#superman is in death in the family's last chapter and obviously death in the family is a big story

[navree]

if i had a nickel for every time a famous and influential batman story arc had both superman and jason todd playing a pivotal role, i'd have four nickels, which really isn't a lot but it is weird that it's happened four separate times over three decades

[boiwcndr]

2 + 16 + 46 !

2. Do you plan each chapter ahead or write as you go?

I find that the moment I plan chapters, my will to write them dies because I already know what happens/the story, so to my weird ass (affectionate) brain, there's no point in actually writing it. that being said, every time I try to write ANY multi-chapter fics, just know that it's never ever getting completed because I suck.

16. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Share one of them?

I want to create the next niche DC crossover so I'm mentally writing a crossover between Batman and Detective Conan/Magic Kaito because I think it's funny. The main character from Detective Conan has been compared to Superman (because he wears glasses as a disguise) and the main character from Magic Kaito has been compared to Batman (because he uses a hang-glider to fly -- this is a bit of a stretch), which is hilarious to me because the main character from Detective Conan is, well, a detective, and the main character from Magic Kaito is a jewel thief. So, obviously, I think the detective character should get adopted by Clark and the thief character should get adopted by Bruce *bricked*.

46. How would you describe your style? (Character/emotion/action-driven, etc)

I would like to say very character and emotion driven. I like to take one character and really dig into their thoughts and emotions. This is an excerpt from a rp I did (I have very rarely written any fics for Dick), which is post-joker's last laugh back in... 2020? 2019? (He's talking to Babs). I'll put it under a read more because it's long, but I feel like it's pretty accurate to how I write just in general.

"Even though he said he killed Tim, I was going to stop, I wasn't going to kill him," Dick says without looking up at Babs. What he's about to say feels weighted, like rocks trapped in his throat. He looks up to meet Babs's eyes, his own eyes darkened by anger and grief (and it's easy to see how Dick could kill the Joker, with eyes like that), and he says, "And then he said Jason's name."

(Jason, who died while Dick was in space, ignorant to what was happening on Earth. Who returned a few weeks after the funeral to hear the news from Danny Chase. Dick had checked his phone later, after that confrontation with Danny, and while he didn't have any calls from Bruce or Alfred, he had seen the missed calls from Jason, listened to the voicemail left in his inbox that he still hasn't deleted even though he should. Jason, who no doubt died alone and scared and probably didn't think that Dick cared.).

He might have stopped the Joker for everyone -- for all of the lives he had taken, for Babs, for Tim, but it had been for Jason that Dick had snapped, killed the Joker, and let him win. Jason, who was dead. Not Tim, who he was arguably closer to now than he ever was to Jason. Not Babs, who he was definitely closer to than he ever was to Jason.

How useless, how cruel (to be saying this to someone to the Joker has hurt. To essentially say, Sorry, it wasn't your pain who made me snap, it was my dead brother's. The one who wasn't even my brother because I was never a part of the family, and I'm still not and probably won't ever be, not after this.). His grip on Babs's wrists shake, just a little.

"I don't understand why Bruce didn't just let him die," Dick says, even though he knows. He knows that other people think it's just because Bruce didn't want Dick to be a murderer, but that wasn't it, that wasn't all. It's Bruce. (He could never let a person die in front of him, not if he could help it.). "I should have just finished the job anyway, once he was back."

Should have just used a batarang to cut his throat in a way that Bruce couldn't just revive him back. Done it in front of Bruce, Tim, Steph, Kate, God, and everyone else. Say this is where he ends, this is where he stops.

("We fight because there are times where we must," Kori had once told him. "We kill because there is honour in a death from combat, but also because there are some evils that cannot be locked away, only cut from the root." And Dick had told her, taught her, "That's not how we do things, here on Earth." But he had wondered, sometimes, if her way was not better in some ways, for some people, for some monsters.).

"I don't know what to do," Dick admits. The man who always has a plan, who always has several contingencies lined up, but he doesn't know what to do now. "Go back to Bludhaven, let Bruce ignore me as much as he wants to?" Cut himself off from everyone in Gotham, everyone in the Titans. (Did he really deserve to be Nightwing?).

[cookeybg]

Autumn's Loss of Petals - Chapter 5

Title: Autumn's Loss of Petals

Various POVs : Damian Wayne, Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Jay Nakamura

Tags: Angst, Loss of love, amnesia, brotherly love, familial love, will add more if relevant

Obviously, I do not own any of the rights to any of the DC comics, animated cartoons or movies and I am not getting paid to write this. This is purely for my enjoyment :)

Note: I will be experimenting with different POV's for this fic, but they will all be Damian-centric.

Word Count: 1,442

Table of Contents

Chapter 5 - Jay

Jay tried not to be a jealous boyfriend, there was not point, if Jon wanted to go find greener pastures how would he stop him? The only reason he was secure in their relationship was because he knew that the man kept himself with high moral standards due to his family’s upbringing, so he knew he would never betray him in that way. At least willingly, knowingly, he wouldn’t, but what if he wasn’t aware of his own disinterest? They had know each other for ten years, been together romantically for five, had even talked about marriage, but Jon had never popped the question. They were nearly thirty now and Jay wanted to start a family, though as the years went by the likelihood of it happening seemed null. He also realized that the majority of the responsibility would fall on him and he would have no right to complain because it would be selfish. His need would be weighed against that of a life and he couldn’t bare that, it was best that they remain childless. Jay tried not to be possessive, he knew that Jon’s time wasn’t fully his own, he had responsibilities, a greater purpose. It was hard. He saw his friends with their significant others, going out, spending all day together, enjoying vacations, while Jon and he had to make due with what was afforded, what Jon was able to give. Everything centered around Jon’s ability, his available time, on whether a crisis could make due without him. Again, it would be selfish he was able to phase through things, avoid danger, avoid death, while those Jon rescued could not. Recently Jon had been more distracted than normal, fidgety and cranky. Something about his childhood friend, Damian, the kid who rarely smiled in Jay’s presence. Well, he wasn’t a kid anymore, Jon had introduced them when Damian was 13 and he had always felt that the kid didn’t like him much, even if he was polite. Damian was a sore subject with them, especially in the beginning, it was strange that there was a five year age gap between them and they were still close friends, that is before Jay knew about Jon’s extracurricular activities. Then the shock of finding out that Jon’s best friend was the child of a famous billionaire had forced him to sit, had given weight to the conspiracies he believed, made him a bit resentful that he couldn’t write about them and let the world know. Damian’s presence was nonnegotiable and the kid seemed smug about it.

Jon would constantly talk about Damian, spoke about his family almost as much as he spoke about his own. In the last couple of weeks he had been complaining about the Wayne family, it had started when he had suddenly rushed out of their bedroom during their steamy time together. Leaving Jay needy and unsatisfied, but he understood, had said that “Dami’s” heart had stopped. When he returned he had been upset, livid even, that the Wayne’s refused to let him stay, stating that it was a family matter. Jay had to agree, Damian was not Jon’s responsibility, the kid was now an adult…it had been a mistake to say that out loud and it had spiraled into an argument of epic proportions. Jon even went as far as to leave and not return for the night. The subject was not brought up again, but the tension in their one bedroom apartment still lingered. Jon had kept leaving to go and try to meet up with Damian but had been rebuffed over and over again, according to him, quite spitefully. It had gotten so bad that the former Superman had to put a stop to it, only then did Jon stay put. They both sat at their small dinner table eating chicken fettuccine, a new recipe that Jay had tried making. He was pretty proud of the accomplishment, since he wasn’t very good at cooking western dishes, and was giving Jon a recount when he suddenly stiffened. “Emergency?” Jay asked with concern. “No,” Jon stood, a determined expression on his face, “Damian’s back from his retreat.” Jay slowly put his fork down, frowning at Jon’s obvious next move. “Jon, you were told to stop.” Jay said. “Damian wouldn’t,” Jon jut his chin out stubbornly, “He wouldn’t let anyone stop him from seeing someone he cared about.” “But, his whole family is telling you to wait, that right now is not the right time to-“ “It’s nearly been a month!” Jon yelled, his palms hitting the table, “A whole month, without a single text, without an explanation, without being able to see him! It’s worse than when he goes on a mission that requires him to fall off the face of the earth, I could always see him regardless!” “They said it was a family-“ “I AM FAMILY! I’ve known him my whole life!” “You’ve known him nearly the same amount of time as I have!” Jay stood so quickly that his chair fell backward, “You were gone for seven years and only knew him for one before that!” Jon looked as if he’d been slapped, before Jay could apologize he was gone. The only evidence of his passing were the curtains fluttering in the still room, the fall chill quickly cooling Jay’s frustration. He righted the dinning chair, cleaned up the kitchen, put away the leftovers and messaged some friends to go out for the night. He needed a drink.

Jay took his shoes off, put them on the shoe rack and leaned his forehead against the wall, he lightly banged it for good measure. He was exhausted, nothing was going right in his life; his car had broken down, so he now needed a new one, he had made a mistake at work, a mistake that had somehow gone through editing, somehow passed into being published and now he had to correct said mistake. To top it all off he had an absentee boyfriend who found his best friend to be more important than him. A person could only handle so much. He dropped his bag on the living room chair, the plan was to take a long bath. He walked into the bedroom only to be startled by Jon covered in blankets, sitting in the center of their bed. Jay sighed, he wasn’t sure if he could handle this right now, his nerves were shot. He was about to head straight to the bathroom when Jon looked up and started to talk. “I couldn’t see him, again. Tim had called in a favor from Kon and he stopped me from approaching.” Jon shrugged, “He was sleeping anyway.” “Oh, that sucks.” Jay grabbed a pair of clean boxer briefs from the drawer and continued towards the bathroom. Maybe he could use the new bath bomb he bought at the mall. He heard Jon move on the bed, the noise of the blankets lightly falling to the ground. “Don’t you care?” Jon asked, the pitch of his voice rising. “No, not really.” Jay said, one foot out the doorway. “How can you be so selfish?” Jon asked. “Selfish?” Jay spun around to face Jon in disbelief, “Selfish! Is that really what you want to accuse me of? I’ve been nothing but patient and understanding!” Jay’s voice grew louder with every word, “Do you think, it’s easy being second in your life to everything else? Do you think it’s easy going out by myself, to sleep alone at night eighty percent of the time, to be stared at in restaurants as if I’ve been stood up?” Jay stood in front of Jon breathing heavily, “I want to be selfish! I want the person I love to chose me! But, that would be selfish!” “Jay-“ “No.” Jay held up a finger, “No. I think this relationship has run its course.” Jon stared at Jay in disbelief, his mouth flapping open then closed, “I’m tired, Jon, so tired. I want my life to move forward, but its been in stasis, dependent on you, revolving around you,” Jay’s voice cracked, but he refused to let himself cry, “I love you, but I don’t think this is healthy for me anymore. Please, let’s just end it.” “Okay,” Jon cleared his throat, “okay, I-I’m sorry.” Jay was left alone again, like many times before. He squared his shoulders, marched into the bathroom, prepared his bath and cried ugly tears on the bathroom floor, the hot steam making it difficult to breathe.

Author's note:

So I was originally going to make this chapter Jon's POV, but it felt better to make it Jay's. I really sympathize with Jay here, poor guy.

Also, I don't know much about Jay, I honestly kinda hated him when I first found out about him, but now I'm pretty apathetic about him. I mean this is Jon's first relationship, right out of coming back from his "trip" I don't think it will last very long. Just my opinion with no true basis.

[inblackwoods]

Someone shut me up if I get redundant, but I do want to talk about how Dracula is constantly subverting the expectation of a singular, hyper-masculine heroic character to save the day and win the girl. Obviously, I find it relevant to my ongoing “Dracula is a story about love/community” idea. 

First is Jonathan, who obviously doesn't have a ton of machismo. He swoons, he's preyed on, he's locked away helpless in a tower. We all know this. He even finds himself connecting to the idea of women from the past writing letters at the desk he's sitting at in the castle, saying, “here I am, sitting at a little oak table where in old times possibly some fair lady sat to pen, with much thought and many blushes, her ill-spelt love letter, and writing in my diary in short-hand all that has happened since I closed it last” [Chptr 3]. Perhaps worth mentioning is that this is written right before he’s attacked by the three women. If he’s a hero, then he’s not of the standard, invincible superman sort.

Then, when Jonathan is suspected to be dead, the narrative moves on to introduce Seward, who Lucy goes to some effort to talk-up to Mina, listing his positive qualities and reasons why he might be compatible with her. The implication is that Jonathan is dead! Someone needs to come in and save the girl in his place! But Seward is Seward. So this is obviously not going to work. Lucy immediately moves on to describe him as nervous enough to sit on his own hat and then start fidgeting with a lancet, which scares her [Chptr 5]. And then, if one isn’t yet convinced that he's an unheroic mess of a man, his own diary starts and he's brooding, obsessive, maudlin, and prone to cruel thoughts and sometimes cruel actions. He's not our hero either! He’s too dark, quiet, arrogant, etc.. Fine, who else is there?

Quincey? Yes, one might think for a moment, but then recall how, after he's so ridiculously charming in his proposal and really does seem like a knight in shining armor, he up and leaves the narrative for a while. Completely unmentioned for six chapters! When he comes back, it's relieving and exciting and wonderful and-

He has the wrong blood type. There's an implication he might have killed Lucy, who Seward says, due to the transfusion, "had got a terrible shock, and it told on her more than before, though plenty of blood went into her veins, her body did not respond to the treatment as well as on other occasions” [Chptr 12]. She dies later in this chapter. This isn’t Quincey’s fault and no one could have known about blood types at the time, but I think it’s possible that this transfusion killed her or, at least, contributed to her death.  

Okay, so who else? Van Helsing? Close... but he's old and not likely to get into any dramatic knife fights and he considers himself still married, if his wife is out of the picture. So no saving the day in direct combat or winning any girls for him. Even when he kills the three women, it’s while they’re asleep and its only given a page or less of description. It’s not very dramatic or heroic. Arthur? He's a bit nervous too, despite Seward calling him brave. He falls to his knees and needs to be held up by the other suitors [Chptr 16], he sits up and sits back down in nervous fits of energy [Chptr 15], and he seems generally somewhat faint of heart, being described as growing “very pale” as he sat down and “breathing heavily” in response to the news that they’re getting close to confronting Dracula [Chptr 25]. In that same moment, Quincey and Jonathan are grabbing their knives in preparation for battle! And Arthur doesn't ever get near Dracula at the end. So not him either!

None of the men are perfect, infallible heroes on their own. They’re human beings who get scared and make mistakes. They all need help sometimes; they all fall short in one way or another, which can be compensated for by the other members of the CoL.

The ending is the most convincing aspect of all of this- the final battle is anticlimactic. Dracula's asleep, he won't wake up, and the only active threats are nameless henchmen. It's not a tense, drawn-out battle; it lasts for perhaps a page or two and then it’s over. There isn't a singular hero, there's two. It's not just Jonathan who single handedly saves the day and wins the girl, Quincey has to be there too. And neither of them would have gotten so far without the others, Mina especially. And then Quincey doesn't live to get any reward for his triumph other than the knowledge that he saved his friends! 

So again, in final, there can be no singular hero. It's a story about the strength of community, love, and cooperation. The fighting isn't glorious and triumphant because that isn't the point! The point is that people need love and friends/family to function, do good, support each other when in need, and save the day together.

[btsqualityy]

Assuage: Chapter 25

Yoongi x Reader

Genre: ABO (Alpha/Beta/Omega) dynamics, angst, fluff, smut, enemies to lovers

Warnings: Mentions of near death.

Author’s Note: This is the final chapter of this story! I will be posting an epilogue soon but other than that, this is it! Thank you all for the support that you’ve given this story, it’s much appreciated! Love you guys and I hope you enjoy it!

A few weeks later, Yoongi was slowly making his way through the pack territory as he ambled towards Namjoon and Hyorin’s cabin.

He was enjoying the fresh air because you had barely let him out of your sight since he had woken up. He grumbled about it to you but inside, he was extremely happy to have you around because the process of recovery had been a bitch for him, even though he was Prime. 

After stepping up onto their porch, he knocked on the door and waited patiently until the door opened. 

“Hey Yoongi,” Hyorin grinned and Yoongi bowed lightly towards her. 

“Hi Hyo,” he replied. “Is Namjoon here?”

“Yeah, come on in,” she waved him towards her and he stepped inside, waiting until she had closed the front door to follow behind her as she led the way into the living room. 

“You have a visitor Joon,” Hyorin announced and Yoongi looked at Namjoon, who was laying down flat on the couch. 

“Yoongi, hi,” he grunted as he attempted to sit up on his own. Hyorin rushed over to him, helping him sit up and then grabbing some pillows to stuff around his body so that he’d be comfortable. “I had it.”

“No, you didn't,” she scoffed before looking over at Yoongi. “The idiot gets multiple ribs broken and still thinks he’s Superman.”

“Maybe it’s an Alpha thing because I’ve been the same way,” Yoongi chuckled. 

“Trust me, Y/N-ah has been ranting to us about it too,” Hyorin giggled as she sat down next to her husband.

“Please, sit down Yoongi,” Namjoon said and Yoongi nodded before sitting down in one of the easy chairs that was placed right across from the couch. “I’m sure that you’re wondering why I asked you here.”

“Kind of,” he nodded nervously. “Y/N-ah didn’t tell me much.”

“I didn’t tell her much on purpose,” Namjoon smiled. 

“Joon wanted to talk to you about pack business,” Hyorin rolled her eyes playfully. “But I wanted to thank you.”

“For what?”

“For saving my husband’s life,” she told him. “I didn’t tell him this until after the fact but I was so sure that I wasn't going to see him again after he left that morning and I had no idea what I would’ve done without him. Thanks to you though, I didn’t have to find out and I’m so grateful Yoongi.”

“Well, I just did what I felt was right,” Yoongi shrugged bashfully, attempting to play off the praise even though his cheeks were red. 

“Still, our family is indebted to you,” Hyorin said. Just then, Yoongi heard the sound of infants crying and both Hyorin and Namjoon sighed heavily. 

“You stay and talk, I’ll go,” Hyorin said to Namjoon before getting up from the couch. Instead of walking right out of the room, she stepped over to Yoongi and bent down, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. 

“Thank you,” she whispered as she stood up straight again and Yoongi smiled widely as he watched her pace out of the living room. When Yoongi turned to look back at Namjoon, his eyes widened when he saw that Namjoon was now standing up, although he was clearly struggling to stay balanced.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Yoongi questioned as he moved to get up but Namjoon held his hand out stopping him. He then bent at the waist, bowing deeply to Yoongi and Yoongi was taken aback by the sign of respect. Namjoon then groaned loudly, which made Yoongi get up and rush over to help him. 

“You could’ve just said thank you,” Yoongi huffed as he helped Namjoon stand up straight again before gently easing him back down onto the couch.

“You deserve more than just a thank you,” Namjoon said as he got comfortable on the couch again, waving his hand at Yoongi to let him know that he was alright. Instead of going back to the chair, Yoongi sat down next to him. “Hyo would’ve never let me get away with that if she were still in here though.”

“And for good reason, obviously,” Yoongi snickered, making Namjoon roll his eyes. 

“Anyways, I called you here because I wanted to talk to you about Seo-hyun’s pack,” Namjoon said. 

“Oh,” Yoongi uttered in surprise. “Ok, go ahead.”

“Since Seo-hyun is gone now, there’s a question about what to do with his pack members that are still here,” Namjoon began. “Hobi suggested that we take over their territory and use it as an extension of our current territory and assimilate the remaining pack members into our pack.”

“I get the idea that you don’t like that suggestion,” Yoongi said.

“I’m not the biggest fan of it, no,” Namjoon shook his head. “We don’t really have the need for the extra territory and it’s a little too far away from here to be considered a true extension. Plus, forcing people into packs that they don’t want to be in only breeds contempt and I think we’ve all had enough fighting to last several lifetimes.”

“Agreed,” Yoongi laughed. “So, what did you have in mind then?”

“That’s just what I was going to ask you,” Namjoon said. “Being as though you’re more familiar with them, I was hoping that you could suggest something.” Yoongi nodded his head slowly, taking a few seconds to think before an idea struck him. 

“Well, maybe you could do like a tax thing?” Yoongi said. “Like, you can allow them to remain a pack on their own and keep the territory but they’d have to pay a tax to our pack in order to keep it.”

“You think they’d be fine with that?” Namjoon questioned. 

“Seo-hyun was the psychopath, not them,” Yoongi chuckled. “I think it’ll be fine.”

“In that case, I think it’s a great idea,” Namjoon smiled. “Since I’m going to be out of commission for the next few months, I’ve been splitting up the duties of the pack between our higher status pack members and since you know that pack, I was wondering if you’d be willing to oversee the transition process?”

“Of course,” Yoongi nodded with a wide smile. “I’d be happy to.” Just then, Hyorin came back into the living room with one of their daughters in her arms.

“Could you take her?” Hyorin asked Namjoon as she walked over to stand in front of him. “I’m trying to feed Sena but this one just wants attention.”

“Sure,” Namjoon agreed, holding his hands out and Hyorin handed Mi-ra over to him before quickly walking back out of the living room. Yoongi watched as Namjoon brought Mi-ra close to his chest, reaching down and letting her grab onto his finger. 

“You know, I was so sure that I was going to die out there,” Namjoon suddenly confessed. “Seo-hyun was so insistent on it and I knew that I probably wouldn’t be able to out fight him.”

“That wouldn’t have been your fault though,” Yoongi pointed out. “Even though he was a power hungry asshole, he was a skilled fighter.”

“True, but I didn’t die, thanks to you,” Namjoon murmured as he looked back up at him. “It’s because of you that I got to come home to my wife, to my daughters and I owe you my life.”

