#but then it ends up with the central vigilante being offered a position as a pro hero and being like ~*my dream come true*~

[pigstepping]

.

#this is the second fic ive read in two days that started strong and then devolved into pro establishment propaganda #this superhero au spent most of the narrative exploring the systemic class-related issues inherent to the vigilante/pro hero divide #and there's this whole drama with the pro heroes being dismissive and hostile to vigilantes #even though vigilantes do all the work of aiding low income areas without any of the resources or legal protection that pro heroes have #but then it ends up with the central vigilante being offered a position as a pro hero and being like ~*my dream come true*~ #NOOOO! stick to your guns!!!!!!! heroes are cops!!!!!!!! #and then this Other fic has fully entered Demonize Violent Protesters mode #the author has no idea that coordinated and deliberate property damage can actually be very effective praxis in the right circumstances #chooses instead to erase all that nuance and turn it into 'breaking a window is a sign that xyz activist character has become Evil' #idk man maybe im just used to techno fanbase being primarily anarchists or some other form of deep leftist #maybe it's because many authors in this fandom are high school kids who haven't started grappling with political theory yet #but either way it's obvious that the Marvel Cinematic Universe propaganda is working rip #discourse #m

[lobster-mobster-aq]

I little thing I wrote on my thoughts on who I think the UA traitor is in My Hero Academia. 

The war arch in My Hero Academia is feeling like it’s coming to a close, and we still seem no nearer to finding out who the UA traitor is. It’s still just something we’re…reminded about every now and again, with no real progress being made on who it is.

People have their theories. Denki, Nezu, and Monoma seem to be the most popular candidates. Monoma because he’s an asshole, Nezu because that would actually be interesting for the plot and make sense, and Denki because…he has electricity powers so he could have been the one jamming communications during the U.S.J. arc.

The whole traitor thing has kind of gotten to the point that there aren’t a whole lot of people it could be without if feeling like the name was selected out of a hat. There aren’t any clues, this side plot isn’t developed, we’re just reminded about it here and there and that’s it. No fingers are being pointed. None of the characters seem to be taking that active of a part to find out who the traitor is. There’s a traitor, we know that. They’ve spied on the students but other than that nothing has been done to figure out who the traitor is.

If it ends up being a major character, it’s hard to imagine the motive will seem natural. If it’s a side character, it’s going to feel like a letdown. The fact that two of the most popular are Denki and Monoma affirm that. Denki and Monoma, two characters where it hardly makes sense. That is how few clues have been offered to us, the readers, that two characters who would make lack luster traitors, are the most popularly theorized to be the traitor.

Out of these three, the only one I kind of like is Nezu. Denki’s is based on one piece of evidence. That’s not much to go on. It would be boring if Monoma was the traitor. Oh, this side character we barely see that hates class 1-a is the traitor. Oh no.

Nezu, on the other hand, has a cannon reason to be resentful of heroes and the current powers at be. Honestly, he has a villain’s back story. It makes sense, and he would be in a good position to help the baddies. The show has also shown that he excels at manipulation and that he, um, kind of enjoys messing with people. It actually makes sense he would be the traitor.

Though, I still don’t love it. One of the reasons is because it almost seems a little…too obvious. Also, the couple of inner monologues where Nezu is like, ‘I must find the traitor to protect my students’ seem kind of weird if he’s the traitor. If he was saying these things out loud that would be fine, but he’s not, he’s weird if he’s the traitor. Why would he have inner thoughts about finding the traitor if he was the traitor? It’s possible Horikoshi just wasn’t thinking about it, which would be a bit sloppy, but all authors do things like that.

So at the moment it looks like right now I’m leaning towards Nezu. He’s is the only character who has motive, and it would be interesting if it turned out to be him. His betrayal would affect and impact the characters in a real way. Denki has no motive and who the fuck would care if it was Monoma?

Or, is Nezu the only one?

Most people when they try to figure out who the traitor is, go at it with a sleuth’s attitude. Who has motive and ability? But I would like to offer up a different approach.

Instead of looking for clues in the story, I’m going to think of this as an author.

Traitors can be a fun thing to throw into a piece of media. They can also be really hard. Make the traitor a character people really liked and had grown attached to, and there’s a chance a lot of people will be angry. Seriously, imagine how many people will be pissed if the traitor ends up being Denki. But, if you make the traitor a side character, you run the risk of the betrayal feeling boring. Sure, that character is a traitor, but it doesn’t feel like a betrayal to the reader/viewer. The traitor has to have some importance to the main characters at the very least. Even if the reader doesn’t know them well, if the main characters do the betrayal will affect the narrative of the story.

The best betrayals affect the way we thought about the story as a whole. Much like good plot twist needs to be more than something happening that we couldn’t predict. It needs to recontextualize how we view the story and the characters. The reason why Ray’s betrayal in The Promised Neverland slaps so much is because it makes us totally revise how we view that character and all his actions. It was a surprise betrayal, yet his motives make sense with who he is once we’ve learned what his motives were. And his betrayal affects how the other main characters act from then on out. If the traitor had been like Anna or something it wouldn’t have been nearly as good.

That’s why Monoma would be boring even though he has…not motive exactly but what he has is more than most characters. If the main characters were from class 1-b his betrayal would be interesting, but will any of the main characters really be that emotionally impacted if it’s Monoma? The answer is no.

And to be honest, at this point it will be hard to have it be someone in the main cast without their actions seeming contradictory. Ray’s betrayal happened pretty early on in the show/manga. If the manga had waited till like, half-way to reveal he was a traitor, it would have been hard to justify some of the things he did over the course of the story. Oh, he was just biding his time. No, it would have just felt like it was time for the traitor to be revealed. That’s why, as much as I like Assassination Classroom, Kaede’s betrayal kind of falls flat. It feels like it comes out of nowhere. She had no build up. She was just being there until it was suddenly time for her to reveal she was the traitor because it was time for that plot to happen. Yes, it recontextualized her character and what she was doing, but it didn’t feel relevant. Ray’s betrayal blew my mind because the story built up to it, Kaede’s betrayal made me go, “oh, so that’s what this character is doing now.”

And that’s why Denki’s betrayal would be lack luster. Even if they gave him a motive, I just kind of feel like it wouldn’t be a natural build up to the revelation. It would feel like it was simply time to move that part of the plot forward.

So are they any side characters where their betrayal would affect the main characters significantly enough? Are there any side characters where they would be in a position that would allow them to have access to the kind of information that he gave the bad guys? Are there any side characters who could have motives that would make sense or at the very least motives that wouldn’t seem to contradict what they’ve done in the past. A traitor that no one would have ever expected because we just can’t see their motives yet? A character whose betrayal would impact they trajectory of the story and the main characters yet hadn’t been involving themselves too much in the story line so it wouldn’t feel like the character was just hanging out until the plot was ready to deal with the traitor?

I do believe there is one such characters.

And his name is Naomasa Tsukauchi.

That’s right, All Might’s detective friend.

Before you say it, yes, as of right now he doesn’t have motive. But be fair, neither does anyone else really. Like, maybe Nezu has motive, (I don’t really count Monoma’s grudge against class 1-a, the manga has made it very clear that’s all it is,) but that’s it. And a bit of a monologue explaining Tsukauchi’s motive would feel less weird than the same thing for anyone else. Other than the fact that he’s a good guy and a bit of stickler for the rules, we don’t know too much about him.

Tsukauchi’s betrayal would devastate All Might. Midoriya may be the main character, but All Might is kind of the central theme of the show. All Might’s best friend being the traitor, much like Stain’s appearance, could radically influence the course of the story. Stain was in a handful of chapters, yet we’re still feeling the effects of his presence. Tsukauchi’s betrayal could be same way.

And oops, now the traitor is one of the few people who know the truth about the quirk All for One. That would already make him a more interesting character than nearly anyone else. What is he going to do with that information? Is he going to use it as a weapon? Tell someone he shouldn’t about it? Oh my this is getting interesting.

Also, if he were to suddenly be in the story more, it wouldn’t feel weird. He’s a detective, and All Might’s best friend. If an arc centered around the traitor were to suddenly pop up it wouldn’t feel weird at all if Tsukauchi was there. If they were needing to do some sleuthing, it would be more than natural. We could get to know him better in the context of figuring out who the traitor was, and it wouldn’t be like, “Okay, why are these two things happening at the same time?”. If Snipe was suddenly more involved in the story when the traitor thing kicked into high gear it would be a bit of a signal he probably has something to do with the traitor. Why involve Snipe all of a sudden? I mean, I guess it could just be a coincidence, but it seems kind of random. Tsukauchi being involved in any traitor sleuthing wouldn’t feel unnatural, and in the course of the story it would feel natural that he would be involved more.

But wouldn’t Tsukauchi being a traitor kind of contradict his rule following lover of justice stchick? Yes, one would think. But he’s leaked sensitive information to All Might in the past in the name of “doing the right thing” so obviously he’s willing to bend the rules for himself. And he doesn’t approve of vigilantism…but he admits he appreciates the Crawlers efforts (the Vigilantes spin off, in case you didn’t know.) We know he’s willing to bend the rules in the name of doing the right thing. Well, what if once we got to know him better we fully understood what he thought the right thing was? After all, he’s a detective, maybe he’s uncovered some things, things that the government and the police chief are keeping silent. What if he found out about Shirigaki’s back story, (the fact that a whole building was turned to dust must be in public record somewhere) but he’s told to keep quiet about it. The police and government kind of dropped the ball on that one, to be honest. We already know, in the context of My Hero Academia, the government will jump through hoops and cover up scandals in the name of keeping up appearances with the public. All in the name of moral of course. What I’m saying here is that it wouldn’t be that hard to come up with a believable reason he decided to help Shirigaki, as long as the story gives him a good reason for thinking helping Shirigaki would be true justice.

This leads into how you could go in so many directions with Tsukauchi’s betrayal. Does he realize now he made a mistake but is keeping quiet because he’s ashamed? Does he still fully believe he’s doing the right thing and still supports Shirigaki? Is he falling somewhere in between, believing that the currently power structure needs to be destroyed but doesn’t quite believe in the destroy-the-whole-world ideology? That third one has a lot of potential to be interesting, especially if his motive is because he found out about Shirigaki’s back story and he was told to keep quiet about it. Tsukauchi believes in justice, but right now those in power don’t, they care more about appearances. There’s just so many interesting ways Tsukauchi’s betrayal could go that I just don’t see for any of the other characters.

And this is what I mean by I’m approaching my theory as an author, not as a sleuth. I’m not trying to pick up on clues. I’m not picking apart the story trying to untangle a web that (the author) has created. I’m thinking about who would make the most interesting traitor. Whose betrayal could result in the most interesting consequences? Whose betrayal could fit in with the themes already being discussed and considered? Whose betrayal could make for interesting drama? Whose betrayal could be handled in a way that was timed well with a revelation that would feel relevant instead of random?

Whose betrayal would make for good storytelling?

The answer, is Naomasa Tsukauchi.

Read it here too!

#bnha #my hero academia #ua traitor #bnha spoilers #promised neverland spoilsers #assassination classroom spoilers #naomasa tsukauchi

[americasmarauders]

Fancy Green Lantern-- Jason Todd.

notes: this is just something that plagued my mind for a while until i decided to write it. enjoy. 

masterlist

Dick jumped from one roof to another. The wind blew softly, ruffling his already messy dark hair. His batons tightly wrapped on his back, secure should the occasion of using them arrived.

           Blüdhaven was exceptionally quiet that night. Granted, it was no Gotham, but it still guaranteed local vigilante Nightwing some action. Dick had not seen one petty theft or any other attempts of criminal activities. It almost made him feel useless. Almost.

           Arriving at the edge of a building, he heard faint sounds of gun shots. He looked down, and saw three (he wasn’t sure, there may be more, and it was too dark to see properly) bodies sprawled out on the dirty floor of the alleyway. He searched for the perpetuator of such violence. He should have seen it coming.

           Dick jumped off the building and landed lightly on his tiptoes right next to the shooter. “Was Gotham getting too boring for you, Red Hood?” Dick asked.

           Red Hood turned around to face Nightwing. Unlike last time Dick had seen him, he wasn’t wearing his signature scarlet helmet. It was merely a muzzle and a domino mask. Dick liked this version better, it was more human, it gave less of the impression of a cold-blooded mercenary and more of a, well, cold-blooded human. “Fuck off, Golden Child, I didn’t do anything wrong,” Red Hood snapped.

           “Those bodies beg to differ, Jason,” Dick emphasized his name.

           Jason’s eyes narrowed, and even with the mask, Dick could tell that he had pissed him off, ever so slightly. “They are not dead. They just didn’t agree to give me the information I need,” he grunted in anger, furiously eyeing the unconscious but alive bodies on the alley.

           “So, you judged it would be okay to shoot them,” Dick concluded.

           “Yes, that much is obvious, isn’t it?” Jason retorted sarcastically. And then silence fell between them.

          Jason was cleaning his guns when Dick spoke again. “So, what information were you looking for?”

          “None of your business,” Jason put his guns back on its holsters and grabbed his grappling, planning on leaving nosy Dick Grayson and his never-ending questions.

          “It actually is now. You are in my city, shooting people on my alleyways. The moment you stepped foot on Blüdhaven it became my business,” Dick argued. And, damn, did Jason hate his logic. It was all Bruce, and he doubted that Dick could see it.

          “You see how pathetic that little speech was, right?” Jason scoffed. Dick eyed him sternly, like a mother trying to pry off information from her kid. “Fine. There is a gang, if you will, smuggling kids off the streets of Gotham and selling them as slaves. I am trying to dismantle them, but those idiots back there where the only lead I’ve had for months and now I’m back to square one,” he grunted angrily. Dick noticed that, with Jason, the conversations were usually filed with grunts and angry mumbles.

          Dick sighed, defeated. He could leave it be, leave Jason to fend off this mob on his own and save potentially thousands of kids from awful childhoods and most certainly awful adulthoods. But he simply wouldn’t leave him be. This was too important. And he knew Jason’s weakness was kids, especially street kids. “I’ll help,” he said.

          “I don’t need your help, Grayson, and I doubt there is much that you can do that I can’t,” Jason argued.

          “I’m not offering nor asking for permission, Jay. And strictly speaking, it won’t be me who will help you,” Dick explained.

          Jason, once again, narrowed his eyes at Dick, trying to study him. It intrigued him, and maybe he was needing more help than he wanted to believe. “Fine.”

#

Both vigilantes sneakily got in the small apartment through the window. It was a central building, right next to the University and Jason figured close enough to the precinct Dick worked for. Jason got in last, and Dick closed the window after it, pulling the curtains shut.

           Jason was left in the middle of what he guessed was the living room. There wasn’t much, a TV, a couch and a couple of armchairs, but it was enough to be considered cozy. The kitchen was right next to it, and Jason could see that Dick used it a lot, judging by the amount of plates that need to be washed. The dinner table had flowers as a central piece, and it was neatly arranged, a stark contrast from the sink only a few feet away from it.        

           “The flowers are not mine, they’re my roommate’s,” Dick mentioned, as he noticed Jason gawking at it.

           Roommate? Jason judged it weird. He never would have thought of Dick as a roommate type of person. He guessed he was more of a loner. Then again, judging by the amount of superhero groups Dick had been a part of, Jason may be wrong about that guess.

           “I’ll go get her,” Dick mentioned, ripping off his mask and heading towards Y/N’s room.

           Dick knocked lightly on the closed door and by the lack of response, he knew she was already sleeping. He pushed the door open and closed it with a soft thud. In the dark, he carefully made his way towards the end of her bed. He sat on the edge of it and softly laid his hand on her feet. “Hey,” he shook her slightly, “wake up, I need your help.”

           Y/N groaned, “What time is it?” she mumbled, her voice heavy with sleep.

           “Too late to be up, too early to wake up,” Dick said, a smirk creeping its way on his face.

           “Your favorite time of the day, then,” she retorted, getting up to a sitting position, and rubbing her eyes. “What is that you need?”

           “There is a gang kidnapping kids from the streets of Gotham and selling them as slaves, and I need you to find a lead,” Dick said.

           “Isn’t Babs better suited for the job? She lives in Gotham,” Y/N quizzed, her voice still sleepy. Dick knew she was trying to find a way out of this, but he knew she was the best person for the job.  

           “Honestly I didn’t even think to ask her,” Dick said to her. And he really hadn’t, because somehow, he knew she was perfect to deal with Jason. “Please, I’ll owe you one,” he pleaded.

           “And another debt to your endless list of favors,” she said, getting out of bed. “Someday, I’ll actually collect them,” she strided towards the door and opened it.

           “Thank you!” he exclaimed while she was getting out of her bedroom. She waved him off.

           Y/N rubbed her eyes while she made her way towards the kitchen. She reached for the kettle and opened it. At the sight of the pile of dirty dishes to wash, she cringed. She swore, Dick should be able to handle his responsibilities better and she couldn’t believe she would end up cleaning them again. She opened the tap and filled the kettle with water. After it was already on the stove, she turned around and leaned against the counter. She looked around the apartment and she was slightly surprised at the sight of a stranger, which she guessed was eyeing her curiously. She didn’t know, after all, she couldn’t see his eyes.  

           “Dick?” she called him. He scrambled out of his room, towel wrapped around his waist, ready for a shower. After 2 years of living with him, she didn’t even spare a glance at his physique, which intrigued Jason. “Why is there a stranger in a muzzle in our living room?”

           Dick’s shoulder’s relaxed. “Oh, this is…” he glanced at Jason, searching for a signal if it was okay to tell her his identity.

           Jason snapped out of the daze he was in, got up and extended his hand to her. “I’m Red Hood.”

           She shook his hand, narrowed her eyes at him. Dick knew that look. Her mind was already at work, trying to figure who he was. He bet by the end of the night she would already know. “Nice to meet you, Red Hood. I’m the person who’s going to help you,” Y/N said.

           “Great, let’s get to work then,” Jason dropped her hand, and smiled under his muzzle (was it really a muzzle?).

           “Sure, just let me get my computer,” she left towards her room. Jason eyed Dick, who had a smirk on his face. He knew something that Jason didn’t, and he didn’t like that feeling.

           She came back to the living room moments later, and dropped her computer, a notebook and pencils on the table. She moved the flowers away from the center of the table and spread her things on it. She pulled a chair and sat down in a funny way. She then looked back at Jason, “Well, sit down I can’t work without knowing where to look.”

           Jason promptly hurried towards the chair next to her. He sat down and tried to keep his cool façade. She blushed at the awkward silence between them. “Just say what is your problem and I’ll hack my way to a lead for you.”

           This woman was weird. No, she made Jason feel weird, that was a better description. “I’ve noticed some unusual things a couple of months when I was patrolling Crime Alley. Some street kids that I often check on were missing, and no one I, uh, talked to had information about them. So, I started to ask different questions and discovered this operation. Now, I’m here,” He finished, as she typed away. He was impressed that with very little information she was able to start hacking. Babs would need a little bit more out of him.

          The kettle started to whistle, and Jason was about to get up to turn it off, when he saw the stove button turn by itself. The kettle then started to float towards the cup with a tea bag in it, started to pour boiling water in then returned to the stove. The cup floated towards the table landing perfectly next to the girl’s hand.

          Jason had seen freakier things, but this was definitely one of the freakier. He then noticed the pile of dishes in the sink was significantly smaller, and one of those dishes was currently being washed down, but no one was there to wash it. He turned to the girl again, who was now having a sip of her tea and reading lines of codes on her computer. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even ask, would you like a cup of tea?” she turned to him, her eyes twinkling.

          “No, thank you,” Jason started, “How did you that?”

          “That what?” she turned again to her computer, now analyzing security camera footage. She scribbled something on the notebook beside her, and Jason couldn’t decipher it even if he wanted.  

          “You know, the floating cup thing. The dishes washing themselves, all that,” Jason explained.

          She smiled, still looking at the computer. “The mind is a powerful thing, Jason. I just happen to be gifted with the knowledge of how to harness that power.”

