rebekah. She was dressed in a sleeveless red dress with her hair hanging loose to her shoulders. “Hello, Rebekah. You look great.”

She met my gaze in the mirror and smiled. “Thank you, Cassidy. Stefan said you were sweet.”

“I have my moments.” I glanced around. “Where is Stefan?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “Running an errand.”

Well, that was vague. “So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

She turned to face me and licked her lips. “I want to ask you a question and I’d appreciate it if you were honest with me.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Do you know what happened to my mother?”

That surprised me. “Yes. Do you?” As far as I knew, she still believed Mikael had killed Esther.

“Did Niklaus kill my mother?”

By the way she asked the question I could tell she already knew the answer. I sighed. “Of course, he did Rebekah.”

That got her to her feet. She stopped inches from me. “What do you mean, of course?”

“Your mother was the only source of parental love Nik had. Though, it was tenuous at best. She let Mikael abuse him and belittle him and did nothing to intervene.”

Moisture pooled in her eyes. “What did you expect her to do? She was terrified of my father.”

“She was a witch, Rebekah. If she was strong enough to turn you all into vampires, she was strong enough to stop your father. She chose him over her son.” I was yelling by that point but I didn’t care. “And instead of facing the consequences for her infidelity, she forced that burden on him as well by binding his werewolf side and turning her back on him. Of course, he ripped her heart out. She deserved it.”

My head snapped to the side as Rebekah slapped me. Thankfully, she held back or she very well might have broken something. As it was, I’d be bruised tomorrow. “You, bitch,” she snarled.

Before I could retaliate, Elena stepped into the room and I watched in fascinated horror as she daggered Rebekah in the back. The blonde reached out for me, but I could do little more than catch her to keep her from hitting the floor. I lowered her gently to the ground before turning my full attention to my cousin.

“What the hell are you thinking, Elena?”

“I’m sorry, Cassidy but we can’t let her interfere. She might warn him.”

A chill went up my spine as Damon walked into the room. My gaze moved between the two of them. “Warn who?”

Damon shrugged as he gave me a smirk. “Don’t worry about it, Grimes. Everything will be over before you know it. We just need to borrow you to seal the trap.”

“I’m not doing shit for you, Salvatore.”

He dropped a hand on my shoulder. “I guess it’s a good thing you don’t have your powers anymore then, isn’t it?”

***

I am retagging everyone in this post as well as I don’t know when the other one will be visible. Sorry if you get notifs for both.

Bound: @deadmanwalked @the-doctor-9-10 @kawaiirepublic @xlosttdreamss @tkdgirl2012 @cacti-succulents-andlesbians @killerheelsanddullknives @readeity @kayla-03-blog @star-incandescent @bookwormstrawberry

All the Things: @swanky-batman @rissyrapp20 @startrekkingaroundasgard @spooookyscary @taylordrunkonwhiskey @thewolf-and-thesheep

#take two #dumblr sucks #quit flagging my shit #Klaus x oc #series #bound #the hybrid's witch

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camsthisky · 7 years

Text

Shuddering Darkness

ao3 | ff.net

Summary: Jason hadn't meant to let any of this happen. It happened anyways.

I've been working on this for the past couple months, and this is something like the fourth or fifth time I've rewritten it. The last draft was less than 6k. This one is about 400 words short of 8k. It's been a long time since I've had to wrangle a fic so much, but I just think it's because it's from Jason's POV and Jason's always tought for me to write in general.

Thanks to those of you who donated! I really appreciate it! And thanks to @preciousthingsareprecious for all of the suggestions!

“A case?” Dick asked, sounding bewildered. “And you need my help why?”

Jason scowled underneath his helmet. Dick couldn’t see it, but it was totally aimed his way, and it made Jason feel a bit better. He hated to go running to Dick like this, but he was running out of time and options.

An up and coming drug lord, Darren Sommers, was trying to expand his drug business by kidnapping children straight from the streets of Gotham and hooking them on his new experimental drugs. The more kids he hooked, the more people seemed to be interested. He was also one of the most revolting men Jason had ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on, and he’d met a lot of disgusting men. Killed a lot of them, too.

Only, most of the others didn’t have a lot of backup. Sommers did. Seven beefy guys armed to their teeth. All of them obviously professionals. Traps all around his base of operations.

Jason hated to admit it, even to himself, but he wasn’t going to be able to take this guy down by himself, especially when he didn’t know how Sommers was even getting to these kids on Red Hood’s watch.

He hadn’t wanted to go to Nightwing, but he wasn’t sure if waiting for a few nights to look for the help he wanted would damn even more kids. Some part of him thinks he should feel grateful it was Dick he’d run into tonight, instead of Bruce or the Demon Brat, but Jason’s not up to feeling the gratitude right now.

“I can’t figure out how Sommers is getting to the kids in Crime Alley,” Jason told him, crossing his arms in front of him, “so I need you to see if B has anything on the guy in his files. Something that gives me an edge.”

“I can do that,” Dick said pretty easily, but he was still giving Jason a weird look, doing that stupid head tilt thing that reminded Jason of a dog. “But you know you can check yourself. B isn’t going to mind you in the Cave.”

“I don’t have time,” Jason fibbed.

Which, yeah. He was stretched a little thin, but he might have been able to make time to search through the Batcmoputer’s files for a few minutes. But he and Bruce were still on rocky ground, and Jason wasn’t sure if showing up out of the blue was going to make the ground give out from under them. It seemed like half the time Bruce opened his mouth, Jason ended up wanting to punch his damn teeth out.

Luckily, Dick accepted the answer, even if it was with an understanding nod and a sad smile. “Yeah, no problem, Hood. I’ll get back with you tomorrow night.”

Jason nodded, and they went their separate ways, Dick—for once—not begging Jason to stay a few more minutes and talk, or come back to the manor, or find the other. He seemed to sense Jason’s rapidly declining mood, which wasn’t hard. Even Jason knew he was snappier than usual, no snark or sarcasm to be found.

Jason just wanted a bullet in Sommers’ head, so those kids wouldn’t have to worry if they were going to disappear next. Sommers was in Red Hood’s territory, and he was going to pay.

“He has a son,” Dick told him when he dropped onto the rooftop next to Jason. His voice was trembling, and he looked withdrawn. Angry, but he was bottling it up. Maybe if Jason knew Dick just a bit less than he did, he wouldn’t have picked up on it. But he did know Dick. And Dick was pissed.

“What?” Jason asked, his voice quiet, because he couldn’t have heard right.

“Sommers has a son,” Dick said again—and that was more than anger. That was rage Goldie was giving off in waves. No unusual for Dick Grayson, Jason knew, but a lot rarer nowadays. With the Demon Brat around, Dick’s temper didn’t show its ugly face much. But now? It was almost palpable. Jason would hate to be Sommers right now.