“Well, I know what it’s like when a pack loses an amazing leader and I wasn’t going to let that happen if I could stop it,” Yoongi explained. “So no need to owe me your life or anything like that. Just consider us even for you taking me in when I had no where else to go.”

“Deal,” Namjoon smiled as he rocked Mi-ra gently in his arms. “You know, our father would’ve loved you. You’re a lot like him.”

“Taehyung told me the same thing,” Yoongi laughed. “The day that the girls were born actually.”

“Well, it’s true,” Namjoon told him. “I’m happy that you’re going to be a part of our family.”

“Me too,” Yoongi murmured quietly. “Me too.”

.........................................

Once Yoongi left Namjoon’s house, he instinctively began to walk to your house since he hadn’t seen you since that morning before you left to go to the infirmary cabin. 

As he walked though, he picked up on your scent and realized that it was leading towards the edge of the territory. It didn’t take Yoongi long to figure out where you were so he changed his direction and headed towards the stream. 

Once he got there, he saw you sitting on top of your favorite rock, your knees pulled up against your chest as you watched the water ripple beneath you.

“Hey baby,” Yoongi called out and you raised your head, smiling softly when you saw him. 

“Hi,” you greeted him, puckering your lips for a kiss and he leaned over, kissing you for a few seconds before pulling away. 

“What are you doing out here?” He wondered as he pulled himself up onto the rock to sit next to you. “It’s cold out here. I’m surprised that the stream is even still running.”

“I don’t mind much and I’m just thinking,” you shrugged as you looked back at the water. “This is the freest that I’ve felt in a long time.”

“Me too,” Yoongi agreed. 

“I never thought you’d be the reason why I feel so free though,” you admitted before looking at him. “Everything has been so crazy lately that I haven’t been able to really talk to you, but I have to tell you that I’m so thankful that Taehyung found you and convinced us to take you in.”

“I am too, because I got to meet you,” Yoongi muttered as he reached over and grabbed one of your hands in his, intertwining your fingers with his. “I have a home with you now and that means everything to me. You mean everything to me.”

“Ditto,” you cooed, leaning over and kissing him passionately for a few seconds. When you both finally pulled away, you giggled as he moved to press kisses to both of your cheeks. 

“How did your talk with my brother go?” You asked him. “What did he want? Did it have to do with your old pack?”

“What the fuck, how did you know that?” Yoongi gasped. 

“I know everything and you should know that by now,” you giggled. 

“Yes, it was about my old pack,” he confirmed. “He wanted my opinion on what to do with the remaining members so I suggested letting them keep their territory and just pay us taxes on it.”

“That sounds good but are you sure?” You wondered. “I mean, you could go back and lead that pack now, since Seo-hyun isn’t in your way anymore. It is your birthright after all.”

“I could but it wouldn’t be the same and truthfully, I don’t want it,” he confessed. “Besides, taking over that pack would mean leaving this one and I couldn’t leave you here.”

“You should at least think about it,” you shrugged, looking down at the ground. 

“Hey, look at me,” he whispered and you sighed before looking at him. “There’s no consideration needed. I am not going to leave you for a pack that hasn’t been my pack for a long time, even before I joined this one.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” you grinned, making Yoongi laugh.

“You know, someone still owes me a discussion about bites,” he brought up and you rolled your eyes playfully. 

“Heal up all the way first and then we’ll talk,” you smirked and Yoongi just shook his head at you.

“I love you Y/N-ah,” he said.

“I love you too Yoongi,” you replied. 

As the two of you continued to sit together and talk, Yoongi realized that this was the first time in a long time that the feeling of loneliness that had been a constant presence in his life since he was 16 years old was almost nonexistent now. He had found a pack that took him in and treated him as one of their own, he had found friends that became the family that he had lost so many years ago and best of all, he had you who loved him despite all of his flaws and traumas. 

Yoongi had absolutely no idea how he had managed to luck up on such an amazing new life but he knew one thing for sure: he was going to appreciate it the best way that he knew how.

.........................................

Tag List:  @jikook-enthusiasts @veryuniquenamegoeshere @seolarsyj @littlrmills14-blog @preciouschimine @kt-rny @copenhagenspirit @min-yus @cheysjimin @to-the-joon-and-back​ @jaiuneamesolitaiire @icycoldbeanieweanies​ @barbikatherine

[princecharmingmendes]

Heart by Heart | Chapter I | Raul Mendes

                                           *secret agent AU*

Y/N and Raul have been friends ever since they could remember. And falling in love with your best friend can be pretty tricky and messy 99% of the times, add that to the fact they're constantly risking their lives side by side on the field since they're both secret agents, and the best team that's ever existed. Perfect recipe for disaster.

Helloo, this is the first chapter of this series and I'm super excited about it. Please read the warnings on this one, if you don't feel comfortable with the contents listed on the "warnings" section, please read something else, there are a lot of other works on my masterlist and on the "fic rec" hashtag on my blog. I plan on posting a chapter weekly, which means new chapter every Thursday (and maybe a sneak peak every monday). Please give me some feedback and I hope you guys like it as much as I did. I'll stop rambling now, byee. Happy Reading!

                                                     masterpost | next chapter

*Word Count: 3.4K+;

*Warnings:  cursing, descriptions of violence, blood, injuries, hostage situation and a whole lot of teasing. Please don’t read it if any of this subjects make you uncomfortable, feel free to check my masterlist for other writings. 

*Posted: July 1st, 2021.

                                                     -*-

Raul Mendes was a pain in the ass. Y/N loves him way too much for her own good, but he was a pain in the nonetheless. 

He was the only person she knew who could be in a possible life-or-death situation and still make fun of her through their communicators. And sure, that made the whole thing lighter and less scary, and sure, he was the best agent she’s ever met, but damn did he get on her nerves. And Raul always knew how to get her frustrated or squirming, he enjoyed it more than he was willing to admit. Sure, they’ve been friends for a long time and she should be used to him, but it never got easier. The fact he had a killer smile, the looks of a legit greek god and had this whole tough guy exterior, but secretly had a soft spot for her did not make her case any less complicated.

Y/N and Raul knew each other ever since they’re basically born. Their parents met when they worked together at a company of secret agents, it was only a small corporation back then, and they were known as the best agents at the time. After they retired from field missions and eventually desk jobs, they became only advisers and emergency contacts. But despite that, they kept their friendship going though all the years and that’s how Y/N was introduced to the triplets. They’re always together, doing everything with each other and protecting themselves. And of course she loved Peter and Shawn with her whole heart, they’re like family to her, but Raul was different. Y/N wished it wasn’t, but there are certain things in life you can’t exactly control. Like falling in love with your best friend.

And it’s not like she stood a chance, to be honest. Regardless of his looks, he treated her like she hung the moon and stars on the sky. Sure, he was a tough guy, who rode motorcycles and wore leather jackets, and wouldn’t admit alive that he cried while watching Lion King. But he took care of her when she was upset or having a bad period, he would take her driving around town at midnight on random occasions just because he knew it would make her feel better, and would always be so mindful of everything involving her. And yeah, he teased her endlessly, but it was part of it and in reality, Y/N didn’t mind it that much. 

So when they started growing older and decided to follow their parents career, it only made sense they trained their asses off and got the job together. The company their parents worked for grew a lot, a team that was originally formed by 15 agents turned into a massive business, with over 100 employees, doing various functions. Shawn was picked for a more diplomatic field, always in meetings with important people and traveling around the world. Peter became a tech engineer, developing the coolest gadgets and weapons imaginable, something out of Totally Spies! Raul was clearly a field agent, an expert on body combat and weapons, best out of the four when it came to their physical test. And Y/N was the one who guided the operations, the hacker and responsible for strategies, also for the tech part and best sniper out of the three of them. 

That made her and Raul an unbeatable team and the best duo ever. Their chemistry on the field was recognized by their bosses on the first week, basically glueing them together for every future mission and it worked. For the company. But it only dug her little crush deeper on Y/N’s heart. And obviously no one knew it. She was a spy for fucks sake, she knew how to lie and she wasn’t going to be the one to tell him. Raul didn’t date, working on this field made  everyone’s love life a bit harder than it was already, and he never seemed interested enough in anyone with the same career to have a long lasting relationship with. That didn’t mean there where a lot of people interested, which made Y/N’s heart twist in her chest. 

“Sweetheart, you still with me?” Raul’s voice came through her earpiece bringing her back to reality.

“Of course I am, you idiot, I take this job really seriously” Y/N replied rolling her eyes as if she didn’t just daydreamed a bit. 

“Oh sorry, doll, didn’t mean to insult you hard working” he chuckled “but could you please check in the corridor number 6, half the team is heading down there right now”

“Sure” she quickly typed on her computer changing cameras really quickly, perks of being Peter’s best friend is that she could usually take extra stuff and the newest gadgets on the market “It’s clear and, by the way, you look pathetic with this glasses”

Raul laughed clearly amused, throwing his middle finger up in the air in the direction of the security camera he found “Oh really? Tell that to Peter, he’s the one who created them” 

“Technically their still a prototype, so make sure to let him know”

Raul scoffed playfully as he climbed another set of stairs, the man and woman with him following without questioning, used to his ways of leading “Of course, I’m sure he’ll like to hear your fashion critiques to his million dollar glasses”

“I’ll write it down, now careful, you’re approaching the level where they’re at”

“Sure, mom, I’m always careful” he said in a hushed tone signaling to his teammates to keep quiet and try to find the possible security team they left to watch the hostage.

“Shut up” Y/N said trying to hold back the smile from stretching her lips, already letting the airway team know to be ready to pick them up as they approached their target. 

They’re currently in the middle of a mission where they needed to recover another agent who got caught up in an ambush two weeks ago, and now they’re being kept as a hostage. Raul’s leading a team to retrieve the agent as quickly and as silently as they could, two with him and three other on the opposite side to meet halfway. All that while Y/N’s on the under construction building across the street seated among her gear, gun in hand following their every step and guiding them through the camera system and the big windows that other building had. It’s not the worst mission they’ve ever been, no apparent violence or blood bath, just a simple rescue mission, but they still felt a little jittery and always worried about each other’s lives. And through the years, they noticed that their copying mechanism to make this less stressful (at least a tiny bit) was through light banter and jokes. That somehow brought a bit of normality to their very non ordinary job. 

Y/N did her best to keep them hidden while they crashed into the building as quietly as possible, trying go unnoticeable since they didn’t have enough munition or people on the tactic team. It would also prevent them from moving the target around or opening fire. And despite the fact Raul kept on trying to joke around and that she’s been doing this for at least four years, the fact that they’re working with a less experienced and fresh out of the academy crew made her a little jittery. Not that she didn’t trust Raul to command everything and boss everyone around if things got messy, she just didn’t want him to get in the middle of a crossfire again. 

He had the terrible habit of playing the hero in the most inconvenient times, like when they were little and a guy twice his size, with three friends mocked her pigtails. He didn’t stand a chance, but he went after them anyway. They ended up having to run as fast as they could so they wouldn’t end up with a black eye or something. And that was nothing compared to the stupid shit he could do on field. And Y/N couldn’t be more pissed whenever he came home with more bruises then he should just to play Superman or something. Sure, that was admirable and the fact that he put everyone on his team on his top priority was definitely something fantastic for a captain, but not for Y/N’s heart. 

And for that reason, she was always extra careful, but when he had a newbie joining him on the field, Y/N tripled the attention to avoid putting the kid in danger, and, consequently her best friend. 

Raul was quick to take down two man on their level without raising much alarm, grabbing their munition, dragging the unconscious bodies away from where they’d be easily seen and moving forward to another set of stairs. He was a very skillful agent, with great physical development and worked great under pressure, with quick thinking and a natural leader. So it didn’t shock her when he was able to do that as if it was the most natural thing in the planet. While Raul was more of a passionate person, Y/N was more rational, was analyzing every possibility and coming up with creative solution, she was also really cold on work (she just had one exception) and was a quick thinker, great person to rely on. It’s almost as if the complimented each other and that’s why it worked. That’s why when she tells him to shoot, he does without thinking, or to jump, he wouldn’t blink before doing it head first. 

And that’s why they’re able to reach the hostage without much trouble. 

“Told you to chill out, I knew we could make it” he murmured through their coms and she giggled, shaking her head incredulously.

“You should watch the entrances while your teammates take care of the hostage”

“That’s why I have you, sweetheart” he said with his infamous smirk stretching his annoyingly pink lips.

Y/N shook her head when she felt her face warming up a bit, stupid boy “Well, actually I’m pretty busy calling for our ride, so watch your own back this time, you’re a big boy, I’m sure you can do it”

Raul scoffed but did as she say either way “fine, are we clear?”

“On your floor yes, climb three more levels and meet me on this side of the street, don’t stall champ, they’re going to notice there’s something wrong with the cameras and their man who aren’t responding, so be quick”

Raul chuckled as he helped balance the hostage on Roman’s arms and signaling them to climb the stairs again “Yes, ma’am, anything to keep you from frowning and scolding my ass”

Y/N rolled her eyes smiling, sighing in relief that half of their mission was done and it went as smoothly as it could have been “Great, now get your ass out of there now, Raul” 

The tactic team started moving to the floor they’d have access to jump, and everything was going too smoothly to be true, not even a minor inconvenience. And that was not normal, at all. That’s when Y/N started getting worried. 

Everything was great until Seth, from loosing a lot of blood and being severely dehydrated, started loosing his conscious, making Roman’s job a lot more complicated and making everyone move slower. And while that was happening, Y/N saw when one of the guys saw his partners laying limply on the corner of a hallway and finally the pieces clicked. Luckily she was able to caught it quickly enough to be able to mess up their coms, so instead of a dozen men, they’d have to deal with two. She was also quick to let Raul know, so he jumped into action, telling everyone to rush and grabbing Seth’s right side, basically carrying him alongside Roman up the stairwell. 

But as they’re almost reaching the door, Raul heard footsteps rather close, rushing Roman up the rest of the way, warning he’d be right behind him, that he was only to be a bit far back so he could hold whoever was coming. 

He ran downstairs, quickly blocking the door to the staircase with a fire extinguisher, running all the way upstairs to reach his teammates and jump to go home. But as he had just reached the door, his colleagues waiting for him with their gear (and also his) ready to cross to the other building, he felt the barrel of a gun touching the back of his head. Raul raised his hands in surrender, his teammates staring at him with horror in their eyes as they aimed their guns to whoever was behind him, but he knew they couldn’t do much before he got shot. He also knew they’re too young, apart from Roman and Cara, who were both holding Seth up, they weren’t experienced enough to do something like that. But before the person could pull the trigger, they grunted in pain and Raul felt the barrel slipping away. 

He turned around to watch the guy on his back in the floor, clutching to his left ribs, a little pool of blood already forming underneath him and gun long forgotten. Raul looked around to see if it was anyone from this guy’s side or anyone on the stairs, only to be met with silence and a single security camera with the green dot on, meaning Y/N was still in their system. He shook his head in disbelief, dragging the whining man outside of the room, quacking his gun down the stairs and managing to lock the door so they could escape safely. 

“Still with me, baby?” Y/N’s voice teased mimicking the way he said it earlier. 

Raul shook his head with a smirk on his lips, before moving to where his teammates stood still a bit shocked with all that happened in front of them “Wouldn’t dream of leaving you, sweetheart”

“Alright boys, the helicopters are coming for us, meet you all on the roof in three” Y/N said through the coms for the whole team, quickly shifting to a line only the captain, Raul, could hear “and if you dare be late just to make a big entrance or another dramatic scheme you can think about, I swear to God I’ll leave you behind”

“You wouldn’t dare”

“Try me” Y/N sing sang picking up her stuff and quickly shoving them down in her backpack, gathering the rest in her hands before turning around to climb to the rooftop. 

As she climbed the last set of stairs, Y/N saw their helicopters approaching as the seven agents she was waiting for used a special gun to shoot a line to her building, before locking them in place before zip-lining their way to meet her. She helped Seth, the agent that was kept hostage climb up the little wall since he was in a pretty bad shape, throwing his arm across her shoulders and basically dragging him to where they thrown the stair to climb up to the helicopter with the medical team waiting for him. Cara and Roman climbed first since they’re going to report what they saw and assist Seth as best as they could. Roman grabbed him and the rope stair, shouting to pull them up so he could be taken care of. 

Raul was the last one to arrive, as always staying behind to insure everyone got there safely and no one would try to kill them or anything. He graciously climbed the all as if it was nothing, pulling the gun from the string and cutting it so no one could follow them up there that quickly. Raul told everyone to climb onto the helicopter and they’re quick to follow his order, only one person stubbornly waiting for him, as always. He held back the relieved smile from stretching across his features, noticing how warm and relaxed he felt only by seeing Y/N standing besides the hope ladder. She looked worried, a frown on her beautiful face and Raul wanted to smooth his fingers over it as if it would ease all of her troubles away.

She nodded as soon as he was close enough, Raul being quick to pick up the heavy backpack she was carrying and leaving the rest to her “Are you okay?”

“What? Of course, Why do you ask?” he knew why she was asking, hell, his heartbeat was still a bit too fast to be normal, and yeah, partially was because he was standing in front of Y/N, but on the other hand he almost got killed. She only arched her brow at him and he sighed in defeat “Of course I am, doll, you know me, I’m always okay” 

“That’s what’s scares me the most” she said with a sad chuckle and started climbing the rope ladder to the helicopter and Raul was quick to follow behind.

“Dude, that was insane, I can’t believe you didn’t miss or accidentally shot Raul from across the street!” the youngest guy from the mission shouted as soon as they reached them on the vehicle, Raul closing the door behind them. 

Y/N only giggled in response “yeah, a bit crazy, isn’t it?”

“That’s because she’s the best, Tommy, but she won’t believe it” Raul said as he sat on one of the vacant seats, waiting for her to join him. 

“Oh shut it” she said unable to stop the smile from forming.

They kept on talking about the mission for a while, Tommy and the other two kids who recently joined still high from the adrenaline, but Y/N couldn’t be more worn out and Raul was quick to catch it. He leaned closer to her and she automatically laid her head on his shoulder, a movement that was almost mechanic to both of them. He gently grabbed her hand that was placed on her knee and interlaced their fingers together, letting her play with his hand to pass the time. 

Y/N sighed and mumbled after a while, when most of the kids were too distracted to pay attention “Are you really okay? Don’t say that you’re always fine, I mean it”

Raul had mastered the art of the poker face. He could easily be having the worst time of his life, but he would never let it showcase always with a quick sarcastic remark and an easy smirk on his lips, ready to flirt with anyone to distract them from the real problem. Raul was not the best when dealing with feelings and emotions, always thought it was easier to push them away, but Y/N saw right through him. She always did, ever since they were little. After that, he never tried to hide it again from her, always being as honest as he could with her about how he was, and obviously it didn’t always work, but she understood and respected it. It’s not like he needed to say anything for her to know. 

But at the same time, she didn’t know that he would always be fine, as long as she was safe and right next to him, the rest didn’t matter. 

“I promise you I’m fine, you saved my beautiful ass and we’re going home, I’d say we’re fantastic” he said after a while, pressing a long kiss to the back of their laced hands. 

That seemed to be enough to convince Y/N, since she huffed through her nose and let out a tiny giggle, before leaning closer to him and Raul took it as a sign to drape his arm over her shoulder pulling her closer to his chest “your beautiful ass is really annoying, you know that, right?”

“Oh, I do, but you love it anyway” he said with a giggle, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head, as she just showed him her middle finger, making him laugh even more. 

Yeah, he was definitely fine. For now. 

                                                     -*-

*Please reblog or like this post if you liked it so I’ll know.

*I’m sorry if there are any spelling mistakes.

*Please do not repost this without giving me the credit, this is a completely original piece and I do not give permission to copy this!

*Hope you guys enjoyed it!

*xoxo

-🌙

[lunap95]

Chapters: 7/7 Fandom: Super Sons (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne, Jonathan Samuel Kent/Damian Wayne Characters: Damian Wayne, Jonathan Samuel Kent, Maya Ducard, Collin Wilkes, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown, Duke Thomas, Cassandra Cain, Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Lois Lane, Kon-El | Conner Kent, Kara Zor-El Additional Tags: Roommates, Domestic Fluff, adopting a pet, High School, Jealousy, Running Away, Partners in Crime, Fake/Pretend Relationship, getting caught, Heartbeats, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Masquerade, Family Vacation, Marriage Proposal, JonDami Week 2021

Hey, hey, hey! Last day of the @jondami-week  Thank you so much for reading and leaving kudos and comments, it makes me super happy! As I mentioned I'm planning on doing a longer (but not too long) fic about Damian and Jon so please if you like anything of these prompts tell me so I can have a clearer idea on how to write them. Thanks!

Day 7: joint family vacation | proposal | free day

You can also read it under the cut

“Stephanie, I swear to God if you play that stupid song one more time.”

“Shut up, Jason, you didn’t have a good music taste even before your first death.”

“Come on, guys, I’m sure we can find something nice for every-” Duke dodged a hamburger and decided it was better not to get in between.

“Has anyone seen my sunglasses?” asked Conner, his sunglasses obviously over his head.

“No,” answered Tim not even making an attempt at pointing his mistake.

“I’m just saying, it would totally rock if you made a ‘Is Bruce Wayne Batman?’ headline,” Cassandra nodded at Dick’s words.

“You know it would actually be really funny,” Lois smirked, her smile too similar to one of the evildoers they usually fought.

“Not it wouldn’t!” interrupted Barbara visibly angry. “Because then we, instead of him, will have to deal with it later.”

“I stopped dealing with Bruce’s shit a long time ago, you should do the same,” proclaimed Kate taking a sip of his wine.

“This is the fourth time I have to repair a train, Kent,” argued Bruce on the other side of the field. “Is it really too much to ask to show a little restrain?”

“Oh, excuse, mister billionaire, next time a train is about to run over some innocent citizens I will kindly ask the train to stop,” refuted Clark.

