#but demonic linking and therefore what he morphs into

[fuckedprophet]

It’s the way I know Dallas would be a druid. It’s the way I know he doesn’t seem it, he reads warlock — but he’s a fuckin druid if there ever was one with a barbarian secondary.

#. ooc #like now picture a corrupted Druid #where what he shifts into is wrong #twisted from the original version is nature #imagine it’s because of being a demon #imagine he died in a dungeon only to wake up not tied as a human #but demonic linking and therefore what he morphs into #is what happens to nature when it’s wounded and killed #hos forms mimic dead or dying creatures #he’s still connected to the earth but it’s almost like she mourns him #a mother who wouldn’t turn her child away #aghhhhhh imma be thinking

[skellebonez]

Smoke, Flasks, and Unfinished Tasks: Chapter 6

AO3 Link!

Chapter 1 Link!, Chapter 2 Link!, Chapter 3 Link!, Chapter 4 Link!, Chapter 5 Link!

Summary: Revelations. History. Collision.

Warnings: Descriptions canonical violence in Journey To The West, smoking and drug use on others.

Author’s note: So... this was supposed to be up on Saturday last week... I thought I had posted it, but due to issues offline I had completely forgotten. But I went over this chapter, edited it, and moved some things from it into the next chapter for a better flow and therefore it is a smidgen short! (No special spoilers here.)

Chapter 6: Knew you weren’t human but who’d guess?

“Jin! Jin, what’s happening!?” MK yelled, watching as the Gold Demon in the form of his mentor fell to his knees and screamed. His entire form glitched and rippled as the world around them shook and shook and shook so hard that they could barely keep on their feet. The world rippled around them, wisps of pieces of the ground and building glitching in front and between them blocking their vision. “JIN!”

The demon didn’t reply, the longer he screamed the more none of the trio was even certain that he could, curling into himself and bending at the waist so much that his forehead dug into the ground beneath him. And suddenly the shaking was gone while the pained screaming remained.

“What is happening!?” Mei whirled around in the hopes of seeing anything that could give them a hint as to what was happening. “W-what the hell?”

No one was reacting. Every single fake person in the Calabash city just kept on going about their day as if the visage of the Monkey King doubled over and screaming in agony wasn’t in front of them at all.

“Oh please,” a voice rang out from all around them. “Did you think I wouldn’t catch on? No cheating allowed in my little game you four.”

The trio looked at each other with wide eyes. They didn’t recognize this voice at all. It was feminine, that was much was certain, smooth and calm like nothing was happening at all and it was spoken as if through the opening to a vast cave that made it vibrate the very air surrounding them.

“What did you do to Jin!?” MK yelled back, kneeling down to put a hand on his back. Jin’s screams had begun to die down and now he was shaking violently, though whether it was because whatever had caused him to start screaming had stopped or if it was because he physically could not anymore.

“Just a little incentive for him to cooperate while I do a little something something,” the voice rang out again, a high pitched and haughty chuckle following soon after. “It’s amazing what these two little buffoons have managed to create while being sooooo bad at figuring out how to actually use it. Almost as clever as growing little kits.”

“Kits?” Red Son muttered, looking to the sky and narrowing his gaze.

“Shit...” Jin suddenly groaned out, not getting up from his place on the ground. “What did you do to me?” He tried to turn his head but didn’t seem to have the energy to do so and the sight of this happening with Sun Wukong’s face made MK feel sick to his stomach.

“Incentive, I said,” The voice sounded exasperated now, a low drawn out groan sounding out. “You should be very familiar with it by now, though this batch is more of the paralyzing variety than the sleeping one so maybe it should be expected for you to not realize what I had blown into your secret little calabash.”

Vapor. The voice was most definitely Vapor, or whoever was hiding behind that moniker. The realization they had had been caught before their plan to escape could even really start sent ice cold shudders down all of their spines.

“How did you even k-”

“You thought I actually left?” Vapor cut Mei off with a tut, and suddenly the world started shaking violently for a few seconds before calming down. “I wouldn’t be dumb enough to turn my back on these two for a second, they may not be the best plotters but they’re not dumb. No no no, I knew they had a little something up their sleeve. That’s why I pretended to leave. Muuuuuuch easier to deal with one of them than both of them, less costly in supplies as well.”

“What did you do to my brother!?” Jin screeched, just barely managing to push himself to his feet with a snarl that dissipated instantly. “Wh-what... did you do to me?”

“You like it?” Vapor giggled this time, still high and haughty. “Why wear the face of Sun Wukong remotely when you can just be him instead? Much easier to keep track of you when you’re all in one place...” The sound of a crunch could be heard, ringing in all their ears as Jin’s face dropped in horror at the realization that it had been the calabash he was originally in. And no longer in. “As for your brother he is taking a much needed nap. He’s veeeery comfy I can assure you, very safe. Safer than you will be.”

“You let us out of here right now you damned fox!” Jin yelled, finding his anger just in time for a whooshing sound and smoke to start billowing from the sky and to surround them. “Aw shit, no! No, cover your mouths!”

The warning came far too let, the smoke seeping into their mouths and eyes before the trio could even attempt to cover them. They coughed and gagged on the sickly sweet and bitter taste on their tongues, eyes burning and tears failing to relieve them.

“F-fox?” Red Son coughed out, trying his best to remain standing and failing miserably as he joined the others in the ground in only a few seconds. “It’s n-not possible, you’re-!”

“Dead?” Vapor’s voice rang out again as a form glitched in front of them, a patchwork tapestry of people before eventually forming a whole person who’s face lit up as Red’s fell into one of horror and recognition. “Awww, you do know me! I was afraid your father had never kept any of my portraits.”

She stepped forward, tall and regal and draped in rich silken robes of old fashion. Hair half up with intricate pins and a jade comb, the tell tale giveaways of a fox spirit showing in her long tail and large ears.

Princess Jade Face knelt down, smile softening even though no kindness shown through it as she cupped Red Son’s face in her hands. “Oh my dear little kit, I am terribly sorry you had to meet your step-mother like this.”

----------

Thunder and lighting surrounded them, electricity and bangs that could shake the ground itself the backdrop to their battle. Princess Jade Face gritted her teeth, growling low in her throat. If she knew this is what would become of her after moving from being the demon Bull King’s concubine to his second wife she would have never taken the chance.

“This altitude ain’t the only thing I got over you!” That damned pig, Zhu Bajie, yelled from the rocky alcove above her with a wickedly proud smirk. He swung his rake, mythical energies emanating from it in a clear warning to stay away. She couldn’t afford to listen to that warning, not if she wanted to keep her position. She’d worked so hard to gain the bull’s favor and she wouldn’t just give it up now.

“Big words traveler, but can you back them up?” Jade Face snarled, allowing her fangs and claws to morph in. Damn this pig for forcing her to reveal herself. Damn that monkey for demanding the fan. Damn the monk, the fish, the dragon-horse! Damn them all!

“Oh I can back them up and than some, show me what you got!” With a yell the pig leapt off the rocks.

“Gladly, your journey ends here with me!” She leapt forward in turn, allowing her herself to fully become her fox-woman form. She grabbed the rake before it made contact with her skull, swinging it and it’s owner to the other side of the field.

“Knew you weren’t human but who’d guess?” The pig sneered, swinging the rake again to show off. “A fox spirit all along. Doesn’t matter what you are though, this rake will rend your soul regardless!”

Oh, rend her soul would it? Not without a fight! Jade Face dropped to all fours, running around Zhu Bajie and cartwheeling once behind him to catch him off guard and kick his legs out from under him.

She lengthened her claws, swinging down to gore at his throat before the blunt end of the rake slammed into her stomach and sent her flying with no air left in her lungs. Barely landing on her feet she just managed to catch the pig lunging at her with nine teeth aimed right at her face, falling back just in time to be missed. She rolled, kicking him in the stomach in retribution and grabbed one of his ears to bite at his neck.

That’s when she felt all nine of those barely missed teeth sink into her back.

She froze, jolting only when they were pulled out and the pig moved to let her fall face down into the dirt.

“Gotta admit,” she heard him say distantly, growing further and further away. He was leaving, no doubt to return to his master and companions. “You ain’t half bad. No match for me, but still not half bad. Maybe if I ever end up in the underworld we could have a rematch.”

Rematch. Rematch, that word spun around in her head as she laid in the dirt. Warm blood seeping from her wounds and painting her back in a deep red. A rematch.

‘He will get much more than a rematch some day,’ Jade Face thought to herself as she finally moved once she was sure he had left, crawling through the field to hide away and lick her wounds. ‘He’ll learn not to leave things unfinished.’

----------

Princess Jade Face leaned back in her chair, hands typing wildly at the keyboard in front of her as she turned the memory over in her head. She watched the chaos unfold on the screens before her, a smile forming on her lips as she finally turned away to empty her smoking pipe to fill it with another concoction of her own making.

Yes. Zhu Bajie would learn not to leave things unfinished.

Zhu Bajie would learn the hard way.

She was sorry for getting Red Son involved, but her husband... well. Not him.