          “How do you know my name?” Jason said, slightly scared, but he would never allow himself to show it. He breezed over the enigma she had presented to him. He would have to question Dick about it later.

          “Oh, once you know the identity of one Batfamily member, it’s easy to figure out the rest, so I just went by elimination,” she tapped away a little bit more. “You can take the mask and the muzzle off if you want. And the cups are on the second cupboard to the left, if you want tea now.”

          Jason was left speechless, and that didn’t happen often. This girl was…extraordinary. Dick soon waltzed into the room, towel hanging from his shoulder and wearing the most hideous pajamas Jason had ever seen. “So, everything good around here?”

          Jason got up from his chair and grunted to Dick, “A word,” while waking past him and entering what he assumed—and thank God it was—Dick’s room. The woman was unfazed by this interaction and continued to type her way.

          Dick entered his room once again and closed the door behind him. “What is it, Jason?” he had ripped off his mask and muzzle. They were already bothering him anyway and there no point keeping it on.

          “Who is she?” he growled.

          Dick was slightly taken back by this. “What do you mean ‘who is she’? She’s my roommate, Y/N.”

          “No, I mean, who is she?” Jason corrected.

          “Oh, oh,” realization dawning on Dick. He smirked. “She figured it out, didn’t she?”

          “She figured it out, didn’t she?” he mocked Dick. “Yes, she figured it out!”

          Dick tried not laugh, but he just couldn’t help it. “Why are you laughing, you dick?” Jason borderline yelled.

          “It’s because you don’t know her,” Dick said between laughs. “If you did, you’d know that there was no way that she wouldn’t figure it out, Jay. She’s too powerful to not.”

          “She is freaky that’s what!” Jason continued to freak out.

          “Says the guy who came back from the dead,” Dick argued. “Look, Jason, I know you’re freaked out because she figured it out and you didn’t want to. But I’ve been living with her for about two years, and when I say it was inevitable that she worked out who you are, I mean it,” Dick saw that Jason’s breathing had calmed. “Y/N is one of the most trustworthy people I know, and she will take this secret to the grave. I can vouch for her, and Babs can too.”

          “Babs knows her?” Jason questioned.

          “She’s one of Babs oldest friends,” Dick responded, knowing Jason had a somewhat of a soft spot for Barbara.

          Jason sighed and begrudgingly said “Fine. I have a question, though.”

          “Sure.”

          “She said something about the mind being powerful and some other bullshit I didn’t pay attention to, and what was that supposed to mean?”

          “I don’t know,” Dick said “She never told anyone about how her powers work or how she got them. We just know that she can do anything she wants to,”

          “So, what, is she some fancy Green Lantern?”

          “Not exactly.”

          There was a knock on the door. “Can I come in?” she said, muffled. Dick opened the door and reveled her, not in her pajamas anymore, but wearing black head to toe, and holding one of Dick’s old masks. Her hair was braided, and Jason tried to figure out how can she do that with so little time. “I found something, and you’re not going to like it.”

          Jason groaned in irritation. “What is it now?”

          “I dig up some security footage and those guys you fought tonight, they were a decoy,” she said, which earned her an angry groan from Jason. “Then I did some more digging and I found some conversation records. There is a bunch of kids being moved today from Gotham’s docs.”

          “When?” Jason said rubbing his face, trying to not blame himself for messing up and leaving Gotham that night. There was no way he would have known.

          “Half an hour from now,” she said.

          “Fuck,” Jason said lowly.

          “I’ll go put my suit on again,” Dick said making a motion towards his wardrobe.

          “No, you just got home. I’ll go with Jason. If we want to make in time you know I must take us there,” she argued. Dick knew she had won this one.

          “Take us there how, exactly?” Jason questioned, taking a step forward, his mask and muzzle in hand.

          “You know exactly how,” she smirked.

          Jason groaned yet again. Of all the turns he thought his night could have, he was not expecting being teleported from Blüdhaven to Gotham by a weird girl he had met, what, an hour ago. If only he had ignored Dick, things would have been much, much easier for him. No, this is for the kids, he thought. And he would do everything for the kids.

          “Let’s go then, weirdo,” Jason rushed her. She smiled and put on the mask she was gripping. It suited her more than suited Dick.

#

#

They positioned themselves above the ground, hidden for anyone from below them, but perfect to view everything from above. She was smiling, and Jason couldn’t help but glance sideways at her. The situation was grim, and she was smiling. She must have noticed that he was looking at her, because her smile faltered, and she mumbled an apology.

           “I’ve never done field work, I’m just excited,” she quietly explained. Jason turned his glance downwards and his eyes landed on group of 7 thugs all surrounding a specific container, that was about to be loaded to the ship currently docked at the port.

           “Be quiet,” he said. She followed his gaze towards the group of thugs and perked her ears up to listen in to their conversation.

           “They mention something about a mask,” she said to him. “I can’t distinguish there is too much noise coming from the container.”

           “Shit,” Jason grunted. “I’m gonna take those guys out, you take care of the kids,” he explained.

           “But they are heavily armed, you’ll need help,” she protested.

           “I can take care of myself,” he said. “I have a plan,” then disappeared from her sight.

           Y/N sighed. She would have liked to know the plan. But, for now, she should stick to what she was told to do. She started to move towards the container that held the children, wishing she wouldn’t be seen, and knowing for a fact she wouldn’t. The closer she got to the container, the louder the noise got. Screams and cries of help form children of all ages, but mostly very young, if she had to guess.

           She broke the lock of the container but willed the doors shut. Red Hood hadn’t dealt with all the thugs, yet, and the kids running rampant while armed men were fighting was not a good idea.

           She looked at him. He was struggling. She knew if she let him deal with on his own, giving him maybe a few more minutes, he could take all the armed men down. There were only a couple left anyway. But she was in a hurry, and the kids were more important than a display of power Red Hood was trying to do.

           She strode towards two men who had their back turned to her, stopping a few feet behind them. She willed herself to flicker just for Jason, just a heads up that she was near enough. She then smashed the armed men guns with her bare hands, twisted the barrels in a weird shape, making sure they couldn’t use it. Finally, she gracefully knocked them out, making herself appear again.

           “I told you to take care of the kids,” Jason said, knocking the last one of the thugs unconscious.

           “I did take care of the kids,” she said. “I told you would need help.”

           “I didn’t need it, I had everything under control,” he walked towards the container, her trailing behind him.

           “You didn’t. I helped, it was faster, and safer, might I add,” she said, as a matter-of-factly.

           He hummed, and she was not sure if it was in agreement or if he was just trying to move on from the subject. “Do you know what you are going to do with them?” she asked following him as he walked towards the open container.

           “Free them,” he said, grumpily.

           “Yes, I know,” she said, “but you can’t just let them back at the street. They might get captured again.”

           “They won’t,” he answered.

           “How’d you know?”

           “Because I have a plan,” he said, giving her the sensation of a déjà vu.

           “Tell me then, your plan.”

           Jason stopped at his tracks, shocked at her bluntness. “They are not going back to the street because I won’t let them. I have a place where they can stay, and we are going to take them there.”

           “And where exactly is this place?” she inquired again.

           “It’s just outside the city, don’t worry,” he said.

           “I’m not, I’m just wondering how we are going to take what 40 plus kids to ‘just outside the city’” she mumbled.

           “Well,” he said cheekily, “I promise I’ll help.”

           She sighed in resignation. ‘Do it for the kids,’ she thought. “Fine,” she said.

           “Don’t you need the address, or something?” Jason inquired, as she walked towards the bunch of scared kids.

           “Try ‘or something’,” she said. She then knelt in front of the kids, a warm smile on her face. She tried to convey safety to them, and Jason admired that. “You are safe now. We are going to give you somewhere to sleep and eat, but for that I’m going to need to take you in small groups, okay?” she said calmly.  The attentive faces of the kids soften a little and some nodded in agreement.

           “Great,” she smiled again. She got up and turned to Jason. “Is there someone in this place to take care of these kids, because I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave them alone in a strange place,” she argued.

           “Don’t worry, I have someone there right now,” he responded.

           “Are they competent?” she questioned.

           “Depends on your definition of competent,” he smirked underneath his half-mask, (yes, it was not a muzzle).

           “Oh God,” she sighed, exasperated. “I’m going to start to take them there.”

           “And I’ll tell them you are coming,” Jason said.

#

#

After that night, Jason could not believe, they had made progress. Actual progress and not that half-assed steps he had made before. And he could not believe also that the safe house he started was working perfectly. Admittedly, maybe recruiting only Roy to help him run it was a bad idea, but Y/N was helping tremendously too.

           The kids came and went. They couldn’t keep them there all the time, otherwise they would be just as bad as those they were trying to combat. The most of those 40 kids they had first rescued had gone, but some stayed to help around the safe house, and Jason was grateful for that, even though he would never admit it.

           Y/N had stayed too. She was everything and more, Jason realized. Just when he thought she couldn’t surprise him, she did something and swept him off his feet. He didn’t like that Y/N had some much control over him, but then he saw her, and everything changed in his mind. Roy would see that and tease him endlessly. No matter how many times he said that she was nothing more than an ally, Roy would give that look—that fucking look that made him blow his brains out of his head—and he would know that he was right. Jason would have to kill Dick for introducing her to him.

           The night was quiet. They were planning a stake out just outside what they believe would be the operations building of the trafficking scheme, so before that, there was nothing else left to do other than patrol the streets to make sure the kids were okay and not missing in the slightest. That left him so much time to think. He hated that.

           He was definitely not falling in love with her. That would be ridiculous. It would have to imply that he maybe thought she could love him back and he thought that maybe he couldn’t be loved. Could he? But Y/N was so amazing, she could surprise him. Like she always did.

           No, this was just his mind playing tricks on him. It’s all Roy’s fault really, if it wasn’t for his insinuations Jason wouldn’t be thinking about this at all. Or maybe he would be, and Roy just gave him a push towards the path he was in to speed it up a little bit.

           So, what if he was falling in love with her? What could possibly be bad about that? He wouldn’t be lonely anymore, that was a good thing. And he would have a great companion with him, because she was amazing. He would finally have someone to take to meet Alfred, after all the old man was subtly pressuring him to put himself out there and meet someone. It just so happens that he met someone in the same ‘work field’ as him. That wasn’t bad.

           Or it actually was, because if someone discovered his identity, they could kidnap her and torture her, or worse and that made Jason’s blood boil out of anger and fear. He could never put her through that. He had something to prevent it from happening, he could never, ever, be with her. That way Y/N was out of harm’s way.

           What was he thinking? She could t—

           “J, code black. Our location is compromised,” Y/N said in his comms.

           He took a millisecond to process her information. He immediately took a turn and headed towards their house. “Are the kids okay?”

           “Yes, they are all with me, but I can’t take much longer. There are too many of them, Roy won’t be able to hold them back for too long,” she said, panting a bit.

           “Please, hold on,” he begged.

           “I can’t,” she said, her voice cracking. “I’m going to take them somewhere else.”

           “Where? Please, hang on, Y/N,” he rushed her, nervously.

           “Ask Babs, she’ll know,” then her comms went static.

#

#

Babs knew. She knew more than Jason anticipated.

           He helped Roy take down the rest of the invaders. Then they took everything compromising from the house and headed to the address Babs had given him. To say it surprised him would be predictable because coming from her, of course it would.

           This place could rival B’s place in magnitude. It was huge and intimidating. If Jason himself hadn’t lived in some place similar he would have felt weirded out by it. But he was in no place to judge. Roy and Jason had stripped themselves of their gear already when then were confronted with the door of what appeared to be Y/N’s Manor.

           Jason barely knocked on the door when a stoic looking woman opened the doors and ushered them inside. He could hear the kids talking in the distance, but there were more pressing matters to be dealt with. “Y/N said to usher Roy to help the children and for Jason to find her. Now, which one of you is which?” the woman said sternly.

           “I’m Roy,” Roy said quickly, probably out of fear, or something.

           The lady hummed. “The kids are in the guests house. You just follow through the door and you’ll hear them,” she said with a bit of disdain in her voice. Roy ushered himself of the awkward and somewhat overwhelming situation Jason found himself in. Lucky bastard. “That must mean you are Jason,” she eyed him head to toe. “I can see what she meant.”

           “What did she mean?” he inquired following her as she started to walk up the huge staircase.

           “Nothing of your concern, I’m afraid,” she dismissed him. “Y/N is very ill after the stunt she pulled to help you I’m hoping you have an apology up your sleeve.”

           “Apology?” he said in shock “I’m sorry but she did what she did in her own accord. I didn’t force her to do anything.”

           “You must be really special,” the lady said. “Her room is the last one to the right. It took me quite some time to pry her off the children, so, if you will, please be quiet, she must be sleeping by now.”

           With that the lady abandoned him on top of the staircase, alone to muster up courage to face potentially the love of his life. (Potentially only, he hadn’t yet sorted all of his feelings).

           He walked towards the room. He hoped something would happen in the middle of the way, that Y/N would suddenly jump from her bed, find in the middle of the hallway and say ‘I’m okay now, you don’t need to say anything to me. We can go back to hunting these fuckers with no feelings involved’ but with every step he took he realized that nothing was going to happen. He would have to tell her something.

           He hesitated when he was faced with the door. Her name was written on it, in a pretty color. His hand hovered the doorknob. He would do this. He should do this. He owed that to himself and Y/N. He had to be honest to both of them. God, how he wanted to kill Grayson for complicating his life.

           Jason finally opened the door. The room was dark, and Y/N’s soft breathing echoed through it. She was peacefully asleep, covered by soft blankets, her all black outfit and mask sprawled out on the floor.

           He slowly closed the door, careful to be as stealthy as possible. He figured it could be slightly creepy that he was walking into a sleeping woman’s bedroom, unannounced. Jason shrugged the thought off and looked for a place where he could crash that was not her bed. He found a large and somehow soft armchair next to a gigantic bookcase littered with the most random books. It ranged from It to all Harry Potter books, passing through all of Shakespeare’s plays and all in between those. Jason’s heart swelled and he swore he fell in love with her a little bit more. If he had fallen in love with her that is. Which he had.

           He made himself comfortable at the armchair, resisting the need to pick one of the Shakespeare plays at his disposal to read until the sun rose in the horizon. Jason would have to wait until Y/N woke to talk to her. He took off his shoes and hugged his legs. Easily, against all odds, he fell asleep.

#

#

Jason woke up and noticed a very fluffy blanket on top of him. He stretched his arms and legs. The room was oddly quiet. No echoes of Y/N’s breathing, nor shuffling through bed sheets he had heard the night before.

           He took the blanket off him, and folded neatly, placing it on the chair he had slept on. Her bed was empty, and Jason’s heart tightened thinking that something had happened, and no one cared to wake him up. He looked around and noticed that the clothes that were on the floor were no longer there, but her mask was on top of her nightstand. Her bed was neatly made, almost looking like no one had slept in it.

           The door made a loud creaking noise, making him turn hastily so see it. Y/N was carrying a hot mug, oozing a delicious coffee smell and a plate with a freshly baked croissant on it. Jason’s heart stopped beating erratically at the bad thoughts that had once passed through his head and focused on her. She was there. She was alive. She had brought him food. She was out for his heart.

           “I thought you’d be hungry when you woke up, so I brought you some food,” she said, laying the mug and the plate on a coffee table near the armchair Jason had slept on.

           “Thank you,” he said picking up the mug. “Are you okay?”

           She smiled. “I’m better. But my head can’t seem to stop pounding.”

           Jason smiled at her lighthearted comment. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there I—”

           “Jason, stop. Don’t give me that ‘It’s my fault’ bullshit, ‘cause it wasn’t. It could have happened to anyone, and I’m glad I was there to take the kids out,” she said.

           “Are the kids okay?” he was so worried about her that the thought of any of the kids getting hurt hadn’t come to haunt him. He trusted her so much that subconsciously, he knew she would never let that happen.

           “Physically, yes. Mentally, I don’t know, it was quite a shock to everyone,” she sat on the armchair.

           Silence fell between them. Jason quietly ate his breakfast as he contemplated whether he should tell her. He felt like a stupid teen, picking petals out of flowers wondering if she loves me, she loves me not. “I need to tell you something,” Jason blurted out.

           “Okay, then,” she reacted.

           “I—” he gulped. “I can’t seem to say it,” he whispered.

           “It’s okay you don’t have to,” she smiled.

           “No, I need to. It’s been killing me inside,” he said. “I can’t go on with this without being completely honest with you,” if only Roy could hear him now, he would laugh so hard. “I think, no, that’s not right.”

           “Jason, it’s okay. Start over,” she said softly.

           “I might have feelings for you,” he finally said it.

           “Might?”

           “I have feelings for you, and it has been eating me inside. Every time I look at you my heart goes crazy, and I used to feel so confused at it, but now I know why.”

           She was stunned and Jason regretted his decision immediately. “I shouldn’t have said anything, I’m sorry, can you just ignore I said anything it would—”

           “Jay, stop, just stop talking,” she said. She took his hands out of his face and hold it tightly with hers. She smiled brightly at him, and there went his heart again, thinking it was funny to play heart attack with a guy like Jason. “I can’t pretend you didn’t say anything. Because I might have feelings for you too, and it might be eating me inside as well.”

           Jason smiled. “Really?”

           “Yes. Although, I can’t say my heart beats as wildly as yours does,” she said laughing softly.

           “Ah, I forgot you can hear it.”

           “Yeah,” she whispered.

           “How long have you known then?” he questioned. “That I like you,” he should have said love, but he didn’t want to freak Y/N out.

           She smirked. “I’ve had my suspicions for a while. Mostly because Roy kept making suggestive comments about it.”

           “Stupid fucking Roy,” he grunted under his breath, making her laugh deliciously.

           “Yeah,” she breathed out with a smile. Jason looked softly at her. “You know, I wouldn’t mid if you, somehow, happened to kiss me,” she said cheekily.

           “You cheeky bastard,” he laughed. He scooted over to her, stopping close enough so that he could at least rest his hands on her. “Can I kiss you?”

           She smiled brightly. “Well,” she said amused, “I don’t see why not.”

#Jason Todd #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #my masterlist #red hood #jason todd x you

[atomic-palmer]

Character Name: Dr Raymond “Ray” Carson Palmer Alias: The Atom Age: 39 Face Claim: Brandon Routh Species: Human Home Earth: Earth-49

History:

Ray had a lonely childhood though he distracted himself with Arthurian lore, losing himself in the stories and thinking of himself as like "Sir Galahad”. He even named his personal playground after the legendary Camelot. Originally he wanted to become a Heart Surgeon, but after seeing Star Wars he was inspired to become an engineer and inventor. He often fought with his brother Sydney over video games; Sydney liked Tecmo Bowl while Ray preferred Legend of Zelda. As he grew up, he started taking more of an interest in physical activity and went on to join the varsity diving team. During his university years, Ray was a student of professor Martin Stein. Despite being one of his best pupils, Stein failed to remember him when they were reunited as Legends.

While in Starling City with his fiance Anna Lorig, they were caught up in the citywide battle between Slade Wilson and Green Arrow. Ray tried to fight off Wilson’s soldiers but ended up with a broken leg, unable to do anything but watch as they snapped Anna’s neck. It was because of this that he vowed never to be helpless again, and the idea of the Atom was born. He also convinced himself that he would never kiss, or fall for, another woman after Anna. So he wouldn’t have to go through the pain of losing someone else.

Later that year Ray bought out Queen Consolidated and rebranded the company Palmer Technologies. His vision was to not only reboot the company, but to revive Starling City too, giving it a new lease of life as “Star City”. Ray announced he would give half of his net-worth to the benefit of Starling City to become Star City. Hiring Felicity Smoak as his second in command allowed him to move forward with his other plan, to build the ATOM Exosuit and after acquiring a mine which contained dwarf star alloy, the construction started in earnest.