“The only thing I’m saying,” not too far Alfred was in the middle of another discussion with Martha and Jon Kent. “that the recipe is obviously done with raisins.”

“Raisins? Maybe in that rainy spot of yours,” Martha seemed to be terribly offended. “But not here.”

Damian sighed for the hundredth time that day watching how the whole family continued creating absolute chaos. If his calculations were right there were just a few minutes left before someone screamed “food fight”. Next to him, Jon munched on a hamburger as if the picture did not bother him at all.

“Let’s have some picnic together, you said,” said Damian. “It would be fun, you said.”

“I think is nice.”

“Your cousin tried to throw Todd over the roof just an hour ago.”

“And I think Steph is about to ask her to do it again,” laughed Jon pointing at were Jason and Steph continued to argue about the music, Duke and Cass now enjoying their exchanged while eating popcorns.

“At least Grayson has stopped with the puns,” he was starting to question why the hell he had accepted Jon’s idea, this was bound to end in disaster.

“Well, actually I think he is telling my mum that story about the Napkin man.”

Jon could not help but smile at his groan. Maybe their families were a bit… chaotic when they met, but he actually enjoyed spending time together like this. As long as he kept a safe distance between him and Jason’s guns there should not be a problem (he still remembered when the Red Hood first discovered he was dating his younger brother, that had been a fun chase). And deep down he knew Damian enjoyed them too, but his boyfriend was too stubborn to admit it.

“I just don’t understand why you insisted so much on this.”

The box in his pocket seemed to get heavier with his words. They have been dating for almost eight years, living together for six of them. While he worked as a journalist in the Daily Planet, Damian had his hands full with inheriting the Batman legacy and leading the new Gotham Justice team along with Duke, although he still made some art exhibitions from time to time. He still went out as Superboy, mostly with Damian, but the defence of Metropolis had gone mainly to Supergirl and Conner, who now called himself Supernova. Their fathers had told them they would soon pass their mantle to them and Jon had decided he wanted to ask the big question before that happened.

“D, mind walking with me for a minute?”

Damian raised an eyebrow confused as to why his boyfriend wanted to walk on the same fields that had seen him grow, but he decided it would be way better than staying there. They walked while holding hands, chatting about their little things until they reached a familiar forest.

“Does it ring a bell?” Jon smiled.

“This is where we first met,” realised Damian. “Well, when I kidnap you after discovering you were a threat to society.”

“Well, you suspicious turned out to be correct, only not to society,” he winked at him. “Only a threat to you.”

“Hmm,” Damian wrapped his hands around his neck. “Maybe I should have let you tied on the examination table of the Batcave.”

“Then, you wouldn’t have this.”

Jon then proceeded to kneel in front of him, taking the box out of his pocket. Damian didn’t say anything but his eyes widened.

“Damian Wayne,” he proclaimed. “I never thought I could hate anyone more than the first time I met you. But with time, you showed me the great person you are. Because many might think of you as brash and arrogant, but I know your actions speak more than your words. I have seen you bleed for your teammates, cry for your brothers and sister and take care of your pets as if they were the most valuable thing on this planet,” he opened the box to show a ring with a green gemstone. “You became my best friend and later the love of my life and I can’t think of a better person to share the rest of my life with so… would you do me the super honour of becoming my husband?”

“Did you have to add the super thing?” but Damian was smiling and he could swear his eyes were shinning. “Of course I do, you sap.”

Jon did not waste any time jumping to capture his lips while putting the ring on his finger. The gem was the same shade in his eyes and the moment Jon saw it he knew he wanted his boyfriend to wear it.

“I’m going to make you the happiest man on Earth,” he whispered between kisses.

“I already am.”

There were still a lot of hardship to face, millions of adventures waiting for them on the corner, but in that instant, in the same forest where they met, both could feel the strength of their bond. A union that could not be broken by time or dangers, a connection that will be with them until the time they expired their last breath. So for the moment, they enjoyed this moment and the pure bliss of knowing they would never be alone as long as the other was next to them.

[davidmann95]

How'd you like the new Death Metal special (and, more broadly, this week's comics)?

pretenderoftheeast said: Comics this week (12/9/2020)?

Batman: Black and White #1: The first of a platter of anthologies today:

* The Tynion/Moore story is predictably fire.

* JHIII is JHIII. Also he does a really nice surprising story about how Batman’s relating to this moment of the time, but let’s be real, you’re here because JHIII, and be assured he is JHIII as helllll here and it’s great.

* Dini/Kubert plays as the former building a story around accommodating requests by the latter, but that’s not a bad thing, and glad to see Kubert’s kept up the pace since his DK3/Up In The Sky creative rejuvenation.

* Ok I’m a philistine who has no idea what that Emma Rios thing was about but it was certainly pretty.

* Wilson doing Batman is surprisingly disappointing, but Smallwood doing Batman definitely isn’t.

DC’s Very Merry Multiverse: Not a very merry time! I hate to say it given this should be so geared to my interests, but this is the weakest overall effort we’ve gotten from one of DC’s quarterly anthologies in a good long while, at least among those I’ve picked up. Not to say it’s a dud, there are several nifty little stories in here including the much-hyped first appearance of Kid Quick (destined to become the Flash of Future State) and really almost everything here reaches ‘pretty okay’. But for $10, and a creative space that should reach so much more than ‘pretty okay’, I don’t know that this is a justifiable recommendation unless you’re understandably desperate for all the President Superman content you can get your hands on.

Tales of the Dark Multiverse: Flashpoint: I’m surprised I got it too, but the preview grabbed me and in practice it was a fun, mean little high-concept adventure of Reverse Flash being a total cock.

Wonder Woman #768: Credit where it is due, this has been getting a bit better in its closing stretch.

Dark Nights: Death Metal: The Last Stories of the DC Universe: This ruled. Obviously there was the one story folks are most interested in, but almost all of the tales in here lived up to being a ‘final’ story of sorts for their leads.

* The Titans bookenders were pretty nice even if it’s hilarious that their big rallying cry basically amounts to “by god, our book may be shit, but we’re valuable IP so we’ll never be cancelled!”

* Green Lantern is basically an epilogue to Johns’ run sans the baggage of bringing back Johns (that we get in two weeks with Secret Origin and god forgive me I’m so looking forward to that), and definitely one of my favorite efforts from Lemire.

* Wonder Woman’s the stinker in what’s nominally her own event. I can parse the roots of most bad Superman stories one way or another, but I just can’t understand what’s behind most bad Wonder Woman stories beyond that the people handling it simply don’t give a shit.

* Astonishingly, the Green Arrow and Black Canary chapter in here might be my favorite of the bunch? Simone at her best, a really sweet slice of playful, sincere romance about two characters I’m not by default invested in but ended up quite caring for here.

* This Aquaman story is everything I generally hate in Aquaman stuff, a big long maudlin speech about the weight of the world as he swims through a black featureless ocean, except here between the real heart Sebela brings to the script and the mood artist Christopher Mooneyham manages to evoke, it all clicks together.

* The Batman Family story feels like it can’t quite make its pacing work, but it’s still a heartfelt little ode to the theoretical power of the concept.

* Hey, that Mark Waid guy? Turns out he can write him some Superman. It’s not perhaps the total barnburner you might have expected - I imagine he’s saving his biggest hits for later - but it’s a very solid execution of a gangbusters concept, and Manapul steals the show with absolutely sensational, gorgeous scenic Superman imagery. I’mma say 60/40 in favor of them doing a Superman project together on either a main book or Black Label (I know Manapul was supposed to be locked into a creator-owned thing with Scott Snyder but that was ages ago), because this is a paring that’s yielded some immediate results and I imagine everyone knows it. And given my upbringing, nice to see a big, iconic, beautiful Superman story with him rocking the mullet.

Anonymous said: Haha holy shit Crossover is literally Cates taking that page where Spawn meets all the corporate heroes locked up and spinning it out into a series

Anonymous said: Does Crossover #2 hold the crown for the funniest, dumbest, most baffling opening page ever?

Crossover #2: Readers I’m not too big to admit I laughed my ass off at the first page, and at least a little bit for the actual reasons intended. The sense of homaging that Spawn scene in the context of a book about “Gosh, isn’t IP the best folks?”, or Cates’ dialogue...(shall we say) proving why he likes the concept of ellipses enough to name a character after them aside though? That it’s already crossed the line with its central metaphor from “indefensibly insensitive in its ridiculous self-centeredness” to “out-and-out cartoonishly offensive” somehow actually makes it more rather than less palatable; there’s no longer the secondhand embarrassment of waiting to see how bad Cates is going to handle this, it simply is the worst it could possibly be and readers have to accept and perhaps revel in the sight of him stepping on rake after rake. I cannot wait for him to finally give an interview on this book where he explains what the hell he thinks this looks like, and I hope my dad keeps somehow enjoying it forever because I totally wanna see what pit this descends to next.

Penultiman #3: This is absolutely agonizing and probably the most relatable take on a ‘superman’ ever.

Home Sick Pilots #1: A new creator-owned book from Dan Watters (whose big two credits include the stupendous “Afraid of America” with John Paul Leon in the last Batman Secret Files, and the upcoming Future State: Superman/Wonder Woman) and Peter Cannon’s Caspar Wijngaard, this new book set against the backdrop of a Californian high school’s punk scene in 1994 describes itself as “Power Rangers meets The Shining (yes, really)”. The former influence isn’t much in play yet, but thus far this is a book that merges building tension and freewheeling dopey teen bullshit to an extent that’s subtly impressive as hell, and seems likely to proudly take a place among the current horror comic renaissance.

Warhammer 40,000: Marneus Calgar #3: Ok again I don’t have any experience with this franchise but you’d better believe that cultural osmosis was enough that I popped for BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!

King in Black: Namor #1: Kurt Busiek’s return to Marvel...sucks? Such is the power of Knull I guess even if he doesn’t manifest within the actual story here, this is a complete nothing of a comic and I’m not tuning in for issue #2.

Avengers #39: Eh, I’m not liking Aaron Avengers when it gets remotely serious nearly as much as when he’s doing stuff like having them finally help Blade with all those vampires or Captain America assisting with the delivery of an exploding space-baby in the back of a muscle car.

Anonymous said: That new Guardians of the Galaxy was something else. What do you think the odds are that Comic Books, with a decade or two of hindsight, recognizes Ewing as one of the best to ever do it?

Guardians of the Galaxy #9: I lack much context here beyond recalling from an interview that this is Ewing’s way of grappling with the ideas from Steve Englehart’s original unrealized vision of Star-Lord’s character arc, but wherever it stems from this is a hell of a comic.

S.W.O.R.D. #1: This is everything I’ve wanted from the non-Hickman X-books since the moment HoXPoX ended, and so much more, and also it is basically hilarious that Ewing is all but explicitly using his clout to force Marvel to let him to Ultimates3 under a currently cancellation-proof banner. Most importantly of all, Ewing has already mastered the subtle art of writing not merely Magneto, but the infinitely superior Jonathan Hickman Magneto. And good lord Schiti and Gracia, I already knew they were top-tier but these pages’d make a grown man cry.

[renaroo]

Super Brothers (1/12)

Disclaimer: Superman and associated characters are the creative property of DC Comics. Warnings: Child Abuse, Gender Dysphoria, PTSD and Anxiety, Character Death Rating: T Synopsis: Jon Kent knew he pretty much had the perfect family life, but something still felt wrong with himself. At the height of feeling like an alien in his own skin, however, his world got turned upside down when his parents took in a troubled child who embodied everything he felt he lacked. However, becoming a brother ended up being the smallest of the trials brought by adopting Christopher Kent. And being best friends with Damian Wayne has not exactly helped keep a neutral perspective on the matter.

A/N: I have made no secret over the last few years just how disappointed i’ve been by the treatment and reintroduction of Chris Kent, aka Lor-Zod, in DC Comics. This little guy is one of my favorite comic book characters in existence, and it feels so dirty to see what has become of him. For a while, I’ve wanted to do a story that really tried to rectify the Rebirth version of Chris and the continuity at large with the core of the character I love, so this story is my attempt at that. I can only hope that I bridge that gap gracefully.

On the other end, I didn’t want to erase Damian or Jon and all the positives I have seen with their relationship and additions to the DCU at large. For their parts in this story, I want to focus on being in the middle school age range, all the confusion that entails, and open a dialogue about issues of gender and acceptance. 

Obviously, these are a lot of heavy topics, and I am certain that despite my intentions, there can and will be things I mess up. My hope is, when that happens, you all can keep an open dialogue with me on the subjects. I want to learn and better myself and my portrayal of the issues. 

That being said, please pay attention to the warnings throughout this fic. I will touch on dark subjects, and I don’t want anyone to read and feel unprepared for the subjects broached, which is part of the reason I chose to make an opening scene that is rather dark and disturbing on some levels. It won’t be ALL dark and uncomfortable, but I want to make this plea now rather than later. 

I hope the story is still worth your read <3 Thank you for your time!

Chapter One: The Cost of Friends

Jon hates this.

At the absolute worst of times, his tiny body reminds him of just how unreliable it is. He can’t count on it, it’s not consistent — it’s not a Superman body no matter how hard he tries to fit it in as one. His limbs are gangly, his bones poke through pale kin, and his messy black hair curls untamed out from around his ears. It’s not good it doesn’t do what he needs it to do.

And at that moment, Jon’s terrified that it’s about to get himself and his best friend killed.

Ordinarily, being half-Kryptonian, Jon would easily burst through chains and bindings without a second thought. And he’s still strong, he tore through the ripe around his waist like it was taffy, but the chains keeping his legs and neck locked to the floor aren’t budging. And Jon’s getting progressively tired.

There’s something strange about this macabre carnival where he and Damian take the center ring. Of course, there is, because it’s Professor Pyg and he’s the stuff of nightmares. But beyond even that, the spotlights on them show with a heavy red glow that is making Jon sluggish and weak.

So weak that he’s less than a circus ring away from Damian and he still can’t get to him.

“Come now, come now, wait your turn,” the grotesque villain squeals in delight toward Jon. “Little Bat has been scheduled for this appointment for such a long time! You must be patient, my little bird. So patient. Everyone has their time with the professor.”

“Superboy!” Damian snarls from where he is tied up, flat and without his utility belt. He’s laying on a gurney that looks far from sanitary and, if Jon didn’t know better, it might even look like Damian is actually concerned. “Focus! Red sunlight radiation shouldn’t dull your brains as much as it does your strength!”

Blinking, Jon looks up to the spotlights again and can see, with what vague telescopic ability he still has, that there is something unusual about the spectrum of light coming from them. “Is that what this is?” he asks, voice small but filled with relief all the same.

“Oh, my, I cannot, must not, pass an opportunity to educate my subjects, inform them of their peril,” Professor Pyg pantomimes his way from the circus ring with Damian toward the center stage with Jon.

Immediately, Jon feels his body stiffen on instinct. He looks warily at the flabby, disgusting pig mask as the rest of the pudgy and unkempt professor makes his way toward Jon. He knows he should be focusing on getting free, but it’s a difficult thing to do when he’s being approached by unmitigated evil and brutality.

He isn’t sure how Damian gets his suit on every night if this is what Gotham patrols are really like.

“It is your body,” Pyg snorts and chortles.

A cold splash washes over Jon. “My body?” he repeats with wide eyes.

“Get away from him, Pyg!” Damian roars, his gurney shaking and rocking with struggle.

“It isn’t right, doesn’t fit on your bones,” Pyg bemoans, jerking out his hip and slithering his own arms around his chest and waist. He sways back and forth on his feet with a sashay of his hips. “It misses the shape of your spirit, the delicate frame of your face. And it’ll only get worse with age.”

Despite himself, Jon feels his struggle slow to a complete stop. His eyes widen as he looks at Pyg. There is a chill that travels from the base of his spine up, standing all his hair on end.

Deep inside of Jon’s chest, muscles tighten and his heart thunders. He feels a shiver move from his core. No oh no oh no oh no. HIs guts churn, his jaw trembles.

“Oh, you feel it, don’t you, that deep deep down,” Pyg continues, approaching. “You’re in the last years of it being passable, of being acceptable. Before your bones grind and the sinews snap into shapes thick and unbecoming of your gentle nature. I see what you are, in that deep deep down, because I am an artist who shapes and molds my subjects out from their souls.”

“You’re a monster,” Jon whispers, his voice giving up halfway through.

Pyg’s eyes shine with something dangerous through the outsides of his mask. He reaches forward and cups Jon’s cheek with his itchy gloved hand. Jon doesn’t even know when he got so close; when he started towering so tall over Jon.

“You’ll be one of my finest Dollotrons,” Pyg promises, rubbing his thumb just under Jon’s eye. “But your clay’s too strong, have to soften you up, get you nice and fleshy, then I’ll shave and I’ll cut and I’ll shape you right up.”

It doesn’t come off as a promise, so much as it does a threat, one that terrifies and unsettles Jon deep down within himself.

Jon’s mind draws a blank, his eyes wide and unfocused and he attempts, desperately, to come up with some intelligent response. But he can’t, not while a fear racks his every nerve and turns his muscles to stone.

It takes Jon completely and utterly by surprise when a familiar whoosh in the air flies overhead before glass crashes and electricity sparks. He catches a glance at the familiar shape of a Batarang lodged into the spotlight directly overhead.

He’s instantly overcome with relief.

Pyg releases his cheek and steps back wildly, looking around. “No! Not now! My art is not ready!” he cries out before letting loose some piglike squeals and sobs.

Looking toward Damian, Jon expects to see his friend released but is surprised to see Damian still trapped. He squints, uncertain of what’s happening when a second then third Batarang plunge into the remaining red sun spotlights.

“Batman?” Jon wonders out loud.

“Ugh,” Damian lets out in frustration before struggling with even more force against his bindings. “Overdramatic, sanctimonious, can’t believe—“

Dollotrons are racing onto the tent floor while Professor Pyg whines and bemoans his ultimate fate, but as the lights extinguish one by one, the shadows take on a new form.

She moves like a dancer, each step and hit against the army of zombified victims perfectly paced and timed. She is all in black, save for her golden accents and bat, and she spares not a single motion. A kick becomes a launch for a leap becomes a smack becomes a twirl becomes a fist to the face of the blubbering Professor. And each and every movement grows in its momentum.

Jon has never seen anything like this outside of super speed, and he certainly hasn’t seen it using the shapes and silhouettes of the shadows like a comforting show curtain. He has so many questions and so many concerns that he forgets himself and getting free. Even if he could, with his body still unresponsively slow and dulled from the radiation.

Damian, at the least, is in motion, finally getting one of his hands free and using the points of his gauntlet to slice through the leather of the other bindings. He is muttering to himself, annoyed and embarrassed based on the flush in his cheeks. It’s not a rare sight but it is unusual for Jon to see Damian this way around one of his multitudes of siblings.

The shadowy bat launches into a final attack, knocking out the last of the Dollotrons before pouncing on the escaping Professor Pyg like a hungry lioness.

With her full weight on Pyg, the Bat narrows her eyes and for the first time can really be seen by Jon as she reaches over and yanks Pyg’s disgusting mask off of his face. Her lips curl in displeasure, but it doesn’t take away from her fair features or the delicate, smooth control she has over her body.

“Wow,” Jon hears himself say as Damian reaches his side and begins pulling out a small blowtorch for the chains. “Is that your sister?”

“SHH!” Damian hisses.

Jon strains to listen to whatever is being said between the Bat and Pyg, but it gets him nowhere, only words at a time coming in clearly as his powers remain in flux. Regardless, Pyg is squirming and blubbering too much for it to matter anyway.

“Took her damn time,” Damian snarls, letting Jon lean on him as he glares toward his sister.

“She saved our lives,” Jon reminds him.

Damian’s nose curls. “Tt, debatable.”

Cassandra apparently finishes whatever minor conversation she was having with Pyg and flips him over, handcuffing him swiftly. She’s powerful and strong without losing her leanness or size, it mesmerizes Jon in a way. By the time she looks up at them, her expression has completely changed.

“You okay?” she asks them both.

“No thanks to you,” Damian says at the same time Jon gets out, “All thanks to you!”

Something approximating a smile crosses her face before she gets to her feet and reaches up to her ear. “Oracle. Done.”

Looking at Cassandra, Jon feels like he’s found yet another new hero. “Whoa, your sister’s awesome. And cool. And so in control,” Jon tells Damian, his strength returning. “You’ve got so many siblings, can I have your sister?”

“Father would be displeased, otherwise I’d say yes,” Damian huffs in that way that Jon cannot tell, for the life of him, if it’s sarcasm or not.

***

Damian watches as his friend flies off.

It took the better part of an hour as well as a stop at Big Belly Burger for Jon to feel up to the task, but the half-Kryptonian flies home after departing from them and Damian watches him go.

Cassandra, as it turns out, is also there. She leans back against her motorcycle — a sleek but redundant design, like any of the numerous other bat-themed motorcycles or vehicles any of their extended family has access to — and watches Damian more than Jon.

They haven’t had much time with just the two of them. Their paths rarely intersect. And Damian is pretty sure he prefers it that way.

His cheeks are still on fire from the embarrassment of being rescued by her.

“I would have gotten out,” he informs her, crossing his arms. “Pyg was distracted and far away from me. I was working on my restraints.”

She tilts her head at him, a frown tight on her face. “Distracted you, too,” she points out.

And Damian knows she’s right about that, he was distracted. Just the look on his friend’s face, the growing horror and dread. Jon isn’t used to the types of villains that Gotham can throw at people, the psychological toll it takes. Damian is, or at least he likes to think he is, but Jon still can be scared and surprised.

But what looks crossed Jon’s face at that moment were unexpected even to Damian. He had never seen anything like it. Jon had been soaking up every word and phrase like it had been ripped straight from his dreams.

It was enough that it frightened Damian for his friend, and he didn’t even know why.

Over the course of an hour and a Big Belly Burger, Jon had refrained from mentioning a single thing about it.