#the whole time i wrote her I was thinking of cindy robinson's voice #and I have no idea why #queen beryl maybe? #monkie kid #lego monkie kid #fanfic #sfaut #smoke flasks and unfinished tasks #mk #Qi Xiaotian #mei #Long Xiaojiao #red son #traffic light trio #jin #villain shall remain unspoiled

[satire-please]

My Teeth Are Like Swords - Part 4

Summary: Tim’s in a sticky situation because of...Ra’s. Therefore sacrifices have to be made.  Personal ones.

Part 3, Part 2, Part 1

Ao3 Link

There are few things out in the world that can startle a drake.

Ra’s al Ghul is one of them.

In fact, Tim would like to put the Demon Head near the top of that list. Especially when the villain morphs into the edge of his peripherals at another charity event the Waynes are required to attend. Guess who’s the lucky token Wayne this time?

Yep. Apparently being a dragon doesn’t increase your luck when pulling straws.

Tim manages to repress a flinch when he spots the flash of gold and green. The surprise makes his heart pound in the most unpleasant of ways. Ninjas do that after all.

“Please excuse me, gentlemen, we’ll have to continue our conversation later,” Tim smiles with charm towards a throng of investors.

He takes his drink in hand and carefully makes his way to the wall...where Ra’s watches the crowd. No, that’s not right. Where Ra’s watches him, and Tim can feel that gaze rove over his form like dirty fingers as his stride become a more purposeful march.  At this museum, Tim vaguely and spitefully compares the man to the mess of artwork around him. Flowing, unironic, stupid cape arranged over a well-tailored suit, Surrealism matches the feelings the criminal provokes, a gnawing infestation under his skin. Tim’s wine glass moves to hover in front of his chest, over his core instinctively.

The man is dangerous.

He’s the type that scratches and digs to find what you hold dearest and wait for the right moment where destroying it would hurt the most. The kind with patience, the kind with knowledge, the kind that Tim knows would just love to hunt down a mythical creature of his own. Ra’s could make a poacher very...very happy and wealthy.

Tim can take him.

“Good evening...Timothy.”

“What are you doing here.” It’s not a question, it’s a demand. Tim’s face might be stuck in a pleasant countenance for their surroundings, but his voice is more frigid than the Arctic.

Ra’s gestures grandly with a hand around them, “Why to admire the innovative talents that Gotham has to offer.” A crooked smirk begins to cut across his face. Sharper than any blade. “The possibilities are astounding.”

“Huh, somehow I doubt you’re here to support our talented artists for the Wounded Warrior Project.” Tim’s lip curls into a sneer, “Instead of protecting veterans, you tend to sacrifice them instead. Isn’t that way your recruitment rate is so high?”

Ra’s uncoils from his relaxed pose against the wall. “How rude, Detective. My fallen are honored, especially when they give their all to my purpose. In fact, the esteem, the respect, the glory they earn is never retracted. Tell me, is the notion the same with the Bat’s broken little boys?”

It’s a jab against Jason. Maybe even against him. Tim’s smile fractures in the corner of his lips, a fang scraping the inside of his cheek and he sets down his glass harder on passing tray than he needs to. A deep breath, two. It would be a paparazzi dream come true to capture the money shot of Timothy Drake-Wayne socking an unknown foreigner in the face. But he’s no fairy godmother. “Why don’t we take this fascinating discussion elsewhere? Somewhere more private if you want to know what else can break.” Like your face. Or his arm, Tim’s not really picky. “That way you can be out with it. You’re not here just to trade quips to piss me off. You want something.”

“You would be correct in your deductions. I require something in this cesspit, a diamond in the rough so to speak. For me to claim success, I must have your assistance.” Ra’s tilts his head in agreement. “Yet for more precise details, lead on.”

“Great, let’s go. I can’t wait to tell you no.”

Tim storms off, Ra’s following leisurely behind them as they part through the crowd. His hackles raised as he’s forced to give the assassin his back. The two make their way past the less inhabited exhibits, then into the hall towards the back offices where new art pieces are received and cataloged.

“Oh, Timothy, I am sure you know why few have dared to refuse me. Yet before our business, I must inform you, Nyssa sends her fondest regards.” Tim jerks at the whisper brushing his ear.

He twists on his heel to snarl at the looming man. Obnoxiously tall man.

“Tell her mine are not as much and next time she wants to try for free ‘seed,’ she should take the guy out for dinner first.”

Ra’s simply waves a hand for them to continue forward, “Perhaps uncouth, unconventional, and yet–”

“She chained me to a wall.”

“–Yet what a vision you must have been. Helpless, bare and dazed from the blow…truly a sight wasted when it could have been shared.” Ra’s expression turns way too salacious and Tim’s knuckles itch with possibility. “Still no matter how forward perhaps, she regrets how short your time in her clutches was. It is unbearably unfortunate your knight in shining black armor appeared so early.”

“Well, Black Bat is always to kick a rapist’s ass anytime, anywhere.” And if the criminal tries anything like that again it won’t be just Cass, it’ll be a full-size dragon ready to fry the Ghul into ash. Really, it’s just self-defense, maybe Bruce will understand.

“Some battles are worth any wound for the prize.”

Tim manages not to gag. Barely. Instead, he decides not to give Ra’s the pleasure of a response. He goes to open a door only to find it unlocked. His fingers bite into the doorknob, how many rooms did Ra’s men make available for this...meeting? How long did Ra’s plan this?

The pause gives Ra’s a chance to prompt, “A penny for your thoughts, Detective?”

“Only the one I wish I crushed you with.”

“Our first meeting was truly memorable. It is not every century, a giant piece of currency attempts to take my life.”

“Regrettably, you have this terrible habit of dodging.”

“What a wretched inconvenience I am to you,” Ra’s purrs. Though in the Detective’s favor, the experience was quite the introduction. The memory still strong of being absolutely stunned, as this pale wraith of a child maneuvered an enormous slab of copper to split him from the Bat.

“I know, right?”

“Then it is only fair for me to return the favor.” He herds the Detective into the small office. The shelves are full of covered paintings and bookkeeping litters the lone desk in the center. The smell of dust and resin permeates the air.

“You didn’t answer my question, why are you here, Ra’s?” He watches the way Ra’s prowls around examining their surroundings and Tim carefully puts the heavy desk between them. He’s not afraid. Not even nervous. Honest. But there’s no harm or shame in placing obstacles in a monster’s path.

Ra’s hums and rests his hands in the small of his back, he arches an eyebrow at the Detective. “To declare that perhaps I was too quick to judge the city of Gotham.”

“What? No,” Tim draws out sarcastically, “You think?”

“After all, why allow this filthy cesspit my presence long enough to evaluate it in full?”

“I’m surprised more people don’t punch you in the mouth whenever you open it.”

“Power, my dear,” he says absentmindedly, “However, now I see the error of my ways. I was too quick to strike, though I still long to destroy this hell, wipe it off the face of the planet like the divine fires of Gomorrah.”

“Is this the way you ask always for help? Because you suck at it.” Tim folds his arms across his chest.

A dark chuckle, “Oh, Timothy, I never ask for assistance. I demand it. Yet allow me to get to the point. Before Gotham meets its predestined fate, it may possess something of value after all.”

Tim arches a brow at him, this close from rolling his eyes.

“It is a thing...most precious. Something that must be recovered by the League at any cost, by any means possible.”

“I’m not a mind reader, Ra’s. Spit it out and get out of my face.”

“A creature. Behold these are the marks of a creature with certain properties I find...desirable.”

Yeah sure, I freaking bet.

Ra’s tosses a sheaf of papers. No. Photos. In pretty black and white, they hit the top of the desk and fan out before Tim’s eyes.

Ice.

‘Ice,’ the wraith of his mother whispers, Tim feels the memory of her nails digging into shoulders. The way she’d spin him to face the mirror and press her cheek to his. ‘Be as ice. Let the blue of your eyes harden for why should they know any intention of yours?’

Her old lessons crack like an egg over his brain, drip down his veins and out of his mouth, “Am I supposed to ooh and ahh over grappling hook marks?”

Ra’s picks up on photo to thumb the edges.“Ah. It is true they do appear similar, do they not? Yet not, Detective, such grooves are not made with any tool,” he says.  

Tim’s heart starts to pound.

“Nor can these distinctive charred marks be any coincidence.”

“To what? This is Gotham. Home of unusual and burnt up buildings everywhere. I’m still not following, spit it out.” Before he does. Tim’s mouth floods with nitroglycerin, it’s thicker than saliva and coats the back of his throat. A viscous layer ready at a moment’s notice, all it needs is a spark. All it needs is a reason to burn. He swallows it down roughly. He needs to prevent any evidence, not create it, remember?

“Forgive me, you know how much I love to build up the suspense.” Ra’s crooked smile widens and he pulls something heavy from his jacket pocket, “Allow me to lay out my conclusion.”

Between his fingers is a scale.

“Somewhere in Gotham is a dragon.”

The only thing that keeps Tim breathing is that the scale isn’t black...it’s white.