The suit was finished a few weeks later, and although Felicity had helped, Ray still had no idea that she was also working with Green Arrow. As such, when it appeared the Arrow was on a killing spree, Ray supported the call to apprehend the vigilante. While on patrol one night in as Atom, Ray’s sees Green Arrow at a murder scene - the facial recognition on the suit working to reveal Oliver’s identity. After a misunderstanding and fight between the two, Ray decides ultimately to believe Oliver is one of the good guys.

After a brush with death (shot by arrow, blood clot on brain, nanotech saves him), Ray takes his suit and Felicity to Central City and STAR Labs. He meets Team Flash and in return for their help improving the suit, he helps capture a villain that had been bugging them (literally, killer robot bees). Back in Starling City Ray is included in Team Arrow to help capture a meta human. He later joins them in Nanda Parbat in their mission to stop the Alpha Omega bio-weapon, following Ra’s al Ghul back to Starling City and defeating the virus there.

Ray implanted his nano-tech into his suit, and while testing out the new upgrade in its technology (which would allow the suit, and selected targets, to shrink) he blew up the CEO offices of Palmer Tech. Presumed dead, Starling City is renamed Star City in his memory and the company is turned over to Felicity. Ray survived the explosion, but was stuck in his tiny size and captured by Damian Dahrk. Six months passed before his distress calls to Felicity were finally picked up and Team Arrow rescued him.

In January 2016, after completing yet another mission with Oliver, Ray was intercepted by Rip Hunter. The former Time Master asked him to join a team to take down Vandal Savage, a future dictator, before he could rise to power. Rip promised Ray that he and the other potential members of the team would be remembered as legends. Ray returned to Oliver to ask his advice and ultimately accepted Hunter's offer.

Positive Traits: Relentless, Optimistic, Brave Negative Traits: Stubborn, Reckless, Trusting

#.about the boy #.atomic

[joealwyndaily]

Joe Alwyn recently met his childhood hero. The 28-year-old was attending the Academy's annual Governors Awards for the first time, where a who's who of Hollywood had gathered to schmooze with Oscar voters and watch this year's honorees receive honorary awards. The hobnobbing eventually led Alwyn to cross paths with none other than Zorro himself, Antonio Banderas.

"It took everything in me not to challenge him into a sword fight," Alwyn admitted.

Banderas, of course, starred as the masked vigilante in 1998's The Mask of Zorro and its sequel. "I was such a huge fan of Zorro growing up," Alwyn grinned. "That's one of the reasons why I probably ended up acting somehow. I literally just shook his hand and said, 'Hi!'" As it were, Banderas is in the awards season shuffle with Pain and Glory, while Alwyn was out in support of his new film, Harriet.

"There was no competitive element, obviously," he said. Still, the Governors Awards serve as the first pit stop for any potential Oscars contender. "You're sitting there watching these four amazing legends being honored for the most amazing backlog of work, someone like David Lynch and Geena Davis. And then you run into people that you have grown up watching."

Now, Alwyn is the one being watched. After studying at the Royal Central School of Speech and Drama, as actors such as Sir Laurence Olivier and Andrew Garfield did before him, a then-unknown Alwyn was cast as the lead of Ang Lee's Billy Lynn's Long Halftime Walk in 2015. "That was the strangest experience when it ended," Alwyn said.

"Because it was such a surreal, full-on experience: Going to a country I'd never been to before, being on a film set -- which I'd never been in front of a camera before -- with a group of people who I'd grown up watching, it was the most intense experience I'd had, ever. And then suddenly--" He snaps his fingers. "It's ended. And you are back in London and everyone's still over there and you're back to walking the dog and it's raining and you're trying to compute what's just happened. It was very surreal."

When I met up with Alwyn after the Governors Awards, he greeted me at the door to shake my hand and promptly offered to get me a water. "Or Coke? Or coffee?" he asked, surveying the spread of beverages. All of which is to say, he's polite. And humble, too, whether it be over compliments of his wardrobe -- a peacoat over a cerulean sweater, khaki joggers and great boots ("Thank you! They're not mine!") -- or the trajectory of his career.

If Alwyn's unlikely start feels nearly impossible to match, he followed Billy Lynn with a run of meaningful supporting roles, which were only possible because Lee took a chance on him. "Every opportunity since is because of that," he said, arm draped over the back of the chair. "I owe him everything."

"I felt very lucky to work with someone like him for the first time, and I thought, if I can, I want to keep trying to work with really interesting, great directors and not just jump into something that's a big role or big for the sake of it," he explained. "Trying to find parts in really interesting projects and build that way rather than just blindly jump."

That thinking led to a truly breakthrough year in 2018, with Alwyn appearing in Operation Finale, as the Nazi son of Ben Kingsley's Adolph Eichmann, in The Favourite, as the airhead paramour to Emma Stone, in Boy Erased, as a troubled love interest for Lucas Hedges, and in Mary Queen of Scots, as hand to Margot Robbie's Queen Elizabeth.

All the while he was gaining recognition for his acting, there was another angle of interest about Alwyn, casting him into the public spotlight for his personal life as the longtime boyfriend of Taylor Swift. How, then, was he able to reconcile the two?

"I just don't really engage with anything that I don't want to engage with," he said. "And so if there's any kind of extra noise about things that I'm not so interested in, I'll just turn it off. And so it just disappears, to a degree."

Currently, he's engaged with his return to theaters in director Kasi Lemmons' soulful Harriet Tubman biopic. Harriet is the first time the abolitionist and activist's story has been adapted into a proper biopic, and Alwyn acknowledged that, before being sent the script, "I ignorantly didn't really know much about Harriet. Growing up in the U.K., she's not part of the curriculum. I'd heard of her name, I'd seen the iconic older image of her, but I didn't know really who she was or what she did and what she achieved."

Cynthia Erivo plays the titular role, with Alwyn co-starring as Gideon Brodess, the son of Tubman's enslaver. The Brodess family is a matter of historical record, though Gideon exists somewhere between composite character and fictitious creation. That posed a challenge for Alwyn as he began the process of finding his way into Gideon.

"It was tricky. I mean, he's obviously a horrible person," he said. "And a horrible family. And they stood for something that is impossible to connect with today. For any good human being, it's impossible. The idea of slavery is repulsive and abhorrent, and so trying to find a way in is hard."

Instead, Alwyn searched for any relatable human qualities he could latch onto. Harriet posits that Araminta "Minty" Ross -- the child who would grow to become Harriet Tubman -- and Gideon Brodess would have been born around the same time, and Gideon might have even considered Minty a friend during their childhood. "Then, suddenly, a line would have been drawn and he would've been taught to hate or told to hate," Alwyn explained.

Their ties are further knotted when Gideon's father dies and he becomes Harriet's enslaver. "Whatever feeling it is he has for her that we touch on throughout the film -- whether it's love that's buried there, or whatever it is -- I don't think there was a language to understand that for himself. So I tried to hold onto some kind of confusion as a human being. Or to an obligation and loyalty to a family, even if that family is completely horrible."

He had the fortune of navigating it all alongside Erivo, with whom he shares the majority of his scenes. Erivo signed on to the project before anyone else and had spent years with it, in addition to the research and physical training she did before filming. Ahead of production, Alwyn and Erivo met with their director for a week's worth of rehearsals, during which they walked through the duo's most difficult scenes.

"It wasn't the kind of film where it would have been helpful to play mind games and go and sit in the corner and not talk to each other," he chuckled. "Because of the nature of it, you want to be in a safe space with each other and give each other a kind of understanding and a reassurance and permission to do whatever you need to do in order to service the scene, service the story in the way that we're trying to tell it."

And that story, he decided, was not strictly about a historical figure and what she was able to achieve in her lifetime. Harriet speaks to what has come to pass, now as much as ever: "If you're scrolling through Twitter or you go on the news, you're inundated with stories of division and prejudice and racism and families being torn apart," he said. "That's something that the film touches on, and Harriet is -- as much as any figure I can think of -- someone who fought and overcame those hurdles and is a shining light against all of those things."

With Harriet playing in theaters, Alwyn's next projects are already lined up: He's playing Bob Cratchit in FX's dark reimagining of the Charles Dickens classic, A Christmas Carol, opposite Guy Pearce's Ebenezer Scrooge. Then there is an adaptation of Jojo Moyes' best-selling novel, The Last Letter From Your Lover. And then? "I'd love to do a big war movie," he grinned. "Like a World War movie or something. That'd be cool."

And there are more awards season events ahead, too -- the Governors Awards being only the beginning of the race to the Oscars -- which means future opportunities to proclaim his love of Zorro. Alwyn didn't do it the first time. "I was just like, 'Hello!'" But it's bound to happen sooner or later." As I leave the hotel that day, who should stroll past me inside but Antonio Banderas himself? Perhaps it will be sooner.

#joe alwyn #interview #harriet #omg i love this! #JOE MET HIS CHILDHOOD HERO #that's so cute!!!!

[coldflashwave-baby]

Jay Garrick was the Flash, the Crimson Comet of Central City. He married his sweetheart, Nora Thompson, and together, they had a beautiful son they named Barry. 

Then, the unthinkable happened--the Reverse Flash discovered the Flash’s secret identity. In revenge for the times he’d defeated him, Eobard Thawne broke into the Garrick home and murdered Nora. Heartbroken, Jay gives up being the Flash, takes Barry away, and changes his name to Henry Allen. 

For the next two decades, Henry and Barry live in peace. Henry gets a job at the hospital, and Barry gets an internship with the CCPD. Both hide their powers, pretending that the world is better off without the Flash. That is until a new speedster called Zoom comes to town and kidnaps Henry, planning to drain his powers and take them for his own. Barry throws out his father’s wishes, picks up a cowl, and takes on the name Flash. 

At first, it doesn’t go well. He tries to stop a robbery by one of his father’s old enemies, Captain Cold, but ends up frozen to the bank wall with a smirking Leonard Snart standing over him. Barry expects it all to be over then, but instead of killing him, Snart actually kisses him and escapes with a yelled ‘Next time, kid.” 

Barry goes to STAR Labs, where his father’s best friend, Harry Wells, works and used to help out with Flash stuff. Harry turns Barry away, but one of the young geniuses working at the labs named Cisco Ramon follows Barry out and offers his help.

The next time Barry gets hurt in the field, a young biologist he was saving named Caitlin Snow--aka the daughter of Killer Frost--takes him back to base and helps patch him up. 

At work, Barry accidentally reveals himself as the Flash to Detective West’s daughter, Iris, during an armed gunman attack, which is how Barry finds out that Joe West used to be Nightshade, a vigilante who occasionally assisted his father. Iris joins his mission to protect Central City, stop Zoom, and save his father. 

Meanwhile, Zoom breaks into STAR Labs, grabs Harry, and gives him an ultimatum--if he lures Barry to Zoom, he’ll give him Henry back. Harry, who has loved Henry since he met him, finds himself in a difficult position. Who does he choose--the man he loves, or that man’s son? 

#coldflash #flash au #henry allen x harrison wells #weird ship right? #barry allen #leonard snart #iris west #caitlin snow #cisco ramon #harrison wells #henry allen #jay garrick #hunter zolomon

[i-just-like-commenting]

Themes in Luke Cage s2: The Quest for Control

What separates the good Netflix MCU seasons from the weaker ones are how well integrated their themes are into the setup of the story. Daredevil‘s first season did it well with its exploration of the thin lines between heroes and villains, the difficulty of choosing what is good. The first season of Luke Cage focused heavily on the idea of not being able to go backwards, only forwards. The first season Jessica Jones and even the deeply-flawed Punisher tried to tackle issues like sexually assault, survivor’s guilt, and PTSD. But none of them ever quite reached up to the level of that first season of Daredevil.

Then along came this season and I’ve got more themes than I can wrap my head around. I’ve only watched it through once, so take this as a preliminary digestion of what I saw and feel free to add your thoughts and nuances to my arguments.

I’m going to start with the theme that is central to Luke’s character arc for this season: the quest for control, and particularly the idea that this quest is futile. This idea that one can achieve omnipotence is the hubris of classic tragedy, and make no mistake that this season is a tragedy.

Luke’s journey is probably going to be the most controversial element of this season. I get this, to a certain degree. Sometimes you want your heroes to be paragons or to triumph over adversity. Sometimes you want them to skirt the dark side. It’s certainly best if you can have a mix of both, but there aren’t many black superheroes out there. It’s easy for me, as a white woman, to appreciate Luke’s struggle with the dark side this season because I have, at this point, plenty of representation of white women both noble and messed up available for me in media. If that is not what you want right now, I respect that. That same issue is why, as a person with a mental illness, I dropped the second season of Legion once I started seeing where it was going (though rest assured, Luke doesn’t do anything nearly as awful as what David does by the end of that show).

Luke throughout the first season was a very reactive character, partly because his story didn’t actually begin that season. It began in the first season of Jessica Jones, where Luke is a very active character, actively hunting down his wife’s killers. And what does he get for it? Well, he finds out that a woman he cared for was involved in Reva’s death and had been lying to him the whole time, and then he gets his mind controlled by a telepathic supervillain who tries to force him to kill Jessica just like she was forced to kill his wife, and he is only stopped by a shotgun blast straight to his head that nearly does him in.

It is thus perhaps understandable that Luke Cage didn’t want to be a hero anymore and was trying to live a quiet life. His arc for the first season was realizing he loved Harlem too much to do that. In the meantime, though, he was a highly reactive character. This is not always a bad thing for superheroes; go too far in the other direction of actively hunting down bad guys and you get Frank Castle. It did mean that the villains drove most of the plot rather than Luke himself. (spoilers follow...)

In the second season, motivated I believe by being so out of his depth with the Hand in The Defenders and seeing Misty lose an arm, Luke tries to take back control of his life. The problem with that no one is ever really in complete control of their lives, and in trying to get total control, Luke winds up becoming more controlled than ever.

We open with Luke attempting to hunt down every stash house selling heroin with his name on it – not because this drug is particularly more lethal than any other, but because it is using his name without his permission. This focus on controlling his image is one that hounds Luke throughout the season. He’s reluctant to sign promotional deals not so much because he doesn’t want to make money, but rather because he doesn’t want to be “bought.” He doesn’t want Nike or whoever to have any control over him. He wants to be his own man.

Yet thanks to not copyrighting an app early on, he is easily found by almost anyone, most of them armed with cameras. While Luke is sometimes able to promote himself – his “Yo, I’m Luke Cage” speech with all its chest-thumping and dabbing being the most prominent – it also means that when Bushmaster wipes him out, the video goes viral, and is sold without his permission to ESPN, leaving the narrative entirely out of Luke’s hands.

Unable to have control of his public life as a hero of Harlem, Luke shifts his focus to control of his personal life. He refuses his father’s efforts to reach out to him, and when Claire pushes for them to reconcile he dismisses her. When Claire questions his excessive force with Cockroach, he accuses her of “castrating” him. Given that Luke doesn’t much demonstrate many other signs of toxic masculinity, I think this hyperbole has less to do with her “unmanning” him and more to do with taming him, making him docile, under someone else’s control. While I firmly believe Luke was never in any risk of hurting Claire, he does get angry enough to break her wall, losing control of himself and losing her. Once again the quest for control backfires on him.

Even the fan-service-y cameo episode with Danny Rand serves toward this theme of need for control, as Luke works on self-control of his anger through Danny’s advice. To a certain degree this works; Luke is in much more control of his emotions towards the end of the series than towards the beginning, but that doesn’t solve his biggest issue, his frustration with trying to control the criminal world that swirls around him.

Much of his vigilante work involves him chafing at the restrictions and controls presented by legal options. He’s not alone in this. Misty Knight has a similar path of trying to determine how comfortable she is with following the law versus going her own way. She was this close to going full Scarfe and planting evidence when the lawful means of going after a domestic abuser weren’t working, and turned in her badge because she felt that she’d crossed a line and could no longer be police. She scorned at Ridenhour’s compromises, and started assuming a vigilante role.

Misty, however, has power thrust upon her unexpectedly when she is made the temporary commander of her precinct, and in being in actual control makes her realize how much she misjudged the people who had been in control of her before. Heavy lies the crown as they say, and instead of becoming more rogue in her new role, she becomes more conformed to the establishment, more willing to strike deals and work in the system. The downside of this is her having to accept that her “wins” might be fewer and far between. The upside is that she probably the only character in this season to come out in a more positive position than she was in the beginning. To gain control, she has to give up some control, albeit on her own terms.

Contrast this to the walking disaster that is Mariah Dillard Stokes this season. Mariah’s miserable childhood has left her unable to develop trust with anyone, and so she takes on all decisions by herself and keeps control of her assets in her hands, despite repeated efforts by Shades to convince her that he wants to help her share her burdens. Probably due to the stress of taking all of this on herself, Mariah spends about half this season drunk and thus very not in control of herself, making more and more bad decisions as the series progresses. Trusting someone else means giving up control, and when she’s done that she’s been hurt, horrifically. So she trusts no one, betrays everyone, and winds up alone and dead.

These two parallel paths offer two possible models for where Luke goes after the end of this season. This season ends with Luke deciding to take absolute control of Harlem, taking Mariah’s place as the power-broker keeping a wall around the neighborhood and making deals with the bad guys to keep them out.

Yet the utter irony is that Luke only winds up taking this position of “dictator” (more on that term later) as an option of last resort. He is forced by Mariah’s machinations to take her position, with Mariah specifically having chosen him as her “heir” over her own daughter. He loves Harlem as much as she does, and Mariah finds he is the only person to be reliable around her - reliably against her, that is. And of course she also chooses him out of spite, to see how long he can remain incorruptible if he follows her path.

It is a trap. Donovan tells him so, bluntly. But Luke walks into it because he believes he’ll finally get his control in the end, and because it is the only option he sees left.

And try as I might, I have a hard time imagining what alternative he really had. He stops a gang war by becoming the boss of crime, he ends bloodshed, and the scale of what was unleashed on Harlem was beyond anything anyone was prepared to handle by other means. So perhaps this is the best choice among bad choices – for now.

Less forgivable is his decision to turn away Claire in the final scene (and if I can criticize the show for a moment, I really wish we could have seen her to know how she reacts to that rejection). That is a decidedly Mariah move, pushing away the one who loves you because to love is to let someone else have some control over you, if only your heart. (There are direct scene-for-scene parallels between some of Luke’s moments with Claire and Mariah’s with Shades for precisely this reason).

This arc for Luke seems to borrow heavily from Bendis’ run on Daredevil where Matt Murdock declared himself the new Kingpin of Hell’s Kitchen, and established a peace by force much as what Luke is planning. It did not end well for Matt; he wound up losing all his friends, his girlfriend, and going to prison. I hope it doesn’t go that far for Luke. At the very least, he seems open to continuing to work with Misty Knight, though that door-closing shot (a direct reference to the end of The Godfather) doesn’t bode well for that relationship continuing. But we also got a glimpse of connection between him and Danny Rand that promises maybe, maybe he can be convinced to be a true dictator.

Because, as anyone who has seen The Dark Knight knows, ancient Roman dictators were an emergency position created to deal with crises, at the end of which they were supposed to give up their power. Can Luke make the hard choice, the truly strong choice, and know when it’s time to relinquish his quest for total control, to be vulnerable, to allow himself to not be omnipotent?

I guess we will have to wait and see. Though I have other reasons to hope, but that will require another post on another theme of this season: families, both good and bad, found and hereditary.

#luke cage #season 2 #review #meta #super long

[lfthinkerwrites]

Endgame

Title: Endgame

Fandom: Batman

Rating: PG for some mentioned, but not explicit nastiness courtesy of one Joker.

Pairing: Scriddler, Harley/Ivy and BatCat mentioned.

Summary: Nothing lasts forever. That’s not necessarily a bad thing.

Notes: I have two main ‘verses’ I write. One is PI verse and the other is my Oneshot verse, where most of my Scriddler stuff is set. This won’t be the last Scriddler oneshot I do by a long shot, but it is how I see their story ending.  You can also consider this a happier antidote to what’s coming in PI verse...