That, too, was very unlike Jon.

Such things could be dwelled on at another time, though. Damian had the pressing matter at hand of his own reckoning. And his so-called sister.

Without looking up to meet Cassandra’s gaze, Damian kicked at the ground. “What are you going to tell father about tonight?” he asks.

“Truth,” Cass answers unhelpfully.

Gritting his teeth, Damian looks back at her, eyes narrowed and angry. “That’s not fair, you know,” he growls at her. “You never come around, never work with any of the rest of us, and then you pop in and judge us from on high. No wonder father speaks highly of you. You’re just like him.”

Her brows come together in a way that wrinkles her forehead. It’s hard to read her expression, even with her modified mask and hood. “I’m not,” she says. Her words sound final, but she apparently thinks better of them and shifts her weight from one foot to the other. “Judging you. I’m not.”

Damian looks her over. She hasn’t moved from her bike but her arms have dropped to her side. She is looking at him rather intently and it makes him want to squirm in his combat boots.

“Tt, sure you’re not,” he finally snaps back. “You’ll still tell father that I was captured by Professor Pyg.”

“Yes,” she said too casually.

“And that I let Superboy get captured, too,” Damian glowered more at that one, his eyes rest on the asphalt beneath his feet. He kicked again.

Cassandra paused slightly longer with that one.

When her hand snaked its way onto his shoulder, Damian flinched bodily. He slapped her hand away and twisted around to get away on instinct. He hated that — no one should be able to sneak up on him. He was trained by League of Assassins, he had been prepared since before he could speak to be on guard.

But Cassandra had, too.

She looked at him passively. “Not your fault, happens,” she said, in reference to Pyg.

“That’s not what father will think,” Damian snaps.

“I’ll tell him,” she promises.

Damian stares at her for a moment, sizing her up and considering all the ways he could make her more respectful to him. But it fizzles out quickly. He knows, as much as he resists the thought, that he isn’t upset with her.

He’s upset with himself.

“In the League, they trained us that there is a cost to every relationship formed,” Damian informs Cassandra like she doesn’t intuitively know from her own history. “Partnerships, even necessary ones, would cost you heavily. They could be deadly. And more relationships than strictly necessary should be avoided. All this family and friendship that is just around me all the time now. I don’t want to pay the cost for them.” He looks to the skies where Jon once flew. “I don’t want my friend to pay for them either. It’s not worth it.”

Cassandra stays quiet, but she places her hand on Damian’s shoulder again. He doesn’t attempt to knock it off this time.

“Sometimes it is,” she tells him.

But Damian isn’t so sure. Especially not hearing it from her. Cassandra does not work with others to the same degree as the rest of their family. She doesn’t go to school. She doesn’t join teams outside of father’s pet projects. She doesn’t operate in a daily partnership like Damian has with Grayson or father.

She seems to be living by those lonesome standards that the League taught Damian. And all anyone can do is praise her.

What sort of lesson is Damian supposed to learn from that?

***

Jekuul feels oppressively hot outside of the crystal palace.

Lor has watched his parents stand, looming in the skies, over the land’s natives as they constructed the palace for them. He watched as their eyes glowed threateningly each time the native population faltered, and he remembered how easily their bones cracked and snapped when corrected by the general and his lieutenant. It was equal parts thrilling and terrifying to witness.

Inside the palace, things are smooth and temperature regulated. The pantries are stocked with foods far greater than anything Lor had tasted within the Phantom Zone, but still foreign and sometimes unexpected.

If he questions what was on his plate, he is quickly reprimanded.

So he doesn’t ask.

It should be easy, if not simple, to follow the rules at this point. Stay in the palace, eat when told without questions, listen to his lessons from the Sunstones without fault.

He is the Last Son of Krypton, and he is supposed to inherit everything the universe owed them for their lost greatest civilization. All he has to do is stay in place, not ask questions, don’t be, don’t move.

But he was not born on Krypton, nor was he born on Jekuul — New Krypton, by his father’s declaration — he was born in the perilous depths of the Phantom Zone. A prison.

Inside of the Phantom Zone, there was no movement, there were no questions, there was not being or doing or screaming or aging — that had been the only thing he’d ever existed and it was torturous.

Outside of the Phantom Zone, he thought, things are supposed to be different. He is supposed to move and change and grow, he thinks.

So even though there is every reason not to leave the palace, Lor-Zod leaves in the oppressive heat and feels the sun against his Kryptonian skin as he flies under the two yellow suns.

As he moves across the lands, the violet skinned natives of Jekuul fall to their knees and avert their eyes. They whisper and whimper in a tongue completely foreign to Lor-Zod and it feels, well. It feels good.

Lor-Zod knows that they react this way to his parents, but to have even adults of the alien race fall in reverence to him, he feels more powerful. He feels like the Last Son of Krypton that his father insists he is.

He wonders, vaguely, if it is something his father would like to see.

Deep down, Lor hopes so. Because it is easy for Lor to imagine what his father would think or say when he doesn’t like something Lor has done. He has no concept of what would happen when he makes his father pleased.

He is nearly at the end of the primitive village when Lor’s eyes fall on an unusual sight.

One of the Jekuul natives, a young female no older than Lor and having not yet earned her yellow stripes, stands and stares up at Lor. She doesn’t drop to her knees or avert her eyes.

For a few seconds, Lor continues flying, arching his head back to watch for the girl to finally do as she is supposed to but she never does.

Aggravated and surprised, Lor turns in his flight path and descends, landing promptly in front of the girl.

“Why aren’t you kneeling?” he asks before his feet are even secure.

She stares at him, head tilting. Her black eyes are large and reflective, Lor can see himself in them.

He huffs at her, crossing his arms like he has seen his father do so many times before. “Don’t you speak Kryptonian?” he sneers.

After a quiet moment, she scratches at her head and looks around. That seems to answer Lor’s question for him.

“You’re supposed to kneel,” he groans. “Look, like this,” he says, bowing down to one knee and lowering his head. He’s seen so many others do it before.

Then he hears laughter.

Lor looks up and sees the girl covering her mouth as she giggles before she gets down on both her knees and dips her body down in a silly, teetering display. A mockery. Then she gets back to her feet.

“No!” Lor snaps, getting back to his own feet and grabbing her shoulders.

At first, she stiffens, surprised, and looks at him wildly. Her hands grip onto his wrists and she seems afraid.

“Like this,” Lor repeats, then pushes down on her. He dips with her, down to the ground on their knees. But when they both lower their heads, they immediately smack foreheads.

It feels like nothing to Lor, but for the girl, she jolts back and begins rubbing at her skull.

Instinctively, just like he follows his parents’ motions, Lor reaches up and rubs at his own head. They stare at each other as they both sit there on their knees, rubbing their heads.

Then, despite himself, Lor giggles.

The girl giggles.

They both giggle.

Once the giggles subside, they are both sitting on their knees in the dirt and staring at each other expectantly. They don’t speak the same language. They aren’t remotely the same and, yet, Lor has never felt more of a need to communicate with someone in his life.

He points at his chest, at the house emblem emblazoned on his armor. “Zod,” he tells her. “Zod,” he repeats.

For a moment, the girl is quiet, absorbing his words, then she points at her chest and the purple skin. “Jekuul,” she says.

“No, not what you are,” he mutters, catching on quickly. “I’m not…” He is a Zod, though. Maybe more than he is a Kryptonian, if only in his own mind. He sucks in a breath and tries again. He points at his face. “Lor,” he tells her.

Understanding fills her expression and she points at her own face. “Ti’ahl.”

And, maybe for the first time, Lor feels a wide smile cross his face.

From that moment on, their afternoon is filled with delight.

Ti’ahl points at every structure, every creature, every plant with words and phrases that will not stop saying until Lor repeats. Repeatedly, Lor picks Ti’ahl up easily, flies her from location to location, lifts up every boulder and animal they come across as she claps in delight.

It’s thrilling — and Lor laughs more than he has ever laughed before in his life.

By the time the second sun begins to set, a chill quickly crosses the lands, and Lor can see Ti’ahl gain a shiver. It makes Lor feel bad to see Ti’ahl uncomfortable in any way.

“Hold on,” he calls to her at one point, slowing her run through the grass. He reaches up and carefully unclips his cape from his armor. Grinning, he floats toward Ti’ahl and drapes her with the heavy fabric.

After Lor ties the cape closed over her neck, Ti’ahl looks down and touches the knot. A funny look crosses her face and she looks at Lor.

Ti’ahl leaps onto a nearby rock, standing tall and crossing her arms. “ZOD!” she declares herself.

Realizing what is happening, Lor giggles and drops obediently to his knees. “I kneel!” he laughs.

At first, Ti’ahl joins his laughter, but then she becomes strangely quiet.

Confused, Lor looks up at her. “Ti’ahl?” he asks before realizing that a shadow has crossed over them both.

Heart sinking, Lor twists around and sees his father, arms crossed, standing over them both. He looks displeased.

“Father,” Lor gets out, voice thin.

“Is this how I find the Last Son of Krypton? Kneeling before his lessers?” the general snarls. He drops his hands to his sides as Lor begins to stand up and easily kicks Lor back down. “If you lower yourself in the dirt for a mongrel child, you will stay there for your leader, do you understand?”

Breath catching in his throat, Lor nods. “Y-yes, Sir.”

“To the palace. Immediately,” General Zod orders, his gaze carrying over to Ti’ahl. “There will be a price to pay for this, Lor-Zod. Let us see if you are grown enough to pay it.”

Lor cannot bring himself to look at Ti’ahl as he leaps to his feet and takes off in the air. His blood is rushing to his ears, tears building up in his eyes even before he reaches his top speeds of flight.

It isn’t until he was home that he realized he had left his cape.

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

A Miracle In The Family - brood au

Characters: Clark Kent, Jason Todd, Lois Lane, Diana Prince, Dick Grayson, various others Pairing: implied/past superbat Summary: Jason ran off after his birth mother, and was now in the hands of the Joker. Clark just hoped against hope he’d get to his boy in time. A/N: Obviously this AU’s take on Jason’s (not) death. He’s 14/15 here (and Dick is around 18, here’s the breakdown of years apart the kids are if you forgot like I did). I don’t remember all of the canon Jason dying storyline, so forgive how it’s probably all wrong regarding Jason’s ma. I tried to follow the kind of outline of this I made in the last chapter of ‘Whole’ but suck at everything so didn’t really. Sorry ending is bad and vague. Jason attempts to be Robin a little after this but I don’t think he sticks to it much/for long, and this is probably a bit of a lead-in into how Conner and Tim get into heroing. 

Other Brood AU things.

~~

Clark could kick himself. Wanted to, honestly. Wanted to straight up die, was the real truth.

Because he didn’t notice. Somehow, he didn’t fucking notice.

Didn’t notice the extra research Jason was doing. Didn’t think about how Jason was talking about his birth mother an awful lot all of the sudden.

Didn’t notice the Robin suit was missing until now. Didn’t notice that Jason wasn’t home in his room, that none of his siblings had any idea he was gone or where he was going. Until it might just be too fucking late.

“Just…” He breathed into the phone. “I…I don’t know. Get to the house. Stay at the house.” A tremor, in his own voice. “Don’t let Cass or any of the boys leave your sight, okay?”

“Okay.” Dick practically whispered. Clark could hear the car roaring down the road in the background. “I won’t, Dad. I’ll keep them safe. Just keep me in the loop, alright?”

“I’ll try.” He paused, as he began to follow a river, knew the river was the trail to Gotham. “But even if I don’t, no hero stuff, okay? No waltzing in to save the day. You get to Smallville and you stay in Smallville, got it?”

Dick hesitated, and Clark could almost hear him biting his lip.

“Okay?” Clark repeated. “Promise me, Dick.”

“Yeah, but Jason-”

“Promise me.” Clark nearly begged.

Dick sighed. “Call if you need help. Me, Diana, anyone. Jay’s already run off on his own – apparently. Last thing we need is you doing it, too.”

“I will.” Clark swore himself. “I’ve already given Lois a call too, and she’ll be there when she can be. Though the Daily will probably want to cover this as breaking news so…I’m not sure how soon that’ll be.”

“No problem.” Dick mumbled. “I’m almost there.”

“Good. I’m sorry I took you from work.” Another pause, and Clark could feel Dick’s own fear, even through the phone. He wondered if Dick could feel his too. “…I’ll bring him home, Dick. I swear on my life.”

“Okay.” Dick murmured childishly. “I’m about to the farm, and I think I can see Conner and Cassie outside, so I’m gonna go.”

“Okay.” Clark nodded to himself. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Dad.” Dick returned, a little too seriously for Clark’s liking. Though, right now, nothing was going to Clark’s liking.

Dick hung up without another word, and Clark absently shoved the phone back in his belt, returning all focus to the city appearing over the horizon ahead, and the boy within its walls that he would do anything not to lose.

“Hang on for me, Jay.” He prayed, pushing with all his strength to fly as fast as he could. Mostly to himself, to whatever god that was listening. But also into the communicator in his ear, that connected only to Robin. He couldn’t tell if Jason’s was on, if he had it, or if it had been destroyed. But he could have sworn he heard a ragged breath or two. “Please just hang on.”

The city was already abuzz with what little information anyone had. Televisions and electronic billboards were all broadcasting the grainy video and blurry stills that the Joker had released. Repeating the god-awful news.

The Joker had Robin. The Joker had already beaten Robin into the ground. Would continue to do so until he was bored, or until the little bird died, he’d declared with that hideous laugh. And no one would stop him, even if they wanted to. Because no one could.

People looked up at him as he flew overhead, but for once, he had to ignore them. Had to keep his focus, no playing up to the crowds today. Not when his boy needed him.

Not when his son might die.

He could see them talking, though. Whispering. They all put two and two together, knew Superman was here to try and save Robin.

He could see them all pitying him, too. Because none of them believed he would make it.

Poor Superman, they sighed to each other. Just wasting his breath. Try as he might, no one gets saved in Gotham. That’s just the facts.

He didn’t blame them for thinking so. Gotham was cruel. Heartbreakingly cruel. They were just realists.

But he couldn’t let that stop him. Never had before, and absolutely refused for this to be the first time.

So he took a deep breath. Deep and shuddering. He wanted to cry, but knew he couldn’t. Not until he found his boy.

He exhaled, and kept that focus, waded through the heartbeats he could hear, looking for that one. That one of seven he knew better than anyone else on this ridiculous human planet.

It took him too long. Longer than it ever had before. But eventually he found it. Slow and weak, but around the west side harbor. Sweet, stubborn Jason.

He blinked and he was there, the heartbeat growing louder in his ear every second. But not faster. Oh, no. The louder it got, the slower it seemed to become, and dread filled Clark’s soul.

And suddenly, there was a beep nearby. Somewhere in the warehouse complex.

Beep. Second. Beep. Second. Beep. Second.

Laughter. Terrible, screeching laughter. Not from the same place, but somewhere close.

And below it all: tears. Quiet, pained sobs. A quiet gasp of “Mom…”

Beep. Second. Beep. Second. Beep. Second.

He could hear it in his ear too. Tinny and soft through that communicator he hadn’t been sure was still on.

Clark’s whole world stopped.

A bomb. There was a bomb.

The warehouse doors didn’t stand a chance. He burst through them like they weren’t even there, not caring where the shrapnel landed. A woman shrieked, and for once in his life, Clark couldn’t care less.

Because…there!

There, across the room. Jason was sprawled on the ground in a pool of blood. He was barely conscious, but was trying to stand, trying to get onto his hands and knees, looking at a point across the room. But his obviously mangled hand kept slipping in the blood, and bouncing off the crowbar that had been dropped next to him.

The bomb was between him and Clark, and it read two seconds.

Clark didn’t think. Didn’t even breathe. Took off across the giant room as fast as he could, afraid that it still might not be fast enough. And even as he moved, he saw Jason’s mouth move. Bloody and bruised, he watched Jason as he continued to stare across the floor, and once again said, “Mom…!”

Oh yes, the woman. Jason’s mother. His real mother, the one who abandoned him too many years before.

The clock struck one second, and he still didn’t care about her. Only cared about the boy he still felt too far away from.

But he was Superman. He was supposed to save everyone. Even the bad guys.

And how would Jason react, if he left his mother behind?

But there was no time to think about it, so he ran on autopilot. He grabbed Robin, curled him up into his arm, and then he turned, jumped and grabbed the woman. She was tied to a post, and Clark didn’t bother attempting to be gentle as he ripped her out of the rope.

He was a foot away from the warehouse threshold when the bomb went off.

He threw the woman out of the building and to the side as the heat hit his back. Curled his whole body around Jason as they were knocked to the ground, covered him as the fires cried and raged around them.

“Mom.” Jason wheezed, even as he curled his bloody fingers into Clark’s uniform. “M-Mom…!”

Clark glanced up. Could see the woman hobbling to her feet a safe distance away, looking into the flames for them.

Or…or was she looking for a way to escape?

“She’s okay, Jay.” Clark whispered anyway, ducking his head back down, refusing to let even Jason’s hair be exposed to more pain and injury. “I got her out, too.”

“C-Clark.” Jason coughed, and even in the shadow, Clark could see tears cascading down Jason’s battered face. “D-D-Dad…”

“I’ve got you, baby.” Clark murmured himself, holding Jason as close as he could. And even as he said it, even as he kissed Jason’s temple, relief washed through his body.

Because he did. He got to him.

Just in the goddamn nick of time.

The initial explosion finally settled, and Clark felt that it was safe enough to move. Carefully, he stretched Jason across his arms, tried not to cringe at the pitiful wails of pain Jason gasped with every movement.

When Jason was finally settled against his chest, Clark stood and looked around.

Jason’s mother was gone, and not a single trace of her was left.

“Sorry.” Jason sobbed weakly. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Clark suddenly wondered who the apology was for. Himself, or the mother who had apparently just abandoned him again.

He remained on scene just long enough for Commissioner Jim Gordon and his police department to arrive. Not on purpose, but it took him that long to get a safe enough distance away from the wreckage, and to think of a plan. Head to the nearest hospital? The Fortress?

But after speaking briefly with Gordon, and informing him that he was taking Robin, he decided neither of them were good enough, and headed towards the closest transporter to the Watchtower.

Jason came in and out of consciousness the whole journey, but the blood never seemed to stop flowing. He was whiter than a sheet by the time he got him to the ICU, and Clark was terrified that he’d lose him before they could get a transfusion started.

So he didn’t let go of his hand. So small and cold, Clark clung to it as his fellow Leaguers rushed around him, setting up tubes and machines and needles. Jason whimpered and whined, but he couldn’t do much else. He didn’t have the energy or the strength.

And even as his friends got him situated, and on the path to stability, Clark couldn’t help but fear the worst. What if they lost him? What would any of them do if they lost him?

What would his kids do? God, what would he do?

He didn’t think he could take it. Jeez, look at how he dealt with losing Bruce, and that was just a disappearance, an assumed death. Here, he’d watch, first hand, Jason wither away.

It’d destroy him. Him and Lois and his entire family.

He stayed, even after his friends did everything they could. Even after they got the transfusions going, the monitors beeping and the injuries wrapped or otherwise taken care of. Sat there, holding his boy’s hand, wallowing in the possibilities of the next twenty-four hours.

So he didn’t hear the rap on the door, or the throat clearing. Didn’t react until he felt a hand on his shoulder and jerked up to find Diana staring sadly down at him.

“I called home for you.” She whispered. “Talked to Lois and Dick. Told them what’s happening.”

“Thank…” Clark coughed, his throat unknowingly dry and scratchy. “Thank you, Diana.”

She nodded. “Dick is beside himself, and wants to come up here right away. Lois was able to convince him to stay home with his remaining siblings until morning.” Diana frowned. “The children are all beside themselves.”

“No doubt.” Clark sighed, risking releasing Jason’s hand to run it down his face. He blinked in confusion though, as he felt the early signs of stubble on his chin. “Wha…?”

“You need a break.” Diana suggested gently. “I will sit with him while you go rest.”

“No, I need to be here. I need to stay with him.” Clark shook his head. He glanced out the nearby window, though, and frowned. The stars were in a different place than he thought they should have been. “…How long have we been here?”

“It has been about ten hours since you brought him up here.”

“Feels like it’s been twenty minutes…”

“Because you are exhausted.” Diana tugged softly on his arm. “You need your rest.”

“But…”

“I will come get you the moment he wakes, should he at all.” Diana promised. “Jason will never be alone. I swear that to you, Clark. Not even for a second.”

And he wanted to shake his head. He needed to stay. He couldn’t leave his son, not after almost losing him. Not after not even realizing he’d gone.

But he knew if he didn’t, Diana would force him. Lock him into their makeshift prison, use Kryptonite on him.

And…maybe she was right.

“Just next door.” Clark mumbled, reluctantly standing. He stood for a second, before leaning down and kissing Jason’s forehead. The boy didn’t move. He breathed via machine for now, and it didn’t take an inhale for him for another second. “And if anything…”

“I will get you.” Diana nodded, all but pushing him from the room. “Rest well, my friend, and know that we will do everything we can for him.”

Clark nodded wearily, shuffling to the next door. When he got into the room he stood there, staring down at the white, clean sheets. He hadn’t taken off his bloody uniform yet, and was too tired to do so now.

“…I’m sorry, Bruce.” He found himself whispering into the silence. The silence didn’t answer. He sighed, swallowed the lump in his throat, and laid down on the cot.

~~

He awoke to another hand on his shoulder, and opened his eyes to find Dick staring down at him.

“Hey, Dad.” Dick whispered. He didn’t look much better than Clark felt, skin gray and dark circles under his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept. And Clark had to be honest with himself – his eldest probably didn’t.

“Dick…”

“You doing okay?” Dick asked as Clark sat up, stumbled to his feet.