“What does that have to do with the kids disappearing?” Jason wondered, his eyebrows furrowing. “He—oh. Oh. Son of a bitch.”

“Yeah.” Dick didn’t sound so angry anymore. His shoulders dropped, and he ran a hand over his masked face. “He’s been using his own son.”

It made sense, as sick as it was. The bastard was using his own kid as a spy on the streets so that he could snatch the other kids. The other kids didn’t trust grownups, but for the most part, they were okay with other kids. A bit wary, but nothing like it’d be with an adult.

And somehow Sommers had come to that conclusion, too, and had used his own son as a means to an end.

This information made Jason’s gut twist in anger and revulsion, because Jason’s remembered another kid, eager to please someone he looked up to as a father, being given a uniform that would get him killed a few years later.

And Dick, too, had been Robin. Had created Robin, becoming something of a brightness for the people of Gotham to see and trust, or distract before Batman swooped in and took over the situation. The two situations lined up too well, and Jason felt as the anger gripped its claw in his skin. He knew from experience they wouldn’t let go anytime soon, so he embraced.

He would use it.

“I’m leaving,” Jason said, his voice wavering in his own rage.

Dick’s head snapped up. “I’m coming with you.”

“What?” Jason asked. “No way.”

“You already for me involved, Hood,” Dick argued. “Just let me help.”

Jason actually found himself considering it. Dick was an amazing fighter, and an amazing detective. Jason knew that working with Dick on this would double his chances of catching this guy before he got too far.

But. Working with Dick also brought up a few problems. He was already working with the Bats wat too often as it was, aiming for non-lethal spots when he was with them, and sometimes even using rubber bullets. If Dick tagged along, Jason would either have to intentionally not kill the guy, or Dick would try to stop him.

(He could always try to gut Sommers later, though, when Dick wasn’t looking, because this guy needed to be off his streets. Permanently.)

“Fine,” Jason said at last. “But we do this my way.”

“No killing.”

Jason gritted his teeth, even though he’d been expecting it. “Fine. You follow my lead, but no killing. Agreed?”

Dick shot him a smile. “Agreed.”

Jason turned away, taking out his grapple and shooting it in the direction he knew Sommers’ base was. He was going to get this bastard, and he was going to put a bullet through his head. He didn’t care how long he had to wait.

“What are we doing?” Dick asked, looking confused as they crept towards the skylight of the warehouse.

Jason didn’t answer, too busy peering in and—yes. There he was. Derek Sommers’ son was in the warehouse. He couldn’t have been older than twelve, fiddling with a game on his tablet, and Jason couldn’t help the disgust that roiled in his stomach again as he thought about how Sommers was using his own kid.

He had to try very hard not to think about Batman while he looked between the kid and Sommers, who was standing on the other side of the warehouse, talking on the phone as he looked over a stack of packages, probably all filled with the experimental drug.

“Red Hood?”

“Okay, here’s the deal,” Jason said, finally looking up at Dick. “I’ve cased this warehouse three times, and this is the first time I’ve ever seen his son here. We need to get him out of here before we can go all out.

“Problem is,” Jason continued, “there’s about seven bodyguards down there, all armed to the teeth. One of them is bound to be watching the kid, since he’s basically the delivery service.”

“We’ll need a distraction,” Dick realized. “You or me?”

“Me,” Jason replied immediately. “As soon I go in, you get the kid, and you get out. Hide him at the nearest safe house, and come back so we can finish the job.”

He probably could have worded that a little better, but Dick didn’t seem to pick up on it. Instead he shifted minutely, and grimaced at what they could see through the skylight.

“What?” Jason snapped.

Dick looked up at him. “Look, I know I agreed to follow your lead, but eight men is a lot to distract at one time by yourself. Maybe we should call Red Robin or Batgirl as backup, just in case this goes south.”

“We don’t have time for that,” Jason told him, his voice cold. “And I know the best way to take these guys down. They hit hard and pack heavy, so knock out their footing and they crumble. They’re not invincible.”

“Neither are you.”

Jason made an irritated noise in the back of his throat. “Look, Nightwing, this is the first time the kid’s actually been here in the past week and a half since I tracked Sommers down, and Sommers looks like he’s getting ready for another delivery. This can’t wait.”

Dick still looked unsure, but he sighed. “Fine, but the second something looks like it’s going wrong, I’m calling for backup.”

“Fine,” Jason spit out. “Now get ready.”

Once Dick had successfully snuck in, in position to grab the kid and beat it, Jason had eased open the skylight, making sure not to let the hinges creak. He threw a few smoke pellets in the direction of the men and the packages, and once they hit the ground, Sommers and the guards engulfed in smoke, Jason fell through the skylight himself.

He landed right on the edge of the cloud, watched as Dick snatched the kid and whisked him away in silence, and then he threw himself into the cloud, determined to take down as many men as he could while he had the advantage of surprise. He had to buy time for Dick to hide the kid and then loop back around to help him take these goons out.

The smoke lasted about three minutes, and in that time, Jason had taken out three guards (they didn’t go down as easily as he’d hoped). He had four left, and then Sommers himself. His opponents recovered, though, and that’s when the shooting started. Jason rolled away from a shot, taking covering behind a pillar, and shooting back when he got an opening.

He managed to take down one more guard when Dick suddenly fell from the ceiling, surprising one of the other guards, leaving two more and Sommers for Jason to handle. Dick took him out fairly easily, and Jason laid cover fire for him when the remaining men tried to go for him.

And of course, that’s when Dick decided to get even closer.

The thing is, Jason knew how to fight close combat. He was good at it, too. Still, he used guns for things like this, and he kept his distance, perfectly timing his shots to use the least amount of ammo as possible without getting his face shot off or something like that. He was good at both.

Dick, though. Dick was a close combat fighter through and through, and it was just now that Jason realized he wasn’t very effective in a firefight. Sure, Dick could weave and flip through a spray of bullets like no other, movements too unpredictable to shoot at properly, but that didn’t make him immune to a stray shot or two.

And when Dick elbowed one of the two guards still standing in the face, and Jason cursed when he realized how exposed Dick was in that position. Especially when the last remaining guard lifted his gun and aimed it at Dick—and Jason was sure Dick’s heart was the target.

“Nightwing!” Jason yelled, raising his gun, and not even hesitating to pull the trigger at the shooter.

He was too late, though. The guard that had shot at Dick crumpled to the ground at the same time that Dick cried out in pain, barely completing his swing to the face of the guy he was fighting before he crumpled to the floor.

He didn’t get back up.