“A what? You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Tim keeps the thread of arrogant disbelief strong in his voice. Mother would be proud. “Aren’t you too ridiculously old for fairy tales?”

“It is not a simple tale for the bed weary child,” Ra’s loses his patience. His obsessive greed bleeding through as he forces the scale into Tim’s hands. “This piece of evidence is authentic as the pit itself.”

“It just feels like a spray-painted piece of the batplane.” Tim carelessly taps it on the side of the desk. “Like a mix of plastic and alloy.”

“Be careful with that!”  

Tim hits it harder against the surface. Just to hear the man growl. The keratin in the scale is weak. Seems like the dame he fought once upon a time wasn’t just stupid but malnourished as well. Scales are like nails, they show health and the brittle nature of it gives the detective more than enough to work with. In fact, if he jumped on it at a certain angle, he might be able to snap it in two.

Ra’s rips it from his fingers. Spoilsport. “That is quite enough,” he hisses through his teeth and tucks the scale protectively back into his stupid, melodramatic cape.

“So whoop-dee-doo, the Demon’s Head believes in Dungeons and Dragons. Is there a point to this lame show and tell?”

“Because I require the services of a Detective.”

“Oh goodie, I think this is my favorite part in our conversation so far. How about a Hell No?”

Ra’s hands slam against the desk caging Tim in. Tim doesn’t flinch, perhaps berating himself for not noticing Ra’s getting into range yet he stares dead straight into those jade eyes.

‘Be stone.’ Janet’s voice reminds, ‘Give them nothing to predict, nothing before you strike.’

“You forget your debt to me, Timothy,” Ra’s says venomously.

Tim tilts his head to the side eerily. There’s a coil of unease winding inside him. The word debt is a serious concept to a dragon and the instincts around it are hard to shake. “What debt? I owe you nothing. Though if you mean that lovely kick through a window, I could totally repay you for that. This art museum has a lovely roof, let’s go.”

Ra’s presses in, Tim reaches behind himself to grab his own wrist. His nails are becoming too long for his liking. A flash of desire, of digging, of gouging, of letting the intestines fall as they may. Ra’s isn’t wearing any armour...probably. “I gave you resources when you had none. When all thought your grief had turned you mad, only I believed your hypothesis that the Bat remained alive. Only I gave you that validation.”

“Fuck you, I didn’t ask for your help. I would have been fine.” His nails draw his dark blood under the sleeve of his suit.

“Your future was to be a bloody corpse on a cheap hotel bed if not for me.” Ra’s grip on the desk behind him creaks.

Tim could headbutt Ra’s, doesn’t know why he’s continuing to hear him out.

“Which wouldn’t have happened in the first place if it wasn’t for your war on the Council of Spiders. The one you gave no warning or intel for. Technically it’s you that owes me a spleen, I wasn’t the Widower’s original target after all. I was a bonus kill.”

“Come to the pit then if you are so keen for the organ’s return.” Ra’s hovers above him with malice, with interest at the notion.

“And go crazy like you? No thanks.”  

“Regardless I provided aid for your quest, now it is time for you to take your aid in mine. Furthermore what better than a Drake finding a drake?”

“Drake-Wayne, remember.”

“And what would the other dear Waynes think of our past association.” Ra’s finally leans away from him, his hands trailing on the wood before gesturing behind them. Ah, so that’s Ra’s real angle, blackmail. Go figure. “The Bat may think that our interactions were justified for your noble cause, yet somehow I think otherwise. I admit I am beyond curious for his reaction to those lovely months we spent together.”  

Tim could rattle off a thousand reasons why that rationale was a pile of shit. That, okay. Fine. Bruce would glower, brood, and never trust Tim again, but, hey, after the Boomerbang incident maybe that ship has sailed to the Bahamas and back. Plus, if B can’t weigh the definite pros to the whole knocking out the Council of Spiders and taking Ra’s down a peg as a decent notch on his vigilante belt, well...Tim is a big boy anyway.

A big dragon.

Pieces of your hoard don’t have to trust you anyway. They just need to stay alive and safe.

Safe. Wait, oh.

“You’re such a bastard, Ra’s.” Tim grits out, but he’s going to take this deal. Not for Ra’s ‘debt’ and how the term makes his inner wyrm burn. Not for Bruce’s sensibilities. But for the most important thing, his mother drilled into his head over and over again.

The safety of control.

His face is cold, but his belly is hot. “Where do we start?” This is a mess to clean, his show to run, and his plan is solid.

Ra’s smiles.

So does Tim. He can’t wait to see the assassin’s’ aspirations go up in flames after all.

***

He manages to keep the Bats uninvolved for a record of forty-eight hours. It’s an accomplishment Tim should take note of really.

For example, he managed to scramble Barbara’s cameras subtly, though he’ll a semi truck of gourmet coffee to get back in her good graces when she finds out, just so Ra’s can show off various pieces of evidence his men have found around the city without surveillance. Tim had dutifully nodded during lengthy monologues only to innocently suggest that wouldn’t it be better to catalog all their data in one place? It’s so easy to convince Ra’s to have the marked roof tiles and stones removed, so easy to retrieve them later. Mother would scold him for how clumsy he had been. The least he can do is exterminate the crumbs that a wolf took advantage of.

Meanwhile, he throws out other morsels to divert and distract, “Looks like your ‘dragon’” Tim mockingly uses finger quotes. “Hasn’t been here for long. Maybe two months at most.”

“Oh? How can you deduce that?” Ra’s crouches down to trail his fingers over the grooves where Tim had stupidly filed his claws weeks ago. Stupid hygiene.

“The lack of erosion. Gotham has had a rainy year. Notice the iron embedded here and here next to the mark?” He points at the orange strain spreading over the bricks, “If made last year, the rust would bleed into the scratches yet note the chunk lacks any of that.”

Ra’s purrs, “Clever, Detective. So our drake must be new to the city. What a godforsaken place for it choose for its migration.”

“Not if it has the ability of camouflage.” Tim shrugs. The wind ripping through his cape as he eyes the security camera trying to turn their way and glitching. He has another three minutes before Babs catches on.

“In bright hues of white? I think not,” Ra’s scoffs.

“You said that dragons have powers beyond your ken. Is it really out of the realm of conception? If moths can do it, why can’t fire-breathing imaginary creatures?”  Two minutes.

“What an excellent point. It would give a reason for it to stay as well. My resources tell me that old cities provide the best nooks and rubble for one to hide their trove. Plus, the larger the city, the more ease the drake has to blend in.”

“Blend in?” Tim parrots. Shit.

“Why, of course. Not only does a dragon have strength and intelligence, but over eons, their best defense is to hide in plain sight.” Ra’s straightens to stand and looks to the night skyline. Tim thinks about the scales that not even makeup can hide behind his ear. The black iridescent ones that dot his collar bones that Dick once poked at and cooed before smothering him without another blanket. 

Heat regulation is still a bitch.

“Gotham.” Ra’s draws out the name. “Full of blind spots, full of soft brick and lead to dig through, full of abnormalities that over time each turns into a just another mundane occurrence to the public. Yes. I can now see the appeal that could persuade a drake.”

He sounds so much like his mother that Tim’s posture becomes still and rigid. His fist clenches on his knee. She always did mention that this was the perfect breeding ground for similar reasons. Even when he was young, she’d encourage him to stalk the city instead of stay in the mansion, her hoard, just in case. Even to the point of taking him into an alley since he was five, turn her face into one wall and slowly count to twenty. His record in evading her? Three hours.

If Tim wanted to disappear, really disappear into Gotham’s underbelly? He could.

He knows how to hide.  

“It seems we have been discovered, my Detective.” Ra’s smiles at him from the side. “What a pity. Our progress to this point has been phenomenal.”

But there’s always a time and place to hide and when the clock hits forty-eight hours and fourteen minutes, Tim doesn’t bother to make any move against the flash of a cape in his peripheral. “Not your detective, Ra’s. Have your men collect the rest of the samples and we’ll  reconvene once I analyze the possibilities of your fairytale whereabouts.”

“Very well. Oh, and do tell your mentor that I find myself sorely disappointed at his waning skills of concealment. A true agent of the night would never be drawn from the shadows so easily.”

Tim mutters, “He’s doing on purpose. If he didn’t want you to see him, you wouldn’t see him.” It’s more of Bruce waving a goddamn flag of ‘I know you’re in my city, get out of my city.’

“Besides every hunter knows how to distract dangerous prey,” a new voice says disdainfully.

They turn to the slight figure who managed to sneak only a foot or two away from them. One steel-toed green boot (a present from Jason) tapping the roof impatiently. Crossed arms over the Robin uniform, Damian Wayne has mastered the art of glaring with a domino on. “Grandfather, must your ninjas multiply like ants?”

Ra’s huffs through his nose, “Many hands make light work, Grandson. Farewell, Timothy. I await your every enlightenment.” And like a true magician, he throws his gaudy cape over a shoulder and disappears into the night.