“Fine. Tired, but…fine enough.” Clark mumbled as gathered Dick into his arms. Held him for just a moment. Relished in the feeling of Dick hugging him just as tightly. “Have you seen…”

“Yeah.” Dick croaked into Clark’s chest. “Lois is in there with Tim and Conner right now. Barry and Arthur are distracting Damian and Jon for the time being. Diana is helping Cassie process it all.” Dick sighed, leaned his weight against him. “I just…needed a break.”

“I know the feeling.” Clark mumbled into his eldest’s hair. Absently rubbed at his back. “I’m just…god, I’m just glad I made it in time.”

“Me too.” Dick agreed, leaning back. Clark couldn’t help but hold Dick’s cheek. He just looked so tired. So much older than his years. “…He looks terrible, Clark.”

“I know, son.” Clark nodded, that lump in his throat from before he slept still there. “I’m glad you didn’t see what I did when I found him.”

Silence.

“…Has anyone said anything?” Clark asked, gently turning Dick towards the door and leading him out. He heard Jon’s laughter before he saw them. Found his mouth twitching into a small smile as he watched Barry run around (at a human speed) with Jon on his back. Damian was sitting on a sofa nearby with Arthur, critically examining his trident. “Found anything out?”

Dick kept his frown, glancing towards the door of Jason’s room.

“Typical Joker things.” Dick mumbled. “…The mom was in on it.”

Clark froze. “What.”

“Jason’s mom.” Dick repeated, sounding just as bitter as Clark felt. “She was working with that bastard. Knew what the Joker had planned, more or less, and lured Jason there anyway. J’onn said her being tied to a pole was probably the Joker betraying her. Can’t say I’m surprised.”

Clark turned away, looked in through the window of Jason’s door. He still wasn’t conscious. Lois was holding his hand. Tim was holding the other one. Conner was at the window, staring angrily out into space.

“…I regret saving her.” Clark whispered furiously. “I’ve…I’ve never regretted saving anyone, not even Lex. But.” His fist tightened. “I will regret saving her until the day I die.”

Dick didn’t say anything to that. He didn’t act proud. But he sure didn’t act disappointed either.

“…He must have known.” Clark murmured thoughtfully, glancing at Dick when he heard Damian call his name. Watched Dick give him a tight smile and short wave. “Jason, when I found him. He…he had to have known.” Quieter, sadder. “…And he was still trying to save her, when I got there.”

Suddenly, Clark realized what Jason’s initial apologies were for.

Dick bit his lip. Closed his eyes and looked away. “…What are we going to do, Dad?”

“No, no. There is no ‘we’, Dick.” Clark pushed, turning towards Dick completely. “Nothing here is your responsibility.”

“He’s my brother.” Dick pushed back. “We share a room. I should have noticed something was up. I should have stopped him before any of this happened.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” Clark shook his head. “Eight people live in that house total, and not a single one noticed. I didn’t notice. If this is anyone’s fault, Dick, it’s mine. Not yours. Never yours.”

Dick sniffed, wiped at his eyes.

“Besides, you did what you were supposed to, honey.” Clark put a hand on his shoulder. “You came when I called, and you took care of the rest of the kids.”

Dick turned back to look into Jason’s hospital room himself. He didn’t gasp, or break down, the tears just silently started pouring down his face. Clark did the only thing he could. Just pulled Dick back into his arms, and held him as tight as he could as he sobbed into his neck.

“What if he doesn’t make it?” Dick wailed. “God, Clark. Dad, what if we lose him?”

“Don’t think like that, sweetheart.” Clark whispered, holding the back of his head. “Please, don’t. Just have faith in your brother, okay? Jason’s a tough kid. If anyone can make it through this, it’s our Jay.”

Dick gave a little hiccup, and tried to nod. Clark just held him. He glanced over once, saw both Diana and Arthur watching them sadly.

But with Arthur distracted, Damian made his escape. Hopped from the couch they were on and came running at them. Didn’t say anything when he reached them, just latched on to Dick’s waist.

After a moment, Clark released his eldest, turning to his second youngest. “Hey, baby. Can you do me a favor?”

Damian didn’t let go of Dick, but glanced up curiously.

“Take Dickie over to Uncle Arthur, okay?” He asked. “And how about you tell him what Uncle Arthur taught you about Atlantis and the trident.”

Damian nodded, and shifted only to take Dick’s hand and drag him away. They didn’t make it to Arthur, before Cassandra appeared too, giving Dick just as big a hug as Damian and Clark had.

Clark smiled, just a little. His kids were so smart.

He waited long enough to watch Diana lead them all back to Arthur, and all of them pile onto the sofa, before turning and entering Jason’s room.

Lois looked up at the sound of the door. Tim glanced at him for just a second. Conner didn’t move from the window.

Silently, he walked around the bed, pecking Conner’s temple before wrapping a loose arm around Tim’s shoulders, rubbing at his arm.

Jason was unchanged. Still pale, covered in wires, but worst of all, unconscious.

“How soon until he can come home?” Tim asked quietly. It was naïve, but so innocent it broke Clark’s heart.

“I don’t know, Tim.” Clark whispered. “I just don’t know.”

“Boys, can you go make sure Jon and Damian aren’t driving the League out of their minds?” Lois asked politely, standing from her chair. Tim nodded almost gratefully, like he was looking for a reason to escape the room. Clark didn’t blame him. Jason was a soul-crushing sight.

He shrugged off Clark’s hand, then turned and tugged Conner’s elbow until the other moved. They disappeared silently.

Lois waited until the door was closed before looking back at Clark. She studied him for a moment, then tilted her head.

“How you doing, Smallville?”

“I feel like he looks, if that makes sense.” Clark murmured. “I just…I want to fix it. I want to fix everything. I’m Superman, I’m supposed to. But…I don’t know how.”

“Clark, you’re not a doctor. You know you can’t.” Lois offered. “The best you can do is be there for him, like you always have been. Be there for him and the other kids.”

“How am I supposed to be there for all of them if I’m barely dealing with it myself?” Clark whispered sadly, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t realize how greasy it was until now. “God, Dick just broke down in my arms because he thinks Jason’s gonna die. I can already tell Conner’s going to bottle this all up until he explodes. Tim looks like he’s aged one hundred years since yesterday, and I don’t even want to know how this will affect Cass and the babies.”

“I’ll help you where I can.” Lois smiled. “And while you’re there for the kids, I’ll be there for you. So will the whole Justice League and your parents and your friends at the Daily.”

“I appreciate that, Lois. Thank you.” Clark sighed, hooked his fingers around Jason’s. They were still so cold. “…God, Bruce would hate me for this.”

Lois’s comforting demeanor dropped immediately. “Clark…”

“And I wouldn’t blame him.” Clark woed. “Christ, he left his kids with me because he thought I could protect them, and here I almost got one killed.”

“At least you were there. At least you got to him in time.” Lois countered. “And like you said, he left them. He’s not the one here at his son’s bedside. You are.”

“He’s dead, Lois.” Clark reminded. “He’d absolutely be here if he wasn’t. Hell, Jason wouldn’t have ever gotten the opportunity to run off if Bruce was still able to raise him.”

“My point is, don’t do this to yourself, Clark. The what-ifs and thinking about Bruce isn’t going to help.” Lois tried. “You don’t need it, and neither does Jason.”

Clark sighed, and glanced out the door. Zatanna was there now, distracting Conner, Cass and Damian with magic tricks. Diana’s protégé Donna had appeared now too, and was sitting where Arthur had been, Dick leaned exhaustedly against her neck as she hugged him, smiling at Jon on his lap. Tim sat next to Dick, half leaning against his brother while teasing to tickle Jon at the same time.

Then he looked back down at Jason. Comatose and half-dead. A shell of himself.

“What do we do now, Lo?” Clark whispered.

Lois sat back down, retook Jason’s fingers for her own. “Now we wait.”

~~

Clark sighed as he sat down, inhaling the steam from his fresh mug of coffee. Smiled softly at Dick in the chair next to him, long asleep from before he even arrived. But the love for his brother was still palpable in the air, even if you didn’t notice the almost-actually-beard stubble on his face.

He’d been against the idea at first. Dick, trying to start out on his own as a young adult, taking a leave of absence from his job to stay at the Watchtower with Jason 24/7. That wasn’t Dick’s job, that was Clark’s.

But now he appreciated it. Appreciated the little shop in Smallville who employed his eldest for now. When he gave them the vague story, they’d immediately said to take as much time as he needed. Even mailed treats to the house, and started a tip-jar fundraiser for Jason’s (non-existent) medical expenses.

People were still good, despite where he was right now, and that was always a nice thought to remember.

He blew on the steam from his coffee and looked at Jason as he sat down. It’d been about two weeks now, since he’d found his boy in the nick of time and brought him to the Watchtower to heal. Two weeks since he’d fallen into a coma. Two weeks of waiting.

It all hurt a little less now. Mostly because nothing had changed. Sure, in the days after, Clark found the Joker and threw him in prison. But much like always with Bruce too, the bastard escaped and went underground. And Clark had bigger things to worry about right now than uselessly chasing him around a city that wasn’t his.

But after that, it was this. It was Dick sitting up here alone most of the time, give or take what ever League members were on the Watchtower, then Clark joining him whenever he could leave the office, or write his articles remotely. With Lois offering to stay with the others in Smallville, he slept here, with Dick at Jason’s side, then returned to the office the next morning.

The children came to visit often, even when they weren’t supposed to, but Dick being up here so much was bad enough. He wasn’t going to let the younger ones waste away up here too, even though they all desperately wished to.

Otherwise, this was it. A fresh cup of something hot, a book or documentary to watch, machines beeping, and this boring, ugly, gray room.

Every. Single. Day.

So today wouldn’t be any different. Today, he shouldn’t expect anything to be any different.

Except, apparently, it was.

He was sitting there reading, had already tuned out all sounds. Tuned his powers to listen only to the sounds of heartbeats. Of the slow, steadying breathing of Dick and Jason. Calming, for the most part.

So he missed the quiet groan. Missed the little word, almost, just assumed it was Dick talking in his sleep.

But he sure didn’t miss that second time.

“…Dad…?”

He was on his feet so fast, the chair he shoved backwards was embedded into the wall behind it, the mug sitting on the arm shattered amongst the wires lining the floor.

Jason’s eyes were barely open, and even struggling that as Clark gently put a hand on his face. It took him a good five seconds to find the strength to raise his eyes and meet Clark’s already tearful gaze.

“Whu happened…?” Jason slurred. “W’ere are we?”

“In the Watchtower.” Clark whispered, running his other hand over Jason’s greasy, shaggy hair. “Safe.”

Jason didn’t seem to actually understand anything he’d said. Just blinked slowly. A little too slowly, and Clark almost thought he was going back to sleep.

But then his gaze jerked back up, hazy and not completely there. “Joker?”

“He did this, yes.”

Jason’s eyes twitched around the room, even as he leaned into Clark’s hand still on his face. “…Mom?”

“Alive. I don’t know where.” Clark shook his head. Leaned his foot out and began softly, but urgently, tapping his foot against Dick’s shin. “She…ran off, when I got you both out.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Dick stirred, then. Grumbled a little, but sat up rubbing his eyes. It took him a second, about ten, to realize what was going on.

“Oh my god.” He was on his feet as fast as Clark had been, and practically pushed the elder out of the way to get to Jason himself, curling him protectively into his arms. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.”

Jason’s fingers twitched in an attempt to hug Dick back, but it was all still too new, and he was still too weak.

“Dick.” Clark murmured. “Careful.”

“Yeah.” And Dick was already crying. Already practically sobbing into Jason’s hair. “Yeah, I know.”

Clark gave them that moment. Let Dick smother for a minute or two more, then carefully pulled him back by his shoulder.

“You gonna make it?” Clark joked. Dick just laughed and wiped his eyes. “Go grab whoever’s on the station for me, please? Then call Lois if you could. Let her know what’s going on.”

Dick nodded, then gave Jason one last look, as if he’d be gone by the time Dick returned, then dashed out into the hall.

Clark watched after him for a moment, as he bound happily around the Watchtower, until he once again heard the tiny, weak voice.

“…Dad?”

Clark looked back, kept his own warm, relieved smile as he stepped back up to the side of the bed. Jason’s eyes were a little clearer now. A little sadder.

“Dad, I’m so sorry.”

Clark just nodded silently as he perched on the side of the bed and wrapped one arm carefully around Jason’s shoulders. Jason collapsed against his side just as J’onn appeared in the doorway and made a beeline for the medical equipment.

Clark didn’t respond to Jason. Just gently rubbed at his shoulder and gratefully kissed his head. Held him while J’onn began his examination.

~~

It was over another month before Jason was released to even go recuperate at the farm. And even when he was, he was sent home with a laundry list of medications, physical therapy routines, and a calendar of when Justice Leaguers would be visiting for follow-ups.

But when he was released, the whole family went up to gather him. Tim, Conner and Cassie carried all his clothes and personal items, with Damian carrying a loose thing or two. Dick handled the medications. Even Lois went, and she volunteered to take all the paperwork, and threatened hell on everyone if even a single word on any of these charts was wrong.

Jon clung to Jason’s side from the moment they arrived at the Watchtower, and refused to leave it. Would whine and cry if anyone tried to pull his hand from Jason’s, and even trigged his previously-unused heat vision. So, they left him there, and he acted as Jason’s personal escort from satellite to horse stable.

They used the transporter, with Lois going before Jason to catch him on the other side, and Clark coming after. And even when they landed, Jon gleefully continued his duty, and was the one gently leading Jason across the dirt, back towards their home.

At one point, about halfway, Jason stopped, already exhausted. Jon waited patiently, staring off into the distance, waving at some birds flying overhead. Clark silently came up on Jason’s free side.

They’d already talked about it. Of course they had. What Jason had done, what he was looking for, what Clark came upon with only seconds left. They’d talked about it, and re-talked about it. They’d shouted and cried and apologized a thousand times over, and then some.

But still.

“Your family’s right here.” Clark reminded, putting a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “I know it’s a different story when it comes to biological parents and all that, but…don’t think you have to go looking for someone to love you. Not when you have all these people here who already do.”

Jason nodded, leaning into Clark’s side. “I know.” He smiled, then gave a little laugh. “Well, I know that now, anyway.”

A moment to just stare at their house, like they were a couple of old men.

“I love you, Dad.” Jason whispered. “Thanks for not giving up on me.”

Jason stepped forward again, and Jon jumped right to his side, already asking him if he was alright, that he could take another break if he wanted, that he’d bring him a burger from downtown if he wanted it, or his favorite cow from the pasture, who missed him a lot.

Clark smiled, watching the two go into the house. Then let out a long exhale and looked into the sky. Thought of Bruce, for just a moment. Thought longer about how truly lucky he was right now, in this moment.

“Never, Jay.” He promised. “Absolutely never.”

[chibinightowl]

Bakery AU, Part IX

One more chapter to go...

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII

~*~

“Tell me what?”

Tim’s heart starts to race, a last ditch effort by his body to give him the brainpower needed to get the words out of his mouth. He takes hold of Jason’s hand and removes it from his chin, but he doesn’t let it go. “I know you’re Redwing.”

To his credit, Jason doesn’t even flinch. “Right,” he drawls. “Tim, I think you’re a little sleep deprived.”

“Oh, I am,” Tim agrees. He forges on. “But I know I’m right.”

“Really? How so?”

“Because I figured out that Dick Grayson was Robin when I was nine years old.”

Jason’s grip on his hand tightens, the only sign his words are affecting him at all. “Okay, suppose I buy this tale. How did you figure it out?”

Tim launches into a story that has never once passed his lips. About how as a young boy he went to the circus with his parents and met an acrobat who promised to do a quadruple somersault just for him. He spoke of how that night ended in tragedy, with the acrobat’s parents falling to their deaths when their ropes snapped. “I kept tabs on Dick after I heard Mr. Wayne took him in. Sometimes I saw him at society events it was okay for kids to attend. When I was nine, I caught a clip on one of those paparazzi TV shows of Robin. They were running a brief segment on local urban myths. The video was absolute crap even if they did try to clean it up, but it wasn’t the person I recognized. It was what he did that struck me the most.”

“What did he do?” Jason prods when Tim pauses to gather his thoughts.

“He did a quadruple somersault. There’s only person in the world who can do it. Dick Grayson. After I figured that out, the rest was easy.” Tim bites his lip, stopping the flow of words.

There. He’d done it. No going back now.

Jason places his hands on Tim’s shoulders, holding him firmly in place as he stares intently at him. “Are you telling me a nine year old boy figured out one of the most closely guarded secrets on the planet?”

Tim nods. “If you’re referring to Batman, yes. He goes to great pains to hide it. Superman on the other hand…a pair of glasses? Really?”

A heavy hand covers his mouth faster than Tim can blink. “I think that’s enough tonight. You’re tired and obviously getting to the point where you’re not thinkin’ straight.”

What? Tim stiffens and jerks himself away from Jason. “You think I’m making this all up? I’m exhausted, but I’m not stupid. Jason, I have never, ever, spoken about this to anyone before. If you don’t believe me, fine. I was trying to be honest with you, because if you want whatever this is between us to work, then you need to be honest with me.”

“I don’t think this is the time or place to be having this conversation. You don’t have a door right now, remember?”

Tim’s mouth snaps shut. Son of a bitch. Had he been speaking too loudly? He doesn’t think so, but Jason is right. All that’s keeping the rest of the world out of his little shop is a piece of plastic. “Sorry. Sorry, you’re right. I’m just…”

“You’re tired, Tim.” Jason hauls him back in and plants a tender kiss on his forehead. “Go take a nap. I’ll finish cleaning this up.”

There isn’t anything Tim can do but nod. He’s blown it. He knows he has. Goddammit, why did he say it? Had he really misread things so badly? What’s going to happen now? Jason would be fully within his rights to never see him again after this little bomb. Fuck.

Tim lets Jason direct him into the kitchen and, under his watchful eye, gets his blanket and pillow out of the storage bin. Jason doesn’t comment about it, which says a lot about where this is all heading. He makes a little pallet under his desk and lays down. Through bleary eyes Tim watches Jason turn off the light and close the door, leaving it open just a crack. This is the last time he’s going to see Jason, he knows it. It hurts so bad that he doesn’t want the same thing as him.

So much for that gamble.

As Tim falls into a fitful sleep, he swears that he hears the low tone of Jason’s voice speaking to someone. “B? You won’t believe what I just heard…”

~*~*~

The next day Tim decides is quite possibly one of the worst he’s had in a while. Jason is gone when he wakes up to the alarm the man apparently set for him. No note, no nothing, not that Tim expects anything after the mess he made of things last night.

Stephanie tries to get the story out of him when she arrives an hour later with breakfast and coffee, but he refuses to say a word other than that he and Jason had a disagreement. This isn’t something Steph can help with. It’s all his fault.

“Do I need to call him and tell him to stop being an ass?” the blonde asks pointedly.

Tim loves that her loyalty is unwaveringly with him even if she doesn’t know all the details. “No, I’m pretty sure this is all on me.”

“Oh, Tim.” Steph wraps her arms around him and holds him tight. “Are you guys done then?”

He sighs into her freshly washed hair. God, he has to stink to high heaven at this point. “I don’t know.”

Steph squeezes him, then draws back, hands still on his arms as she gives him a serious look. “You know what’s going to make you feel better?”

���The ability to rewind the last twelve or so hours?”

“A shower. Go home, Tim. Get cleaned up, and for God’s sake, brush your teeth.”

Tim laughs weakly because what else can he do? He put himself out there and got rejected.

This is why he doesn’t date. It always hurts when things fall apart.

The rest of the day passes in a blur. It takes a few phone calls to get someone out on a Saturday to replace his door, and as soon as that was done, Tim calls it a day. He and Stephanie already have a plan in place to get things back up and running tomorrow, even if it will take at least a week to get a new display case. That’s fine, they can still take the truck out and Tim can set out a tray with a single cupcake of each design for any walk-ins to choose from while keeping the rest in back. They can make this work. Gotham and a broken heart are not going to keep Tim Drake down.

As he walks home in the late afternoon sun, Tim decides to allow himself one night to wallow in his misery. He deserves that much. A quick stop by the store gets him a six pack of his favorite microbrew and he swings by a Chinese restaurant that makes what he swears are the best noodles in town. Literally, since they make their noodles right there.

Properly fortified, Tim brings his prizes home. Another shower and a change of clothes later, he settles onto his sofa to binge watch Netflix. There are some shows he needs to catch up on.

He does not think about Jason. Much.

Three hours later, he’s finished half his stir-fried noodles and three bottles of beer. Sleep sounds like a great idea, lightweight that he is, so Tim manages to put away his food before returning to the sofa where he puts on a BBC nature documentary to fall asleep to.

He cuddles under his afghan and is out in under a minute.

~*~*~

It’s late when Tim wakes up. He feels like he should still be asleep, but something has drawn him out of that sweet oblivion where he doesn’t think about Jason. Everything is quiet, so he decides it must be his faintly hurting head that woke him. Some headache meds and water will fix that, as will sleeping in his bed rather than the living room.

Tim opens his eyes blearily as he sits up. Then he opens them wider and jerks upright, the afghan pooling around his waist.

Standing in front of his muted TV is Batman, outlined by the glow of the screen behind him.

Oh, shit. Why…Oh. Oh. Jason must have told him everything. Of course, he would, the little bomb Tim dropped on him last night impacts everything his family works so hard for. God, how could he have been so thoughtless?

His inner fanboy cowers in the corner of his mind, wailing in fear even though Tim is reasonably certain Batman won’t actually hurt him. Scare the crap out of him, yes. Intimidate him, hell yes. This is very intimidating, yup. Babbling seems like a stupid thing to do right about now, so Tim keeps his mouth shut and waits for Batman to say something.  

And waits.

And waits.

Seriously? Is he waiting for Tim to speak up first? He has not had enough sleep for this. Tim shoves the afghan off his lap and swings his legs to the floor. “Would you like some coffee? If you’re just going to stand there, then I’m going to need some.”