On some level, Edward always knew he and the rest of the Rogues gallery were operating on borrowed time. 

Life in Gotham, as a civilian, crime fighter or rogue, was a delicate balancing act. There was an unspoken understanding that there was only so far the game could go, only so many lines the players could cross before game over. 

One day, everything finally fell apart. One day, the Joker went too far.

Edward always knew the clown would ruin it, somehow. 

Joker had, in his infinite ‘wisdom’, decided to make Gotham over in his own vision. To that effect, he had poisoned Gotham’s water supply with his venom. Hundreds of people had been hospitalized, including Commissioner Gordon. Edward wasn’t sure how many had died. In the ensuing scuffle with Batman and his foes, the youngest Robin had fallen ill as well.

Even after seeing his own son in the grips of Joker venom, Batman still would not kill the clown. Batman would never take a life, not even Joker’s.

Batman wouldn’t. The boy’s mother was another story entirely.

A week after the Joker had been taken into custody, he’d been taken from the Asylum by the League of Assassins. What exactly happened after that would remain unknown, but Joker’s mutilated body had been found hanging in front of City Hall the following morning. A clear message to the rest of the Rogues.

In his own way, Joker had been a stabilizing force in Gotham City. As long as he lived, the mob bosses would only go so far to antagonize the Rogues, while the Rogues’ ability to team up together was tempered by the desire to keep Joker out of their schemes. Now that the clown was irrevocably gone, chaos ensued.

Joker would have enjoyed that too, the bastard.

Falcone, Maroni and the few other mob heads still active in Gotham City saw an opportunity to reclaim what they’d lost when the age of the Rogues had begun. They’d entered into an alliance to forcibly take over Joker’s old territory. A group of Rogues, headed up by Dent, were mobilizing to fight back. Factor in the dozens of jumped up thugs who were left unemployed by Joker’s demise and the city was spiraling into anarchy. Some of his fellow criminals saw an opportunity. Edward, always three steps ahead of everyone else, saw the writing on the wall.

As tempting as the thought of clawing his way to the top of heap in Gotham’s Underworld was, Edward was rational. He was forty now. He wasn’t getting any younger. While he wasn’t a shrinking violet, the amount of violence he was witnessing was making the prospect of getting involved in this war very unappealing. And truth be told, he’d been active for nearly twenty years. He’d had a good run. Perhaps it was time to consider a graceful retirement.

“You’re absolutely certain about this Edward?”

Edward nodded and took another sip of his drink. “I’ve considered every possible scenario Oswald. This is the only option I have that leaves my freedom and wealth intact.”

Oswald didn’t look convinced. “Surely, people have made you offers.”

“Of course,” Edward snorted. “Falcone offered me a permanent position in his organization if I helped them. Dent was more honest at least. He said, I could join with them, or I had the choice between being shot or being run over by a truck. I never did care for taking orders from anyone.”

“No you certainly haven’t.” Oswald agreed, puffing at his cigarette. “You know, there is another option. As you know, I’m staying out of this petty squabble.”

Edward knew. Oswald was a smart man. He knew that no matter which side ‘won’, it would be a Pyrrhic victory at best. Losses would be sustained on both sides, and Batman and his cronies could be counted on to deal with the winners. And when both sides were taken care of, it would be Oswald Cobblepot ruling over the remains. “I could easily offer you a position Edward.”

Edward shook his head. “Thank you, but no. To tell the truth Oswald, I’m not enjoying the game much anymore. I haven’t since before the Joker got what he so richly deserved, but now...”he sighed. “I’m tired. I’m ready to move on.”

“And what does Crane intend to do?”

Edward fiddled with his ring finger. The gold band he wore under his glove had never felt heavier than it did now. “I...we haven’t discussed it yet.”

Oswald mercifully said nothing about that. “Well. I don’t agree with your decision, but I respect it.” Oswald held out his hand. “My door is always open to you my friend.”

Edward shook his hand. “Until the next lifetime Oswald.”

“So it’s true? You’re leaving Gotham?”

“Are you going to try to talk me out of it Selina?”

Selina shook her head. “No. Honestly Eddie, I’m relieved. This city...sometimes I wonder why I’m still here.”

Edward thought a certain masked vigilante had something to do with that, but didn’t say anything. “Harley’s not still in town, is she?” Harley had left Joker for good years ago, but Edward didn’t think Talia al Ghul would ignore her past association with him.

“No,” Selina answered. “She and Ivy left last night. Said they were going to South America for a bit. So, where are you and Jonathan going to go?”

Edward fiddled with his ring finger. “I don’t know. I...I don’t know that Jonathan’s coming with me.”

Selina looked shocked. “Jonathan’s not seriously going to join in this mess, is he?”

“I..we haven’t talked about it.”

Selina slapped her palm against her forehead. “Eddie! He’s your husband! How have you not talked about this?”

“He’s been shut up in his basement since we heard about what happened to Joker!” Edward snapped. “He hasn’t talked to me!” Edward could and should insist. But there was a part of him that felt that if he did, then Jonathan would want to stay. The longer he out it off, the longer they could stay together.

Selina sighed. “Ok. This might be the last time I see you for awhile. I don’t want to spend it fighting. But you will talk to him.”

Edward rolled his eyes. “Yes Selina.”

Selina nodded. “Good boy.” She paused. “You’ll need to go soon,” she said seriously. “Batman thinks that things are going to start getting bad in the next few days. He’ll be so busy trying to help contain it that if you and Jon take off and lay low, he won’t come looking for you.”

Edward nodded. “Right. Just promise me you won’t do anything stupid like trying to be a hero.”

Selina laughed. “Who me? Please.” Selina got up out of her chair and hugged Edward then. “Don’t completely disappear. I’d like to stay in touch with you.”

Edward returned her hug and pretended his eyes weren’t welling up a bit. “I won’t. Stay safe Lina.”

Two days later and all of the necessary arrangements were made. Edward had moved his money into an offshore account, barring a few thousand in cash, he’d sent Nina and Deirdre the last of his old equipment and he’d let go his last few remaining henchmen. All that was left was to decide where to go. 

And to talk to Jonathan.

Jonathan was sitting on their sofa, reading an old textbook of his. His eyes looked up at Edward as he entered their home. “You’re home late,” he drawled. “What have you been up to?”

Edward fiddled with his ring finger. Now or never. “Jonathan,” he said. “We need to talk.”

Jonathan put his book down and looked Edward straight in the eyes. “Oh?”

Edward wet his lip. “It’s about what’s happening in Gotham.”

“You’re referring to the upcoming war I assume.”

“Yes, yes I am.” Edward took a breath. “I can’t stay here Jon. I’m leaving.”

For a long moment, Jonathan said nothing. His expression was as cold and impassive as ever. “Did you hear me Jonathan?” Edward asked. “I’m leaving!” Surely, Jonathan cared about that. Why wasn’t he reacting?

“I see,” Jonathan answered. “That’s a relief.”

Edward blinked. “It...is?”

Jonathan got up off of the sofa. “Edward,” he said. “Follow me.”

Edward did as he said and followed him down into the basement. What he saw made him audibly gasp. Jonathan’s basement was almost completely bare. All of Jonathan’s papers were packed into boxes on the floor, his chemicals were stored away and his desk was cleared off. Nightmare sat in his cage, observing the two men.

“This is what you were doing?” Edward asked. 

“Yes,” Jonathan answered. “I’m fifty years old Edward. I’m getting too old for this nonsense.”

“But-what about your research?”

“I’ve spent over twenty years collecting data. That should be more than sufficient. If more is required, I don’t need to be in Gotham to do it.”

“And just when were you going to tell me about this!?”

“Tonight. I wasn’t sure what you were intending to do. If you had said you wanted to stay and get involved in this nonsense, I was prepared to sedate you and take off with you.”

Edward’s mouth opened, then shut again. Jonathan took advantage of his silence and grasped his hands. “I married you Edward,” he said softly. “There was no scenario in which I would have ever left you.”

Now tears were freely streaming down Edward’s face. “Jon...” he wrapped his arms around him and Jonathan held him tightly.

“So we’ve ruled out Metropolis, Keystone City, Central City and Star City for obvious reasons. You don’t want to go back down South, which I’m in full agreement on. What about San Diego? The weather’s nice, it’s close to the Mexican border if we need to flee-”

“Too many damn Californians,” Jonathan interrupted. “What about Maine?”

Edward pulled a face. “Maine? Jonathan, the winters there are godawful. You’d freeze to death! What about the Southwest?”

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. “You want to live in a desert?”

“Alright, fair point. What about Boston?”

Jonathan considered this. “I think that would work.”

“Boston it is.”

The next evening, the car was packed. Edward had sent most of their things off to their new address in a Uhaul, leaving only their personal effects and Nightmare, who was cooped up in his carrier. “Nightmare hates that thing,” Jonathan groused.

“Well he’s not flying loose in my car. I spent over $300 getting the seats cleaned the last time.” Edward took one last look at the house. They’d had some good times in that place. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

Edward started the car and began driving along the main road. In no time at all it seemed, they were on the main bridge out of Gotham City. Edward took one last look at the Gotham skyline reflected in the rear view mirror. He’d spent his entire adult life there. Were they doing the right thing? What would they do with themselves?

Edward felt Jonathan’s hand grip his shoulder gently. “We’ll be alright Edward,” he said. “As long as we’re together, we’ll be alright.”

Edward took his eyes off of the rear view mirror and looked at the open road ahead of them. “Of course we will be,” he said. “I am a genius after all.”

Jonathan rolled his eyes. “Of course you are.”

Five years later

“Darlin’ I’m home!” Jonathan called out as he entered their apartment. Thanks to the fake credentials Edward had managed to secure and his own powers of persuasion, Jonathan had managed to get a job teaching psychology at a community college. It might not be as prestigious as Gotham University had been, but it was still satisfying. Jonathan had almost forgotten how much he had genuinely enjoyed teaching. “Edward? You here?”

“I’m in the bedroom!” Edward’s irritated voice called out. Jonathan walked in to find him scowling in front of their mirror. “Look at this!” he complained. “I found another gray hair!”

“It’s a natural part of aging Edward,” Jonathan said, placing his briefcase on their bed. “You should take it gracefully.”

“You’re one to talk,” Edward groused. “You’ve been going gray for the better part of ten years!”

“Beats dying Edward.”

Edward’s face softened a bit. As they had both predicted, the gang war that had erupted in Gotham had more than a few casualties. Sionis, Falcone, Elliott, Walker and Lynns had died outright, Freeze had disappeared and most of the others had been transferred to an out of state facility after the fighting had destroyed Arkham. Still, it wasn’t all bad news. Oswald Cobblepot was the undisputed king of the Gotham Underworld now, defanged as it was. Harvey Dent had apparently finally reformed. Harley and Ivy had visited them in between their travels. Selina kept in contact too, constantly sending them pictures of her daughter, who was now three years old. And of course, Jonathan and Edward were still together. “I suppose we did get a happier ending than we probably deserved, didn’t we Jon?”

Jonathan leaned down and kissed the top of Edward’s head. “I’m not complaining.”

Edward smiled and pulled Jonathan down for a proper kiss. Life was a bit boring at times, but life was good.

What neither man knew was that someone had been watching them. Bruce Wayne had arrived in Boston after receiving a tip that Jonathan was teaching there. He’d been observing them for almost a week now and the worst thing he’d seen them do was bicker over the copy of a Boston Globe. Bruce walked away from where he’d been watching their apartment building and back towards his car. He’d been away from Gotham and his family long enough. He’d keep an ear out for any potential trouble, but as far as he was concerned, there was no need to bring in Edward Nigma and Jonathan Crane.

#scriddler #my take on 'ed and jon' retire from villainy and become grumpy old men together

[acapelladitty]

So i wrote a fic in which Edward Nygma encounters a very resilient kitten and its cute as all hell because we all need a little tenderness in our lives

As much as Edward did genuinely enjoy working with Selina on their various nefarious projects, there were always complications which arose when his favourite cat burglar spent too much time in his private spaces.

Such as the grey ball of fluff which was currently asleep on his workbench.

Three hours had passed since he had discovered the creature and, one quick trip to the local store later, he was now ready to begin removing it from his space. A small pet carrier and a bag of cat treats had been purchased and he had no doubt that the kitten would be unable to resist following his wishes.

It was all her fault after all.

Whenever Selina inhabited an area for an extended amount of time, the number of cats in the local vicinity seemed to increase regardless of how populated the area had been prior to her arrival. It was almost supernatural, the way she attracted felines, but it never bothered him too much since she tended to take the local strays home with her.

He had been tempted to just throw it one of his old bowler hats and deliver it to Selina's door but if she suspected for a moment that he had mistreated the kitten in any way she would no doubt deliver her own brand of vigilante justice.

So the twenty dollars spent on basic supplies was well worth his jaw remaining intact for the foreseeable future.

Placing the carrier onto the workbench, he opened the bag of treats and gently prodded the fluffy ball with a single digit until it stirred.

Rolling onto its feet languidly, the kitten immediately awoke from its sleep and its bright, green eyes had an unmistakably irritated look in them as it sized up the human who had disturbed them.

Studying it, Edward was pleased to see that it looked relatively clean and could not have been more than a few months old at best. Its wide green eyes were offset by dark grey fur which was flecked with lighter tones of grey and a small patch of white which decorated the center of its stomach.

He could see the appeal in kittens as a species as even he could not deny that it was somewhat cute. Growing up, his father had never allowed him to keep any form of pet and, although he had been tempted to sneak one home, the thought that his father could discover it and punish both him and the animal was too much of a risk to allow.

Overall he found that cats were preferable to dogs. They had an independence which he could appreciate and while their loyalty was harder to gain it could easily rival that of any dog. Or maybe it was just his many dealings with Selina which had affected his preference.

Either way, the kitten had to go.

He was not interested in a pet at the moment.

Tearing the bag open he pulled out a single treat and held it between his fingers as he offered it to the cat in an effort to entice it towards the pet carrier. Once locked in, it would be delivered straight to its new home.

Staring at him with outright suspicion now, the cat held his gaze for a moment before darting its eyes between the outstretched hand which contained the treat and the other in which Edward had clenched the full bag between his fingers.

“Well hurry up.” Edward huffed, but his exasperated tone was tinged with curiosity as he wondered what the kitten was thinking. It seemed to be weighing up its options.

Coming to a obvious decision, the cat moved quicker than Edward anticipated and a sudden sharp pain in his hand caused him to drop the bag of treats as the cat drew its claws across his exposed fingers.

Pulling his hand to his chest instinctively, he inspected the scratch while an irritable scowl appeared on his face as he watched the small beads of blood began to well from the wound.

“If I need to get a tetanus shot I am going to kill you you little-” Edward hissed as he turned his glare back to the animal but the heat dissipated as he caught sight of the tail-end of the cat disappearing into the pet carrier.

With the full bag of treats.

Taken while he had been distracted.

Despite the stinging pain, he managed a smile as he came to the realization that he had been played.

By a kitten.

“Smart little one aren’t you?” He muttered as he stared at the green eyes which were now watching him pensively as he turned to face the carrier fully.

Titling it up at the opposite end, he shook it slightly in order to dislodge its occupant.

The faint scratching from inside the carrier only lasted a moment as the small grey ball tumbled from the opening. Before it could get its bearings, Edward gently grasped the scruff of its neck and brought it to his eyeline.

“Brave little thing,” he continued to mutter as the ball of fur glared at him, presumably embarrassed by its predicament, “i’ve eaten steaks which are older than you and here you are causing trouble.”

The kitten shifted uncomfortably and he instantly released its neck and placed it into his open palm.

“Smart too though,” he mused, “you understood that the bag would provide a greater allowance of treats than the one you were being presented with.”

Padding at the exposed palm with apprehension, the kitten tested out its new platform before settling down and placing its neck across the tips of Edward's fingers.

Unable to help himself, Edward reached out with his other hand and scratched the small area behind the kittens ear, smirking again as a soft purring instantly started to emit from the tiny creature.

“I suppose you could stay the night,” his words were contemplative as he spoke half to the kitten and half to himself, “but first thing tomorrow morning you are going to Selina’s. I am the Riddler, not Catman. I do not have time to keep a pet.”

As if in response to his explanation, the kitten let out a well-timed yawn and shifted its body again to find a comfortable sleeping position on Edwards’ palm.

“First thing tomorrow morning.” He repeated, with a complete lack of finality.

-Two Weeks Later-

“Is that a kitten?” Her eyebrows almost reaching her hairline, Selina could not believe what she was seeing.

It was not uncommon to find odd things in Edwards’ workshops but the small cat bed which decorated the end of his central workbench and appeared to contain a tiny kitten was a step above the average oddity.

Following her gaze, Edward looked at the kitten he had found himself unable to get rid of. Rolling his eyes at her, he was unable to resist being sarcastic, “And here I believed that you were the expert, Selina. The kitten is an unwanted distraction. I will deal with it soon enough.”

“Don’t be rude Edward, it doesn’t suit you,” Selina countered instantly, “and since when do you keep pets?”

Squinting at the kitten with an odd mixture of fondness and exasperation, Edward sighed, “He is not a pet,” a pause, “and as soon as I’ve worked it out you will be the first one to know.”

Selina coughed to cover her small laugh at Edwards’ expense.

“And his name is Leibnitz.”

She didn’t even bother to cover her laughter this time.

AO3

#riddler #edward nygma #fic #ed nygma #edward nigma #so many different spellings ya cant #i know for a fact that i posted this a few years ago but i cannot for the life of me find it anywhere #so fucks knows what happened to it

[centralcitysfinest-rp]

Welcome to Central City, Malachi ! We’re glad to have you as our Ted Grant! Please make your account with 24 hours and send it in! After you’ve made your account, please follow the main and check the members checklist.Enjoy your time here in Central!

ooc info

name/alias: Malachi

age & timezone: 22/EST

activity: I can be online just about every day.

rp experience: I’ve been RPing on Tumblr for at least 3 years. I’ve been in many groups and on the independent scene as well.

ic info:

character name/codename: Theodore “Ted” Alexander Grant

character age: 33

faceclaim: D.J. Cotrona

species/status: Human/Hero

occupation: Owner of Grant’s Gym

Biography (min. 2 paragraphs)

Past: Before The Queen’s Gambit set sail on that fateful trip, there was Wildcat. Keeping to the shadows of The Glades, he was the ‘original vigilante’ of Star City, thenStarling City. He was more of an urban legend that spread within the community. He didn’t go after the big business criminals. He didn’t go after the high-profile guys that would get put on the news immediately. His goal was to clean up the streets of the trash and the filth, mainly the gangs and the drug dealers. He didn’t have a fancy suit or anything like that. He just had a covering for his face and a bulletproof vest under his clothes to protect himself. If you were doing wrong, you were going to get a visit from Wildcat before you know it. Zero tolerance were two words synonymous with what he was trying to do for The Glades. While he was doing his part to clean up the streets at night, he did the same during the day by way of his gym. If people kept busy, they didn’t have as much time to get into trouble. He saw a need in his community and he worked to fill it. He offered classes for the people that needed them. Self-Defense, Kickboxing, Boxing, Physical Conditioning, pretty much whatever you could think of. He didn’t want to too his own horn but he liked to think of himself as a 'man of the people’. People were getting the message that Wildcat wasn’t something to mess around with and, as simply Ted Grant. he was gaining more and more of the people’s respect.