Tim’s shoulders release, but he notes that Damian’s do not. Oh. He’s mad at him. Though to be fair, that is Damian’s default emotion to anything.  

Damian begins his hissing tirade, “I should submit you to Arkham myself. Such displays of insanity, must you attempt suicide in the most ridiculous of complex fashions? Why else would you positively associate with my grandfather?”

“One, I know what I’m doing. Two, there is nothing positive about it.” He gets up and away from the building edge before Damian gets the magical idea to shove him off it. Again.

Damian gets closer, one finger stabbing in his direction, “Why does video evidence say otherwise? You are clearly working in tandem with his aims. To think that father would even believe that you are being coerced is beyond my ken. Do you wish to die, Drake?”

The name is emphasized more than normal, and Tim gets his implication immediately.

“I have this under control, but thanks for worrying, brat.”

“Worrying? Why would I be worrying? You must be insane, yes, this is further evidence that padded walls would suit you.”

“Padded walls are flammable,” Tim reminds him.

With his thumb, he makes a small gesture and Damian’s breath hitches minutely. Even Tim can smell the Demon Head’s men. He can hear them. Their rabbit-like heartbeats underneath the awning are enough in his limited range. “But you’re right in a way, I am going along with Ra’s for a bit. For as long as it suits both our purposes. Though why he would willingly work with someone who double-crossed him before definitely needs the lesson of, ‘Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.” Tim then hums in the back of his throat. “Actually, he’s probably already expecting that. It sounds like just the game he loves to play.”

“But is it one that you are assured to win?” Damian grabs his wrist to tug him along. Grayson wants him home immediately. The moment Oracle sent a live feed of Tim’s current companion to all the Bats, Robin wondered if he would have to take measures to aid his mentor through a panic attack. It was not pleasant. Grayson is very...concerned over the welfare of his brothers.

Tim snorts, “Please, who do you think you’re talking to?”

“A fool.” Ouch, Babybat doesn’t need a katana to cut him in half. The grip on his arm tightens, even as they descend into the alleyway where the Batmobile waits. It sits with the top already open, eager to trap Tim so specific overprotective brooding vigilantes can sit on him.

Lame.

Somehow telling the Bats of his true nature has multiplied every unnecessary precaution by a factor of eleven.

Damian shoves Tim into the vehicle. B moves in the driver seat to stare at him. A lot, not bothering to twist back to look out the windshield, just pushing the button for autopilot in a very pointed manner.

Damian presses the com in his mask subtly. So anyone on the line can hear his interrogation. “Now tell us. What shall you do in the matter concerning my grandfather? This is beyond a simple threat against your very person.”

Tim thinks of the scattered white scales he scraped off the dame. How they must litter the sand on that beach like sparkling stones. He thinks of the trail he could plant, not that he can just point the League of Assassins in her direction, not even when the offensive white plastic bag of a dragon deserves it. No, he needs to create the perfect dead end to Ra’s little expedition. But how could he–

The light bulb comes on and blood fills his mouth as his fangs drop. Can he really?

“Oh, you know what? I’m going to give him exactly what he wants, Damian.” Tim decides grimly, “I’m going to find him a dragon.”

***

Tim is going to throw up.

The stalactites drip around him, the sound that was once soothing but now every drop that hits the wet floor makes him want to retch. He shouldn’t be here. They shouldn’t be here.

Not in this particular network of caves.

“Are you sure the creature will be found here? The opening is far too small to accommodate their size,” Ra’s demands. The band of his men are few, only the chosen may aid him in this task to witness what the Detective has wrought. They have traveled approximately twenty minutes, yet with every second his appetite grows at the possibility, at the results of Timothy’s work. The boy is clever. However, the tunnel narrows here and there, scraping their chests as the rock practically hugs their forms.  

“Stop doubting me. You said dragons are shapeshifters right? So why couldn’t they transform back and forth to crawl in here and hide? I’m only going off of the intel you gave me, Ra’s. The beach where you found the scale is not far from here. Plus look at these.” His boots make a hard crunch in the dim light of a torch.

Ra’s is a traditional, dramatic egoist, of course. A freaking torch.

“Prey,” the assassin breathes out. His eyes glittering in greed. It makes Tim want to shift forms, to roar at this filth entering this place with such hunger. Under their feet, stretching for a good thirty feet is a cemetery of bones. Most of the skeletons clearly intact with white and yellow rib cages on display.

“There must be at least a hundred of them,” Ra’s declares.

There are not. There are only forty-three. Tim does not correct Ra’s though.

The antechamber begins to widen until it has about a fifty-yard radius. The light flickers, yet the shadow of Ra’s’ hand gives an obvious signal, “Spread out. Search. This area appears most...promising.”

Tim wanders among the wet stone in a pretense of looking around as Ra’s men discrete this place with their presence. He avoids the west side of the chamber. His gloves running their hands on a wet large skull or two. Kills he had been proud of once upon a time. Those kills he had been sure would entice his–

“My lord! We have found something!”

–his mother to eat.

“No.” A voice roughly snarls. “No!”

On the ground, a few white scales lie in patches next to a giant boulder that stretches alongside the back cave wall. The details of long limbs and a tail are obvious and simple.

Tim’s fingers come up to squeeze the backs of his elbows, hugging himself for a moment. His inner core fluctuating, his heartbeat loud but he manages to repress the urge of curling up by her.

“This cannot be!”

What would mother think of him? To use her corpse as a diversion like this? To give Ra’s an empty platitude of what he wants? Would she be proud?

Yes.

Ra’s fury and despair gets loud, “I have only just found you! Why? How could I be too late?”

Janet always scolded Tim for his soft sentimentality. A tool is a tool. A resource is a resource. It is truer to their nature to use any means to fulfill their objective.

“The dead are dead, my pet,” Mother reminded him whenever she took him hunting, the claws of her painted nails sweeping delicately under his eyes when she found him sniffling over the wild kill of a deer. “They do not feel your tears. Our long memories exist to never forget what was. Now eat, the meat will soon grow cold and you make a mockery of the life by wasting it.”

No, Tim never got the ‘stop playing with your food! You should be grateful, some people in China are starving’ approach to picky eating. And Mother always kept him fed one way or another.

Tim comes up behind Ra’s, “So this is your dragon. Huh, is it supposed to look like that?”

Ra’s twists to snarl at him. “No, it is not. Not unless it is–”

“Dead?”

Tim admits Ra’s is rocking the look of utter anguish right now. If he wasn’t steeling himself, keeping his voice and expression blank he’d be howling with bitter victory.

“What happened to it?”

Ra’s reaches out to pet rough features of a jaw morosely. “The legends say that once the lifespan of such a beast ends, they naturally calcify into stone.”

Tim very much wants a copy of those legends. Too many things they’ve gotten right. “I thought they lived forever?”

“No,” Ra’s says, schooling his grief into something more palatable. “They do not, yet they can live on for several centuries.”

“Like you,” Tim points out. “With the help of the pit that is. Why do you want a dragon anyway?”

Carefully he steps around the man, trying to angle his cape a certain way.

“Why does any man seek power and beauty? Such things are what drive and keep the human race alive. With a dragon, I would be absolutely unstoppable.”

“You are already pretty unstoppable, how about you give the rest of mankind a fighting chance? You got power, check. You got the ultimate green regimen against aging that every older woman would gladly beat you to death for, check. Maybe you should just stick with trying to rule the world bit instead of chasing magical creatures.”

A chuckle. How interesting that the Detective can sway his despondent mood so easily. Oh, how he longs… “Even I need a pet project, Timothy. Besides do you not think the years would pass more gracefully with such a companion, such a specimen by my side?”

“Somehow I think the specimen would be more inclined to end your years rather than spend them with you.” In fact, Tim is sure of it.

“Ah, but what is life without the thrill of surprise? Whatever bond we forge will never be without fire.”

Tim snorts. Well, that’s an understatement. Still, he lifts a glove to trace the stone closed lid of an eye. Just like he did so many years ago, he’s positioned himself well. Maybe they won’t find his–

“What do we have here?” Ra’s pushes past him with an air of curiosity.

Gosh, how many times will Tim bite his lips raw tonight?

“Lift that up.” Ra’s motions his men to hurry. True the beast would be far more preferable breathing, but he can still catalog the proof of their existence. Plus even this is a find. The body is wedged tightly between the stone paws but any resistance is solved with a strong pull. “Come, Detective, you must see this.”

Reluctantly Tim stands near the new find.

How long did it take for him to swallow his grief? Just to pull off stealing his dad’s corpse? To crack open the heavy mahogany coffin and wrap the rotting remains carefully in a sheet. The fabric soiling quickly with the putrid oozing bits. It wouldn’t do to have flesh remaining, not on the body of a mate, but the cave bugs and open-air took care of that. In fact, Tim only had to wait a  month to adorn the skeleton befitting of his worth as a dragon’s husband.

With the sockets clear, Tim worked in two egg-like sapphires the same shade of his eyes. A border of pearls and pink stones for a nose. He weaved fine chains of gold as a delicate filigree in and out of ribs. Each piece back then gave a sense of calm. Tim always knew this task would fall to him one day, never so soon, but, hey, that’s death for you. Final. Inevitable. He's most likely bound to do it for his brothers, for Bruce as well.