Batman doesn’t move. If anything, he frowns harder without even moving his face.

Now there’s a trick Tim would love to learn. He makes his way into the kitchen and flips on the overhead light by the sink to see by. Coffee prep is something he could do in his sleep, so while the little pot is brewing, Tim takes two mugs out of the cabinet and sets them on the counter.

“Do you take cream or sugar?” he calls out, not really expecting an answer.

He doesn’t get one.

Black it is.

Tim pours two cups and returns to the living room. He doesn’t try and hand Batman his cup, but he does place it on the coffee table in front of him before sitting back down on the sofa. This is by far the strangest interview he’s ever been part of. It must be a neat trick, using your reputation to get everything you need to know out of a person without having to say a word.

This could go on all night. “What do you want to know?” Tim asks eventually.

“Start from the beginning.” Batman’s voice is a low growl, one that makes Tim’s throat hurt just listening to it.

So Tim starts there, telling Batman how he met Dick, the promised quadruple somersault, and the tragedy that occurred later. He tells him about how he kept tabs on the former acrobat through the news, that he just wanted to be sure the boy was happy. Then he tells him what happened when he was nine… “I’m not sure there are many people who could have made that connection,” he admits slowly. “I mean, sure, the people at the circus probably can if they ever happen to see Robin, or Nightwing now, do that. But outside of there? I don’t think I would have if I hadn’t been there that night and saw it myself.” As well as everything that happened after, but there’s no need to rehash that again.

“You were very young.”

Tim nods. “I was almost four. My mom always said I have a mind like a steel trap. That when something goes in, it’s not coming out. I think that’s part of the reason why I didn’t forget. I couldn’t, even if I’d wanted to.” He sips his coffee, debating about the next part. This is where he could get into some serious trouble.

Well, this is supposed to be a confession of sorts. And it does feel good to get everything off his chest after holding it so close for years.

“When I figured out who was under Robin’s mask, I decided I needed to see Dick in action again for myself. We lived in the city, and Mom and Dad were never around much, so it was easy to sneak out…” Tim tells Batman about how he used to map his and Robin’s patrol routes, how he would hide and wait half the night for even a glimpse of his hero. As he got better and grew more confident, that was when he started bringing a camera.

If Batman was rigid before, then those words made him even more so.

“Those first photos were horrible,” Tim admits with a wry shake of his head. “It took a lot of practice to learn how to shoot at night, just as it took a lot of trial and error to learn to develop my own pictures because these were not something I wanted to take to the convenience store and have just anyone see. But I got better and by the time I did, there was a new Robin.”

Jason. The Robin he got all the best photos of.

“I took my pictures for a little over three years,” Tim continues. “And then my parents were murdered in a botched kidnapping. My life was turned upside down for a time, but when it became clear that I was going to end up in foster care since I had no family to take me in, I knew I couldn’t keep any of those pictures. I couldn’t risk it, even if no one knows the faces beneath those masks.”

“What did you do?”

“I took them up to the roof of my parent’s townhouse and burned them. Each and every one.” It still hurt, even after a decade and more having passed. But it hurt like ripping off a bandaid hurt, and no longer tore at his soul. “All my negatives, I soaked in bleach.”

Batman gestures to the pictures hanging on the walls. The black and white photos are taken from various angles high above Gotham. “You didn’t stop taking pictures completely.”

Tim shakes his head. “No, but I didn’t take those until I’d graduated from culinary school and had my own place. I like photography, it’s something I’m good at. But it’s a hobby now. A skill I can put to use in my shop for my website.”

“You understand the concerns I have.” It isn’t a question and Tim doesn’t pretend to take it as such.

Still, he knows he’s expected to answer. “I do. Honestly, I wasn’t planning to say a word about this to Jason at all. Until last night, I thought what we had was just a mutually beneficial arrangement between two consenting adults. He’d never given me a reason to believe otherwise.”

“Until last night,” Batman states, echoing Tim’s words. “Why did you tell him this?”

Tim hedges and sips his coffee as he tries to gather his thoughts. For all that opening his mouth had been a mistake, the reason why he did hasn’t changed. On that one fact, he still feels like he’s on solid ground.

“Because last night he said he cares about me. That what keeps him coming back is me.” No need to mention the frosting part. Nope. “I’ve known for a little while now that I like him more than what our arrangement calls for. I figured that if he wants a real relationship, then he has a right to what I know so that he doesn’t have to lie to me when the shit hits the fan or he gets all battered and bruised and needs to cancel plans we’ve made. I can’t imagine it’s easy for anyone who tries to date one of you guys.”

“It isn’t. Especially for someone like you who cannot protect himself.”

The implication is clear as day. Tim tightens his fingers around his warm mug. “I know I’m putting myself in harm’s way if Jason and I keep seeing each other. I know I can be used against him or as a means to hurt him. I know all of this. But isn’t it up to us to decide if that’s a chance we want to take?”

“Yeah, B, stop stickin’ your nose in our business.”

Tim almost spills his coffee as Jason comes striding around from behind the sofa in full Redwing regalia. It’s an impressive sight, from the battered leather jacket to the dark gray uniform underneath that fits him like a glove. How long has he been here? Oh, shit, what has he heard? Tim tells himself to get a grip. Everything he’s said to Batman is stuff he plans to tell Jason, if the other man ever gives him a chance.

He’s here though, so that has to mean something. Right?

Batman doesn’t move, but it’s clear when he turns his attention on his son because that weighted gaze no longer sits like a ton of bricks on Tim. “I am trying to ascertain what this man’s intentions are towards all of us.”

Jason snorts incredulously. “No, you’re trying to be a dad for a change and scare away a potential boyfriend. B, Tim knows and hasn’t said a word to anyone. Do you have any idea how much easier this makes things for me? I don’t have to fucking lie for a change.”

Tim clutches his coffee mug, afraid to make even the slightest of noises for fear of interrupting what is clearly a very important argument. Inside, his heart sings with joy because Jason is fighting with Batman for him. If that’s not a sign from the heavens, he doesn’t know what is.

“What happens if it doesn’t work out?” Batman says to Jason. “Think about the damage Tim can do in a single moment of petty spite.”

“I’d never do that,” Tim interrupts. This is something he has to speak up about. “What you guys do is so much bigger than anything I deal with. You’re important. You all mean something to the world. For however long this lasts between Jason and me, I’m glad to be able to support him in whatever way I can. And when it ends, well, I’ll at least know that for a time, I made him happy. Because I can’t imagine you guys get that a lot.”

Both men turn and stare at Tim, heavy and weighted and wow, this must be the same feeling that makes bad guys quiver in their shoes. But Tim holds firm and doesn’t drop his gaze.

“B, you’re done here,” Jason finally announces. “You got what you came for. Tim won’t spill the beans. Now get out.”

“Redwing—”

“Get outta my business, B. I can either air dirty laundry about you and Catwoman or toss you out that window. Take your pick.”

Batman looms over his son, but Jason is clearly having none of it as he just stares him down. All the long years of exposure must make him immune. Tim finds that impressive because wow. Just wow.

That heavy gaze settles back on him for a moment before Batman walks away without another word, brushing past the sofa towards the window leading out to the fire escape. Tim feels a faint rush of cold air on his neck and then nothing. He turns around to look, just to be sure. The only thing he sees is the faint movement of his cheap window blinds.

“So that’s what being interrogated by Batman feels like.”

Jason snorts and picks up the coffee Batman never even touched. “Sort of. There’s usually a lot more punching and getting tossed off the side of a building involved.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Tim feels faint at the thought. Although jumping off the side of a building doesn’t sound too bad if he’s with the right person…kind of like skydiving perhaps.

An awkward silence falls over the room, neither of them seemingly able to start the conversation that needs to happen. Tim fiddles with his mug and steals glances at Jason, who seems lost in thought as he drinks the not-so-warm coffee. What’s going on in his head? How does Jason feel about all this? He apparently likes the idea of him knowing who he is if his statement to Batman was legit.

Tim takes a deep breath and breaks the ice. “How much of that did you hear?”

“All of it. I followed B here and snuck in through your bedroom while he loomed over you like a creepy fuck until you woke up.”

“How long did that take?”

Jason chuckles quietly. “About half an hour. Color me impressed.”

“I may have had a few beers earlier tonight.”

“Lightweight,” Jason teases, but there’s a fondness to it. “You were quite the little stalker once upon a time, weren’t ya?”

Tim nods, feeling steadier now that they’re talking about his past. “I guess you could call it that. At the time though, I was so incredibly lonely that sneaking out for even a glimpse of my heroes was enough to negate the creep factor.”

Jason walks around the coffee table and takes a seat in the recliner. Under the jacket, Tim can just make out the stylized red bat on his broad chest. “You’ve mentioned before that your parents were never around that much.”

“No, they weren’t.” Tim takes a sip from his mug. It’s almost empty. “I had a hard time mourning for people who were never there. I got lucky when I was placed with Grandma Ives. She gets kids in a way I’d never seen before. Probably because she had six of her own, plus over a dozen grandkids. She helped me figure out what my grief was really about and gave me something constructive to do while I worked my way through it.”

“She the one who taught you to bake?”

“Yes.” Tim has many fond memories of Grandma Ives. Perhaps one day, he can introduce Jason to her.

“Did you really take all those pictures of me?” The question seemingly comes out of left field, but Tim has a feeling it’s a precursor to something bigger.

“I did.”

“Is it… Is this the reason you want to be with me?” Jason gestures to his uniform, to the mask he’s still wearing.

Tim is shaking his head before Jason finishes speaking. “No. Not at all. In the beginning, I was shocked that someone like you even spared a glance in my direction. I kept telling myself not to look too deeply into it, to not get attached, that we were both getting something we needed. But when we went out for dinner to that bar, it felt like a date. I wanted it to be a real date so badly that I had to keep reminding myself it wasn’t.”

Jason sighs heavily and leans forward, his solid arms resting on his thickly muscled thighs. “I think of that night as a date. It was all so clear in my head what I was doing, sweeping you off your feet and romancing the crap out of you, but in hindsight, I can see why you believed what you did.” He sounds defeated, which no. No. Tim is not letting this happen.

Standing, Tim sets aside his coffee and kneels in front of Jason, resting his hands over the man’s gloved ones and forcing him to look at him. This close, the lenses in his mask are disconcerting, but Tim knows Jason’s eyes are on him. “We’re both idiots,” he pronounces. “Doing everything ass backwards from the way we should have.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve fucked up,” Jason tries, but Tim shushes him.

“Me neither. But I think we have a good reason to want to do this right. If you want to, that is.” Tim trails off, his momentary boldness tapering into uncertainty.

Jason grabs hold of his hands, holding them firmly in his gloved ones. “I want to. Christ, I want to. But the risks…Tim, already the thought of something happening to you hurts like hell. If we go further…”

Tim raises their joined hands and presses a kiss into the material of Jason’s gloves. “I understand. Just know that I’m willing to take those risks. But really, the choice is yours, not mine. What you do, who you are…it’s all so much bigger than just me.” His confidence shocks him, even if it is nice to know he can bring it out when he needs to, despite the less than stellar circumstances.

“I need some time to think.”

“I respect that.” Tim tries to stand, but Jason rises along with him and draws him in close, pressing his forehead against the top of Tim’s head.

“Tim, this isn’t good-bye. I will let you know what I decide. And in person because you deserve that much, even if it’s not what either of us want.”

It’s more than Tim can reasonably expect. “I appreciate it.”

Jason pulls back a bit and runs his fingers over Tim’s cheeks, seemingly memorizing the planes of his face. “I’ll see you soon.” He leans in and presses a brief kiss against Tim’s mouth.

And then he’s gone, vanishing into the night.

[octaviainthewasteland]

Wonder Woman: on female characters in comics PART 2

part 1, 2, 3

Please bear in mind that English is not my first language!

Part 2:  Useless pretty, sexy bad and second-hand skirts

Summary: A classification of female characters in comics.

Before we get going, an important note: this is not character bashing. I may sound extremely critical and snide at times, but it doesn’t mean that I hate these comics or these characters or even these authors! Batman, for instance, is my absolute favorite fictional character. I also have the biggest soft spot for Harley Quinn and Lois Lane. However, it doesn’t mean that it gives them a free pass. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Text under the cut.

In the previous chapter, we’ve touched on ‘fridging’ and why it’s not cool (ha-ha see what I did here). Due to particular conditions, women were pretty much absent from the picture and therefore, could not influence how women were portrayed for a while. Male visualization of women turned out to be quite… limited. Reading comics, I have noted that female characters in the comic books can generally be divided into four categories. There are, of course, some exceptions, but the percentage is far too small. As I thought about these categories, I’ve realized that three out of four are constructed though the sexism of the superhero narratives, while the last one is in a constant struggle against it. There are damsels in distress, femme fatale, gendered spin-offs and the female superheroes. Some characters fluctuate from one category to another, or fit into more than one. Let’s talk a bit more about the first three, so it’ll become clearer, why the female superheroes are so important for representation of women.

 The first category is the damsel in distress: the mother or the aunt, the girlfriend, most often powerless.

It includes such characters as Lois Lane, Vicky Vale and Iris West. Interestingly, all three of them are journalists, which arguably justifies their rash behaviour, which often lands them in trouble. They are nice, generally understanding, but quite often annoying, as they manage to land themselves in trouble yet again. It’s like they don’t understand that they should just sit down, because they either land in villain’s hands or they pressure the hero to quit heroing. With time, they have become snarky and easy-going, and obviously able to take care of themselves (until they aren’t) but the truth is, they are indistinguishable. They are cut out from the same piece of cardboard, as precious time for character development cannot be wasted on them, and they serve as conscience, motivation and ‘someone to come home to’. They are the classic ‘women in the refrigerators’ (Simone, 1999) and their interests and plot arcs rarely transcend the love interest, or in case of Iris and Aunt May, the relative of a superhero.

Probably the most notable example will be the Injustice franchise, where Superman becomes a tyrannical dictator, stricken with grief after the death of Lois, who has also been pregnant with his child at the time (Injustice: Gods Among US [I] #1, 2013)*. The comic series depicts the extent of Superman’s psychological trauma, as he is deceived by the villain into killing Lois with his own hands, thus, focusing not on the tragedy itself, but solely on Superman’s reaction to it. By the end of the series, the reader still has no idea, what kind of person was Lois. She is not important, what is important is that now the superheroes have an excuse to fight each other. Nobody in the comics really mentions her. The only time someone does, it is to reprimand Superman for his actions, all while Superman plans kidnapping Lois from another dimension because she’s just replaceable. Of course, this isn’t a story about Lois, but if a main heroine of Superman family cannot get a decent dealing, what’s there to hope for, for a lesser female character? We do not see her family or friends. She doesn’t really have a life outside her husband and it is precisely her connection to Superman that gets her in trouble. I might be picky, but having a joint surname (Lane-Kent, West-Allen, Watson-Parker) isn’t enough of a feminist statement for me.

The second category is the femme fatale or a seductive villainess, such as Talia al Ghul, Poison Ivy and Catwoman.

Most often, she is attracted to the superhero and tries to sway him of his righteous pass with her female charm, while he treats her as a lesser threat than male villains, because he believes she can be ‘good’ again. If she rejects the ‘good side’, she gets further from humanity and, thus, loses her chance for sympathy, absolution and happiness. Seductive villainesses often find themselves in a situation where they have to resort to their sexuality to distract their opponents or to persuade men to work with them. They are reduced to sexual objects for the male characters and by extension for the spectator, meaning the reader of the comics (Mulvey, 1975: 62).

They perform the role of the seductresses, trying to lure the hero from the path of righteousness and virtue. While being positioned as the erotic object, they are at the same time completely dehumanized. Talia turns from a villainess in love, who cannot decide on her loyalties, into a full-fledged assassin, and she is portrayed as a cold-blooded maniac, who drugs and rapes Batman, brainwashes him, clones their son and kills him (Robin: Son of Batman, 2015). In Harley’s absence, Poison Ivy does not value a human life at all, manipulates people and is more plant-like than human (Austin, 2015: 294).

The relationship between female empowerment and male disempowerment can be described as dichotomous. There is a prevailing narrative that a woman with power is a threat (Austin, 2015: 286). She defies male dominance and dares to enforce her own rules and focus on her own desires. The man tries to regain control over the dangerous woman. (Mulvey, 1975: 67) Notice how generally these women have a good cause at heart: Talia’s aim is to preserve the planet from disastrous actions of human kind; similar to Poison Ivy, who is concerned with flora; Catwoman protects felines and girls and women of lower classes and is essentially a version of Robin Hood. Harley Quinn has a mental illness, and copes with it by adopting animals and looking after them. Killer Frost is a heat-vampire and when she finds a cure (Firestorm) she pretty much stops attacking people, because she was doing it only to survive. Another interesting observation: it is their connection to men that pushed them to extremism. Talia is manipulated by her dad (who assures her of his love for her to save him on numerous occasions, but in the end kills her and uses her body to store his consciousness (BTAS)). Pamela Isley is nearly murdered by her male colleague. Selina is sexually abused by men. Killer Frost is locked up in a working reactor. I would assume everyone knows what’s the deal with Harley. Most often it contrasts with the actions of the hero: he tries to help her, make her normal again, fix her. This perpetuates a stereotype of how women are wrong about their prejudice against men, because ‘not all men are like this’. What is also inevitably and unknowingly created is that these women do not need fixing, it would change them at core. They aren’t even evil, as much as they would only help a cause if they believed in it. Even if they try to change for a man, they relapse: but through relationships with women, they are healed and they are able to embrace their power and be good, be evil, be something in the middle – and being true to themselves at the same time.

 Obviously, I am going to talk more about Harley Quinn. In the case of Harley Quinn, Joker physically and psychologically abuses her, manipulates her, makes her lose her job and her degree, drives her mad and so on. When she exercises her agency and comes close to killing Batman, successfully trapping him – something Joker himself had not succeed in – he angrily sets the boundaries between himself and Batman, their relationship, and Harley, who must only follow orders (Mad Love #8-72, 2009). Man games are one thing, and woman must never intrude! Harley learns it the hard way – it costs her almost every bone in her body. Joker ‘owns’ Harley and when she leaves him, he is livid and immediately sets to return her into his possession (Gotham City Sirens #10-26, 2011), exemplifying how Joker is unable to accept Harley’s existence beyond him (Austin, 2015: 285). On the other hand, Batman tries to establish his authority over her by bringing her to justice and rehabilitating her. He perceives her as a victim and someone, who despite being as dangerous and cunning as Joker (Mad Love #8, 2009), still needs saving. Harley is caught between two men, and while Batman is genuine in his desire to get her away from Joker (plus he doesn’t have romantic feelings towards her), it’s a no-win situation for Harley, because she can’t break away from her dependence issues. Enter Poison Ivy. By making Harley immune to all toxins, she both makes Harley stronger and cancels her main advantage over her. Poison Ivy doesn’t see Harley as a sidekick or a child who doesn’t know any better – she makes it possible for Harley to keep up with her. It also transforms Poison Ivy’s character. From then on, writers have abandoned the trope of Poison Ivy’s occasional boring crush on Batman.

 The third category is the ‘spin-off franchise baggage’ (Scott, 2013). It is quite easy to spot this type of characters, as their names are literally the derivative of their male (the original) counterpart: Batgirl, Supergirl and She-Hulk.

She does not have a sound or at least unique backstory, she is essentially the female version of the character, but secondary to him: weaker, less interesting, less popular and less developed (Fretheim, 2017: 32-33). Supergirl is another survivor of Krypton; She-Hulk was created literally by blood transfusion from Bruce Banner to his cousin, Jennifer Walters (they wanted to give her his rib, but it sounded vaguely familiar for some reason).

Sometimes such a character can break out of the limited space, provided by the legacy of the common root of the aliases (Bat-family, Super-family), for example, Barbara changes her line of activity after injury and Batgirl becomes Oracle, a character in her own right, giving voice to a readership with disabilities. It is also an example of how ‘fridging’ can be turned into a positive character development. In the Killing Joke, Barbara is harmed only because of her association with Jim Gordon, and the thematic purpose of her injuries is to provide emotional stakes for Batman. Nevertheless, she doesn’t stop being a hero and doesn’t become a liability. She is unique and interesting to read about. However, while it is possible, it is also reversible, as in 2011 Barbara puts on the Batgirl suit once again (Cocca, 2016: 78). Rarely, she can become more popular than the original hero, like Hawkgirl.

In terms of visual representation, it is quite easy to retrace sexual discrimination in the way that the male and female counterparts are portrayed. Although men with super powers do not need muscles to lift cars, they look jacked, a bit too much really. Hulk is positively ugly. Women, on the other hand, cannot let themselves be caught looking a tad less than ready for a Playboy photo-shoot.

Where male superheroes are embodying the ideal of masculinity, they are fit, muscled, and attractive – they are essentially the asexual subjects, while even their own gender-bent versions are put into suggestive poses and are given revealing outfits and heels (Batman: The Drowned #1, 2017).

Last but not least, the category of the female superhero. She is created as a distinct character, with her individual backstory and a set of powers. She is Wonder Woman, Starfire, Black Canary.

 The female superhero has her own backstory and her own set of powers. This doesn’t mean that they’re saved from the male gaze, unfortunately. The image above is one of the most modest costumes of Starfire I have found. This is particularly Starfire’s curse:

The female superheroes stand seemingly separate from the male superheroes, but men are still the part of the equation. Damsels, seductresses and knockoffs are directly linked to the male superheroes in forms of extensions of the mythos. The female superheroes exist in a state of eternal struggle against the male superheroes, male villains and male readers. According to O’Reilly, the female superheroes are restricted not only by the authorities, but even by their own sex (O’Reilly, 2012).