Jason cursed again, hurrying towards Dick while the last guard stumbled around rubbing at his jaw. Sommers had slipped away during the fight, but Jason couldn’t care less at this point. Up close, Jason could see that Dick wasn’t bleeding from just one bullet hole, but three.

Dammit.

“Get up off your fucking ass, Nightwing,” Jason snapped, even as he hauled the unconscious vigilante over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry, and lugged him out of the warehouse.

That guard, the one Dick had hit in the face, was still moving, and Jason had seen a few more guards stirring. Not to mention that Jason didn’t think Sommers would stay hidden very long. Not while his kid was missing. No, they’d come after Dick and Jason the moment they regrouped. Jason needed to get the two of them out of here. Fast.

The problem was, though, the only safe house nearby was the one where Dick had stashed the kid, and if Sommers regrouped fast enough, Jason could be leading them right back to the boy.

Jason didn’t know where else to go, though.

After a few minutes of lugging Dick away from the warehouse, Jason finally found an alley where he could put Dick down for a moment and assess the situation.

He’d fucked up. Badly. He should have taken Dick seriously when he’d told Jason to call in backup. But he’d been so blinded by the fact that Sommers had used his own son, like sometimes Jason swore Bruce did without realizing, that he’d just gotten too angry. Let his emotions cloud his judgment.

Dick, Jason, Tim, Steph, and now Damian. All Robins thrown into a uniform at too young of an age. Now stuck they were all stuck in this world without a way out. There was no way that any of them could be normal anymore, and Jason thought that Bruce should have realized that after he died, and yet the Replacement had still become Jason’s replacement.

There were times that Jason thought that he was finally able to take a step away from thinking about that, about letting that fact cloud his judgement. But it infuriated him. Blinded him. To the point where he screwed up and made shitty decisions that led to his brother bleeding out without a safe place to recuperate.

He should have listened to Dick for once in his goddamn life and called backup.

But it was too late for shoulda, coulda, woulda’s and Jason needed to get back on track. Dick’s mouth was slack, his head lolling back against the alley wall. Jason had to take a glove off to check his pulse, and he sighed in relief when he found it easily. It was weak, but still there.

The bullets hadn’t hit anything that suggested that Dick was going to die here and now, either. There was a bullet in his right arm, one in his upper left thigh, and the last—the one that Jason had barely prevented hitting Dick’s chest—was in his right shoulder. No arteries hit. The Kevlar seemed to have taken most of the impact and slowed the bullets down.

So that begged the question, why wasn’t Dick awake by now? It couldn’t be blood loss. Jason had seen Dick lose more blood and stay standing, not to mention Dick had dropped like a puppet with his string cuts. Nothing like a faint.

Jason resisted the urge to punch something, and decided it was better to mark the problem of Dick being unconscious for later. Right now, Jason was a little more worried about where he was going to drag Dick’s ass to keep the two of them and the kid safe.

After putting a couple pressure bandages on the wounds to make sure Dick didn’t bleed out on him any time soon, Jason took off his helmet, took the comm. unit from Dick’s ear, and put it in his own. He didn’t have one that he could connect to the Bat frequency—which was just another gap between him and Bruce—but Jason was glad that Dick, at least, wore his. It would make things a little easier.

He tapped the comm. “Red Hood to Red Robin.”

“Red Hood?” Tim’s voice came in, sounding almost bewildered. “What are you doing on this line?”

“I’m borrowing ‘Wing’s comm.,” Jason said. “Nightwing’s down and he needs medical attention.”

“Take him to Leslie’s,” Tim told him, his voice strained. “Or the Cave. Just don’t involve Nightwing in your stupid grudge with—”

“That’s not the problem here,” Jason snapped. “We’re being pursued, we’ve got no mode of transportation besides grapple hooks, and Nightwing’s not in any condition to swing. Hell, he’s not even conscious. I need an extraction. Yesterday.”

There was a pause, a burst of static that had Jason flinching and rubbing his ear, and then Tim was back on the comms. “I’m on the way with the Batmobile, and I’m following Nightwing’s GPS. Hang on.”

“ETA?”

“Ten minutes.”

“We don’t have that kind of time,” Jason breathed out. “They could be on us any minute.”

“Give me something I can work with, Hood,” Tim growled, sounding too much like Bruce for Jason’s liking. “I can’t magically transport there. I’ve still got to drive all the way across town.”

“Sewers,” Jason said, the word tasting sour on his tongue. “I’m going to take Nightwing and hide in the sewers for ten minutes. They shouldn’t know to follow us in there, but it’s probably going to suck for Nightwing.”

“I can’t track your signal in there. I won’t be able to get to you until you get out.”

Jason thought hard and fast, putting his helmet on over Dick’s comm. unit and then lifting Dick back onto his shoulders. “We’re on the edge of Crime Alley,” Jason finally said. “It might be a little tricky, but I’m going to try to make it to Robbinsville. Where are you right now?”

“Upper West Side.”

“What are you doing there?”

“Long story. Robbinsville?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be there in eleven minutes. Don’t die.”

“Been there, done that,” Jason told him.

“Fine,” Tim snapped. “Don’t let Nightwing die, then. He’s your responsibility until I get there. Red Robin out.”

Jason rolled his eyes, huffing out an annoyed breath. Sure, Tim seemed to have grown a back bone since Jason had last spoken to him, and Jason would be somewhat amused if the situation weren’t so messed up. But he’d also like it if Tim didn’t automatically start assuming the worst of him. He wasn’t going to mess up a second time.

Sighing, Jason for the manhole cover nearest him. Tim to go sewer diving. This was going to be fun.

Not fun. So not fun.

First of all, Dick was heavy, and trekking through sewer water with Dick on his back was horrible. Man. What Jason wouldn’t give for a shower. The worst part, though, was that Jason wore he could hear voices behind them, and he hated the burst of panic he felt at the thought of Sommers and his guard chasing them.

“Damn it,” Jason whispered, the word echoing around them. The walls felt like they were closing in, and Jason didn’t like the uncomfortable prickling under his skin. He didn’t want to stay down here any longer than he had to. It was too reminiscent of memories long past.

“Think…this way,” Jason heard someone say, the voice echoing and bouncing around the sewer walls so that he couldn’t tell how far away it was, and damn it all. They had actually followed Jason and Dick into the sewers.

And of course Dick chose that moment to groan in pain, and Jason heard another, “This way! I heard something!” coming towards them, and Jason hoofed it as quietly as he could. It was only when he passed by a small little alcove in the wall that he paused, barely large enough for Jason to squeeze through.

It would be unpleasant, and they’d be trapped if Sommers decided to look in there, but one look inside told Jason that it would probably just fit him and Dick. And with Dick on his back slowing him down, Jason would never outrun their pursuers.