Present: Ted Grant doesn’t just take things unfair to him lying down. He never did when he was younger and he wasn’t about to let something like death hold him back. It was a brutal jumping that 'ended’ his life initially. When you try and do good, evil naturally follows. It doesn’t matter what you do. He was left a bloody pulp in an alley and, even though he tried to fight them off, the numbers were playing too strong against him. He thought he was a relatively good person and to see himself end up in Hell? There had to be some kind of mix up. When The Devil himself challenged him to a fight for his soul, he pretty much started fighting him right then and there. It wasn’t an easy fight in the least bit but, when Ted delivered the final knockout punch, he took one of The Devil’s teeth as a souvenir before everything went white. Now, after having literally fought his way back to life, Ted’s found himself imbued with power he’s never known before. His little souvenir granted him several mystical abilities, one of them mainly being the ability to resurrect himself. He’s far more in-tuned to his more 'feline’ side than he ever was before. After hearing about what happened with Damian Darhk, he knew he needed to head back home to Star City. The city needed him and the people needed him even more. The Glades aren’t gonna get any better overnight and, with these new powers having been explored, he can do some serious clean-up work this time around.

positive traits: Gregarious, Persistent, Valiant

negative traits: Coarse, Harsh, Ruthless

He’d heard about The Green Arrow dipping his arrow into the realm of magic but this wasn’t something he could go to Oliver and ask for his help with. Having him around would only cause more trouble than he would ultimately be worth. His eyes were attuned to sense the creatures in hiding and, as he was cleaning his ring for the night, he couldn’t help but smirk to himself. If they wanted a fight with him, that’s exactly what they were gonna get. You don’t just mess with Hell’s Heavyweight Champion and expect to get out alive.

para sample: He knew that there would be some strings attached to his newfound power. There always were. Even though he fought Lucifer and won, that wasn’t the end of his story. Not surprisingly, he’s a sore loser. He could sense the presence of evil at the edges of his mind. The feelings were darker and more sinister than any gang member he’d ever gone up against. He went on with business as usual but he always keeps his ears perked up for the first sign of trouble. He knew they were going to come for him and he was going to have to be ready to fought them off.

#ccfaccepted #ccfadmin

[southeastasianists]

It has been a year since Rodrigo Duterte assumed the presidency of the Philippines. Davao’s favorite son began his reign on the offensive, going on a killing spree that would claim the lives of over 7,000 suspected drug users in the next 12 months. He ended his first year uncharacteristically on the defensive, removing himself from the public eye for almost a week as the Philippine Army repeatedly tried but failed to dislodge the so-called Maute Group that had taken over and terrorized Marawi, the cultural capital of Islam in the Philippines.  

A month earlier, everything seemed to be going Duterte’s way. Using the Maute takeover of Marawi as an excuse, he finally delivered on his threat to declare martial law, which he had made several times over the last few months. The Mautes’ move had been in response to a failed attempt by the Philippine military to apprehend a much-wanted leader of the notorious Abu Sayyaf terrorist organization, to whom the group is allied, who was believed to be in the area. Duterte’s response – the declaration of martial law for the whole of Mindanao, the Philippines’ second largest island, to address a local incident – struck many as a case of overkill.

To some other observers, however, Duterte’s move was not surprising, given that he had not hidden his intention to follow in the footsteps of his hero, Ferdinand Marcos, should the situation, in his judgment, require the imposition of martial law.  In their view, Duterte saw the incident as an opportunity to take a step forward in his drive to consolidate authoritarian rule, much like Marcos had used a staged attack on one of his key subordinates as the pretext for his infamous move almost 50 years ago.  

It provided an opportunity for a dress rehearsal for the nationwide imposition of military rule, and in the next few days, things seemed to unfold according to the script desired by the President. Controlled by his allies, Congress evinced no desire to meet in joint session to approve the declaration, as prescribed by the Constitution. Duterte also warned that should opponents of the declaration bring their case to the Supreme Court, he would simply disregard the Court’s decision, a brazen challenge that the Court responded to with silence.

What Duterte did not anticipate was that the Mautes would hold on to Marawi, ferociously. As the stalemate continued, with soldiers dying, hundreds of civilians caught in the crossfire, and the ISIS-linked Islamist band extracting maximum propaganda globally for its cause, Marawi threatened to become the Vietnam of his presidency. Not only did it come to light that he had, in his trademark macho fashion, challenged the Mautes to carry through with their threat to burn Marawi to the ground a few months back. (READ: Terror in Mindanao: The Mautes of Marawi)

The takeover exposed the fact that, with his single-minded focus on killing drug users, he had paid absolutely no attention to coming up with a political solution to one of the country’s most pressing problems: the smoldering Moro insurgency in his own region. Now, he had been forced into the dead-end of a military solution with US support, which was precisely what the radical Islamists wanted in pursuit of their dream of making Muslim Mindanao a second front of their struggle to establish a global Islamic caliphate.

The year of killing indiscriminately

Marawi was, however, a rare setback in a year where most things went swimmingly for the man from Davao.

Most Filipinos do not remember having lived through a more tension-filled, nerve-wracking year since the overthrow of the dictatorship over 3 decades back. Unlike most politicians, Duterte delivered on his main promise, which he had described as “fattening the fish in Manila Bay” with the cadavers of criminals. Thousands of drug users have been slain either by the police or by police-controlled vigilante groups, with the police admitting that 2,600 deaths were attributable to police operations while another 1,400 were the work of vigilantes. Other, more reliable sources put the figure at above 7000 as of early May.

What is beyond doubt is that Duterte has brazenly encouraged the extra-judicial killings and discouraged due process. The very night of his taking his oath of office on June 30, 2016, he told an audience in one of Manila’s working class communities: "If you know of any addicts, go ahead and kill them yourselves as getting their parents to do it would be too painful." In October 2016, Duterte told the country, with characteristically sinister humor, that 20,000 to 30,000 more lives might have to be taken to cleanse the country of drugs. Having learned to take Duterte seriously even when he seems to be joking, many observers expect this figure to be an underestimate. More recently, to any policemen who might be convicted of killing drug users without justification, he has offered an immediate pardon “so you can go after the people who brought you to court.”

Kraisak Choonhavan, a prominent Thai politician, observed that, in a region where authoritarianism is once more on the rise, the Philippines is in the most perilous position since its authoritarian leader has come to power through a democratic vote. What he meant is that, although democracy may be the least objectionable of systems of rule, when democracy does screw up big time, the damage can be incalculable, greater perhaps than that which comes with the usual military coup, for which the region is notorious.

This is, of course, not the first time that a man determined to dismantle democracy has come to power through democratic means, Duterte’s most prominent predecessor being Hitler, who stepped into the chancellorship of Germany with his plurality victory in the 1932 elections. Like Hitler, Duterte won by a plurality, getting some 40% of the vote in the elections of May 9, 2016, and he has aggressively wielded that electoral mandate as his main instrument in reshaping the Philippine political system, though this process has been carried out less by plan than through improvisation guided by his acute political instincts.  

Duterte’s middle class enrages

There is no doubt that he is popular, with over 75% to 83% of the people registering approval of his actions, according to recent polls. While he draws approval from all classes, his support is most aggressively displayed among the aspiring and downwardly mobile middle classes. The Philippines provides an interesting case study of the volatility of the middle class. At times, it can be a force for democracy, as the middle classes were in the late '80s, when they played a central role in the overthrow of Marcos and other authoritarian regimes throughout the global South. At other times, they provide the heated mass base for authoritarian rule, as they did for Hitler in Germany and as they do now for Duterte.  

Duterte’s middle class base is not passive. Beginning with the presidential campaign in 2016, they have mobilized to dominate the social media, engaging in the worst kind of cyber-bullying of people who dare to criticize the President’s policies on line. Shortly after his declaration of martial law, for instance, one of the most prominent pro-Duterte bloggers publicly called for the execution of two women journalists. Another Duterte fanatic registered his hope online that a woman senator who had criticized Duterte’s martial law declaration, Risa Hontiveros, would be “brutally raped” by the insurgents in Marawi City. Indeed, rational discourse is an increasingly scarce commodity among Duterte’s partisans, who ape their leader’s penchant for outrageous and incendiary utterances.  Perhaps the most appropriate name for them is the French Revolution term “enrages,” or the enraged ones.

Interpreting his mandate as a blank check to do whatever it takes to “defend the nation,” Duterte has reversed the usual model by which fascists and authoritarian populists come to power. In the Marcosian model of “creeping fascism,” the fascist personality begins with violations of civil and political rights, followed by the lunge for absolute power, after which follows indiscriminate repression.  Duterte reverses the process. He starts with massive, indiscriminate repression, that is, the killing with impunity of thousands of drug users, leaving the violation of civil liberties and the grab for total power as mopping up operations in a political atmosphere where fear has largely neutralized opposition.

With his declaration of martial law in Mindanao, Duterte is now embarked on the next phase of his ascent to absolute power, which will most likely involve the curtailment and suppression of basic political rights. Like the conquistador Cortez, Duterte has burned his ships behind him. There is no going back. Yielding power when his 6-year term ends is a vanishing option since he would face prosecution for extra-judicial execution of thousands of people, not only locally but internationally, since charges of systematic human rights violations have been filed against him in the International Criminal Court. But the main thing propelling him forward is his sense that his large numbers of supporters, in fact, support his drive toward authoritarian rule.

Duterte: Pharmacologist extraordinaire

Duterte’s signature program has been his war on drugs. This is no ordinary law-and-order campaign.  It is being carried out with a fanaticism that borders on the ideological and with a justification that reminds one of the pseudo-scientific basis of Nazi racial theory. A whole sector of society, most of them poor, have been unilaterally stripped of their rights to life, due process, and membership in society. Drug users are consigned outside the borders of “humanity” since their brains have allegedly shrunk to the point where they are no longer being in command of their faculties to will and think.

In his speeches justifying the killings “in self-defense” by police, Duterte said that a year of more of the use of “shabu” – the local term for crystal meth or metamphetamine hydrochloride – “would shrink the brain of a person, and therefore he is no longer viable for rehabilitation.” Not only do these people turn to violent crime to slake their drug habit, but they are “paranoid” and could resist arrest, putting the lives of policemen in danger. Duterte has written them out of the human race. With rhetorical flourish, he asked the security forces a few months ago: “Crime against humanity? In the first place, I’d like to be frank with you: are they humans? What is your definition of a human being?"

Duterte’s bloody campaign defies the consensus in the scientific community, much like Donald Trump brushes away the scientific consensus on climate change. Dr Yao Ying Ma of Binghamton University, one of the world’s leading neuroscientists working on the effects of drugs, said in an interview with the author that while drug addiction does involve modifications of the brain that lead to pathological alterations, this process is reversible, which is not only a theoretical hypothesis, but one that has received substantial confirmation in research laboratories and is broadly accepted in the field of neuroscience.

“Our brains, they are flexible. They have the chance to be reshaped, to be reorganized,” she says. “Through certain medical interventions, we can reorganize the brain back to its normal healthy state.”  The focus of therapy is to prevent relapse into substance abuse, and here the problem to be addressed is the mitigation of severe withdrawal pains, the avoidance of which is the reason people go back to the drug. Whether for opiates or for psycho-stimulants, such as meth, such mitigating measures are now available which stimulate the brain to produce and release endorphins that significantly alleviate withdrawal symptoms. Excitingly, vaccines have also been developed to block the responsive sites in the brain, leaving drugs with little chance to successfully attack it.

For psycho-stimulants like meth or shabu, there is also now available electronic acupuncture or “peripheral electrical stimulation,” which ameliorate withdrawal symptoms, allowing drug users to, among other things, overcome lack of sleep, which most complain of, increasing the chances of a patient not relapsing. While neuroscientists like Ma see addiction as something to be reversed mainly by treating specific neuro-substrates in the brain, receptivity to a cure is greatly enhanced by a supportive social atmosphere provided by both the community and government. Criminalizing drug users instead of treating drug use as a public health problem creates the worst possible context for rehabilitation.

These complexities of the drug issue are not, however, something that Duterte would entertain. He believes that he is the expert on all dimensions of the drug problem, which he estimated in May of this year as affecting some 4 million Filipinos, up from his earlier estimate of 3 million a few months earlier.  The President’s figure would put the percentage of the population that are drug users at over 4%, a figure which not even the chairman of the government’s Dangerous Drugs Board, a Duterte ally, found credible, leading to his being fired by the President when he dared to come up with the alternative figure of 1.8 million drug users.

The revolt against liberal democracy

What is not in dispute is that Duterte’s promise to deal with the drug problem in a draconian fashion was a major factor in his being elected in a society where fear of crime is widespread among all sectors of the population. It is testimony to his political acumen that he was able to successfully latch onto an issue that most politicians had ignored. Yet there are more profound causes for his victory and his current popularity. One cannot understand Duterte’s hold on society without taking into consideration the deep disenchantment with the liberal democratic regime that came into being with the landmark “EDSA Uprising” that overthrew the dictator Ferdinand Marcos in February 1986 – EDSA being the acronym for the north-south highway that bisects Metro Manila, where the major mass actions took place. In fact, the failure of the “EDSA Republic” was a condition for Duterte’s success.

What destroyed the EDSA project and paved the way for Duterte was the deadly combination of elite monopoly of the electoral system, the continuing concentration of wealth, neoliberal economic policies, and the priority placed on foreign debt repayment imposed by Washington. By the time of the elections of 2016, there was a yawning gap between the EDSA Republic’s promise of popular empowerment and wealth redistribution and the reality of massive poverty, scandalous inequality, and pervasive corruption.

Add to this the widespread perception of inept governance and the double standards of the anti-corruption campaign of the administration of  President Benigno Aquino III, and it is not surprising that a resounding 16 million plus voters or some 40% of the electorate saw Duterte’s tough guy, authoritarian approach, which he had cultivated as mayor of the southern frontier city of Davao for over thirty years, as precisely what was needed. To borrow the novelist Anthony Doerr’s description of the state of mind of pre-war Germans, a large number of Filipinos were “desperate for someone who can put things right.” The Philippines may be headed toward a dictatorship, but it is, paradoxically, likely to a popular one, anchored in the country’s seething, frustrated middle class.

Ersatz populism

Though much of his rhetoric is populist, Duterte’s approach is not a populist strategy of using the masses as a battering ram for redistributive reform. Rather, his is the classic fascist way of balancing different class forces while projecting an image of being above class conflict. His campaign promises of ending contractual labor, curbing the mining industry, and turning over to small coconut farmers the taxes collected from them by the Marcos regime have remained largely unfulfilled as the country’s key elites have positioned themselves as his allies to protect their interests. All significant labor groups have rejected his labor secretary’s order “banning” contractualization as a cosmetic move with little intended effect. No new legislation to push forward the stalled agrarian reform is entertained, which is not surprising given the fact that the Visayan bloc of landowners in the House of Representatives is one of his most solid backers.  

A defining moment in the debate on whether Duterte was serious about a social agenda was the congressional confirmation hearings on his secretary of the environment, Gina Lopez, who shut down 22 mines, suspended 4, and issued show-cause orders to 77 others for encroaching on watersheds and destabilizing rural and forest communities. Her campaign had captured the public imagination, but Duterte’s allies in the mining industry ganged up on her, successfully pressuring the congressional Commission on Appointments not to confirm her, with the President sitting on the sidelines, refusing to personally lobby for her retention when a simple phone call would have made the difference.   Duterte is not a tool of vested interests; indeed, many of the rich are scared of him and his unpredictability. But money does have its uses, and it is essential to furthering his authoritarian agenda.

But while delivering social and economic reforms is going to be central in maintaining support for his authoritarian project in the long term, it is unlikely that the lack of progress so far will dent Duterte’s popularity with the masses in the short and medium term. As with Donald Trump’s base, hope springs eternal among a people steeped in frustration and desperation. Moreover, the middle class enrages who dominate the internet are not lacking in the ability to present the illusion of reform as actual reform or in their imputing lack of progress to obstruction by the dilawan, or yellows, which has become the term of choice for all those critical of Duterte.

Civilization’s thin veneer

While Duterte has an effective propaganda machine, it would be a big mistake to attribute his popularity to the work of “trolls” or paid internet keyboard warriors, as many of his critics are wont to do. The support for extra-judicial killings of drug users by large numbers of their compatriots is genuine, and this has perplexed many observers. It has underlined to some “what we see as the unalterable features of civilized life vanish in the blink of an eye,” as the philosopher John Gray puts it.  Especially after the EDSA Uprising of 1986, the Philippines was regarded as the “showcase of liberal democracy” in Asia.  An influential view was that in overthrowing Marcos, Filipinos were simply reasserting the longstanding value they put on individual rights, due process, and democracy that they had internalized during the American colonial period.

The liberal democratic Constitution of the EDSA Republic – the so-called “human rights Constitution” – was seen as the quintessential crystallization of these national political values.  Then suddenly, in the space of less than a year, the majority of Filipinos have expressed strong support for a man whose central agenda is the extra-judicial execution of a certain category of human beings, drug users, with a large number of them not only justifying Duterte’s bloody campaign but cheering him on.  

Perhaps it is time we shed assumptions we have of our people as civilized beings and creatures with malasakit or compassion, and adopt toward contemporary Philippine society what the historian Daniel Goldhagen proposed to students of German society during the Nazi period: abandon all assumptions about your people, and instead approach them “with the critical eye of an anthropologist disembarking on unknown shores, open to meeting a radically different culture and conscious of the possibility that he might need to devise explanations not in keeping with, perhaps even contravening his own common-sense notions, in order to explain the culture’s constitution, its idiosyncratic patterns of practice, and its collective projects and products.”

This would admit the possibility that under certain circumstances, large numbers of people, especially from the middle class and elite, are willing to be advocates or accomplices of mass murder in the name of law and order.

The demoralized opposition

For the moment, opposition to Duterte among the elite and state institutions is weak, and the Catholic Church hierarchy, which in the past was a strong advocate of human rights, is afraid to frontally take on the popular leader, saddled as it is with a lack of credibility owing to moral erosion in its ranks and its bull-headed, unpopular resistance to family planning. The Liberal Party, which controlled the government under the previous Aquino administration, has disintegrated, with most of its congressional representatives swearing fealty to Duterte.

Formerly in the opposition in previous administrations, the traditional left, as is well known, is now part of the Duterte government, provided with 3 Cabinet-level positions by a wily politician who gambled, correctly, that the left, whose fortunes had been declining in recent years, would bite at the offer.  While the Communist Party and the New People’s Army continue to engage in off-and-on negotiations for a peace agreement with the government, the presence of personalities identified with them in Duterte’s Cabinet have provided “progressive” cover for its fascist policies.

What opposition there is comes from isolated figures, like Senator Leila de Lima, the former secretary of justice whom Duterte has jailed on trumped-up charges of being on the payroll of drug lords, from a section of the media, from human rights groups like the coalition I-Defend, and from new, refreshing youth formations such as the “Block Marcos Movement” that was formed to oppose the burial of the former dictator in the National Heroes’ Cemetery.

Duterte and the military

Interestingly, the one institution that could effectively undermine Duterte is the military. The President knows this, and to keep the Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP) on his good side, Duterte has appointed several former generals to key positions in his Cabinet and takes every opportunity to visit military camps. The military is central to his agenda of imposing martial law nationwide. Yet, it may also prove to be the biggest obstacle.  

Contrary to the perception of many, the military does not relish martial law. This is not because it loves civilian rule, but because it is overextended, severely overextended. This is the reason the AFP command was one of the strongest backers of the Bangsa Moro Basic Law, which promised a political conclusion to the nearly 50-year-old Muslim insurgency whose containment has been the military’s main preoccupation. The project collapsed when a US-supported raid into insurgent territory by Philippine police forces authorized by former President Aquino in January 2015 went awry and derailed the negotiations, much to the chagrin of many in the AFP high command.

With only 220,000 frontline troops, the AFP is one of the smallest standing armies in Southeast Asia and one of the most underequipped, having relied for so many years on hand-me-down weaponry from the United States. It has had its hands full battling several major insurgencies. Given its current strength, plus the fact that insurgencies demand principally political, not military solutions, the best it has been able to do is battle these insurgent movements to a stalemate, not eliminate them. Its failure over the last month to retake Marawi City from what some say are scarcely more than a hundred Muslim irregular fighters has drawn attention to its woeful fighting capabilities, with incidents like friendly fire from Philippine Air Force planes killing Philippine Army troops drawing universal dismay. (READ: Marawi battle zone: Urban warfare challenges PH military)  

Even as the army is being outfought by Maute irregulars in Marawi, its commander in chief has added a massive new task, which is to perform police functions in a whole region, in preparation for exercising police functions nationwide in his design to establish a nation-wide dictatorial regime. Duterte, say some analysts, has provided a gift to the Communist New People's Army and the different insurgent Muslim groups by releasing AFP units now containing them to assume police functions regionally. This will simply encourage these groups to assume more offensive operations, leading to more AFP casualties.