There’s a final piece attached to the hips in braided silver; the first “discovery” Janet and Jack Drake found on an archaeological dig together. A saber sword almost appearing of Assyrian origin. Mother may have recounted the story a few times to send Tim to sleep. How adorable, her mate looked waving around one of her fangs excitedly like that. How easy it was to convince him to display the treasure in their private home, right above their bed. How quaint to watch the man fondly as he stoked the sword before bed when her dear had no idea what it really was.

It had been one of Tim’s favorite bedtime stories. Where sleep took him fast at the warm purr in Mother’s voice.

“This is a meager compensation, but it will have to do.” The Demon Head yanks the sword from Tim’s father’s bones. It cracks both the radius and ulna of the arm and Tim sees red. “It would be a shame for a treasure such as this to waste away here. A fang. A real fang, my dear Detective.”

“Are you done playing graverobber? It won’t be long before Batman catches your trail.” Tim manages to bite out. His eyes narrowing under the cowl. His eyesight too clearly taking in the breaks in the stone and bone, the footsteps that mock this place, the way the ninja crawl over his mother like black maggots.

He needs them gone. Now.

Ra’s eyebrows raise, “Our trail, Timothy. Yet why waste this moment of limited triumph? Allow me at least to bask in the sight of the creature.”

“Bask later.” There is a second of tension. Where all ninja in the cave go still, ready for the command to attack. Their bodies tighten. Tim casually turns on his heel and walks towards the cave opening. Then with a roll of the Demon Head’s shoulders, a minuscule tilt of the head orders the ninja to concede to the vigilante’s wishes. Besides, Ra’s sweeps his gaze over the beast and plans. They require more men, more tools to recover this...treasure. So he follows after Timothy, to the edge of the cave and back into the dark, one hand almost hovering over the small of his slim back. His fingers twitch when the boy says, “Is this the first time you’ve seen one?”

“No, it is my third.” Tim’s face pinches at that. “The first happened in my earliest centuries, capturing the sight of one in flight. The second during a war campaign, in human form.”

Ra’s eyes slide over Tim’s body. “Did you know they look exactly like us, Detective? Almost identical in every conceivable way. If not for a few errant scales here and there hidden under their clothing.”

Tim’s own tender scales itch under the suit. “How could you tell?” Tim asks.

Ra’s smirks, “Drakes reveal themselves in times of high emotion. They are easy to rile. Then it is quite simple to observe their flashing eyes and other tells.”

Janet Drake could be milliseconds from ripping off his head with not a hair out of place, Tim can be, will be the same.

The skyline reflects over the water as they emerge from the narrow opening in the rock. Each building’s light almost looks like a star in the smoky haze. Under their feet, except for the lapping waves, the beach is quiet as not one of the party makes a sound.

The silence breaks. “Are you finished? Did you get what you needed?” Tim fiddles with something in the pouch over his chest.

“Never. Not until a drake’s heart beats in my own chest. Yet my eyes have seen another fine specimen, my suspicions have been confirmed...and my trophy is adequate.” Ra’s caresses the dragon fang sword now adorned at his hip. “I am done with Gotham for a season.”

“Good.” And Tim lifts his hand showing the detonator.

Ra’s eyes go wide, his mouth opens to shout.

Tim presses it.

His eyes remain glaciers while his back feels the rush of heat and smoke from the explosion behind. It bellows around him as the earth shifts violently, shudders and settles. Ra’s ninja bend over to protect themselves from the blast as Ra’s himself coughs over and over into his fist.

Tim doesn’t bother. He doesn’t turn around either.

It’ll hurt too much if he does.

‘The dead are dead, my pet.’

“Detective.” Ra’s face is contorted in a grimace of rage.  

“What’s wrong, Ra’s? You said it, not me. You were done. Now I believe I’ve repaid any debt to you in full, a mystery for a mystery and gosh don’t you think that’s enough sightseeing of Gotham for you?”

“I could have sent teams to investigate those remains further. With the discovery of such a preserved creature and you–”

“Graves are for the living. The dead don’t care,” Tim says with a chilling smile, “Maybe I grew tired of watching you break and fondle old bones.”

“You destroyed the cave! The incredible wonder. How is that preferable to my actions?”

The crumbling rock should be enough to cover up the nearly-silent sounds of boots, of Gotham’s shadows taking their final positions twelve seconds after the explosion as planned.

Through the haze, Red Robin smiles white in the night, “It’s preferable because I get to piss you off. Now get out of my city, I promise you the only drake here is me.”

“And I promise you, Detective. The destruction of your city will be just as quick and ruthless as that cave.” Ra’s storms towards him, but the shadows take shape, and the yellow insignia comes through the dusk, the glint of the red helmet, and maybe a little blue and black mixed in, all the colors of the night flaring out over Red Robin’s shoulder, a heavy hand, gloved and gauntleted, ready for the fight, gives a brief squeeze of encouragement.

“You heard my son, Ra’s. it’s time to leave our city.”

But Nightwing gives a laugh, twirling one escrima stick through his fingers, “Nah. I think you should stay a while. This would make good fighting terrain. How many ninjas do you think made it out of that blast again?”

There’s a snort through synths and Red Hood nudges Robin, who’s standing next to him, “Gotta say, I don’t think it’s gonna be enough to keep the five of us interested for long, you feel me here, Baby Bird?”

“Tt, we were promised a sensational final brawl, Drake, and here you have failed to deliver.”  

“I’m not Santa Claus, Robin. How was I supposed to know Ra’s men would be so lame?”

“I had expectations that your plan would yield better results.”

Tim’s lips twitch. “Pfft. Next time, you can plan the bad guy takedown, and I’ll go get roof tacos with B, N, and Hood. Deal?”

“I think for now,” B interrupts the witty banter, moving with a swish of his cape to stand by Red Robin’s side, putting them shoulder-to-shoulder, “we’re going to say it one. Last. Time. Get the hell out of our city.”

And the depth of B’s voice is the thing that makes him the most feared man in the city. It’s enough to make Ra’s al Ghul pause and narrow his eyes over at Red Robin.

“Touche, Detective. As always, you never fail to disappoint during one of our little...games.” And even if he doesn’t move any closer, doesn’t even tighten his hold over the fang, Tim feels a shiver run down his spine. “Enjoy your victories for now, Timothy, but one day you may see this very fang again, and your blood will sate it.”

And even if it’s just way overdone, Ra’s gives barely a twitch of his fingers and the shadowy assassins leap away, running as they’re bid, and Ra’s himself turns sharply on his heels, clutching the fang by his side.

The Bats all take a collective breath.

As one, four heads swing to the vigilante in the middle, arms crossed and toes tapping.

“Okay, so not my best plan maybe, but it’s been one hell of a night. Can we just call it and go home?” Red Robin looks again at the rubbled remains of his family’s burial site, the space in his chest hollow even with the victory.

“I’m pretty much on board with that plan,” and because B knows about pain like this, sharp and biting when it comes to things that can never be regained. He pointedly grips one of Red’s shoulders, turns him gently away from the remains. “Besides, we have a meeting tomorrow and I need you to make me look like a rich idiot, remember?”

The returning laugh is tinged with sadness and B gives him another pat before leading the way back to the Batplane waiting for them all.

“We’re riding with Timmy!” Nightwing calls, already wrapping himself around one of Red’s arms. Hood lays a hand on Red’s other, giving a gentle squeeze.

Robin chuffs at them and leaps into the cockpit with Batman, waving them away to the plan Red came in to meet Ra’s.

Hood takes over, warming the plane up to fly while Nightwing hangs in the back with Red, pulling off the cowl so Tim couldn’t hide.

“Tell me really, are you okay, Baby Bird?” Dick gently tugs his brother into his body, taking in how he sags into the hold.

“I’m...fine.” Tim grips the arm half around his neck, careful of his claws under the gauntlets. “I just, you know, destroyed the grave of my parents. Let the most disgusting man walk away with my mother’s fang. I just–”

“Ensured your safety by leading Ra’s around by the nose.” Bruce finishes through the comm link in the planes. “The Demon Head will never suspect your nature now. When he returns it’ll be for your head, not your heart...we can work with that.”

“Yeah, death is just so much easier to work with than being hunted, captured like a pretty pet and trained as one,” Tim mutters.

“Plus Bats never stay dead!” Jason yells back in an ugly fashion.

“Seconded,” is Dami deadpanning in the back.

“I’ll worry about it when the day comes. Until then, I’m going to be very glad my secret is safe.” But Tim sits heavily, head dangling between his shoulders, so fucking tired. A hand reaching back pats his calf while Jay stays at the controls, and Dick flops beside him, already wrapping a long arm around his ribs.

“You’re safe,” Dick says low in his ear, low enough that the plane’s microphones can’t pick it up. “That’s what matters. You’re safe with us, and when that day comes, we’ll be here, Tim. We. Will. Be. Here.”