Jason took the chance. It was their best option at this point.

It took some maneuvering, but Jason got them but situated in the hole just as Sommers and his guard—two guards, dammit. One was cradling his jaw and the other was limping. It looked like Jason hadn’t shot him enough times—passed by them.

“Where did they go?” the guard with the hurt jaw asked as he walked by.

“They can’t have gone far,” Sommers insisted, urging them onwards. “And based on their direction, they’re heading for Robbinsville. Keep going. If we don’t find them in the sewers, we’ll cut them off on the streets.”

Jason held his breath until the men turned the corner, and then kept holding it until all Jason could hear was indistinct murmurs that echoed along the sewer walls.

And then it was just Jason, Dick, and some sewer water in this uncomfortable hole. Lovely.

Jason sighed and let his head rock back against the wall. The only way for both him and Dick to fit and not be lying on top of each other had been to pull Dick practically onto his lap, Dick’s back pressed to his chest and his head resting on Jason’s shoulder.

He was just getting ready to lift them both out of this hellhole and start the long trek through more dirty sewer water when Dick groaned. Jason froze.

“Nightwing?” Jason asked.

Dick groaned again, rolling his head back and forth restlessly as his face scrunched up in pain.

“Hey,” Jason said. “I really need you to wake up now, because the less I have to carry your gigantic ass, the happier I’ll be.”

“Where’re we?” Dick slurred, and Jason couldn’t tell whether his eyes were open or closed with the domino mask on, but he supposed it didn’t matter either way. Jason was just glad he was even talking. “Jason?”

“Are you awake?”

Dick hummed, and then his nose wrinkled up. “Why does it smell like a sewer?”

“Because we’re sitting in a sewer,” Jason told him. Something had seemed to settle at the sound of Dick’s voice. “You dropped like a rock and I had to haul you out of that warehouse. Do you know how much you weigh?”

“Yes,” Dick breathed, sounding more exasperated than anything. Then he tensed up. “Backup?”

“Red Robin’s on his way,” Jason told him.

Dick didn’t respond to that. He stayed still, barely breathing, and panic rose back up in Jason. Had Dick fallen unconscious again—no. No, Dick was too tense for that. There was something else wrong, and Jason was just about to ask when Dick said, his voice barely above a whisper, “God, my shoulder hurts.”

“You got shot, genius,” Jason said, but his words fell flat, because Dick was keeping abnormally still. Which almost never happened. There wasn’t really a time where Dick wasn’t moving.

“Doesn’t feel like a bullet wound,” Dick told him, gritting his teeth, the tendons in his neck standing out, and Jason felt that panic double. There was something really, really wrong here. “I feel like I’m on fire or something.”

Jason was at a loss. The only way he’d be able to check Dick’s shoulder was if he took off the pressure bandage and the Nightwing suit. But in the sewers? That was just asking for an infection. Not to mention Jason could feel their time slowly slipping away from them. Eleven minutes. How much time had already passed? Seven? Eight?

Not to mention the fact that Jason was starting to feel the walls close in on him again. They were stuck here in this hole barely big enough for the two of them. It was dark, enclosed, and it was starting to feel more and more like a different time. And the only way Jason was stave off those memories was to keep himself focused on Dick. On their task.

They needed to get out of here.

“Can you walk?” Jason asked.

Dick grunted, and Jason took it as a yes. He was careful about levering Dick up, but maybe not as much as he could have been as they squeezed back out of the hole. Still, the entire time, Dick kept quiet. The only thing that told Jason how bad Dick was feeling was his tight expression and heavy breathing.

Jason pulled Dick’s left arm over his shoulders, wrapped his own arm around Dick’s waist, and they started forward. Dick leaned most of his weight against him, but Jason didn’t care at this point. It was better than carrying him.

Getting out of here, though, was probably going to be hell. But they had to.

After a short while, Dick apparently found enough breath to start talking sparsely again, but his voice was as tight with pain as his expression was, and Jason wondered if maybe he should tell the idiot to shut up or not. But just the thought of silence as they walked through the sewers made Jason want to let go of Dick and sprint forward, away from here, so he didn’t.

“I hid the kid in the safe house,” Dick breathed out as a conversation starter. “Called Oracle, too. She’s taking care of him until the Commissioner…can come pick him up.”

That made Jason feel a little better. “Did he go willingly?”

Dick‘s head drooped as he started to surrender a little more weight to Jason. Jason adjusted, and they kept going. “Kind of. I had to explain…the situation. He told us—" Dick laughs breathlessly. “He told us to kick his dad’s ass for him, though. Said if we didn’t, he’d do it himself.”

Jason huffed out an amused breath. “Wish I could have been there for that conversation.”

Dick hummed. “He reminded me of—of another spunky kid I knew. All he needed was a tire iron.”

“You weren’t even there for that,” Jason said, rolling his eyes.

“Didn’t have to be,” Dick teased. “I’ve heard the story enough to visualize it. Still can’t believe you smacked B with a tire iron.”

“I was a kid,” Jason defended himself. “And tires would have brought in a lot more money than begging. Especially those tires.”

Dick laughed again, but it had a slightly loopy quality to it, and he didn’t speak once he’d caught his breath. He was starting to lose the battle with consciousness, surrendering even more weight to Jason and barely picking up his feet as they moved forward. Jason didn’t say anything, though.

This was where the sewer opened up, and Jason could see their exit and zero bodyguards, so he figured they were pretty safe to climb up. Out, however, was a different story. They’d have to risk it, though, because Tim wouldn’t be able to find them otherwise.

“Okay, Goldie,” Jason said, shaking Dick back into what he hoped was awareness. Dick let out a pained breath and turned his head towards Jason, but didn’t speak. Jason swallowed and kept talking. “We’ve gotta climb out of here. The Replacement should be waiting on the streets above us, but I can’t get the both of us out of the sewers if you aren’t conscious. Do you think you can hold on?”

“Yeah,” Dick breathed, but it barely sounded coherent. Still, Dick shifted his arms to curl around Jason’s neck with a pained groan. His grip was tight enough that Jason took a deep breath, checked that his guns were reloaded, and started up the ladder.

It was a rough climb, that was for sure. Jason tried to go as fast as he could, because it was clear that Dick was starting to fade out again, but Dick as also heavy. Jason was about ready to die—again—by the time he pushed the manhole cover out of the way and out onto the street.

Out in the open night’s air, that unsettling feeling that had been crawling underneath Jason’s skin disappeared, so did Dick’s arms. They both laid on the pavement, Jason panting for breath and Dick most likely unconscious again at this point.

Jason couldn’t find it in him to care any less.