The surest way to demoralize the military is to overextend it by pushing it to assume political and police functions for which it is ill-equipped. A politicized military that exercises police powers is a plague on the people, but it also stirs discontent and rebellion in its ranks, as happened during the Marcos dictatorship. Duterte fancies himself a general, but he may actually be unintentionally sowing the ground for future coup d'etat's. Like Marcos, he thinks he is riding the tiger, and like him, he may well end up inside it.  

The challenge to democracy

To the worried partisans of an endangered democracy, however, the choice between a presidential dictatorship and a military dictatorship is no choice at all. As Duterte’s reign enters its second year, they are faced with a tall order: how to make democracy, human rights, and due process attractive again to a skeptical population. It would be suicidal to allow themselves to be led by personalities associated with the old, discredited EDSA order. The Vice President, Leni Robredo, is a person of undoubted integrity but one devoid of the capacity for effective leadership, being mainly a creation of the Liberal Party capitalizing on the reformist image of her deceased husband. Once seen as a reformist force, the Liberals are damaged goods owing to their opportunism and cowardice, while the vocal Senator Antonio Trillanes IV, who wears his burning ambition on his sleeve, has even less credibility than the Liberals.

But beyond personalities, democrats must present a vision and a program that speak to the aspirations of the vast majority of impoverished and marginalized Filipinos and convince them that democratic competition is a more effective means of realizing their hopes than authoritarian rule. Only a party and program of the left can provide this leadership, but with the dominant sections of the left itself having been enmeshed in compromising, corrupt alliances with different factions of the elite, reinvigoration of the democratic alternative will demand a thoroughgoing reform of the left. Crisis, however, can spell opportunity, and Filipino progressives would do well to ponder the words of the great Italian opponent of fascism, Antonio Gramsci, at a not dissimilar moment in his nation’s history: “Pessimism of the intellect, optimism of the will.”

#Southeast Asia #Philippines #Rodrigo Duterte #Politics #Drugs #Democracy

[rudderless-in-an-ocean-of-stars]

So a lot of the premise of S2E19 was the idea that Kara did a lot with her fists- and didn't consider talking. I was just wondering what you thought of that- Kara literally talked a robber down with just her words, and all of the sudden she doesn't know how to do it at all. Seriously, what is up with this backwards character development?

I’ve been thinking about your question for quite some time- which is why I’ve taken so long to respond, sorry, and it’s a very good one.

Yes, we did see Kara learn that fists aren’t always the answer to every solution in season one, and it was a beautiful episode.

So it does leave the question- why take that away from her character now?

The writers probably needed to further the problem of the episode, to show a direct source of conflict between the pair, so they took Kara’s reasoning skills down a couple notches to reduce her to being the ‘brawn’ so that Maggie could be the ‘brains’.

Let me explain the logic behind this. (Brace yourself, it’s a doozy.)

Maggie’s place in Team Supergirl is still undefined. Everyone else has already carved out a place for themselves within the group dynamics- for example, Winn with his technical skills, Alex with her general badassery. Given that the occupations of Alex and Maggie are so similar, it served as a catalyst for their meeting and subsequent encounters that led to their relationship. However, the similarities between them have made it so that Maggie cannot simply take the role of ‘badass with a gun’ within the group, because Alex already has it. This means that she must prove her worth to the team by providing a skill or talent that isn’t already there.

Kara, we know, is a very empathetic, kind character. While it makes sense for her to rush into danger heedlessly, due to her invulnerability to most forms of harm, it does not make sense for her to have broken a man’s arm or given another a concussion without feeling guilty about it. She’s lived on Earth for nearly half of her life, and we know for a fact that she’s learned how to regulate her strength very well. Besides that, she has always been reluctant to physically harm her opponents in debilitating ways. She normally incapacitates them as best as she can without injury. Whether this is due to her high level of empathy or her heroic sense of self- like Batman and his NO killing rule- is irrelevant. What matters is the fact that time and time again, we have seen her go to great lengths to resolve situations peacefully- attempting to sway Astra, for example- before resorting to violence.

So to have Kara so casually dismiss their injuries at the dinner table was completely out of character for her. While she uses the ‘greater good’ reasoning to justify her actions- by claiming that she saved the lives of the hostages- Kara has never been the type to risk others in the name of the ‘greater good.’ She would risk herself, as we saw at the end of season one, but she would never willingly compromise the safety of another individual- and if she did, she would feel extremely guilty about it. After she dropped Cat off of the balcony under the effects of Red K, despite the fact that Cat was not physically harmed, the guilt that wracked her was extreme. For Kara to break one man’s arm and leave another with a concussion is one thing, having her care so little about it is another, and a very out-of-character move for Kara. But then again, a lot of her actions were out of sync with the hero she has spent the past season developing into. However, it was done to have Maggie assert herself as someone capable of contributing ‘new’ skills to the team.

And having Maggie bring up the ‘Supergirl defense’ is another thing. Had Supergirl really used excessive force repeatedly, we would have seen mentions of this in the media when they criticized her previously. A superhero hurting people doesn’t make for much good publicity, does it? The vigilante defense is one thing, and they did have a point about debris-contaminated evidence, but Kara would never injure so many people and feel nothing about it.

Yet this is what they had her do.

Why?

Simple.

It all comes back to cementing Maggie’s role in the team.

She needed a place, a position, as I said earlier, and in order to get that, she had to play a critical role in helping and mentoring Supergirl herself. So by making Kara take a few steps back in terms of character development, they allowed Maggie to be seen in a new light by the members of Team Supergirl. Through this, she was also able to finally gain the respect of our favorite hero, and forge a working, if not friendly, relationship with Kara.

This, however, cost Kara’s character something, but it was remedied at the end of the episode, where Kara is shown to have learned her lesson and talks the villain’s father into cooperating. A nice touch, but not as nice as having Maggie succumb to the demands of Alex’s classmate. It was a brilliant role reversal in which Maggie was forced to do exactly what she had accused Kara of doing earlier- taking the fast, brutal solution rather than negotiating and reasoning. Both characters learned a lesson in this episode, and it was very well-written.

Obviously, it wasn’t perfect- making Kara’s character backtrack wasn’t the smartest move, but it was efficient, and it got the job done at the end of the day.

However, we also can’t ignore the way that a lot of the character development from last season has been shunted off to the side or disappeared altogether- and not just for Kara. This, I DON’T blame on Maggie.

No, for this, I blame Mon-El.

To push him forward as one of the major players in what is shaping up to be the central conflict of the season- Rhea’s evil plans- the Supergirl writers had to quickly make him a 'hero’ of sorts, in the audience’s eyes. Unfortunately, they did this by reducing the storylines of pretty much every other character, regularly giving him the spotlight of many episodes, and turning Kara into a rash, lovesick puppy too blinded by the shoddy writing and supposed charms of an alien frat boy to remember that her character- the character we came to love in season one- would never, ever be with a slave owner, or a man who can’t do the simple task of remaining faithful, or a man who tries to guilt her into a relationship by making her feel bad for not returning his feelings.

Mon-El is the ultimate representation of the self-proclaimed 'nice guy’ that we all love to hate.

Y'know, the guy who feels like he deserves everything, even if he does little or nothing to earn it, up to AND including a girl’s affections. The sleazy guy who offers to buy you a drink and gets mad when you turn it down. The guy with a chip on his shoulder who feels like the world owes him something simply because he’s a man. The guy who will sit down and talk with you like a rational human being, and say he’s not like other guys- until you turn him down for a date, and that’s exactly what he becomes. Entitled. Arrogant. Spoiled.

And Kara’s own behavior towards his guilt trip is another prime example of how poorly written her character has been the past season. Look at how gracefully she handled Winn’s unrequited affection for her- the pair came out stronger and better for it, and Winn grew into his own because of it. But now she immediately decides to jump into a relationship because his feelings for her- which were initially unreturned- caused her to have a magical change of heart?

Sorry, no.

There were so many other ways to develop Karamel as a legitimate, healthy relationship that I would respectfully acknowledge in spite of my support for SuperCorp.

Unfortunately, the writers made him too important, too quickly, which dashed any hope of a slow, realistic evolution into a redeemable, lovable character. Thanks, guys. He had serious potential, and if his story hadn’t been rushed so quickly that it became one the wildest face-heel turns to ever grace a television screen, he could’ve been a great character.

Could’ve been, but now he isn’t.

Sorry, Karamel shippers- if any of you are reading this. I hate hating a ship, but one as badly executed as this one doesn’t deserve even the dignity of my respect. I respect you, and your right to support it, but don’t ask me to do the same for your toxic ship.

Sorry if this response went on a bit of a tangent, anon, but I hope it all makes sense! :)

Remember, my ask is always open- for prompts, questions, advice, anything at all. :D

#whoooo boy #that went on for a while #sorry #ask me anything #tell me anything #Supergirl #Kara Danvers #Maggie Sawyer #Mon-El #anti mon-el #CW #rudderless responds

[k-liight]

   that's right, folks, I've got another new story! it's called Livewire!, and it’s a superhero story, but with that signature k-Liight twist--in this case, a superheroic protagonist that isn't the usual chiseled block-jawed hyper-masculine dude you see so often in other superhero stories twist (among other differences XD). I probably won't be able to explain each and every character in full detail, but I will give you a brief overview, and I will tell you the story ;3 it goes something like this:

   Deep within the heart of north-central Florida, a dangerous battle between two powerful groups is taking place right under the common people’s noses. One side is fighting to preserve the old laws and ways, the other is aiming for new laws and change. Among those fighting for change is the duo of former secret agent Patrick Guerrero and his mutated daughter Gertrude, otherwise known as La Bestia. The two have had a long-time beef with the conservative Dr Droid and his own daughter Deedee. While Dr Droid’s coalition may be small, Patrick Guerrero’s band of vigilantes is even smaller, and he’s looking for more members, superpowered or not. He’s looking for brave and determined individuals, especially young people, who are dissatisfied with the way the world is now, and will fight almost to the death for what they believe in. However, he’s having a hard time finding truly qualified individuals. But that is about to change.    Enter our hero, Xavier Templeton, a cute, chubby, bubbly, pansexual femboy aspiring to be a singer/actor/comedian. Because he doesn’t conform to the usual male gender norms, his parents, Frank and Dolly, often raise their eyebrows at their son, and don’t really approve of his feminine ways. They also don’t approve of his friends, which include Renee, a sweet but always late trans girl, Starlynn, a bisexual female football player, and Jason, a serious but creative non-binary gay boy. They’re afraid that he's not being the best influence on his three little brothers, Finn, Oliver, and Oscar, even though said brothers love Xavier to death. He’s rather unpopular and very misunderstood, but Xavier always looks on the bright side of things, and manages to keep a positive attitude almost all the time.    But one day, Xavier’s uptight parents put his positive attitude to the test. After a seemingly normal day at school, he comes home to find all his music, makeup, prized possessions, and even his clothes gone. Mr and Mrs Templeton decided to get rid of all his feminine things for good, and they’re not giving anything else back until he promises to behave like a “normal boy”. Angry and upset, he runs off and finds himself in the local park, where he ends up meeting Patrick Guerrero. Noticing the boy’s sadness, Patrick invites Xavier to join his “secret group” and hands him a business card. Xavier ponders the offer and is at first unsure, but when Starlynn says she knows Patrick and heard all about what happened from him, Xavier reconsiders the invitation and decides to accept it.    Whatever he was expecting from this “secret group”, it certainly wasn’t a clan of vigilante superheroes. He especially wasn’t expecting some of them to be mutants! But what surprised him the most is that Starlynn is in the group too, going under the name Vega--and she’s got superstrength! After getting over his initial shock, he meets La Bestia; at first, he is intimidated by her size and stoicness, but when she starts acting awkwardly, he finds her adorable. He meets the others too: icy Sub-Zero, fiery Hephaestus, speedy Zipp, wise Cynthia, nerdy Nate, and the mysterious Sorallea. They all become enraptured with Xavier, and they promise to not only help him be himself while his parents aren’t looking, but also to train him to become a superhero himself. They buy Xavier more masculine clothing to wear when his parents are around (hence the traditional doodle of him in that button-up and khakis), but then let him change back into something he's more comfortable in. They also teach him how to fight, and other skills needed to be a superhero.     Turns out that Xavier has a special superpower of his own—the ability to harness electricity! He is also a very fast learner, and soon he’s ready to join the team in battle, going under the alias of Livewire. But defeating Dr Droid’s forces isn’t going to be easy. Somehow his crew is growing larger, and it seems that they’re outsourcing regular people without their knowledge via scamming. And when Xavier’s own parents fall victim to Dr Droid’s crime, he is given the hard choice to save his family and risk his identity and independence, or to hold onto his freedom and lose them all forever.    Now little things you should know about specific characters: first Xavier. as you might have already suspected, he is a very Gene-inspired character, in both his personality and his aspirations, and his supersuit is even based off of Gene's in my Superhero AU (which I haven't touched in AGES, good lord). his little doggie, Pepper, is his personal service dog that he takes to school due to his bad anxiety. She's very loyal and well-trained, but she can be a bit overprotective of her owner, and sometimes growls at people who obviously pose no threat to Xavier. Starlynn is perhaps his closest friend, since they've known each other for the longest, and she's that one friend who's a freaking bottomless pithole. she's also that one friend who uses really gross humor LOL. Patrick Guererro is a high-spirited liberal former secret agent who quit the job because it made him do things he didn't support, so he decided to form a superhero team instead. his daughter La Bestia is generally tough and serious, but she's also pretty socially awkward due to being isolated from the rest of the world most of her life. Zipp is a funny one, she's either cynical and serious or a mischievous little shit. there is no in between. XD and I was going to talk a little bit about the villains, but fucking dA "stopped responding" and it didn't save that part and I am NOT typing all that again. oh well, I'll be sure to make profiles of each of these characters at some point and I'll really talk about them then.    you can expect more of these guys in the future, especially Xavier, because he is my mutha-feckin' baby. XD

#my art #my characters #superheroes #supervillains #lgbtq characters #chubby boy #femboy #trans girl #Livewire!

[dust2dust34]

Pieces of Always: July 2035 (FICoN ‘verse)

Life continues after Forever is Composed of Nows.

by @so-caffeinated and @dust2dust34

Summary: A lot of truths come to light at the Queen family dinner not long after the gala.

An ongoing non-linear collection of family moments for the Queens. (You do not need to have read FiCoN to enjoy this, but it will spoil the end. Please see the first installment for additional author notes. Thank you @jsevick and @alizziebyanyothername for the amazing beta!)

A/N: Please see the first chapter for an important Author’s Note, as well as under the cut for an additional one.

A/N: The effervescent @so-caffeinated is fully in the driver’s seat and she’s kicking all the ass, so please go send her your love!

(read on AO3)

July 2035 - Growing Pains

There are days Oliver feels every single day of his age. Today would be one of them.

If you’d asked him back during his time on Lian Yu how he’d feel at fifty, he’d have laughed and said long dead. He hadn’t known in those days if he’d make it through the night, much less to his next birthday - or even when, exactly, that day was. He definitely wasn’t concerned with the realities of aging. Now, it’s a bit different. His body doesn’t take the punishments of his life nearly as easily as it had in years prior. A long night fighting for the city leaves him more achy, more exhausted and with a longer rebound time. Digg might be less prone to jumping off rooftops than him, but Oliver knows it’s got to be even worse for his old friend. After all, Digg has a solid eight years on him. More and more, lately, it’s been little Sara at his side in the field, with Digg driving the van or running recon.

They haven’t talked about it yet, but Oliver knows that’s coming. And soon. Digg would never leave the team, but he’s also facing the limits of his own body. Just as Oliver is. And it’s not like that’s going to get better.

But, nights like last night prove quite clearly how much they’re still needed. A serial arsonist with a penchant for high-occupancy buildings had lit up four apartment complexes on the edge of the business district. It had been far more than the city could handle on its own and it’d wound up being an ‘all hands on deck’ Team Arrow situation. Even Ellie had joined in, much to Oliver’s dismay, showing up on scene with a mask and a dark green bodysuit that had given him flashbacks to two decades prior standing in his mother’s kitchen with a rip in time slicing open in front of him.

She’s not ready for this. He’s not ready for her to be ready for this. But she’d been a help last night, keeping a cool head and getting terrified people away from their fast-crumbling homes, organizing chaos in the streets, her very presence calming fast-spreading hysterics. She’d looked so like him, out there, so clearly a part of Team Arrow.

Jules had scoffed when she’d seen her sister’s choice of outfit later. “Slick look, Dart,” she’d snorted.

“Dart?” Ellie had asked defensively.

“Yeah,” Jules had confirmed in a lofty tone. “Dart. Like a mini Arrow.”

Ellie had not been thrilled at the new nickname, but Digg and Roy had overheard it and they’d both found it amusing, so Oliver’s pretty sure it’s gonna stick. Why Jules had been hanging around the lair while they’d been out on a mission is much bigger question. She’s a busy young woman, these days. Between work and her boyfriend, who apparently she’s a whole lot more serious about than he’d been led to believe, they don’t see her that much and it’s not like she’s ever been all that interested in the family business - either one of them. But the more Oliver thinks about it, the more certain he is that she’d heard something about the fires and had just been worried about her family, had wanted to be in a position to know what was happening as it happened. Her snark toward her sister was relief covered up by sarcasm. He’s almost sure of it.

And it’s not like she’d been the only one relieved when the night ended. Oliver’s eyes had sought out Will’s firetruck the moment he’d gotten to the scene and it would be a complete lie to say he hadn’t stayed as close to his son’s location while helping out as he could. Will might be nearly 28, but he’s still his son and Oliver doesn’t think he’ll ever be without the mixture of worry and pride that fills him at the thought of the life his oldest has chosen for himself. Seeing him all business, suited up and covered in ash as he carried a little girl from the building had put Oliver’s heart in his throat. It’s a hell of a thing watching your child run into a burning building, but he has a lot of faith in Will and he knows his worry is both natural and a little excessive. Will knows what he’s doing.

Oliver’s glad he gets to see him tonight, though. Rationally, he knows his boy is fine. Oliver had been on scene until after the fires were out and the danger had passed. Lyla had caught the arsonist - a metahuman from Central City who named himself Human Blowtorch - and everything was stable by sun-up. But Oliver still feels like he needs to see his son whole and hale. He’s going to feel unsettled until he does.

“How’s dinner coming?” Felicity asks, slipping her arms around her husband’s waist and resting her chin against his upper arm. “It smells great.”

“The salmon is ready to broil,” Oliver tells her, abandoning his task of slicing up some zucchini and squash to lace his fingers with hers for a moment. “Rice is cooking. Just the veggies to sauté and some side salads to whip up.”

“Need me to do anything?” she offers. It’s sweet, but they both know better. School lunches she can make like an absolute pro. Her sandwich making skills are absolutely passable. But anything more involved than tossing something pre-made into the oven for a prescribed amount of time runs the risk of both food poisoning and a kitchen fire.

“Maybe check on the girls and Nate?” he suggests.

“Oliver…” she sighs.

“I know. They’re fine. I know,” he mutters, his cheeks flushing a little at the admission.

“Ellie’s not going to stop,” Felicity tells him. “You know that, right?”

“She’s not even done with high school yet,” Oliver points out.

“Oh, I know. If you think I’m fighting for my little girl to be a full blown vigilante at seventeen, you’re misreading me,” Felicity says sharply. “I’m talking controlled introduction here, Oliver. I don’t want her in the field any more than you do, but maybe if we give her a role, a purpose, she’ll feel included enough that she won’t push for a bit. The last thing I want is her sneaking onto another mission again. That’s a good way to get herself or someone else hurt.”