 To understand the mechanism of gender politics within the comics, let’s examine Wonder Woman against the male superheroes, namely Superman and Batman. While deconstructing their dualistic natures, we encounter a paradox of Otherness (Fretheim, 2017: 10-11). Every superhero has a secret identity. This duality attracts the reader, by making him or her identify through resemblance with the superhero’s disguise as the everyman or everywoman. The comic book promotes the idea of inclusivity, participation. It indulges the fantasy, providing the impression of the activist participation. (Pitkethly, 2012: 216) Superhero defeats the villain and saves America, and the reader feels like he or she has contributed to the victory of ‘truth, justice and the American Way’. It is no coincidence that the popularity of superhero comics correlates to the periods of the high and low threat (Peterson, Gerstein, 2005: 887). In times of the high threat, such as the Second World War, there is a significant increase in interest for ‘powerful’ and ‘tough’ fictional protagonists (889).

 Superman is also a meek reporter Clark Kent. Bruce Wayne is also a caped crusader Batman. As a superhero, Wonder Woman, too, exists as a heroic person and an alter ego of an ordinary woman, Diana Prince. Her otherness is expressed through being an Amazon, a super-powered being and a half-goddess. However, as a woman, she is also forced into position of the Other to Superman and Batman (De Beauvoir, 1949). If you’re unfamiliar with De Beauvoir, she referred to the socially constructed concepts of women and femininity in her Second Sex, written a year after women got the right to vote in France. The standards of the so-called femininity were established by patriarchal society and every woman was obliged to live up to these standards. De Beauvoir described the cultural symbols and social pressures put on girls from the very young age. Girls were taught to be passive and submissive, she did not have a choice as she was defined by the male dominated world to be a mother, a grandmother, a housewife. Men were the one, the neutral, the common, while women were the Other. While a man was the creator and the subject, a woman was an object in his power and always secondary to him. She also talked about the social taboos such as menstruation, criticizing pseudo-science that invented the idea of the biological inferiority of women. Menstruation was not the topic to talk about in public, since the very ancient times girls and women were locked in their houses during the periods. The female body is regarded as the Strange, Different, the Other. There is a cult of appearance; the women learn how to manipulate people with their looks. There are certain norms of how a real woman should look. The praises of female virginity and restrictions of the expose of the female sexuality were listed among the other ways in which the male society discriminated the female accumulation. Wonder Woman is, therefore, pitted as the Other to the male superheroes, while being alienated from other women.

 So we can see that no category of the female characters in comics are any better than another or have it any easier than another. Nonetheless, the figure of the female superhero is important, because it is a definite step away and open resistance to being background or second-hand. Girls couldn’t relate much to Lois, because, honestly, they were not supposed to – she was not their fantasy, she was male fantasy. There were some female superheroes prior to Wonder Woman, but yet again, they were created by men for men, and girls didn’t want anything to do with them. Industry naturally assumed that the reason is girls being generally uninterested in comics. As Dr. Marston noted, ‘not even girls want to be girls’ (Lepore, 2016: 187). He set to change that, and hence Wonder Woman was born.

*it needs another note: Injustice series is actually one of my favourite comic runs ever, and it has great female characters and great character development and is simply amazing. But it’s based of a game, and they had to work with the game premise, and they did a fantastic job doing it. Still, as I love it dearly, I’m allowed to critique it and so I will.

**despite the name, Superman’s Girlfriend Lois Lane is a wild and fun comic.

Bibliography

Simone, G. (1999). Women in Refrigerators, available at: http://www.lby3.com/wir/

 Austin, S. (2015). Batman's female foes: The gender war in Gotham City. Journal of Popular Culture, 48(2), 285-295.

 Mulvey, L. 1999. ‘Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema.’ In Film Theory and Criticism: Introductory Readings, edited by Leo Braudy and Marshall Cohen, 833–44. New York: Oxford University Press.

 Scott, S. (2013). Fangirls in refrigerators: The politics of (in)visibility in comic book culture. Transformative Works and Cultures, vol. 13

 Fretheim, I. M. (2017) Fantastic Feminism: Female Characters in Superhero Comic Books. Trykk: Reprosentralen, Universitetet i Oslo

 Cocca, C. (2014). Negotiating the Third Wave of Feminism in "Wonder Woman". PS: Political Science and Politics, 47(1), 98-103.

 Cocca, C. (2016). Superwomen: gender, power, and representation.

 O’Reilly, J. D. (2005). The Wonder Woman Precedent: Female (Super)Heroism On

Trial. Journal of American Culture 28.3: 273–83.

 De Beauvoir, S. (1949). The Second Sex. New York: Vintage Books

 Pitkethly, C. (2011). The pursuit of identity in the face of paradox: Indeterminacy, structure and repetition in Superman, Batman and Wonder Woman. Journal of Graphic Novels and Comics, 1-7.

 Peterson, B., & Gerstein, E. (2005). Fighting and Flying: Archival Analysis of Threat, Authoritarianism, and the North American Comic Book. Political Psychology, 26(6), 887-904.

 Lepore, Jill. (2015). The Secret History of Wonder Woman. New York: Knopf.

[ghostmartyr]

SnK 100 Thoughts

“He has the power to wipe out the entire human race, and if we believe there's even a 1% chance that he is our enemy, we have to take it as an absolute certainty. And we have to destroy him.”

Look, if you design a character who agrees with Batman in Batman v Superman, you just sorta have to accept that bad things are going to happen to him.

Though, since we are talking about it...

Now, I’m not making any giant leaps here.

All I’m saying is that technically all Eldians have the name of their mother in common.

Which means Eren’s going to die, Reiner’s Batman, and Wonder Woman is still waiting for her musical cue. Also, War Hammer is Doomsday.

#spoilers

Obviously I missed out on calling Falco Robin, which is even more tragic due to where his life story looks to be taking him, but then we have to get down to assigning a Joker, and I guess Gabi’s a pretty easy Batgirl, but I have a chance here to keep one of these posts short, and I can’t do that if fanfiction is being written in the margin.

Also, I think someone would yell at me if I suggested Zeke for Wonder Woman (heislookingbackatabattlefieldheisdepartingsotheblockingisthereevenifthemoralcenterisn’t) so let’s just stop.

Okay, so the brief summary of this chapter is ding-dong, the witch is dead, only there’s some disagreement over whether it was a good witch or a bad witch. A similar disagreement is ongoing regarding the perpetrator.

Truthfully, the one thing that can be said is that the good or bad witch’s slippers are unlikely to be taken by the good or bad witch who slayed him. They won’t fit, and the good or bad witch murderer already has the most powerful magic in the land.

The briefer summary is that Willy Tybur continues to be terrible, only in such a way that it’s confused for nobility, and I am so very tired of Marley.

He’s willing to die for his belief that his people are irredeemable monsters that should be eradicated--but he’d still rather they not be, because life gives him the warm fuzzies, and maybe the people whose abuse his family’s been profiting off deserve warm fuzzies too.

The idea of a nobleman looking at the life of luxury he has at the cost of his own people, and choosing to make steps to change the world for the better, is not a bad one. Doing that despite a wholehearted belief in their inherent evil is actually very interesting. It’s one more bit of cognitive dissonance that allows Willy to feel guilt over what has been done to his people, even though he thinks the world would be better off without them, and doesn’t mind killing large numbers of them.

At his core, all he is is a man who wants to live in the world he’s been born into, and he’s willing to sacrifice that life for a better world.

Here’s the problem.

His version of a better world is blaming Paradis for everything so that everyone can run off holding hands to murder them all.

He’s willing to die to make that vision a reality.

He’s never met anyone on Paradis. He’s never tried to talk to anyone from Paradis. He’s used diplomacy with nations in the rest of the outside world to ease the horrific damage Marley being Marley has caused itself, but not once with Paradis.

When it comes to the island, murder is always the only solution.

Willy Tybur is the one Eldian with a position in the world that can make a real difference. He can get ambassadors to change their minds. Despite never taking advantage of it, he does have control over Marley. Under his direction, Marley might have avoided the mass series of war crimes that the rest of the world hates them for.

(not that we have any idea why that is)

He doesn’t go that route.

He determines that the best path to world peace is uniting the world to kill his ancestors’ scapegoat.

Martyrdom is not a thing you do because you’re too lazy to put effort into actual change.

It’s easy to look at what Eldians are capable of from birth and call them monsters. It’s easy to say that, obviously, they never should have existed. Even if you have that same blood, and want to be alive, it’s very, very easy to reach that conclusion.

What’s difficult is carving your place into a world that is predisposed to hate you. It takes time, and concentrated effort. It takes giving a damn about treating people decently.

Willy has the means to forge a peaceful, humane coexistence between Eldians and the rest of the world. Or at least the means to make that attempt.

He chooses to forge his peace in the blood of other Eldians. The fact that he’s willing to die for that outcome doesn’t magically turn it into a noble gesture. He’s strong enough to make a decision that will cost countless lives in a war based on nothing but fear and prejudice. And that would be after knowingly sacrificing people he thinks of as less worthy to a terrorist attack.

Ding-dong.

Speaking of, Eren’s response to Willy’s declaration isn’t exactly on the moral highground you’d appreciate from your protagonist, so that’s nice. His lunge is as horizontal as possible, but it would take authorial intervention to keep him from killing civilians when he goes after Willy.

The only way this doesn’t seem like a very bad idea is if Eren agrees with Willy’s decision.

...I want more of a warmup before looking at that too closely.

Elsewhere, Titans in pits.

Or not.

Zeke’s still the only one walking around free. Galliard and Pieck are out of whatever fight’s coming next.

None of that appears to be expected on the Marley side. It looks like they wanted their Warriors gathered when everyone went horribly wrong. Possibly to keep the level of wrongness to a minimum. How thoughtful.

It seems pretty fair to guess that Galliard and Pieck are the work of Eren’s friends, but Zeke and his fancy glasses that hide his eyeballs are a little harder to pin down. We get one shot of him, walking alone.

I’m willing to leave that for another month though, so to the other pit!

Falco being the Eren to Eren’s Reiner is painful. Here he had this thoughtful adult encouraging him all the way into committing treason. He was just being a good person, and Eren takes advantage of that.

And right after all of that hits, he gets to watch Mr. Braun self-destructing, and hears about dead friends and mothers.

Falco’s a good kid. Assuming that Reiner gets him out of this alive, he isn’t only going to take death and betrayals from this. He understands the toll of being a Warrior, and understands enough to hate that people are okay with Gabi selling her life to the role.

Eren looks right at him and says that the people inside the walls are the same as the people outside. I don’t know how well the doubt will stick, but if nothing else, I think there’s a good chance that Reiner won’t be able to keep up the lies about Paradis demons--to Falco, anyway.

Falco’s in this spot because he cares about people no one else sees. I don’t know how much of his path can be changed, given the decisions made this chapter, but I hope that the idea that everyone involved in this war is a person sticks with him.

Even though that will be infinitely more painful than just being a participant fighting off demons.

Oki doki, so.

Eren.

Eren has gone on a very educational journey of learning that people are people. Willy even helps him along by directly quoting something Eren says way back in Trost.

“Because... I was born into this world.”

They’ve all been born into this world, and they all want to live in it, freely.

Time to go attack that island!

Eren spends most of his time in the pit prying everything that went through Reiner’s head out of him. Not for the sake of condemning it. Just to hear the honest words of a man like him, who caused incredible pain in the name of saving the world.

Their whole talk is about their similar intentions and circumstances, and being understood. And finding forgiveness on a road that doesn’t deserve any.

“This whole time... it was painful for you, wasn’t it?”

“I think now... I understand that [...]

I was right. I’m... the same as you.”

So

Yeah, Eren brings down the house.

The final page is his hands extended in Titan form the same way Willy’s are when he makes his declaration.

Reciprocity. Yay.

There are a few concerning things here.

The murder’s pretty low on the list.

These would be the panels that earn Eren the kind of looks Reiner is the recipient of when he’s going through his identity trouble.

Eren, last seen back home speaking as his father and Eren Kruger, has supernaturally granted identity troubles, and not recalling death threats to the point of asking Reiner to ignore that they happened is... weird. Whether or not it means anything, who knows, but Eren’s general stability seems to be mimicking the style of someone who has recently done pot up to his magic handshake. There’s so much personal history involved that it makes sense that Eren’s the one mostly behind the wheel, but... yeah, I’ll stick with weird.

Adding to that is what he says during the magic handshake.

(the magic comes from friendship)

“I just keep moving forward. Until my enemies are destroyed.”

Once upon a time, Kruger explains to Grisha what the Attack Titan is all about.

“No matter the age, this Titan has always moved ahead, seeking freedom. It has fought on for freedom.”

Eren has altered the deal. Pray he doesn’t alter it any further.

No, but I’m not big on speculation. I like waiting to see what the next month brings instead. But I keep waiting for more on the individual Titans having sentience, and it’s hard not to wonder a little if Mr. Attack and Eren are experiencing some unnatural bleed-through.

I don’t know, some things just feel very odd.

Anyway, outside the tempting cracklands of detours, there’s a really uncomfortable prospect presented in this chapter that I would prefer being wrong about, but at the same time, hey, Eren’s causing destruction and murdering people, so clearly happy funtimes are over.

Eren smiles when Willy says he wants his audience to fight with him against Paradis. It is not full of happiness, exactly, but it is not the look you would expect from hearing that kind of statement. Some mix of acceptance and sadness, maybe?

There are a lot of people on Paradis who, if asked, would know the exact best moment to kill Willy that would encourage his message most efficiently.

Eren waits until Willy is done with his speech to kill him.

Willy’s just asked everyone he knows for helps against the island devils, and... Eren gives them one. Whatever destruction does or doesn’t follow, Willy’s message is heard in its entirety, and he’s killed by the enemy he asks for unity in facing.

If you want to limit his support, this is, by far, the worst way to do it.

So even though I can’t imagine why anyone would reach this conclusion, I have to wonder if Paradis agreed with Willy. If they agreed that a unified world could only come about through a common enemy and a martyr.

Thematically, I have all kinds of disagreements with that, but Eren couldn’t have fulfilled Willy’s plan any better if he’d been in the room listening to its design. At the end of a grand speech, a monster rushes out and kills the only one in the world brave enough to call all people to arms against this great threat.

It’s beautiful, and... very on the nose.

You could not pick a better time to attack.

...For Willy’s purposes.

Even if this wipes out a bunch of Marley military personnel, care has been taken to keep all of the Titans out of the way. The main force is secure and breathing. This is not an attack that will devastate; it will invigorate.

And I can’t shake the thought that someone on the Paradis side thought that that was the only hope the rest of the world’s Eldians had. And having said that... it’s hard not to wonder if that someone is Eren.

Staged martyrdom only works this smoothly if both sides have the script.

Or maybe Carla just raised Eren to believe that it’s rude to interrupt people.

I really don’t know how to feel about most of what happens here. This is another chapter that I’d like to think would be benefited by future ones.

Right now there’s just this ominous dread that makes it difficult to appreciate that I don’t have to read Willy talk anymore.

Nothing next month can’t fix, I’m sure.

[snipsnsnailsnwerewolftales]

No Matter What - Part 7

A/N: Based off of the song “One Call Away” by Charlie Puth, this will be a multichapter fic with a line of lyric being the headers to break down the thought process of the chapter. None of the lyrics are mine, and they are all in bold - Again, I do not claim to own them, all credit where credit is due.

I do not own Teen Wolf or it’s characters. Sadly.

Word Count: 2,627 (Not including lyrics.)

Warnings: None that I know of. Mild language? Some slight angst, and mention of violence, but mostly fluffy. Mention of possible death. I think that’s it?

Beautiful people who helped me when I came to them with this crazy idea and said to run with it: @wheresthekillswitch @aworldmadeforme​ @faith-pixiedust-and-trust

How to be a Werewolf 101: Getting bitten was the easy part. Controlling the shifts that come after? Not so much. It’d been a long, hard road for you once you were bitten, never quite being able to control the shift even now, almost a year later. 
You were always told that Beacon Hills would hold a handful of people willing to drop everything to come an help you, no matter the situation, all you had to do was let them know, and they’d be there. So far you hadn’t had to ask a single time. 
But when pride becomes a bigger issue, and the war raging inside of you becomes more and more of a losing battle, you find yourself having to let go, and give in, putting your trust in others once again, instead of yourself, and believing they will do what is best for you, no matter what.

Series Masterlist

Xxx

I'm only one call away

Looking down at your phone in your lap with knit eyebrows, you took a moment before finally pressing the accept button, slowly raising the phone to your ear, and staring straight ahead with the confused expression firmly on your face. Waiting several seconds before finally addressing the person on the other line, you sighed before muttering a defeated, “Hello?”

“Y/N.”

You kept your expression bland, your gaze never moving from the vacant space across the room. “Derek, why are you calling me, I am literally across from you in your own damn living room.”

In your peripherals you could see him turn and look your way from his kitchen on your left, smirking at you as he held the phone to his ear with his shoulder, both hands busy with cooking food for the two of you.

“You’re no fun,” he mumbled, trying to hide a smile growing on his face.

“No. I’m not. I’m hungry. Chop chop, Hale! Before I die of starvation over here!”

I'll be there to save the day

You had to stop meeting like this. Normal people bumped into each other with their shopping carts at the grocery store. You, on the other hand, kept bumping into Derek Hale while staring in the face of danger, backing into his back as he did the same.

Doing normal things seemed to be the most unlikely thing in your life these days, unable to even go to a movie or out to eat, because of the constant threat being hurled at your home town.

Circling to scan the area, keeping your backs to one another for protection, you shook your head gently in annoyance as you surveyed the area, hearing growls and various sounds of fighting somewhere nearby as members of the pack took out the threats one by one.

“Did ya miss me?” Derek’s tone was heavy with a smile, his amusement at the situation contagious.

Throwing away your vision of a normal life, you embraced your new reality as you sunk into a fighting posture, bracing yourself against the charging bad guy heading your way, and smirking as you said, “Took you long enough.”

Superman got nothing on me

Walking into his loft unannounced, you ignored his glowing eyes and ready to strike posture without a second glance, studying the floor as you walked through to the table by the large windows, hoping you were walking a straight line as you clutched your left arm tightly to your side with your right, ignoring the likely trial of blood you were leaving behind you.

“What happened?” Derek said to your back, but you ignored him, making it to the table, grimacing as you climbed the two steps up to the new level as pain shot through your body. Sliding the first aid kit so it sat directly in front of you on the large table, you messily tried to open it with one hand, finally succeeding, rifling through the contents until you found a gauze patch, lifting it to your teeth and ripping the package open before fumbling to get it out and open enough to cover the wound.

“Are you bleeding?” You snorted at his question, arching your eyebrows when you realized you didn’t have a blood trail behind you. “Y/N! Speak to me!” You jumped at his outburst, closing your eyes as you let out a sigh, your hand holding the gauze resting on the table.

Opening your eyes, you looked straight through the large windows in front of you. “Yes, okay? But not because of hunters.” You paused, looking down at the gauze and feeling a sense of embarrassment crawling up your spine. “Or a bad guy. Or a trap.”

“Then what?”

Still looking down, you studied the grain of the wood before looking back up through the windows. “Because I’m stupid and decided to play baseball with Stiles, and thought I could epically slide into home plate, but I’m me, so you know how that went.”

There was no response except Derek’s heavy breathing as he obviously was trying to contain laughter. Suddenly Stiles appeared in the doorway, breathing hard as he stumbled his way to the couch before collapsing onto it. “Oh, I’m glad she made it. Have you ever thought about fixing that elevator? So many stairs….”

You and Derek shared a look before you both broke into fits of laughter, your cheeks turning bright pink as you looked to the floor, Derek’s shoes coming into view as he took the gauze from your hand and began to grab other supplies out of the kit.

He chuckled as he spoke, making his words sound strangled. “Look, I’m not a superhero! I’m not gonna just be able to always save your ass.”

You smirked at him, unable to stop laughing yourself. “What a shame. I’ve been told I have a great one.”

I'm only one, I'm only one call away

Walking into his loft after a long day, Derek sighed as he tossed his keys somewhere to his left, groaning as his sore muscles protested when he tried to remove his leather jacket, about to toss it the same place as his keys when he felt his phone vibrating in the pocket. Fishing it out with knit eyebrows, he hit answer as he tossed the jacket to the side, slowly making his way further into the loft.

“It’s been five minutes, Y/N.” He couldn’t help the small smile climbing up his face.

“Exactly. Five whole minutes, Hale.” He could tell there was a smile on your face, too.

“What is it now?”

“Is it a crime to just want to hear your voice?”

“It is when the rules clearly dictate that a time period of at least fifteen minutes has to have passed first.”

You hesitated a moment. “What are these rules you speak of?”

“The ones I am talking about,” he said matter of factly, smirking.

“Why must you be so infuriating?” you huffed before hearing his soft chuckle and hanging up.

I'll be there to save the day

Scratching on your back door woke you up. Silently making your way downstairs, you switched on the kitchen light before listening for whoever was on the other side of the door. Hearing a frantic heart rate, your eyes glowed bright yellow and you immediately opened the door.

A black wolf ran in, dashing up the stairs towards your room, and you took off after it, slamming your kitchen door behind you.

Just as you reached your doorway, the wolf’s eyes glowed a bright blue, and it morphed into Derek’s human form, his eyes still glowing bright blue, his breathing heavy. His eyes darted around the room, glazed over and distant, before they landed on yours, fading back to their human shade and panic painted his features.

Walking toward him, you grabbed a pair of his sweatpants he kept here for this reason off of the back of a chair, and tossed them to him. He put them on quickly, just finishing pulling them over his hips when you reached him, immediately pulling him into a hug, letting him squeeze you to the point where it was almost painful.

His breathing was still frantic as you gently rubbed his back, and you shushed him, slowly sinking down until you both sat on the floor, you on the ground between his legs still holding him tight as he held onto you like you were a lifeline. He slowly rocked back and forth, the sound of gentle crying beginning to make his breathing irregular.