“Red Robin to Red Hood.”

“Go,” Jason said, trying to sound less exhausted than he felt. He wasn’t sure he succeeded but Tim didn’t comment on it.

“I’m tracking your GPS. ETA is about forty-five seconds.”

“There they are!” someone shouted from down the street and Jason groaned.

“Fucking hell,” he murmured. “Hurry up, Red.”

“Working on it,” was Tim’s annoyed reply, just as the gunshots started up again. Of course, it was too dark, and the goons were too far away to make any accurate shots based on how many bullets hit the sidewalk about twenty feet away from Jason, but the bullets could just as easily stray.

Twenty-five seconds. A long time when maniacs with guns were running straight at you and there was an unconscious vigilante you had to carry away from said gun-toting maniacs. Just as Jason was starting to push himself to his hands and knees, though, the Batmobile came screeching down the road from the other side, tires squealing as Tim rounded the armored car to act a shield from the men.

Jason sighed and slumped back down on the street below him. The door to the passenger side, which was closest to Jason and Dick, opened to reveal Tim, who hopped out immediately.

“Help me get him into the car,” Tim demanded, and Jason did as he was told. He was too tired and wound up to snap back. Together, they managed to drag Dick into the car and situated in the backseat. Tim climbed back in, Jason following after, just as the bodyguards made it to the Batmobile.

Tim stepped on the gas, and soon they were speeding through the city at eighty miles per hour, leaving the bodyguards far behind. Jason sighed and slumped into the passenger seat, taking off his helmet.

The silence in the car was palpable, and Jason couldn’t help but snap a sharp, “What,” at Tim.

“What was that?” Tim asked, gripping the steering wheel far too tight.

“What was what?”

“That!” Tim cried out, gesturing with one hand to the streets of Robbinsville they’d already left far behind them. “What did I just bail you and Dick out of?!”

Jason shrugged. “We were taking out a drug lord who was targeting a bunch of kids.”

“Taking him out,” Tim repeated. “You were going to kill him.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Probably,” Jason admitted. No use in denying it now. “Maybe not tonight. Why do you even care? I get why Batman would, but—"

“You’re kidding, right?” Tim yelled, cutting Jason off. He peeled his cowl off and turned wide eyes towards Jason. The kid looked—Jason thought he’d sounded angry, but Tim looked more scared than anything. “I just had to bail on Steph and Cass to save your sorry ass. I honestly wouldn’t even care if it were just you doing something stupid—”

“Contrary to popular belief,” Jason bit out, “I do know what I’m doing.”

“—but you went and dragged Dick into it!” Tim spoke over him, “who was supposed to be helping me, Steph, and Cass catch the Arkham escapees. We were a man short, and because I had to come bail you out, they’re down two people!”

“I didn’t force Dick into helping me, you know,” Jason said, a tinge of bitterness in his tone. “Goldie’s a big kid who made his own decision to ditch you guys.”

“Oh, I’ll deal with Dick when he’s conscious.” Tim’s grip on the steering wheel tightened even further, and he sped up, pushing almost one hundred mph. “But it was idiotic for you two to take on a case without at least telling someone where you were and what you were doing!”

“You can’t—"

Tim wasn’t listening, though. “But because you two decided to go off on your own without telling anyone, Dick’s hurt and no one even knew you needed help! You both could have been killed and nobody would have known until it was too late! God, I thought you actually learned something from the time you went off and got yourself—"

Tim cut himself, leaving the Batmobile in complete silence. Jason was honestly a little shocked. Tim sounded like he was channeling Dick, Bruce, and Alfred, all at the same time, and Jason wasn’t sure how to take it.

This was shy little Timmy? Sarcastic and exhausted to the point of bluntness, Jason got, but there was something of a leader in that voice. He sounded just like Dick did when he reprimanded Jason back when he was Robin. Or Dick leading the Titans way back when Jason got to hang out with them a few times.

Maybe it was all that time Tim spent with his team or whatever, but Tim was yelling at Jason like he was twelve, and he’d almost mentioned Jason going off and getting himself killed, and Jason didn’t appreciate either of those things at that moment.

Tim’s expression crumpled before Jason could ground anything out in response. “Will you just—Will you check on Dick? Make sure he’s okay? He’s too quiet.”

Jason let out a breath and compressed his anger, focused it towards being helpful. He could argue with Tim later, when Dick wasn’t passed out and bleeding in the back of the Batmobile.

“Fine,” he said, and he climbed into the backseat, where Dick was sprawled out across the seats, his mouth slack. Jason tapped a cheek experimentally, but Dick’s didn’t even twitch. So, Jason went about addressing the wounds. None of them had bled through the pressure bandages very much, which proved Jason’s theory that Dick wasn’t going to bleed out any time soon.

He took off his gloves, and with relatively clean hands, he peeled back each pressure bandage slowly, carefully, and checked each wound. He checked the shoulder wound last, and he was just about to push the bandage back down when he noticed—

Jason sucked in a sharp breath.

“What?” Tim asked, his heck craned towards Jason, but his eyes stayed on the road. “What is it? Is he okay?”

Jason breathed out, closing his eyes, because Bruce was going to kill him, and then Damian and Tim and everybody else Dick was friends with—which was a lot of people, so there would be a line of people waiting to just pummel him. He would probably deserve it, too.

Dick wouldn’t kill him, though, but that might just be because he wouldn’t be able to. Not with an injury like this.

“Jason?” Tim asked, his voice small.

“I think you need to get to Leslie’s,” Jason finally said. “Now.”

“Why?” Tim asked, taking a sharp turn and speeding towards Leslie’s clinic. “What’s wrong with him? Is he—he’s not going to die, right?”

“No,” Jason said, stripping off his leather jacket and using it to keep Dick’s right arm immobilized to his chest. Jason was just making all sorts of mistake today, and the self-loathing that tightened his throat was almost overwhelming. “But his shoulder—it’s bad. The sooner we get to Leslie’s, the better.”

Tim stepped on the gas, and Jason held Dick down, the rest of the ride to the clinic was spent in silence.

Two hours later, after Tim dropped Jason and Dick off at Leslie’s and then left to back Steph and Cass up again, Jason was sitting next to Dick’s bedside, his face in his hands.

This was so completely fucked up. Dick shouldn’t be unconscious, shouldn’t have had a bullet surgically removed from his shoulder, shouldn’t have been lying here unconscious and in pain.

But he was. All al because Jason couldn’t stop for two minutes and think.

And of course, that was when Bruce—Batman—walked in. He didn’t say anything to Jason at first, and Jason appreciated it when all he did was pull back his cowl and sit down next to Jason, staring at Dick’s unconscious face (from painkillers this time, Leslie had assured him, not because of the pain).