“What did you have in mind?” Oliver asks with interest, tilting his head to watch her.

“A seat at my side,” Felicity suggests. “Provided she keeps at least a B-average. If she’s dead-set on doing this - and I think we both know she is - then at least she can watch some missions and learn that way. And, maybe we could include her in some of the planning stages, let her see how much goes into it.”

That idea has some merit. Ellie’s always had a space in the room, all the kids have. That’s more been out of necessity than any desire to introduce the kids to their nightlives. But none of them have ever had a seat at the table. And the view looks different when you’re a part of it.

“Half of the reason she’s pushing so hard is that she knows Sara’s out there,” Oliver points out. “You know that right?”

“Yes, well… I don’t see that changing anytime soon either,” Felicity replies.

Oliver sighs heavily at that because it’s absolutely undeniable, but he also wishes Ellie could get past her feelings for Sara. In a perfect world, where Sara returned those feelings, he’d be all for it. She’s a great kid, his best friend’s daughter, and Oliver just wants Ellie to be happy. There’s no doubt in his mind that being with Sara would accomplish that. But Sara’s both oblivious and apparently straight, and it hurts to watch his little girl pine for her best friend. He wants so much more for her than that.

“You’re probably right,” Oliver says, simultaneously addressing all of his wife’s points. “We should talk with Digg, Lyla, and Roy about letting her help with some of the logistics, but I don’t want to talk to her about it until the whole team is on board.”

“And Sara,” Felicity notes. “She’s on the team now, too, remember.”

“And Sara,” he agrees quietly, shaking his head a bit. He still forgets sometimes. It had been just him, Felicity, Digg, Lyla, Roy, Sin and sometimes Big Sara for so long. Adding a new person to the mix feels wrong sometimes, but it’s also Sara Diggle and that’s different. It’s also increasingly necessary, he thinks as he shifts his weight, his knee throbbing painfully.

He’s done his best not to be obvious about the ache in his joints, but Felicity is highly attuned to him by now and he’s not surprised in the least when she hums thoughtfully and gives him a knowing look.

“I took some Aleve,” he promises her. “And I’ll put a heat pad on it again after dinner.”

“How about a doctor’s appointment?” she asks sweetly. This is becoming an old conversation and it’s not like she’s wrong, but he also can’t possibly keep off his knee long enough for replacement surgery recovery time. He can deal with the stiffness and the pain. It’s more annoying than anything and it slows him down only very slightly. For now.

“Have I told you lately how beautiful you are when you’re worried about me?” he asks, running his thumb along the edge of her hand.

“Don’t be distracting, Oliver,” she chastises half-heartedly.

“Absolutely stunning,” he grins, kissing her as she lets out a frustrated little noise before caving. But their little moment is punctuated by the sound of the front door and a pair of voices. It’s scarcely a moment later when the scamper of little feet patter across the floor and a tumble of little girl barrels into the kitchen.

“Hiya!”

“Hi Bethany,” Felicity smiles down at the five-year-old. “How are you doing?”

“Good. Can I have applesauce, Aunt Felicity?” she asks, staring up with those huge brown eyes of hers. It’s jarring for Oliver. She looks so much like Samantha that it makes him do a double-take. He can’t imagine what it’s like for David.

“Please,” Will corrects his little sister, following closely in her wake. “We say ‘please,’ Bethy. But, I’m pretty sure you can wait for dinner at this point.”

She pouts at that. It’s completely forced, but Bethany can make her eyes water and lip quiver on command in a way that none of Oliver’s kids had ever done.

“No waterworks!” Will tells her sternly.

“But… I love applesauce sooooo much!” Bethany protests. It’s a testament to how comfortable she’s gotten in their house that she lets herself be this whiny in their presence. In some ways, he figures that’s a good thing. She’s lost so much, more than she knows, and she needs more people she feels at home with. Samantha would want that for her.

“Then be a good girl and don’t whine, and I’ll make sure you get some with dinner, okay?” Will asks, crouching down to her level and giving her a serious look.

Her sigh is overly dramatic, but she yields even as she scuffs her shoe against the wood floor.

“I have an idea,” Felicity tells her, abandoning Oliver’s side to walk over and take Beth’s hand in hers. “How about you and I go get Will’s old train set and play with that until dinner’s ready?”

“Okay!” she perks up immediately. “But I’m conductor. Can Nate play, too? He plans real good.”

“He does plan very well,” Felicity replies, subtly correcting the little girl’s grammar. “But I think he’s doing homework. How about we just keep this you and me?”

“That’s good too,” Beth decides with a firm nod. “Come on, Aunt Felicity.”

She’s dragging Felicity toward the stairs almost immediately, excitement obvious on the little girl’s face and a happy smile on his wife’s. She really has missed having a little kid in the house. He’s never regretted that Nate was their last child. Their lives are full and busy. But he knows his wife thinks about what it would have been like to have another one, even if she doesn’t bring it up anymore. She’s nothing to Bethany - not really, just an honorary aunt who babysits sometimes - but he can’t help but think they’re good for each other. Beth sorely lacks female influences in her life and Felicity loves having a little one around, even if it’s just for a few hours here and there.

“Clean up when you’re done, Bethy!” Will calls after them as they scurry up to his old room. It’s a weird mix of a guest room and storage room these days, but it does house a fair number of toys their kids have outgrown that Beth likes to play with when she’s over.  

“She’s usually pretty good about that,” Oliver notes.

“Yeah, but I stepped on a Lego barefoot last week and that’s an experience I never care to repeat,” Will says, moving to the sink to wash his hands.

Oliver chuckles at that, because it’s true. He’s suffered far, far worse than a Lego underfoot, but there’s something exceptionally memorable about the experience.

“What can I help with?” Will asks.

“Maybe put the salad together?” Oliver suggests. Will nods and moves to riffle through the fridge, pulling out ingredients. Oliver can’t help but watch him for a few moments. When he’d been Will’s age, he’d been headed back to Starling, his body and soul littered with scars and tattoos from the five years prior. Will’s had his own trials, his own scars - physical and otherwise - but Oliver’s infinitely grateful that his son’s life hasn’t followed a path like his. And, in spite of his boy’s dedication to teamwork and helping people, he’s glad that he’s never wanted a spot on the team. Ellie will be hard enough. He’s not sure how he’d cope with the notion of more than one of his kids being a vigilante, even if it would mean they’d have each other’s backs.

“I’m glad you guys busted that nutjob last night,” Will says as he grabs a cutting board and gets to chopping veggies.

“That was Lyla,” Oliver supplies. “I’ll pass along the thanks. Your team all get out okay?”

“From my truck, yeah,” Will nods. “Station 49 wasn’t as lucky. They’ve got two in the hospital.”

Oliver winces at that. He’s proud as hell of his son, but he doesn’t need a reminder of how dangerous his job really is.

“Some of us were gonna head over to visit tomorrow,” Will adds, popping a slice of carrot into his mouth. “Carson’s still in surgery, last I heard, but Perez is doing better already. Elliot’s watching their kids while their wives are at the hospital with them.”

“I’ve got some spaghetti sauce in the freezer if you want to bring it over to Elliot and the kids,” Oliver offers. “So they aren’t living on fast food.”

“I’ll take you up on that,” Will agrees. “Elliot can’t manage more than a microwaved chicken pot pie. If there’s enough, I’ll bring some to their wives, too. Hospital food is awful.”

“Always has been,” Oliver agrees. “They at Starling General? Lillie keeping an eye on them?”

“Uh…” Will says, his chopping slows down and he gets a grim line to his face. So, Oliver already knows what’s coming well before he answers. “They are, but I don’t know if Lillie’s covering them. We’re not… a thing anymore.”

“Ah,” Oliver nods.

“Yeah,” Will replies quietly.

“So, how’s Amelia then?”

Will stops what he’s doing entirely at that and just stares down at the chopping board, looking more pained than Oliver had expected. He knew his boy was hung up on Amelia. He’d had a long talk with Felicity after the gala two weeks ago, but he’d missed seeing much of it directly. The absolute look of grief on Will’s face for an instant is striking. For someone who never takes his relationships seriously, he sure as hell looks serious about one he’s not having.

“You’d have to ask Thad DeWolfe the Third,” Will answers after a beat, his face shuttering and his voice sharp and petulant.

“Thad…?” Oliver asks in confusion, thinking of his younger colleague in the senate.

“Yeah… her boyfriend,” Will adds. He sounds all of ten years old and frustrated that Jules stole his snack again.

“Ah,” Oliver notes atonally.

“Yeah… ‘ah,’” Will echoes, going back to chopping with newfound fierceness. “She’s dating Thad DeWolfe the Third. She’s moving to Central City to be Willis’ chief of staff and be with Thad DeWolfe the Third, with his stupid pretentious name and his stupid important job.”

Oliver leans against the counter and studies his son. It’s beneficial in a couple of ways. First off, his knee feels a little better instantly. But, more importantly, it makes Will all the more aware of his scrutiny and the younger man squirms under his appraisal.

“What?” Will demands, dropping the knife and turning to his dad. “Are you gonna tell me to let it go? That she’s doing what’s right for her and I should be happy about it?”

“No,” Oliver tells him, shaking his head. “I’m gonna tell you that jealousy is ugly on anyone. Even you.”

“I’m not-” Will starts.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Oliver scoffs. “Of course you are. You’re being jealous and petty and snippy.”

Frustration is obvious on Will’s face, his jaw tight and his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Oliver thinks that’s probably going to get a whole lot worse before it gets better, because he’s not done talking yet.

“This is new for you,” he tells his son. “I get that. I’ve never seen you care about someone this much and you don’t know what to do with it. It’s eating you up inside and you’re lashing out like a hurt child because of it.”

“I am hurt!” Will insists. “And, you know what? I have a right to be hurt. There this… this thing between us. If she didn’t feel it too, that would be one thing, but I know she does. She’s said she does. But she’s never given us a chance. Three years I’ve been interested in her, Dad. Three years. I’ve asked her out four times since then and she’s always hesitated but said no. But she says ‘yes’ to Thad DeWolfe the Third? How am I not supposed to be hurt by that?”

“You sound like a child who had his favorite toy taken by another kid,” Oliver tells him. “I don’t know why Amelia told you no all those times, but I do know if you ever want to have a shot at her saying yes, you need to check this attitude, because a woman like that does not put up with this kind of bitterness, Will.”

“I can’t help it, Dad,” Will confesses. “I think of her and all I can think about is that she’s going home to him. That he gets to hold her and be with her and make her laugh and she never even gave me a shot. I don’t know how to be okay with that.”

“Well, not by continuing to berate a man you’ve never met for his name and job,” Oliver points out. “You’re better than that. She deserves better than that from you. And you need to respect her choices.”

“I do!” Will insists.

“No,” Oliver corrects him. “You don’t. You tolerate them. Have you even considered why she said no or have you just felt sorry for yourself about it?”

“That’s not fair,” Will says emphatically.

“You’re telling me she feels the same way you do, but she’s still saying no,” Oliver reminds him. “If that’s true, she’s not doing that out of spite or self-sabotage, Will. She’s a woman in politics in her 20s. She made her name working for your grandmother. What do you think people would say if she started dating a Queen after that? How would that impact her job? Her life? This is a rough enough business for women, nevermind young women. She’s fought hard to be taken seriously and you’re a hell of a risk for her. You’re dangerous, whether you think so or not.”

Something he’s said looks like maybe it’s sinking in because Will’s face turns pensive. “You think I’m dangerous to her?”

“To her job? To her heart? Yeah. I do,” Oliver acknowledges.

“She isn’t…. She’s not other women, Dad,” Will insists. His whole face is begging to be understood, to be believed. And, in spite of his son’s track record with women, Oliver buys that the younger man means every word he says. “I’m not looking for a fling with her. I don’t want that. I want… I want to make her smile and cook her breakfast and dance with her again. I want to hold her hand and argue about baseball and take her to dinner. I don’t just look at her and see a good time. I look at her and I see…”

“The future,” Oliver finishes for him. “You look at her and you see everything you want wrapped up in one person.” He sighs heavily because he knows that feeling. He knows it intimately and, though it’s been a lot of years, he can remember clearly how it felt trying to push that down. “But Will… how’s she supposed to know that? How’s she supposed to believe she’s different from the rest?”

“She’s… she’s Amelia,” Will says in frustrated exasperation. His voice breaks on her name and Oliver has to think his son has a point. The emotion is readily evident, but all the same… his track record isn’t exactly a serious one.

“And Lillie was Lillie,” Oliver supplies. It’s succinct and his meaning clear.

“You aren’t exactly low-profile, Will,” he continues. “I know you don’t pay attention to it, but when you get spotted with a girl and it ends up on gossip sites with a headline that says ‘Starling City Royals’ New Princess?’ There’s no way she’s missed that and you have to know she doesn’t want to wind up on a list of your past flames. Her reputation can’t take that and if she cares about you like you seem to think she does, I doubt her heart could either.”

It seems like something clicks in Will’s head at that as he turns his head slightly in thought, eyes darting back and forth for a second before he meets his father’s gaze. “Do they do that to Jules, too?” he asks.

Ah… that’s what his sudden awareness is about. He’s shifted gears into brother-mode. “They do,” Oliver acknowledges.

“So… Jackson…” Will ventures.

“Was around a few months before Jules said anything,” Oliver supplies. “I’m a politician, Will. My office compiles media clips every week that cover anything to do with our family. That’s part of their job. I’ve known about Jackson since April.”

“And you didn’t say anything?” Will asks, his eyes bugging out at that notion.

“Do I corner you about all your dates?” Oliver questions in amusement. “No, I didn’t say anything. She needed time to figure out what that relationship was before she brought it up to us. That’s her business. I don’t blame her for that.”

“But you looked into him,” Will challenges. “I know you did.”

“Will, this is going to come as a surprise to you, but my office looks into everyone that any of you are involved with,” Oliver tells him. It’s a little absurd how much he enjoys the look of shock on his son’s face. “Politics is run on reputation, secrets and favors. If there’s something that’s going to hurt my ability to do my job, I need to know that up front.”

“Who I date could hurt your job?” Will asks astounded.

Oliver has to laugh at that. For all of Will’s intelligence, the reality of politics is not something he’s terribly familiar with.

“Let’s pretend for a minute that you were spotted on a date with a daughter of a mob boss,” Oliver theorizes. “How do you think that would go over with my constituents?”

“I would not date the daughter of a mob boss,” Will deadpans.

“Well, you have better sense than I ever did, so thank goodness for that,” Oliver reflects.

“You dated the daughter of a mob boss?” Will asks, eyes bugging out.

“That you didn’t know that is proof my staff is excellent at their jobs,” Oliver points out. “A year or two before Felicity and only for a few months, but yeah. Helena Bertinelli.”

“Wait… you dated a psychotic daughter of a mob boss?” Will questions aghast. “Didn’t she just get out of prison?”

“You can see why it’s important that I know whatever the press knows,” Oliver tells him.

“Thank god your taste in women improved,” Will says a bit dumbfounded.

“Drastically,” Oliver agrees. “I’m gonna put the fish in and sauté these vegetables. It won’t take long. You about done with that salad?”

“Yeah…” Will says, still blinking as he looks down at the pile of ingredients he’s chopped. “Just need to toss it with dressing, but we should probably wait for that a bit.”

“We should,” Oliver agrees, moving to put the salmon in the oven and pouring a bit of olive oil into a frying pan before turning on the burner and looking back to his son. “Not to harp on Amelia… but you’re a good man, Will. I want to see you happy. And… right from the moment I met her, I’ve always thought the two of you could be good for each other.” He ignores the look of surprise on his son’s face. “She’s smart. She’s beautiful. You share a ton of interests and the chemistry is obvious. I hope you two figure it out someday. But that day isn’t today. She needs to see you can take her seriously. She needs to know she can keep the respect her job demands.”

“And me?” Will asks. “What do I need?”

He looks so young, so vulnerable as he asks that. Oliver tries to remember the last time his son looked so much like a child. He finds he can’t.

“In some ways you’ve grown up a lot,” Oliver tells him. “You’re practically another parent to Bethany. You have an important job you’re good at and you take seriously. But you need to figure out how to let go of this petty grudge against Thad. I know him, Will. He’s a good man. He doesn’t deserve that from you. And neither does Amelia. Give her a little credit. If she cares about you, I’d say her taste is pretty solid.”

Will nods, but he looks a little gutted by that answer. “He’s a good guy?”

“There are a lot of jerks in the capital,” Oliver tells him. “Men and women who take kickbacks and cheat on their spouses. Some cover up drug habits. Some are in the pocket of one lobbyist or another. There’s no shortage of scandals just waiting to blow up in someone’s face. I’ve never heard a bad word about Thad. He’s smart, he’s driven, and he’s reasonable.”

Watching his son’s heart break sucks. The younger man’s shoulders sag and he shakily runs a hand through his hair as he nods and stares at the floor. “Good,” he says quietly. “I want that for her. I do.”

“But, Will,” Oliver says. “He’s not gonna make her laugh. Not like you can. For what it’s worth, I still think you could be good for each other. Someday.”

“Someday,” Will echoes dimly. “But not today.”

“No,” Oliver agrees. “Not today.” For all his son has grown up these past few years, for all that he’s a man with a life of his own, Oliver can’t help but think he needs to do a little more growing up before he and Amelia have a real shot. That’s okay. He’s got time. “You want to go let everyone know it’s about ten minutes until dinner? Ellie’s in the basement. I’m pretty sure Jules and Nate are in their rooms.”

“Sure,” Will agrees. “And, Dad… thanks.”

“For what?” Oliver asks.

“For calling me out,” Will says with a derisive laugh. “I don’t want to be jealous or act like a jerk. And I am actually glad to hear Thad seems like he’ll be good to her. I just… this is hard.”

“Yeah,” Oliver agrees. “Well, you’re welcome.”

Will nods and heads to the stairs, leaving Oliver to finish the last touches on dinner himself. It really is almost done and everyone piles into the kitchen one-by-one over the next few moments. Felicity holds Bethany, who keeps playing with her hair and telling her how pretty it is. Nate’s engrossed with something on his phone, barely looking up when he misses the final step of the stairs and almost falls. Ellie looks like she took the world’s fastest shower, her hair still damp. Jules and Will keep talking in low tones that he can’t hear, but absolutely make his parental senses perk up because the way they keep glancing toward him and Felicity tells him quite clearly that they’re up to something. Maybe it’s just about Amelia, though. He can’t know for sure.

“Ellie, grab the rice?” he requests. “Nate, if you could set the table, that would be a big help.”

“I’ll grab the vegetables,” Jules offers as Felicity grabs the salad bowl.

“Don’t forget the applesauce!” Beth says with alarm, earning an expectant stare from her big brother. She very obviously wracks her brain for a moment before she follows up with a delighted “Please!”

Will nods at that and heads to the fridge in search of her applesauce. Soon enough, the seven of them are seated around the dinner table with Will cutting up pieces of Beth’s dinner and Nate chattering on about the mock United Nations they’re doing at school. It’s nice, calm, even if Jules is strangely quiet.

“No Jackson tonight?” he asks his older daughter after a bit. Her fork freezes halfway to her mouth and her eyes go wide.

“Uh… no,” she says, looking to Will who just scratches at his eyebrow and stares at his napkin.

Huh.

“Everything okay?” Felicity asks, clearly picking up on the same vibe he has.

“It’s good. It’s great,” Jules says quickly. “Super great, actually. He’s just working tonight.”

“Really?” Oliver asks. “Because you almost never bring him to dinner. He’s welcome, you know. We understand he’s important to you.”

“Um… thank you,” Jules says. She’s nervous. She’s painfully nervous and it’s incredibly obvious to the point where even Nate seems to pick up on it because his brow furrows in concern as he looks to his sister. “I… will tell him that.”

“So what’s he doing working so late on a Saturday?” Felicity asks. “I’d assumed he had more of a nine-to-five type job, being in marketing and web design.”