After the reassuring squeeze to his calf and the vigilante crushing his spine, hearing the low purr of B and Robin’s engine through the comm link, knowing Alfred is at home waiting with coffee and food and bandages, all of it makes him feel that much better.

“Our love is a terrible thing,” his mother’s voice whispers from memory. “But take comfort in this, you are mine. Now, until my last breath and forever.”

Tim...can work with that.

#my writing #dragon tim #my teeth are like swords #tim drake #batfic #fic rec #writing is hard #longest chapter yet #because of Ra's #batfamily #had help with the ending from Iphoenixrising #since you know she's awesome

[gabisartdump]

For my birthday, my little sis’ said she would make a digital pic for me! 

Bottom right is what i started planning it out with, and it morphed into what it is now! It was a mashup of lots of my fav characters. Still a WIP, but she’s the best!

See OC description below the cut!

Origin: This guy’s name is Criss, as in Criss-Cross. He’s technically a Ben 10 alien, but forms by pulling the essence/soul of various characters from other universes. Probably was originally a result of some universe-ending problem that was Ben’s fault to begin with (dimensional surge?). They’re pretty stable now.

Looks/Pieces: Main body is Genos’ machine body (OPM). He has Astro’s red boot-feet so he can actually fly (Astro Boy). Hair is a combo of Killua's and Deku’s, plus Edward’s braid (HxH, bnha, FMA). Right eye is Sebastian’s red demon eye; left eye is Rin’s blue one (Black Butler, Blue Exorcist). He’s wearing Danny’s white/red shirt with the wings of freedom and Eren’s jacket (DP, AoT). Those are Deku’s pants and belt. Hard to see are Ladybug’s and Chat’s miraculous ring and earrings (Miraculous Ladybug). He also has Rex’s goggles (Generator Rex). Obviously, Ben’s Omnitrix is on his wrist (Ben 10).

(not pictured) Mach 5 car with Voltron symbol. It acts kind of like a Voltron lion/Bumblebee fusion plus gadgets. This car is actually an overlay of Kevin’s car. The first time Criss waves his hand over Kev’s car and wills it into being, Kevin is horrified.

(not pictured) inside the Miraculous is a Kwami mixture of yin/yang.

Personality: He’s a flirtatious dork with a strong sense of justice and a knack for being a jerk sometimes. He can be REALLY scary when he wants/needs to be (’cause of Sebastian, Killua, and Eren) but it’s rare. He’s impulsive most of the time but is a thorough thinker under pressure. He’s got a bit of MPD because there are literally 13 people inside of his head. They all speak out of the same mouth, so he sounds insane 90% of the time, but they sync together in stressful situations. Criss tends to overthink in stressful situations, so Gwen and Kevin are there to ground him.

*Puns and Snark are a given with this bunch*

Has perks like: KILLING INTENT via Killua and RIGHTEOUS ANGER via Eren. Plus: an extra bonus of SADISM courtesy of Sebastian

Criss is a complete idiot most of the time, but in the middle of battle, he’ll just start talking about theoretical physics and trigonometry. Gwen doesn’t really know how to deal with him. (2)

They’ve got an. odd. collection of knowledge.

“How are we supposed to know what human beings are made of?”

“What, like it’s hard?”

He’s got like, a surprising amount of common sense considering all of the doofuses that make him up. Marinette helps w/that a lot.

Extra Perk: He is the ULTIMATE negotiator.

Adrien knows how to work the business man/fashion scene. The boy has got a walk.

Sebastian is awesome at the intimidation factor, but Deku makes him seem really trustworthy. 

Ben, Rex, and Rin keep him low key and #relatable.

Marinette is the only one of them who has any kind of emotional maturity. She good at reading people too. The only reason any of this works. Keeps them on task for almost everything.

Merging: Criss is a mesh of essences and memories, but all inside are aware of what is going on. When in separated by ‘verses, they have almost an empathic/telepathic link where they can sometimes send pulses/images down the link. Every once in a while, one of them can ‘pull’ on the essence of someone else to help them. However:

In order to fully merge, all of them of must agree, but it’s usually not a big deal; it’s pieces of the characters’ souls that are transferred, not their bodies. It doesn’t really affect what they are doing atm unless it’s super complicated.

Weaknesses:

The Ultimate Klutz, unfortunately. Sorry Mari. Very ADHD and seems to have a pretty severe MPD, for obvious reasons. Kind of off-putting as a person. Extremely draining form when in combat, Ben will sleep for days afterwards.

Powers: 

Obviously, Criss has got Super-strength from multiple people and exceptional sneak ability and balance (most of the time).

Danny: 

 - ectoplasm blast

 - can briefly become intangible but not invisible

“Why are you all so friggin’ dense???”

 - can fly a space ship

“Why are you looking at me? I don’t know how to fly an Earth space shuttle!”

“I do!”

“YOU DO?!”

“How?!?”

“Simulations.”

“...We’re all going to die.”

Rex: 

 - able to transform legs into a bike

 - can talk to machines

Astro: 

 - legs can fly

Ladybug:

 - creation power helps with [inventory] power from the Gamer 

 - Because Criss has both the earring and the ring, he is technically a god. (1)

 - Marinette’s stubbornness overrules all, and she can take control of Criss completely when they’re being really annoying. Sebastian occasionally assists. The two of them have the ability to literally shove everyone back to their home dimension, leaving behind an intimidating, girly version of Ben with red eyes. Ben’s still there but he’s been silenced by fear.

Edward:

 - can do alchemy 

“Wait, we can do magic?”

“No.”

Rin:

- He can COOK! It’s actually really good, and Gwen is pretty tempted to keep him as Criss.

Kevin: “Since when can you cook Ben?”

Criss: “I am a man of many talents.”

Also Criss, immediately after: “They’re my talents, Kitchen Failure.”

- Demon fire

- can perceive/talk to demons

Chat:

- Cataclysm

- The unmatched ability to perch on top of/in lockers, waiting to scare anyone with great relish.

HILARITY to be found in this ‘verse:

a. Someone asks his opinion on something and he literally just freezes from indecisiveness.

b. He’s like half a foot taller than Kevin, and Kevin is pissed.

Kevin thinks Criss is way cooler than Ben tho’ so it’s cool.

c. On one instance, one of the guys has been forced/dared into wearing something hideously embarrassing in his home ‘verse. Cue him being horrified as he’s pulled into Criss in a time of crisis, thinking it will transfer with him. Turns out that their shared body is more made up of their mental images than anything.

       “Why’d you seem so worried when you showed up?”

       *sends mental image*

       *muffled snickers and exclamations and an overall sigh of relief*

d. (1) It’s a thing with him, like his war cry.

    “I have the power of God and anime on my side” - said in the midst of battle

Gwen and Kevin. Need It To Stop.

    “You dare defy your God?!?”

    “Shut up Ben.”

    “It’s Criss!”

Sebastian hates it. Therefore, when ever Criss yells it, he rolls his eyes at himself. It’s a little bit hilarious.

e. A lot of them are SUPER excited at the idea of aliens. Some; not so much.

      “A-Aliens?!”

      “I thought they were EVOs, but clearly they’re from outer space.”

      “Cool!”

      “Eh, I’ve dealt with worse.”

f. Sporadic cursing via Edward. and fake cursing via Danny

      “You frigging fruit loop!”

      “What?”

g. Randomly, one of them will just give a full-body shiver and say “Oh, this is disgusting.”

h. (2) Criss actually has a modicum of common sense, so Kevin is really impressed at first.

      “Wow, it’s almost like you’re a real, rounded person!”

      *Eren screams*

      “Never mind.”

I. They get a lot of awkward questions.

Some Behind-the-times Surfer Dude: “So, like, are you a boy or a girl?”

*silence*

Criss: “I am a GOD!”

Kevin, absolutely done: “SHUT UP”

               .   .   .

Gwen, later: “He’s technically right, you know.”

Kevin, nearly crying: “Yeah, but denial is the only thing keeping me going at this point.”

J. Sometimes, Criss gets SUPER DUPER excited, for various reasons. 

Deku, about other heroes/aliens,

Adrien, about anime,

Sebastian, about cats,

etc.

It’s slightly adorable, slightly disturbing.

K. Criss randomly starts talking about fashion, mostly due to Marinette, and shows surprising prowess

    Gwen, vaguely disturbed: “Um, have you seen your outfit?”

    Criss: “Yes and I hate it.”

L. Criss can and will have conversations/arguments with himself out loud for hours on end. They can be about anything. Literally. Anything.

@tharkflark1

#ben 10 #fma #edward elric #killua #hxh #hunter x hunter #danny phantom #eren #attack on titan #boku no hero #deku #astro boy #opm #one punch man #genos #generator rex #black butler #blue exorcist #rin okumura #miraculous ladybug #chat noir #ladybug #the gamer #mach v #mach 5 #speed racer #voltron #Rory'sArt #digital art #OC

[corneliusmcvandy]

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This week’s analysis centers on part two of Charles Mills’s The Racial Contract. Compared to part one, which mostly defines and outlines the historical development and current state of the Racial Contract, part two focuses on how the contract applies to space, social relationships, as well as how it is enforced. The purpose of this write-up is to pose a critical question inspired by The Racial Contract and then begin to answer it. The question is: what is the relationship between people and spaces, and how does the Racial Contract influence interactions between the two? 