The sat there for a while, but with each minute that ticked past, Jason felt the tension grow stronger and stronger. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Aren’t you going to yell at me?” Jason asked, barely a hint of heat in his voice.

“No,” said Bruce, still not looking at Jason. He kept his steady gaze on Dick, and he didn’t elaborate.

“It was my fault, you know,” Jason continued, not sure why he was trying to get Bruce to be—something, he didn’t know. Mad, betrayed, sad, anything but this weird calm blankness. “I came up with the plan. I refused to call for backup. I didn’t immobilize his arm when I should have, and now he’s—”

Jason let out a frustrated breath, and they lapsed back into silence, but Jason was never one for silences when it came to Bruce. It was easier when there was yelling, but with Bruce not saying anything, Jason was having a hard time staying in control of himself. He wanted to punch or kick or shoot something, and for once, it wasn’t Bruce he wanted to do that to.

It was himself.

“Why aren’t you angry?” Jason asked again, even quieter this time.

“I’m furious,” Bruce told him, and Jason closed his eyes, a lump in his throat he hadn’t known still existed making itself known. It had been so long since he’d felt like he could disappoint Bruce like this and feel it. He hated it. “I’m furious that you two made such a rookie mistake. But yelling at you isn’t going to help right now.”

Jason opened his eyes again, swallowing past the lump, and said, “I guess not.”

Dick moaned in pain then, and both Jason and Bruce were on their feet.

Dick’s eyes cracked open, his baby blues bright with pain and hazed from medication. The fingers of his good hand spasmed wildly, like he was searching for something to hold onto, and Jason could only watch as Bruce slipped his hand into Dick’s, squeezing lightly.

“Dick?” Bruce asked lightly.

“Dad.” Dick’s voice was halfway between a sob and a plea, and Jason felt something in his chest tighten at the sound of it. He’d never heard Dick sound so broken before. Dick opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it once more before he was able to choke out, “Bruce, it hurts.”

“I know,” Bruce hushed him, using his other hand to sweep Dick’s sweaty hair back from his forehead, and Jason stepped back to make it easier for Bruce to crowd Dick’s space. “I know it hurts, Chum, but I’m here.”

Dick’s face crumpled up, and then there were tears streaming down his face as he looked up at Bruce’s face. Jason hoped it was just the medication that was making Dick like this, because Jason didn’t like watching Dick break down. It was like watching a city wall topple. A wall that Jason hadn’t realized could actually be broken down.

“The boy,” Dick whispered. “And Jason—”

“Jason’s fine,” Bruce told Dick. “And the Sommers boy is with Jim and Barbara. The police picked up Darren Sommers, too. Everything’s fine.”

Jason threw a look at Bruce. “But his shoulder—”

“—will be fine,” Bruce told him. “There weren’t any complications, and as long as we keep an eye on it, he should be able to start physical therapy in a few months.”

“Jason,” Dick whispered, his grip on Bruce’s hand visibly tightening. He didn’t look like he was following anything very well, his eyes still hazy with drugs he was on. He looked like he was seconds from sleep. “Jason was with me.”

“Relax, Dickiebird,” Jason said, leaning forward slightly so Dick could see him without moving too much. “I’m right here.”

Dick relaxed his hold then, and every ounce of energy left in his body at that moment seemed to fade, and then he rolled his head towards Bruce and whispered, “Don’t leave.”

“I won’t,” Bruce promised, and that seemed to be enough for Dick, because within seconds, he was asleep.

Jason ran his fingers through his hair, blowing out a breath. It had been a long night, and he definitely wasn’t going to leave Dick’s side when it was his fault Dick was even in this state. He sat back down heavily in his chair, and Bruce was letting go of Dick’s hand and sitting down next to him a moment later.

“You really got the guy?” Jason asked.

“Yes,” Bruce said, an edge of hardness in his tone. “They picked him up in Robbinsville, and the police have enough evidence collected against him to put him away. And his son will be living with his aunt in Metropolis.”

“That’s good.” Jason didn’t know what else to say.

Bruce was silent for a moment before he looked at Jason, who met his gaze evenly. He wasn’t one to back down from a fight, especially not against Bruce, no matter how much he knew this was his fault.

“Can you just tell me what you were thinking?” Bruce finally asked. “Why didn’t you tell anyone what you were doing? And why was Dick with you instead of with Tim and Cassandra?”

Jason tensed. “I don’t control Dick, you know.”

“He went with you for a reason, Jason,” Bruce told him, his voice calm, but Jason could hear the anger in his tone.

Maybe it was just his imagination, but it made that lump in Jason’s throat make itself known again, and he felt like he was twelve goddamn years old again, grounded because he’d made a rookie mistake and could have gotten him or someone else killed in the lapse of judgement.

The worst part was that he was completely right. Jason had made such a rookie mistake. Dick had come with him and wanted to call for backup, but Jason hadn’t let him. Jason had been so blinded by his anger that he’d thrown himself into the situation without stopping to think, and Dick had gone with him.

“I think,” Jason sighed, slumping back in his chair and letting his head hit the wall behind him with an audible thump, “that Dick was worried I was going to do something stupid. Guess he was right.”

“He was worried about you,” Bruce said, and he sounded tired and resigned.

Jason stared at the ceiling for a moment longer before he said, “Yeah. He tried to call backup, too, and I told him only in an emergency. The stupid idiot went along with my stupid plan anyways, and look where it got him.”

“Dick will be fine.”

It sounded like a practiced line, and Jason swallowed the anger that threatened to rise up. How often did Bruce say that in the face of one of his soldiers getting hurt? Did he say that while looking for Jason, only to find Jason dead?

“Yeah,” Jason said instead of voicing his thoughts. “Dick’ll be fine.”

“I’m getting you a new communicator,” Bruce said out of the blue.

Jason snorted. “Sorry, B, mine’s not broken.”

“It doesn’t connect to our private channel, though.” Bruce was giving Jason an odd look, something almost unsteady in his gaze. “The new one will. You radio if you need help.”

“I can take care of myself,” Jason hissed, sitting up abruptly. “I don’t need you to look after me like I’m some little kid—”

“It’s for emergencies,” Bruce interrupted, his gaze moving from Jason back to Dick, and Jason deflated, realizing the issue. “Radio if you need help.”

Jason forced himself to breathe. “Fine,” he ground out. “I’ll call one of you if I need help.”

Bruce nodded. “Good.”

And that seemed to be it. No yelling. No spitting words of hate and anger in the heat of the moment that they’d both probably regret only hours later. No glares or disappointed looks. Just acceptance and then silence.