“Derek, it was just a bad dream. I’m right here. Calm down.” It had started with phone calls in the middle of the night, but when they were especially bad, he just came here. Eventually it had morphed into only coming to your house as the phone calls stopped all together.

He was shaking his head, staring at the ground, his eyes wide and fearful. “I can’t lose them. I can’t lose them all. Not again.”

Your heart broke for him. “Who, Derek? Your family? Your pack?”

He looked at you, his eyes still wide. “All of them.”

Superman got nothing on me

Running toward the commotion, you weren’t surprised to see Derek in the middle of it, facing down the most powerful of the group, and wearing the bloody claw marks to prove it.

Launching yourself at the last second, you landed a punch to the side of the evil asshole’s head just as he pulled his own fist back to strike Derek. His head snapped to the side with the impact, his body freezing in place as he wobbled on now unsteady feet before falling to the ground out cold.

Derek looked at you with wide eyes, back down to the bad guy, and finally back to you before letting out a loud breath, his body relaxing, and eyes shutting in relief. “You’ve kinda got this ass saving down now.”

You smirked at him, getting down on your knee to tie up the unconscious bad guy’s hands, taking special care to dig your other knee into his rib cage, earning a groan of pain from him despite his unaware state. Cinching the ties as tight as they went, you looked up to Derek, the smirk still firmly on your face. “Well when I have a friend like you, I kind of have to.”

I'm only one call away

You had successfully made it through a full moon without shifting. Your first time. Stiles had slid the door open to your cell you sat in every month, Parrish standing guard at the doorway like always, shifting his weight from foot to foot in nerves.

“Stiles, I told you it’s not safe!” You backed yourself into the corner of the cell, curling into a ball, your eyes glowing and voice sounding more on the demonic side, meaning a shift was well on it’s way.

Stiles just stood in the doorway of the cell, smiling gently. “Well, I think it’s perfectly fine. You asked me to do this because you said I knew what I was doing. Do you still think that?”

You huffed, your voice slightly more normal but your eyes still glowing. “I’m beginning to doubt that.”

“Ha, ha,” he said sarcastically, his smile growing. “Well, I do, and I don’t care what I have to do, this is the first day you get to walk under a full moon again without attempting to rip me to shreds.”

“Don’t discount that outcome yet,” you mumbled, smiling at the groan of agitation Stiles let out.

Slapping his hands back down to his sides, he leveled his gaze on you once again. “Are you feeling homicidal?”

You hesitated. “No….”

“Agitated?”

You leveled your now fully human gaze on him, your tone bland. “What do you think?”

“Twitchy?”

“Twitchy- Stiles! This is serious! I could rip you to shreds before you got three steps into this cell….” You trailed off, eyes going wide when you saw Stiles begin to take a step forward.

Planting his feet and smirking your way, he said, “One,” before tilting his head to the side playfully.

Another purposeful step, “Two,” and an eyebrow cocked up in humor.

Another step, “Three,” before his head straightened back up, and his other eyebrow shot up to meet the other. “Well, would you look at that?” He looked around the cell for emphasis, hands spreading at his sides. “No shredding…. I have all my limbs….” He patted down and back up his body, as if double checking. His arms stopped on his chest. “Whaddya know? I’m alive!” You snorted in unamusement, making him drop the act with a smirk. “And you are completely human.”

You snapped your eyes to the space right in front of you, staring at nothing in particular as you took in the cell bathed in moonlight for the first time through completely human eyes. Well, as completely human as a werewolf could be.

Jumping up, you wrapped your arms around Stiles’ neck, squeezing him with all you had, laughing and apologizing profusely as you released him, his overdramatic choking sounds turning into laughter.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you….” You said over and over again, pulling him close once again, being careful not to squeeze so tight.

“I told you you could do it.”

“And you were right. I’ll never doubt you again.”

Pulling back to arms length, Stiles asked playfully, “Uh, can I get that in writing?”

You threw your head back and laughed, the situation making you deliriously happy.

Giving Stiles a final squeeze, you mumbled as you pulled away, “I need to call Derek….”

Stiles held his phone out to you, Derek’s contact info already pulled up. Reaching for the phone, you scowled Stiles’ way when he pulled the phone just out of your reach. “First, give it to me in writing, then- Ow!”

“Oh, that didn’t hurt,” You mumbled, pressing send on the phone you had swiped from Stiles’ hand.

“Says the werewolf to the human.”

“She also says this,” you held the phone to your ear, holding the mouthpiece at a slight angle away from your mouth as you spoke to Stiles, “get over it.”

Stiles mock gasped. “Well there’s no need to be rude about it,” he muttered, turning to leave the cell as you turned your attention back to the phone.

A female picked up, causing you to stumble for words for a moment. “Hello?” She repeated her greeting, with a little emphasis.

Shaking your head gently, and closing your eyes for a minute, you studied the floor as you searched for the right words. “Um, hi! Yeah, I, uh, I think I may have the wrong number….”

You met Stiles’ eyes as you hung up, seeing his eyebrows knit in confusion. “Has Derek changed his number recently?” You studied the contact info once again on the screen.

“No….” Stiles sounded even more confused than you were.

Calling again, the same female voice answered, but somehow you forged on.

“Hello, is Derek there?”

The silence before her response was probably only a second, but it felt like an eternity, before it was broken.

“I can take a message.”

I'm only one call away

The pack was worried, they hadn’t been able to get ahold of you in days.

Trying for what felt like the millionth time, Derek dialed your number, noticing his battery was almost dead, and he just hoped it made it through until he got ahold of you.

He stopped his pacing when an unfamiliar male voice answered, causing him to knit his eyebrows together in confusion.

“Hello, is Y/N there?”

The voice sounded jostled, like the person was running, and their heavy breaths began to become more pronounced, their voice fading as if they turned away from the microphone periodically. “I’m sorry sir, I don’t know a-” The voice stopped suddenly with what sounded like an impact, the sounds of the mic hitting the ground causing Derek to wince and pull the phone away from his ear.

More jostling like the phone was being picked up, and your voice muffled on the other end, “That’s what you get for stealing my phone, you imbecile.”

“Y/N? Y/N!” Derek called into the phone, almost laughing when he heard you mutter, “What the hell?” before the phone was being fumbled with again. “Shit. The idiot was on a phone call….” The sound of another punch was heard somewhere in the background, and a groan followed.

“Derek? Are you still there?”

“Yes! Yes I am, Y/N! Where are you? The pack is looking everywhere for you, and-” Derek’s phone died before he could finish his sentence, and it was all he could do to keep from throwing it across the room and shattering into a million pieces, and instead made it to the charger, where he glared at it until it turned back on. After that all calls went directly to your voicemail.

Xxx

Tags: @evyiione​ @mayahart02​ @palaiasaurus64​ @shydinosaurcandy​ @lucyqueenofthestars​ @storytelling-reader​ @jazzrivera27​ @c-breanne1999​ @bless-my-demons​ @hoehoehoechlinhale @l4life​ What’s this?

[uomo-accattivante]

The Last Jedi has only just premiered in theaters—but those Star Wars lovers eager to know what comes next have a little wait in store before the thrilling conclusion of the latest Skywalker saga. Here’s a roundup of every little thing we know about Episode IX, but be careful. There are, as you might expect, The Last Jedi spoilers galore in the article below. So if you’ve seen the new film and are eager to know what comes next, read on. If not, come back once you’re ready to peer into the future of what will happen in that galaxy far, far away.

WHAT IS THE NEXT MOVIE CALLED?

For now? Simply Episode IX.

WHEN WILL THE SCRIPTS BE DONE?

The Last Jedi started filming only a few months after The Force Awakens was released, meaning that Rian Johnson had his script mostly finished before Episode VII even hit theaters. But the process for Episode IX has been much more fraught. In the wake of Carrie Fisher’s death, Kathleen Kennedy said that Lucasfilm had gone back to the drawing board in order to grapple with Leia’s absence from the franchise. The scripting process was started again after the rather late-in-the-game departure of director Colin Trevorrow in September. The film’s new director, J.J. Abrams,and screenwriter Chris Terrio (Batman v Superman, Justice League) have reportedly been working on a script ever since.

WHEN DOES IT START FILMING, AND WHEN WILL IT BE RELEASED?

With all the behind-the-scenes shuffling, filming on Episode IX has been pushed back to June 2018. The release date has also been pushed back from May to December 20, 2019.

ARE LUKE AND LEIA IN EPISODE IX?

Kennedy has said definitively that Leia is not in Episode IX, and that The Last Jedi gave the character a final send-off. But the door for Luke to reappear in ghost form seems open, doesn’t it?

HOW SOON AFTER THE LAST JEDI WILL EPISODE IX TAKE PLACE?

We don’t know anything definitive yet, but there’s a popular theory that there will be at least some kind of time jump between the two movies. The Last Jedi picks up exactly where The Force Awakensleft off—but going back to the original trilogy, six months elapse between The Empire Strikes Back and The Return of the Jedi. We could be looking at a similar gap here. That would be enough time for both the dark side and the light to lick their wounds and regroup for a final showdown. It also leaves time for Fisher’s character to peacefully pass away between films.

WHAT HAPPENS IN THE NEXT MOVIE?

Well, since the scripts aren’t done yet, we obviously don’t have a conclusive answer there. But we can expect this potentially to be the concluding chapter in the Skywalker saga. With Luke and Leia gone (in a way), there’s nobody living who still bears the Skywalker name—though Ben Solo certainly has some of their blood. But I’d be extremely surprised if Kylo Ren survives the final installment—and with Rey confirmed to not be part of the Chosen One family, it might be time for the Skywalker legacy to end. Kennedy recently told The Independent: “Whether or not we carry on the Skywalker saga, you know, George [Lucas] always intended nine movies, and whether we continue that or not is something we’re talking about right now.”

But even if this is curtains for the Skywalkers, that doesn’t mean Episode IX will be the end for all the new characters you’ve come to know and love. “We’re sitting down now, we’re talking about the next 10 years of Star Wars stories, and we’re looking at, narratively, where that might go,” Kennedy said last month. That could mean “future stories beyond Episode IX with these new characters—Rey, Poe, Finn, BB-8—but we’re also looking at working with people who are interested in coming into the Star Wars world and taking us places we haven’t been yet. That’s exciting, too, because it’s a vast galaxy far, far away.”

WHICH MYSTERIES WILL BE SOLVED?

It seems like most of the big questions raised by this trilogy are already answered. Rey’s parents, we learn in The Last Jedi, are nobody junkers from Jakku. This doesn’t feel like a fake-out bait and switch—her being “nobody” feels vital to this chapter in the Star Wars legacy. I don’t anticipate Abrams undoing that story beat from Johnson’s script. We also know what happened with Luke and Ben all those years ago and, as it turns out, Snoke’s backstory is completely inconsequential. So even though Abrams has a reputation for “mystery-box” reveals, I don’t think there’s much to be solved in Episode IX—which is something of a relief, and leaves the field wide open for Rey and Kylo to play out their dysfunctional connection.

WHO WILL BE THE BIG BAD?

With Snoke officially out of the way, it looks like Kylo Ren will be the main villain of the final chapter of this Star Wars trilogy. That’s an incredibly exciting prospect because, as compelling as Emperor Palpatine could be, we have never had such a human and deliciously ambiguous “evil” running the dark side of the Star Wars board. We can assume there will be a final battle between Rey and Kylo, and that it will be infused with all the backstory and tension built up between them in episodes VII and VIII. We can also assume Rey’s struggle with the dark side was pretty well conquered in this film. Her refutation of Kylo’s offer felt as firm as can be.

WHAT’S HAPPENING WITH THE LIGHTSABER?

Episode VIII ends with the blue Skywalker lightsaber—which was first Anakin’s, and then Luke’s—snapped in half, thanks to a Force-enhanced game of tug-of-war between Rey and Kylo Ren. So what, if anything, will Rey use as a weapon to aid the Resistance in Episode IX? There are a few options. The simplest would be her reconstructing the blue saber. The ritual of constructing one’s own lightsaber was once an integral part of Jedi training: when Luke loses the blue weapon at the end of Empire, he builds a green one as part of his journey towards becoming a Jedi Master. Kylo built his red cross-hilt weapon himself as well. Rey doesn’t necessarily know how to build a weapon (and it’s a complicated process involving those kyber crystals we heard so much about in Rogue One), but she’s handy enough and could always get help from a Force ghost or two.

There’s also the question of that green lightsaber. Presumably, Luke abandoned it in the rubble after he and Kylo Ren fought. Could Rey go looking for it in the ruins? Lucasfilm Story Group creative executive Pablo Hidalgo told Vanity Fair that we might see that green lightsaber again: “We take to heart the lesson that Obi-Wan tried to impart to Anakin: ‘This weapon is your life.’ We’re not ones to lose track of lightsabers.”

HOW MANY RESISTANCE FIGHTERS ARE LEFT?

The already-dwindling Resistance is downright decimated by the end of The Last Jedi. Are there, what, only 12 of them left? Not quite. We know Leia sent out a beacon asking for help, and thanks to the Star Wars The Last Jedi the Visual Dictionary, we also know that a number of Resistance pilots from The Force Awakens(including Snap Wexley, played by frequent Abrams collaborator Greg Grunberg), have been “scattered to other evacuation points” or “assigned to other missions”. In other words, it’s not just up to that skeleton crew on the Millennium Falcon to save the day.

SO IS REY THE LAST JEDI, THEN?

Rey will have her hands full either piloting the Falcon, building a new saber, chatting with ghosts, taking down Kylo, or all of the above. But the final moment of The Last Jedi shows a tantalizing shot of that kid with a broom staring up at the stars. (According to Star Wars The Last Jedi the Visual Dictionary, that kid has a name: Temiri Blagg.) We see he has some Force sensitivity, and he’s wielding that broom like a saber. There’s a possibility that Rey could take on a padawan of her own—she did squirrel those Jedi texts away on board the Falcon. Is Rey ready to go from student to master in Episode IX?

[birdsgoflying]

Letting Go Ch.3 Behind-the-Scenes

Here is my behind-the-scenes analysis of chapter three of my fic, Letting Go!

Link to chapter three: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11512686/chapters/26083806

Links to previous behind-the-scenes posts:

Chapter 1: https://birdsgoflying.tumblr.com/post/165566140213/letting-go-ch-1-behind-the-scenes

Chapter 2: https://birdsgoflying.tumblr.com/post/165600823428/letting-go-ch2-behind-the-scenes

CHAPTER THREE:

Wally had never really believed in the afterlife. He thought he would die, and poof, fade to black. Nothing. Zip. Zilch. It’s over. Your consciousness just dissolves away and that’s that. No more Wallace Rudolph West.

But, here he is. Wallace Rudolph West, still existing. … He is literally stuck in this weird swirly orange-ness, and he’s pretty sure he’s still literally dead, but he’s still conscious.

He isn’t entirely sure what he’s supposed to do with that.

He doesn’t know where his body is, and he doesn’t know if that means his consciousness had been separated from it at some point during the dying process, or what. He briefly runs through the implications of a separation between body and mind (So I’m dead but conscious, and that would make me a zombie – way cool – except that I don’t have a body. So does that mean I’m a ghost? Can I haunt people? Cuz I can think of a few amazing pranks to use on Hal…) before giving up. He’s tired. He feels like he has been running for years.

All of Wally’s parts are such incredibly fucking fun for me to write. I wanted to showcase their personalities by changing the “voice” that I used when writing their respective parts, so I wrote Dick’s and Wally’s parts slightly differently. Dick and Wally both use humor to cope, but Wally is more flippant - even when referencing his own death, he cracks jokes about it. Dick is definitely the pun lord and eternal jokester in canon, but I figured that he would be a little more closed off given the circumstances.

  Dick purposely chose Metropolis as his new dwelling place – the last place he would ever otherwise choose to go – and traveled there by a series of cabs and trains rather than an easily-traceable Zeta tube.

 I legitimately don’t know why I chose Metropolis. I wish I could say that it was a purposeful choice because Metropolis is canonically near Gotham City on the map, or that it is meaningful because it’s where his idol (Superman) lives and he was subconsciously drawn to it, but I honestly don’t have a good answer for why I chose it. I just did.

  When he woke up the next morning, Daniel was nowhere to be found, but he noticed a neat pile of hundred dollar bills on his bedside table.

 This chapter contains the transition from ‘drunk runaway Dick Grayson’ to ‘actual prostitute Dick Grayson’. I have to be honest, I knew that it’s where I wanted this story to go, but I struggled in figuring out how to get from point A to point B. I always try to frame the characters’ decisions in a way that makes sense given their situation and personalities, and it took me a while to figure this one out. Dick wouldn’t just throw himself into being a prostitute without preamble, no matter how drunk he was. That’s why I made the decision to have him mistake a request for sex for pay, as a date; it just kinda… happened to him, and he went with it because he was drunk and bored and it ended up picking up steam until, before he knew it, he was a full-time prostitute.

  If his first mistake was leaving the team, his second mistake was staying with Artemis for as long as he had.

 I knew I had to have Wally moving on from Artemis fairly early in the fic, or it would not have been believable for him to fall in love with Dick – which, as Birdflash is endgame, is obviously the goal.

  When Wally really focuses his thoughts and searches the orange swirling orb around him, he can see flashes of his friends and family’s lives as they carry on without him.

 I wanted to show Wally struggling with not being able to help his friends and family move on after his death. I based his reactions largely on the lyrics from the Coldplay song ‘The Hardest Part’ – “The hardest part/ Was letting go, not taking part”. Those lyrics are so beautiful, and it’s a perfect way to describe how he feels. He’s not the type of guy to sit still when someone else is hurting, and he’s forced to do just that as he watches his friends and family mourn over him. It’s torture for him, honestly.

  And some time later, when he peers through the orange swirl and sees Artemis kissing Kaldur, he can honestly say he’s relieved.

 I knew from the very beginning that this is the direction I wanted to go with Kaldur and Artemis. They have a lot in common now, since Kaldur lost Tula and Artemis lost Wally. They have complementary personalities - Artemis is brash and upfront and unrefined, and Kaldur is polished and reserved and soft-spoken. I think they would be quite fantastic together; they’d balance each other out and cover each other’s weaknesses.

Now, here’s the thing. Birdflash is obviously endgame, but part of writing a good fic is arranging the plot in such a way that it makes the character’s actions believable and in-character.

Artemis moving on is very believable. She is not the type of person to get stuck after experiencing loss. She has a sensitive side, but she’s also tough as nails after all of the shitty stuff she’s had to deal with in her life. She picks herself up and moves on. She even said at the end of season two that she took up a new identity as Tigress because Artemis was Kid Flash’s partner and she wanted to distance herself.

HOWEVER - Wally moving on easily would not be quite as believable. Even though their relationship was clearly a mess towards the end - speaking strictly from the source material, there were several moments in season two where I felt as if Wally and Artemis had a strained conversation that pointed towards problems – Wally is a loyal guy, and he has five years (!!!!) invested with Artemis. I don’t think he would have moved on easily, and when he finally did, he would have felt a deep sense of guilt over it. If Artemis is romantically available when Wally comes back, even if Wally admits to himself that he is in love with Dick and not with Artemis, it would have create a lot of tension within the Dick-Artemis-Wally dynamic because Wally would know that everyone would expect him to get back together with Artemis. Wally would expect Artemis to want it, too. And not only that, but Artemis would be expected by everyone else to want it. It would cause a hugely awkward situation that, frankly, I didn’t want to deal with later on. It would cause a lot of drama, and I didn’t want THAT kind of drama in my fic. I want the potential reunion to be happy, not strained.

And it sounds terrible, but hear me out – in order to achieve all of this, I needed Artemis out of the way. I wanted her unavailable when Wally comes back, because otherwise, Dick would not feel okay about pursuing Wally and it would be unrealistic to expect Wally to move on from her if she was still available; he would go back to her out of guilt or habit or caving to what everyone else expected of him, if nothing else. And honestly? In order for my desired outcome (Birdflash) to happen, Artemis can’t be a viable romantic partner for Wally anymore. Artemis has to get with someone else in a permanent kind of way (more on that in a later chapter). Kaldur was the obvious choice, because I honestly SHIP IT SO HARD YOU GUYS they would be so damn cute together, such a power couple, and they would have the cutest babies that have ever graced this planet.

…So, yeah. I had to have the moving-on process happen early. One of the most important parts of writing this love story is that I wanted Wally to move on from Artemis completely independently of falling in love with Dick.

 If we’re talking about a character being emotionally/romantically available, I wanted both Dick and Wally to be available by the time the reunion happens. I didn’t want Wally to ever feel as if he had to choose between the two of them. No fucking love triangles, thank-you very much. This isn’t that type of angst fic.

My honest opinion on love triangles is this: it’s overused. It’s boring. There is virtually no way to make it feel creative and original to the audience. It’s cheap angst purely for the sake of creating emotional pull. It’s lazy. There are so many better ways to create emotional pull. It’s a trope, and not even a good one. Whenever I see a love triangle in a story, it just feels so fabricated and pointless. I’ve literally never seen it happen in a way that felt refreshing and original. From the point of view of creating a rich and meaningful story with mature themes and believable character development arcs, it just doesn’t make sense to me. It just feels like the equivalent of junior high cafeteria drama.

But at the same time, I have to be true to what the characters would be feeling at the time; I can’t just make Wally magically get over spending five years with her, and have him fall in love with Dick the next day. I have to allow him time to let go of his previous relationship, but I didn’t want him to do that because of Dick. I wanted him to do it because he realizes that he shouldn’t have been in the relationship for as long as he was in the first place. So, to avoid that cheap drama pitfall, I decided to show the moving on process early in the fic.

(Sorry if any of you actually like the love triangle trope. I have a deep love for many tropes that most people would consider lame – fake relationship or accidental marriage, anyone? – so I really have no place to judge. I just really hate that trope.)