A key takeaway from Mills’s writing is that spaces are intrinsically linked to identity and power. Rather than existing independently, the perception of a geographical space is linked directly to the perception of those who inhabit it, that perception of course being based on the Racial Contract. While an intuitive idea, Mills applies it to historical and current phenomenon as a pervasive central theme. For example, he writes on the process of colonization that “Non-European space is thus demonized in a way that implies the need for Europeanization if moral redemption is to be possible” (46). Thus, it is not the space itself that is perceived as lacking, but rather the presence of non-European inhabitants in that space. Therefore, if “first-class” citizens do begin to inhibit the space, usually by coercive or genocidal means, then the space can be redeemed and eventually celebrated as a Mecca of European ideals. Indeed, this is how the perception of America morphed into what it is today from its 1600’s perception as a distant trading outpost inhabited by savage hunter-gatherers. Even more important to understanding this trend is how it continues to be perpetuated today. While there are no more hunter gatherers, the racial contract still deems white citizens as first class and everybody else behind them. Consequently, certain spaces are still held in higher regard than others. Consider the differing imagery associated with Harlem and Westchester, and then consider the primary racial breakdowns of those who live there. Clearly, modern day America still ascribes some value to the color of skin, and as has been mentioned in class, has sought to keep it that way with racially restrictive covenants, redlining, biased policing, and more. 

Another important point Mills makes about the relationship between people and spaces is that one group needs to remain above the other in order for certain spaces to be considered better. Logically, if all people were equal, the spaces they occupied would be inconsequential as they’d shape them all in equal ways (although one might push back on his logic here and say that California will always be better than Kansas, no matter what). However, the point Mills makes is clear: there is no power or prestige in a fully egalitarian society. This is one of the fundamental reasons the racial contract has persisted, and in this context can be understood as people who live in high value spaces seeking to keep them that way. Another important point Mills makes is that today, that continuation is often done subtly. Racism is admonished or even completely denied and then pushed to the periphery, allowing those who the racial contract puts in a position of power to plead ignorance and maintain their position at the top. 

Thus, the relationship between people and spaces is dotted by considerations of race (and accordingly wealth and class). Spaces derive value or lack thereof from those who live in them, while at the same time established “first-class” spaces are seen as models that all other spaces must conform to in order to be viewed in the same way.

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Hi, I just recently found your blog and it's amazing! I'm so happy there are still people there are as invested as I am in the Animorphs series! I especially love your Adult AU and your analysis of the books. In fact I was reading one of your posts where you said that Cassandra Clare's book glorify violence - if I'm remembering correctly - and I was curious if you could expand on that. If you prefer you can message me privately since this is strictly an Animorphs blog. I hope I'm not bothering u

No bother at all.  I sometimes feel like I spend half my blog space whining about how every other book on the planet is inferior to Animorphs, which isn’t actually the kind of vibe I’m going for.  I SWEAR I LOVE YA SF.  Just… Not Mortal Instruments.  I’ve tried.  I tried so hard to like that series.  It is objectively well-written and creative.  I just… I can’t with Cassandra Clare’s work.  I can’t.

First of all: a confession.  I’ve only ever read City of Bones, City of Ashes, and about half of City of Glass, and then several different issues (the glorification of violence, the glorification of “slender” or “skinny” bodies, the way Jace’s Freudian Excuse gets used to let him get away with all kinds of bad behavior, the borderline-pathological worship of True Love in City of Ashes) conspired to drive me away from the series as a whole.  So I don’t actually know if Clare improves in the last 80% of the series.  Thus everything I say has that big honking grain of salt. 

However, I do take issue with the way that, from what I’ve seen, the Mortal Instruments series portrays violence.  Individuals are portrayed as all good or all bad (literally, they’re on the side of the angels or else they support demons) and—from what I’ve seen—there are literally no good demons, nor are there angels worse than “morally grey.” This Manichaeisan worldview (which I think is no accident given the overtly Christian overtones of the series) basically justifies pretty much any acts of violence on the grounds of “they are bad and we are good and therefore pretty much anything we do to them is good, regardless of the means we use to get to that end.”  One extension of this principle which pops up again and again and again with regards to the Shadowhunters is that Might Makes Right.  Clary is the best at coming up with new runes to kill demons, which is a sign she is the best good; Izzy is the best at stabbing demons very dead, which is a sign that she is good too.  Morality comes about by way of violence in that series.

It’s troubling because it glorifies war as “we are the good guys wiping out the bad guys” and utterly dehumanizes the bad guys in the process.  Given that we live in a world where pretty much any group can be potentially cast as “the bad guys,” and that we as humans have an implicit bias toward casting ourselves as “the good guys” no matter what group we belong to… It can reinforce bad behavior.  To say the least.  

Case in point, the first scene in the series is one of Clary witnessing a major fight between (apparently) several children her own age, who are using deadly weapons to launch all-out attacks against each other and (again, apparently) succeed in killing at least two individuals at the end.  The narration doesn’t focus on her shock or horror or utter terror; it spends a long time dwelling on how cute Izzy’s dress is and how nice Jace’s cheekbones are and how cool they all look swirling around with their magical weapons.  (And slender bodies. Can’t ever, ever forget to mention that every single one of them has a slender body.  I confess that’s the #1 pet peeve in the writing that drove me away from the series.)  I’m going to go out on a limb and suggest that Clare has probably never witnessed a real fight, or even a video of a real fight, because this is not only unrealistic (real fights are short, chaotic, hard to interpret, and incredibly disturbing—kind of like how they’re described in Animorphs) but it also suggests that violence is cool. 

Meanwhile, I don’t want to suggest that Clare is by any means the only author with this problem.  There was a great article (which I have since lost—I’ll have to send a link if I find it) which pointed out that American Clinton supporters and American Trump supporters and American independent voters all cast themselves as the Rebel Alliance in Star Wars and cast their political nemeses as the Galactic Empire.  Because it’s easy to do: the narrative of Star Wars dehumanizes the stormtrooper enemy (although I could have cried with happiness when Finn took his helmet off in the latest film) while glorifying the individuated, special, blessed-with-magic heroes.  It literally says that there is “light” and “dark,” and that the light is justified in (for instance) blowing up a space station with dozens of prisoners of war and possibly hundreds of innocent sanitation workers on board, just as long as doing so advances the cause of the Light.  Avengers, Doctor Who, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Supernatural, and a simple majority of sci-fi/fantasy suffers from this problem. 

I also specifically said that Clare doesn’t so much glorify violence and other troubling content as much as she fetishizes violence, which I do view as a problem specific to Mortal Instruments.  It leads to this attitude of “people did bad things to me, therefore I can do bad things to [totally unrelated individuals].” Clary nearly forces Alec to out himself to his parents (which, I admit, hit all of my own personal “NOPE” buttons when I was reading the series as a closeted queer kid) because she idly experiments on him without fully informing him of what he’s getting into, but she’s special and this is how they discover she has the best angel powers of them all and that means that it gets brushed over.  Jace and Clary are jealous and possessive jerks toward each other while also pushing each other away throughout City of Ashes and City of Glass, but this is portrayed as excused because They’re Doing It For (unhealthy, selfish, possessive) True Love.

The one that drives me furthest up the wall is the scene where Jace stalks into a bar, orders a Scotch (because Scotch is a Man’s Drink, never mind that the Man in question is a bratty 16-year-old), throws the Scotch at the wall because he’s Overcome By Emotion, shouts at the people in the bar, and then demands a replacement from the bartender.  This whole sequence gets portrayed as “look how much Jace is suffering” but I couldn’t get away from thinking about how much the bartender, the random patrons, and everyone else who has to deal with his temper tantrum must be suffering.  Seriously, that’s the kind of behavior that I would punish in a six-year-old, because I’d expect a six-year-old to know better, whether or not the six-year-old thinks that he’s in love with his sister and that their father is an evil demagogue (Luke Skywalker called and he wants his plot back, by the way) and whether or not the six-year-old has a Sad Hawk Backstory™. 

Anywhoo, I find Clare’s work… frustrating.  Obviously.  I have ambivalent feelings about most of the other sci-fi/fantasy for which Animorphs has ruined me forever, but Clare’s work is high on my personal “nah” list.