Jason, though, didn’t want to break it anymore. The quiet moment, sitting here next to Dick’s bedside together without fighting, gave Jason a moment to breathe. To think.

And Jason thought that maybe receiving a new comm. wouldn’t be so bad. It may even be a step forward from this stupid dance he and Bruce seemed to be doing around each other, the one where they both got angry and refused to help each other. Maybe with a comm., Jason might even be inclined to use it.

“Thanks,” Jason said at last.

“Thank me by using it,” Bruce told him.

Jason nodded. “But only for emergencies.”

Maybe this meant things were getting better between them, and for once, that didn’t sound so bad.

#jason todd #dick grayson #tim drake #bruce wayne #dc #camryn writes #shuddering darkness

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gallasgher · 7 years

Text

some thoughts on jl

For of all, I just want to rant about the sexist undertones that pissed me off:

there’s a scene where flash lands all over wonder woman with basically his face in her cleavage and while he immediately gets up, there’s a deliberate pause where you’re supposed to laugh at the ‘awkwardness’? it’s unnecessary and pretty much not funny

in the only scene mera has, arthur and her have an argument. there is no context at all, so it really doesn’t make much sense, but at one point arthur says something really out of place and mera asks him to basically show her some respect, to which he responds with something even more rude (i don’t remember precisely but it made me cringe a lot) and then even worse, later one when he has the lasso around him, arthur admits how incredibly gorgeous he thinks diana is. um he is a married man? arthur just felt uncharacteristically disrespectful towards mera

there are way too many shots of diana’s ass, perhaps some unintentionally but still, and during one scene, diana is seen wearing this huge cleavage, which is fine, or would have been if they hadn’t purposely squeezed her boobs out as much as they could to make they look big

finally, superman. the suit and tie he is seen wearing in the coffin and in the kryptonian water thing, magically disappears when he breaks through the roof? so then we’re left with loooong shots of his half naked body, as he fights the team. and then even when he brings lois to the farm, he’s still shirtless and her hand is on his abs and she goes ‘you smell good’. that just felt weird to me, idk.

About the film as a whole, starting with the negatives:

I’m still trying to get over the shock of how different the overall tone, plot, character relationships and overall everything is from mos and bvs... so I might sound harsher than I actually feel towards the movie. But I need to let a few things out so bear with me.

Man of Steel beautifully explored a realistic approach to how men would react to an actual alien. That is, with fear and mistrust. At the end of MoS, Superman is established as a hero who save the world but then in BvS the cost of this man saving the world on his own are discussed and it creates more division, we all know where Batman stands. Basically these two movies fit perfectly together, and the reason the tones are ‘dark and grim’ is because of how realistic they try to be. Superman doesn’t smile much because for all the good he tries to do, most of the world still resents him. The Martha scene is also explained by Bruce’s ptsd. Anyway.

At no point in Justice League did I feel like what was happening was realistic. Instead of normal colors, everything is shiny and too bright, Superman’s suit looks fake compared to the previous movies, especially in the final battle. While you would expect Superman to feel traumatized by literally having died, he simply has a small angry fit for about five minutes, then it’s gone and he’s out there smiling (even though he sacrificed himself to save everyone and yet the world is still ending) and cracking jokes about his own death. Even Batman makes jokes? Way too many?

I expected Lois Lane, who was there when Bruce was about to kill her boyfriend, to be really angry with Bruce, but instead, she encourages Clark to fight with the team, even though it’s only been a few hours since he’s been back, and even though she should be even more scared about the risks of Clark dying than she was in bvs.

The jokes were mostly funny and appreciated but some fell flat and were just inserted to fill in the gaps. I used to praise dc movies for not making marvel’s mistake of having the characters joking around during battle because it takes all the danger of the situation away, and now I guess that’s over because that’s what happened during the entire final battle.

Now, Bruce and Diana. I was already not a fan of the idea of the only woman on the team just having to have romantic chemistry with one of the men. It’s just cliché and predictable. Their mini fight moment felt weird to me, Diana illogically pokes at Bruce’s guilt about Clark’s death (ike yes obviously he feels guilty?), and Bruce childishly brings up Steve Trevor. Not cool. Then again, some people argue it was a technique to get Diana to agree to his plan or whatever so I might be misinterpreting it.

The final battle scene just seemed very anticlimactic to me, there are too many slow motions that fragment the fast pace of the action, and the close ups of Henry making faces are just... bad.

I realize I’m making it look like I hated the movie, but it’s far from that. I laughed a lot, and it was incredible seeing all these characters finally brought to the big screen together. I do wished Barry and Bruce’s relationship could have been more developed because they have much in common in terms of parents absence and love of science. But obviously that required longer running time. I absolutely loved Cyborg’s character, he was definitely the best part of the movie for me. From the trailers, it seemed like he would have the least important part out of all the members, but actually his character was really well developed. He was basically the only one that successfully stayed serious while making a few jokes. I really enjoyed the first battle scene the league has without superman, it was basically the only time their powers were all used effectively. Barry was also really in character, aside from a few jokes that could have been avoided, and the very very last scene with Lex and Deathstroke was probably my favorite thing about the movie, it really tied the movie well to the previous movies.

Conclusion: I was disappointed but still enjoyed it, I preferred BvS much more, and I wish Zack had directed it all on his own. I’m just waiting for a director’s cut.

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tigerlover16-uk · 7 years

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You and all the other people that enjoy anything about dragon ball super disgust me. You fake fans are enabling the ruination of Dragon Ball and you should all hate yourselves for DARING to think that garbage is as good as DBZ. Pathetic shill. You and all the other worthless, spoilt, brain dead scum need to get off the internet and stop worshipping garbage.

(Insert gif of Frieza sipping his wine)

I’ve left this and the other angry ask insulting me for liking Goku sitting around in my ask box for a while now, because I honestly didn’t have the energy or patience to deal with this nonsense at the time you left it here, and after that I just didn’t think an obvious troll was worth giving the time of day. But you know, whatever, I’m up for it right now.

First off, way to be ableist with the brain dead scum comment, that and all the comments about how us fans who like Super should hate ourselves make you sound VERY reasonable and intellectually superior. Bravo, good chap.

Second… explain how I’m a shill who “Worships” Super? True, I’m more positive about it than some people on this site, but that’s because I don’t really care to complain about the flaws in things I enjoy when I could instead be having fun with them. If it’s something I hate, like GT or the DCEU movies before Wonder Woman, then oh boy I’ll be harsh if I have to talk about them, but I do prefer to avoid talking about them lately unless I’m directly asked.

I’m not a person that cares for discourse. The times I do get involved I often end up saying stupid things and don’t handle it well, so I prefer to maintain a “look on the bright side attitude” where I can involving the things I like. And that includes Super. I think there’s honestly more than enough negativity directed at it by the vocal minority of fans who dislike the series already, so I don’t think I need to bother chiming in complaints when there are others who could do that, and I can instead be having fun and gushing about the things it does right (And yes, I believe it does plenty more right than bad).

But that doesn’t mean I think it’s perfect. I’ve been honest about the fact that the show is flawed plenty of times and I’m not afraid to comment on them where I have to. The animation in the second half of the Resurrection F arc was HORRIBLE. Majin Buu, even if I loved the fight with Basil and the fit Buu thing, has been shafted way too many times and it’s getting really annoying. Gohan’s character arc is progressing really well this saga, but it’s been annoyingly stretched out and inconsistent before that. And the ending to the Future Trunks saga, while I don’t find it irredeemably awful like some, was still nonsense.

I acknowledge that the show has flaws. It’s just that for the most part, I actually think the show is really fun to watch and does a lot of good things, and many of it’s issues have been ironed out over time especially with the current saga, and I think it still has a ton of potential going forward. So I just prefer to wait and see what comes next and enjoy myself now.

So I don’t let the flaws ruin Super for me, any more than I let the flaws with Z or the original Dragon Ball take away my love for those shows. Heck, if I did I would have cut my rewatch of og Dragon Ball last year short the minute I got to the horrific homophobia that was General Blue, the misogynistic gay pedophile drawn to look like a Nazi (Still the worst thing the franchise has ever done, by the way).

I think Dragon Ball Super is a good show, that does a lot of good worldbuilding, tells some fun stories, gives some interesting development to several of it’s characters like Krillin and Gohan, is usually very funny, has tons of adorable and touching moments, and while it’s action’s not as good as Z’s, it does have some great memorable fights here and there.

It’s not as good as Z, but I never expected it to be. Dragon Ball and Dragon Ball Z were a masterpiece, the kind of on the job miracle that only happens once in a lifetime, you can never fully recreate everything that made it so magical. And you don’t need to as long as you make something else that’s enjoyable in it’s own right with the property. I’m just glad I finally get to see more of these wonderful characters and this universe I love so much. And for now I’m pretty satisfied with that.

So no, pal, I’m not an entitled shill. That would require I put the show on a pedestal and declare it God’s gift to Dragon Ball while beating down any criticisms I find with unintelligible whinging. And clearly I don’t. I don’t agree with all the criticisms the show gets, but while I’ve occasionally said something stupid but then immediately apologized (Something I don’t expect from you at this point if you bother to read this anon), I don’t have an issue with people personally not enjoying it. Heck, I’m a guy who thinks Batman is an uninteresting character and the Dark Knight Movies were boring and awful, while liking the Star Wars Prequels more than the original trilogy, which I find just okay. We all have different tastes and opinions, who am I to judge.

You know what would make me a spoilt, entitled scumbag? Telling the people I disagree with that they’re worthless, disgusting fake fans and they should hate themselves for having the AUDACITY to like a fictional show! And trying to chase those people off the internet with petty ramblings in their personal space just so you don’t have to hear opinions you don’t like (Man, I’d hate to see how you react to political debates).

Also, how is Super “Ruining” Dragon Ball? Here’s the thing pal… Dragon Ball had a complete story. The manga is the only definitive canon in this franchise, and it ended two decades ago. The actual, classic story of Dragon Ball is complete, any other works based on it, whether people choose to view them as canon or not, are supplementary at best. It’s not actually possible to truly “Ruin” the franchise.

If anything, Super has helped in keeping the franchise from falling into relative obscurity, considering how in the latter half of the last decade Dragon Ball in general outside of it’s fandom (And in some cases, IN it’s own fandom) had become a bit of a laughing stock among much of the anime fandom and the internet. It’s been down to Kai, the Xenoverse games and other spin offs, the two Toriyama penned movies and yeah, even Super that the franchise has started getting more recognition again and more support. They’ve brought in new fans, and brought back many lapsed and casual fans.

And yes, that’s come with it’s own share of problems, particularly on the fandom side of things. But TFS is FAR more responsible for creating the toxic atmosphere of much of the modern Dragon Ball fandom, the toxic underbelly of which had been growing larger for years before Super debuted, so I don’t think it’s fair to blame Super specifically for the fandoms current state when at worst it’s responsible for bringing back a flood of casuals who absentmindedly buy into fandom stereotypes a little too heavily. The current atmosphere of the fandom would have been largely as bad whatever the quality or kind of new show we got.

So no, I don’t think Super has “Ruined” the franchise any more than GT did years ago. Anyone who wants to argue that Super ruined Dragon Ball for them as a whole is either being melodramatic, taking it too seriously, or maybe even never cared about Dragon Ball beyond being a casual fan in the first place.

I mean, I still love Spider-man even despite the abomination that is One More Day, and I’m still watching Boruto despite hating the majority of Naruto Shippuden with a burning passion. And I didn’t let GT lessen my love for the Dragon Ball franchise in the slightest, if anything it just made me appreciate the stuff I love about it instead a lot more.

If anything is ruining the Dragon Ball franchise for people, it’s jerks like you who feel the need to attack and insult people for liking stuff about it that you don’t. You’re no better than the scummy anons who harass the Gochi fans on here, or the people who constantly lie about, demonize and demean Goku’s character to prop up and shill other characters like Vegeta and Piccolo, when it’s completely unnecessary and stupid to try and undermine other characters to prop up others who are already great on their own.

It’s okay if you don’t like the show. I’m sorry if you feel it’s somehow ruining Dragon ball for YOU specifically, and I encourage you to go back and watch the previous series to remember WHY you like Dragon Ball so much. But buddy… NOTHING gives you the right to act like a ravenous jerka## to the people who DO enjoy it. Screw off with that elitist, childish nonsense and grow the (Bleep) up, child!!

This goes to EVERYONE who’s feeling even the slightest bit resentful to the people who are having fun with Super, or any other base breaking series connected to a franchise a lot of people like (Did I mention I prefer the 3D era Sonic games to the genesis classics? Oh boy, do I not get along with the Sonic fandom). You not liking it doesn’t make you superior to other people, nor does it make you objectively right while everyone else is just a moronic fake fan. to heck with that line of thinking.

I could go on, but it’s late and I’m tired and you’re not worth any more effort than I’ve already spent here, anon. Don’t bother coming back into my inbox with this nonsense unless you want to do the mature, adult thing (Assuming you’re an adult, and not a kid) and apologize. Good night.

#dragon ball super #dragon ball #dragon ball z #dragon ball gt #dragon ball franchise #stupid anons #trolls #I hope I don't get a flood of angry comments and hate messages for any of this #whatever I can take it

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