Quick inevitable aside to How Animorphs Did It Better: the kids view avoiding violence as the ultimate end for which they are fighting this war.  Any time the protagonists have to choose between a violent means and a nonviolent one, they struggle to find a nonviolent one.  There are good yeerks (Aftran, Illim, Niss), bad andalites (Estrid, Alloran, Samilin), and even bad Animorphs (mostly David, but to a lesser extent Marco and Rachel).  Even then, the good-bad dichotomy gets complicated and continuously questioned, such that the “good” guys do a lot of things that everyone can agree are “bad” and get condemned for it.  Marco acts like a jerk toward Tobias early on in the series, and the fact that he’s doing it partially because he’s (reasonably) terrified of dying thanks to what Visser One did to both his parents and partially because he’s whistling in the dark very clearly doesn’t excuse his behavior.  Visser One spends AN ENTIRE BOOK trying to argue that her bad behavior is the product of her having had a rough life, and at the end of it Applegate succeeds in getting us to hate her more, not less.  Predominantly “good” characters do “bad” things (Ax killing Hessian soldiers, Cassie letting Tom’s yeerk have the morphing cube, Jake flushing the yeerk pool), just as predominantly “bad” characters do “good” things (Visser Three helping defeat the nartec and helmacrons, Visser One protecting Darwin and Madra, Chapman’s yeerk agreeing to help Melissa), and the series doesn’t offer a moral dichotomy any more absolute than “try not to harm people, I guess.  Oh, and do your best to prevent other people from getting harmed, if they can’t protect themselves.”  The series shows that Tobias’s sad human backstory doesn’t make it okay for him to annihilate the mercora or even to snap at Rachel when he’s hangry.

I just… really love Animorphs.  And it ruined me for every single other book series on the planet. 

#awaytothink #answers #asks #violence #morality #aggression #freudian excuse #jace wayland negativity #cassandra clare negativity #mortal instruments negativity #nothing to do with animorphs #albert bandura #body negativity #ya sf

[thevalkyriesonline]

Let’s Talk Cosplay- Leigh 

Cosplay is a big part of many people’s lives, allowing them a chance to step into someone else’s shoes and escape from everyday life. With the rise of conventions sweeping the world, Cosplay is becoming something more and more people are getting into. As a result of this, communities of cosplayers are sprouting up. Some who meet up at different Cons to band together as a ‘Star Wars’ garrison or meeting at a movie release to be ‘The Avengers’. Something that is incredible about Cosplay is the level of detail that goes into the costumes, some spending hours and hours on working out the perfect colours, textiles and even going so far as to include advanced electronics!

We have asked a series of questions to each cosplayer in the hope that we can provide you all with some ideas on how to get started or some tips on how to develop your own craft further!

Today we talk to Leigh, who’s cosplays are, as I am sure you will agree, awesome! He is based in South West England and has been cosplaying for 4 years.

What inspired you to get started?

That’s actually a bit of a long and not a particularly pleasant story. My wife had tried cosplaying once before, and enjoyed it a little, but neither of us had taken it very seriously.  Then, unfortunately, her mother passed away very suddenly from an aneurysm. It was completely out of the blue and a really unpleasant time for her. When she tried to find something to channel her grief in to and something to distract her, it became cosplay, and she became really invested in becoming other characters as a way to cope with her pain.

Initially I only cosplayed as one character in a kind of lazy way to support her, but, although it’s hard to believe such a thing could happen, a month after her mother passed away, my own mother was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Six months later, and we’d lost her too.

My wife convinced me to get more involved in cosplay as a way to handle the pain. I did, not just at conventions, but joining a charity group, Scarey Knights, and I found getting to step in to being another character really helped me distance myself from the pain I was feeling and the grief I was going through. Ever since then I’ve loved it, the chance to become somebody else has always been so much fun to me, and I’ve done a lot of charity work and conventions.

What would you say has been your biggest challenge to date?

To me, the appeal of costuming is not so much in the making, but in the BEING other characters, and that means while yes, I have sweated, stressed and sworn over making certain costumes, to me, when I think of challenges, I think of the challenges of ‘becoming’ a character.  Therefore, probably my biggest challenge was hosting a horror walk through in character as Ash Williams (from the Evil Dead series). It was also probably one of the most fun experiences I’ve ever had, but essentially while everybody else in the walk would do one jump scare or appearance, I had to be with the crowd the entire time, delivering Bruce Campbell style one-liners, thinking on the fly as well as following a script, and be an entertaining host at all times to help them enjoy (and be scared!).

It was nerve wracking and challenging, but so much fun, and I always jump at a chance to do it again (I’ve done it twice now).

  Which is your favourite Cosplay you have done so far?

That’s a bit of a tough question, I have a lot, and lot of favourites. To ‘be’, or act like, as my above answer suggested, it was Ash Williams. I’m a big horror nut, but most horror characters are pretty silent or don’t have much personality, so getting to play a loud mouthed braggart was a lot of fun.

I’m also very fond of a few others of mine, I have a Poe Dameron costume from the new Star Wars movies which I love as I always loved the Rebel pilot outfits for as long as I could remember, but once Poe came along, I saw my chance to be a real ‘character’ rather than a generic pilot, and it’s a costume that once I finally had, I felt like I’d achieved a long time goal. I’m a huge Indiana Jones fan, so I’m extremely proud of my Indy costume, which I also think is my most accurate and ‘authentic’ outfit, I really enjoy getting to be Han Solo, especially since I usually do it with Chewie at my side for Force for Charity, a Star Wars charity group.

I also have a soft spot for Loki, which is another special character for me that took me years to finally do, despite everybody telling me I should do it for a long time. Loki’s a very special character to me, predating the Thor movies, where I was interested in his character in Norse mythology, and I even had aspirations of writing my own screenplay about Loki once, when I was teenager, so the chance to do that costume has been really great.

What has been your favourite Cosplay interaction you’ve had at a convention?

I’ve had a few, but one that springs to mind, I was dressed as Captain Hook (the classic version) at a con, and on my belt I had a lantern with a little plastic Tinker Bell trapped inside that would light up. This little girl and her brother came over wanting a photo with Captain Hook, but I noticed the girl was acting a little odd, overly hyper and trying to keep me talking. I thought it was a bit odd but didn’t think much of it, as lots of kids get nervous when meeting costumed characters. She waited until I was distracted talking to her, lunged forwards, threw open the lantern, and yelled at the top of her voice “FLY AWAY TINKER BELL, FLY AWAY!!!”.

She thought she was saving Tinker Bell from the evil Captain Hook!

What, if any, difficulties have you encountered? 

Probably my biggest challenge is actually down to my ethnicity and skin tone. I’m a quarter Brazillian (or latino) and it shows, I have dark skin and dark hair, and it really does feel like it limits the amount of characters I can play. I can use wigs, but they never look right with my skin tone, only black hair seems to work, and so it stops me from pursuing certain costumes I may want to do.

People say you can cosplay whatever you want, and it’s true to an extent, but because of the charity style work I do, I always feel I need to bear at least a passing resemblance to the character, and that puts a lot of characters out of my reach.

If you are happy to share, what future Cosplay do you have planned?

My plans are actually a little limited at the moment due to finances. I’ve just finished doing some basic upgrades to a Nightwing costume I have, I’m planning to upgrade two other existing costumes I have, Billy Butcherson from Hocus Pocus which is already part way through being redone, and Eligos, a demon from the TV show Ash. Vs Evil Dead. Currently that’s just a good mask and a cheap morph suit, and I want to build the body properly.

I’m quite keen to put together the new Michael Myers from the upcoming Halloween film as well as I’m a bit of a fan of that series, but I will have to see if finances allow it.

  What advice would you give to someone looking to get started?

Honestly? ‘Just do it’. Yes, I know it sounds like I’m just quoting a Nike slogan. But I think one of the things that holds people back the most is finding the confidence to really go for it. Embrace it, do it, and if it’s for you, you’ll love it. Don’t hold back, and just put yourself out there. You don’t have to make your costume, or buy it, do it however you want, but give it a go and see if it’s for you.

Personally, I advise as well against making your first costume a ‘casual’ one (by which I mean a costume that could double as ordinary clothes, and that people have to ‘get’ to realise you’re in costume). They can be fun, but for your first time, I think it’s good for people to really experience the buzz of being in costume, and for that I think a more noticeable costume helps. But of course, that’s just an opinion and your mileage may vary.

What items/ tools/ techniques would you say are imperative in a new Cosplayers tool kit?

Velcro and superglue. I don’t go anywhere costuming without it. Costumes, no matter how well made, no matter where they came from, can break, and there’s few problems that can’t be (very temporarily) solved by velcro and superglue!

A massive thank you for Leigh for sharing with us his very personal cosplay journey, cosplaying means something different to each individual and we think it is wonderful that cosplaying helped him and his wife to deal with their grief and let them escape into other characters! Also, that story of the little girl and Tinkerbell is awesome! 

If you are looking for more information on the charity Leigh mentioned about, Scarey Knights just follow the link here: https://www.facebook.com/ScareyKnights/

Like what you have read? Read the rest of the ‘Let’s talk Cosplay’ series here!

Let’s Talk Cosplay- Leigh Let's Talk Cosplay- Leigh  Cosplay is a big part of many people’s lives, allowing them a chance to step into someone else’s shoes and escape from everyday life.

#comic book cosplay #Cosplay #Cosplayers #costumes #han solo #hocus pocus #horror #horror cosplay #Indiana Jones #Let&039;s Talk Cosplay! #nightwing