“He’s photographing a client event,” Jules says, swallowing hard.

“Well, he can come tomorrow, if you like,” Oliver offers.

“On a Sunday?” Jules asks, her eyes going huge. “I mean…” Her eyes dart to Bethany. “We have other things we do after dinner on Sundays.”

Training. She means self-defense training. That’s something they’re going to have to talk about eventually, as much as Oliver is dreading that. Sooner or later his kids are going to wind up with real, long-term partners and - one day - spouses. It’s unreasonable to think that his secret should be their secret forever. That isn’t fair to their lives. But he also can’t have them telling every person they ever date that their dad is the Arrow.

“Well… maybe he’s not quite ready for that yet,” Oliver agrees. Jules goes positively ashen at those words and he wonders what he said wrong.

“He doesn’t ever need to be here on Sundays,” Jules says. Her voice is firm, but she’s staring at her plate. “That’s not…” She stops and shakes her head. “Other days are fine, but Sundays don’t need to be a part of his life. I don’t want him here on Sundays.”

Something in Oliver’s heart sinks at that, but he can’t quite define what. It feels… It feels like a divide. Like his daughter is setting boundaries, splitting her life into pieces.

“We haven’t really… talked about that yet,” Felicity says to his side, her eyes darting between the kids. “Sundays, in the future, I mean.”

She means as a family. They haven’t talked about it all together. But he and Felicity have. They’ve lain awake at night in each other’s arms talking in hushed voices about how to handle balancing the reality of what they do, the sensitivity of it, along with their kids’ increasingly independent lives. They’d gotten off easy with Will. There’s never been anyone in his life that he was serious enough about to even consider clueing them into their family secret. But Oliver knows that’s not going to be true forever.

“I’m all done!” Beth announces loudly. She’s eaten most of her fish and a tremendous amount of applesauce, leaving just enough to hide her vegetables beneath.

Normally, Will would prod her to at least try her zucchini or eat a bite of salad. That he doesn’t do that today is Oliver’s biggest clue yet that he’s got a much better idea of what’s going on with Jules than the rest of them do. It makes sense - they’re very close - but it also sits poorly with Oliver, sends a sense of foreboding trickling down his spine and sets the hair on the back of his neck on edge.

Because Jules isn’t the only one who looks nervous. Will does, too. And Oliver really can’t begin to guess at what’s coming.

“How about you wash up and go watch that unicorn movie up in my room, okay?” Will asks his baby sister. “If you play really nicely by yourself up there for a bit, I’ll make sure you get some dessert later.”

“Okay!” Beth declares excitedly, scampering from her seat as fast as she can. She knows a good deal when she hears one.

When Beth’s little footfalls fade away on the stairs, Felicity looks back to the kids and clears her throat. “Obviously, none of you are going to say anything about the team until you’ve cleared it with us. But your dad and I talked about this a long time ago and we both agree that it’s not fair to keep the truth from your partners forever. We want all of you to grow up and have healthy, open relationships. You can’t do that if you’re hiding a big part of who you are.”

“Who you are,” Jules says abruptly. “It’s not who I am. It’s who you guys are. That’s not the same thing.”

“Jules, like it or not, the Arrow is part of your heritage,” Felicity tells her daughter. “Just like being a Queen is.”

“No,” Jules insists sharply. “It’s not. I am a Queen. I’m not a vigilante and I never will be. Jackson doesn’t need to know anything about that side of our family. Not now, not ever.”

Oliver’s heart falls a bit at how guarded his older daughter looks. Ellie’s eyes ping-pong back and forth between him and her sister like she’s watching a tennis match. And Nate just kind of stares on owlishly. But Will… Will’s got his hand on his sister’s back lending comfort and support. Oliver can’t even begin to imagine how on edge she’d be without him there.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Felicity says slowly. “I’m not saying you should tell him right now. You shouldn’t. It’s too soon for that, but if one day things get more serious with him or someone else, that’s not the kind of thing you want to keep to yourself forever.”

“Yes,” Jules counters. “I do. I have never wanted any part of Team Arrow and I don’t want to drag someone I love into it either. Jackson doesn’t deserve to have to deal with that.”

It’s unsettling as hell to hear his baby girl declare she loves someone. It doesn’t feel all that long ago when he’d first held her in his arms. She’d been so tiny, so shockingly beautiful. He’d have done anything in the world to keep her safe. He still would. But she’s a grown woman now - twenty-years-old with a life of her own that he has such a small part of - never had that been more obvious than when he’d found out about the boyfriend she’d been keeping from them. He hadn’t lied to Will. He really does get her wanting to keep it to herself for a bit while she sorts through those first few fledgling steps of a new relationship. But that doesn’t mean it hadn’t hurt a bit, too.

“Jules… we talked about this,” Will tells her in a voice so quiet Oliver barely catches the words.

“I’m not cutting anyone out of my life, Will,” Jules clarifies. “And I’m not hiding any part of myself from him. But this isn’t a part of me and I’m absolutely never telling him about it.”

“Well… it’s not like it’s an issue right now,” Felicity says, trying to force a bit of calm into the room. “Maybe when things are a bit more serious we’ll talk about this again.”

“Mom… They are,” Jules says, swallowing hard. Her voice wavers and her nerves are readily apparent. Oliver doesn’t miss the way Will rubs her back a little and he braces for whatever is coming next.

“Excuse me?” Felicity asks, head tilted to the side a little as she waits for some kind of clarity.

“We’re moving in together.”

A rush of blood in his ears is the only thing Oliver hears for a very long moment because clearly he heard his little girl wrong. She’s not actually leaving home to move in with some guy. The choking noise of his wife sputtering on her sip of wine beside him tells him pretty clearly that he heard accurately, though.

“Oh man,” Ellie breathes out from a few seats down as Nate sputters, “You can’t move in with anyone. You’re not even married!”

Felicity coughs even more violently at those words and Oliver finds his eye twitching in a tick he can’t control as he looks to his wife. “Are you okay?” he asks. Because that’s his first concern. It has to be. Everything else simmers for a moment. His muscles bunch up painfully and his damned eye just keeps twitching and his voice feels tight, but all of that is second to Felicity.

“Not if my ears are working correctly,” she manages after a moment, her voice scratchy and her eyes watering as she keeps coughing a little.

“Mom…” Jules sighs in exasperation.

“Don’t ‘mom’ me right now Julianna,” Felicity tells her sharply. “I’m gonna need a minute.”

“You’ve been dating him for like a month,” Ellie says, watching her sister warily.

“No,” Oliver cuts in before Jules can reply. “She hasn’t.”

“You knew?” Jules asks astonished. “You didn’t say anything.”

“Neither did you,” Oliver points out. “I figured you would tell us about him when and if it got serious. I guess I was wrong about that.”

“I’m coming to you now, aren’t I?” Jules asks.

“Yes,” Felicity snaps. She’s so very unhappy right now. Oliver squeezes his wife’s thigh under the table, a subtle reminder that - upset or not - Jules does not respond well to being challenged. “You’re coming to us telling us that there’s someone in your life you’re so serious about that you want to move in with him, but you’ve barely even given us a chance to get to know him.”

“How long have you been going out with him?” Ellie asks. Her tone is strange, unsettled, and she looks more like a little girl than she has in years.

Jules bites her lip as she looks at her sister before saying, “Six months.”

“Six… six months?” Felicity sputters. It’s nearly double as long as Oliver had known about and the only one in the room who doesn’t look stunned is Will, who Jules is very subtly leaning into.

“You knew?” Oliver asks his son.

“I found out at the gala,” Will admits. “I wanted her to tell you, but I wasn’t going to step in and do it for her. It wasn’t my place.”

“You didn’t tell me?” It’s Ellie’s voice and it’s so small and hurt. The girls have been closer in recent years. He knows Jules leaned on Ellie after her breakup with Miles and that Ellie has confided in her older sister about her feelings for Sara. Jules is still closer with Will by far, but Oliver has sort of assumed that whatever was going on in Jules’ personal life, Ellie had known about. It seems like Ellie had assumed the same thing.

“I just wanted to keep it to myself for a bit, Elle,” Jules tells her, sounding a little guilty about it. “Is that so bad?”

“For six months? Yeah. It kind of is,” Ellie counters. But it’s all from a place of feeling hurt and Jules looks like she understands that because her brow furrows and she says, “I’m sorry,” to her sister in an anxious voice that practically begs the younger girl to forgive her.

“Sweetheart,” Felicity starts, taking a deep breath. “Jackson seems wonderful. Your dad and I both like him a lot and we’re very, very glad that you’re happy. We want that for you. But don’t you think six months is a little fast to be moving in together.”

“Wasn’t I born like… nine months after you started dating Dad?” Jules challenges. “Didn’t you buy this house after six months together?”

“Those were completely different circumstances,” Felicity counters.

“Why?” Jules asks, crossing her arms. “Because they were yours?”

“Jules…” Will says slowly, giving his sister a heavy look and trying to rein her in.

“No,” Jules says, shaking her head. “No, I’m an adult. I have a great career and so does Jackson. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I’m kind of crazy in love with him. So, if he wants to share his life with me and live together, I’m doing it.”

“You’re twenty,” Felicity points out.

“And he’s twenty-four,” Jules notes. “Isn’t that how old you were when I was born?”

“I was twenty-five,” Felicity counters warily. “And if you’re telling me that you’re pregnant right now, I’m going to need like a whole lot more wine.”

Oliver sort of feels like dying on the spot at that idea and he can’t even quantify the relief that runs through him when Jules rolls her eyes. “No. Of course not. There are reasons other than a baby to want to live with someone, Mom.”

“Thank God,” Oliver mutters beneath his breath.

“I appreciate the vote of confidence,” she says sarcastically. “I do know how birth control works, you know.”

“But, you can’t do that… You’re not married!” Nate says again, fully astounded and a little scandalized.

The look Will’s giving his little brother is something that’s gonna stick with Oliver for a very long time. “Nate…” Will says, shaking his head a bit.

“Okay… Nate, buddy, you and I are going to have another chat about girls in the very near future,” Oliver tells his son. “And Jules… I’m grateful to know that you’re being careful, but I’m also going to pretend I know absolutely nothing about you having a sex life for the sake of my sanity.”

“How old were you when Will was born again?” Jules asks slowly.

“I never said it wasn’t hypocritical.”

“Well, there’s that anyhow,” Jules agrees.

“Is Jackson even really working tonight?” Felicity asks, pulling Oliver’s attention to his wife. “Or did you just not want him here for this conversation?”

The way Jules pauses and fidgets awkwardly before replying is an answer all on its own. “He is working,” Jules says slowly. “But I didn’t want him here for this. Can you really blame me?”

“Yes,” Ellie speaks up, pushing her chair back and standing. “Because if we’d known him for the last six months, if you’d told me about him at all, this whole conversation would have gone completely differently. Sorry, Daddy, but I’ve lost my appetite. I’ll go pile up the clothes I’ve borrowed from you Jules. I’m guessing you’re going to want them back since you’re leaving.”

“Ellie,” Jules starts, but the younger girl just waves her off as she grabs her plate and heads back out to the kitchen. “Damn it…”

She looks so lost, so thrown by how she’s inadvertently damaged her relationship with her little sister and Oliver can’t help but think, for all her protests that she’s an adult now, she definitely doesn’t look like one in this moment.

“Give her some time,” he counsels his daughter. “You’ve had six months to build up to this conversation. She’s had about six minutes.”

“She’ll get over it,” Will adds with certainty.

Jules looks at him like he’s got all the answers, her eyes hopeful and pleading. It reminds Oliver strongly of the time he’d sworn to her that she’d get the hang of riding her bike without training wheels because he knew she could. They’re five and twelve in his head all over again, and he has to swallow back that memory because those days are long gone and it hurts to have them flash before him while his little girl is talking about moving in with a boy, moving on with her life, and leaving them behind.

“How do you know that?” Jules asks her big brother.

“Because I did,” Will replies with a thin smile. “Because she loves you just like I do, Jules.”

“You’re really leaving us?” Nate asks from the opposite side of the table. He’s next to Felicity and Oliver doesn’t miss the way his wife’s hand grabs her son’s and she holds on tightly. Whether that’s more for Nate’s benefit or for hers is anyone’s guess. She’s always clung to their youngest.

“I’m not going far,” Jules answers. “It’s not like I’m leaving the city. I’ll still be over all the time. I’m here for Sunday dinners, okay? You might even see me more. And you can come over to our place any time you want.”

Our place. God, this would be so much easier if she just wanted an apartment of her own. He could have coped with that. But with a boy…

“Give it longer,” Felicity blurts out. Jules’ brow furrows as she looks to her mother. “I get it, Jules. I’ve been exactly where you are and I completely understand. But… just give it a bit more time. Until you’ve been together for a year, maybe. Or a few more months anyhow. Give us a chance to get used to this.”

“Or what?” Jules challenges, her chin and defenses both up. “You’ll cut off my trust fund?”

Felicity looks so very hurt by that. Her shoulders sag and her eyes water as she blinks down at the tablecloth. Jules has the grace to look a little ashamed at the question, given her mother’s response.

“Of course not,” Felicity tells her, looking back up. “I’m not giving you an ultimatum, Jules. I’m just… I’m worried. And I’m sad. I want what’s best for you. I want you to stop and take a breath before you make a big decision like this. And I need some time to figure out how to be okay with losing my little girl.”

“You aren’t losing me, Mom,” Jules says. She’s back to sounding uncomfortable and it strikes Oliver suddenly how very much she must actually want this to willingly put herself through this conversation. She had to have known it would go like this and Jules has never been one for exposing her own vulnerabilities. “I’m still your daughter. I’m just grown up. I want my own life, my own home, and I don’t belong here anymore.”

Jules doesn’t get it, can’t possibly understand what it feels like for her parents, but Oliver’s heart aches the same way his wife’s does. Because she’s right, because in some ways it’s very much like losing their daughter, even if it’s just losing her to adulthood. Being a parent, he realized a few decades ago, is equal parts holding on to your child and learning to let them go, little by little, bit by bit as they reach for new freedoms and take their own steps out into the world without you.

“You’ll always belong here, Jules,” he says, speaking up for the first time in a while. His voice is rough with disuse and emotion. “I don’t care if you’re 20 or 40 or 60, our home will always be your home. And, anytime you want to come back, the door will be open and your room will be waiting for you.”

“Oliver,” Felicity chokes, as she turns and presses her face into his shoulder. It’s hot and wet and he knows she’s crying, but trying to hide it. She was nowhere near ready for this. None of them had been.

“Does that mean I can go?” Jules asks in astonishment.

“I didn’t have the impression you were asking,” Oliver points out, scooting his chair closer to his wife and wrapping an arm around her. She’s so completely leaning her weight into him that he’s pretty much supporting her entirely.

“I wasn’t,” Jules admits, her voice quiet and a little pained. So… maybe she hadn’t entirely anticipated how this conversation was going to go. In truth, she’s always underestimated her own value to her parents. That’s gotten so much better over the years, but ghosts of it are still there and for a split second Oliver wonders how she thought this would play out. “...Mom. Come on, don’t cry.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Felicity says with a wet laugh, wiping at her eyes before looking to her daughter. “You can tell me you’re moving in with some boy I barely know or you can tell me not to get upset. You can’t do both.”

“Maybe… maybe I did make a mistake,” Jules admits. “Maybe I should have introduced him to you sooner. You’re going to love him, Mom. He’s such a great guy.”

“Well, I hope I get the chance to really know him, then,” Felicity replies with a watery smile.

Jules nods at that. It’s slow and thoughtful. “How about Wednesday nights?” she asks after a moment.

“Wednesdays?” Felicity asks.

“Will almost never works the next morning and Ellie doesn’t have volleyball practice Wednesday nights,” Jules points out. “I can’t bring him on Sundays. I won’t. I’ll still come. I need to practice self-defense so I can protect myself and him. But Wednesdays… he and I could maybe both come. As long as you promise not to do the cooking.”

“I think Wednesdays sound good,” Felicity agrees. “And if your dad is stuck at work late, I can very efficiently order pizza.”

“Okay,” Jules nods. The smile on her lips is small but excited. She’s clearly more at peace with the situation now. It’s still going to be a long night for Oliver and Felicity. He knows full well that just the promise of a weekly dinner isn’t enough to mend his wife’s broken heart - it’s not enough to heal his either - but it’s a step in the right direction. This was always coming… someday. They’d just both thought they had so much more time. “Okay. That’s good.”

“When are you leaving?” Nate asks quietly.

“Probably not for another couple of weeks,” Jules tells him. “We started looking right after the gala, but it’s hard to find somewhere that takes big dogs.”

“You’re taking Buster?” Oliver questions.

“Well… yeah,” Jules agrees. “I can’t leave him. You know that. It’s why I never lived in the dorms for college. But Jackson has a yellow lab, too. Her name’s Bokeh. We need somewhere that will let us have both of them. We did find one place we really liked. It’s kind of near Will’s, actually. There’s a dog park just across the street and there’s this big bay window in the eating area. The kitchen is small, but I think that’s probably okay.”

“Did you put in an application yet?” Oliver asks. She will. He can tell just from the way her face lights up as she talks about the apartment. As much as he hates this, as much as it hurts, he can’t help but be blown away by how striking his little girl is when she’s joyful. He finds he’s looking forward to Wednesday nights very much, all of a sudden.

“I was going to go by and do that tomorrow,” she admits. “I didn’t want to take that step without talking to you guys first.”

“We appreciate that,” Oliver tells her. “Just so you’re aware… when the press asks questions - and they will - my office will have to have something worked up to reply with. I’ll have my chief of staff draft up a blurb to run by you both. I’d appreciate if you both stick on message with whatever we agree on.”

“Is that really necessary?” Jules asks, looking a pinch worried again. “I’m just moving in with my boyfriend. How is that even news?”

“Jules, they’ve been publishing pictures of you two for months and calling him ‘the princess’ new suitor.’ So, yes, it’s necessary,” Oliver informs her. On one hand, it’s wonderful that none of his kids have ever given a damn about their popularity in the media. It’s helped them keep far more level heads than he’d had in his youth. But on the other, it means they don’t understand this at all and they’re blindsided anytime the public cares about their existence.

“That’s not fair,” Jules protests.

“No,” Oliver agrees. “It’s not. But it’s part of being a Queen. And that’s not something you can shrug off like you do Team Arrow. It’s your name, your blood and your heritage. We get a whole lot of advantages in our lives because of who we are. We have to roll with the drawbacks, too.”

“But why does Jackson have to?” Jules asks.

“Because he loves you,” Oliver points out. “Do you think the press covered your mom before she knew me?”

“Well… I mean occasionally by my hacker name,”  Felicity muses. Everyone turns to look at her and she flushes a little at the admission. “That was usually trade journals, though. Or… you know… cybercrimes publications. That kind of thing. Ghost Fox Goddess got a bit of play. But that’s sort of beside your point, so go on and pretend like I didn’t say anything.” She’s waving her hands like she’s waving her words away and Oliver can’t help but stop and stare at how adorable she is for a moment. Two decades together and sometimes she still takes his breath away. He stops, watches her, realizes immediately how incredibly, stupidly lucky he really is.

“How are you such a sap, Dad?” WIll asks shaking his head.

“I don’t know,” Jules says with a little shrug. “I think it’s sort of cute.”

That’s new from her. But then being in love seems to have changed his little girl a fair bit. For the better, so far. He can admit that. And he wants that for her. He’s always wanted that for her. But that doesn’t make this any easier.

“Man, I’m gonna be dealing with you and Jackson being all ridiculously gooey every week too, aren’t I?” Will groans.

“Maybe if you man-up and get your girl you can bring her along and be too distracted to notice,” Jules smiles sweetly.

The comment falls flat though, and Oliver knows immediately that she’s been too wrapped up in her own life lately to have any clue what’s going on in Will’s.

“I think I’ll be solo at dinner for a bit,” Will answers tightly.

“You never know,” Jules announces in a lofty, sing-song voice. “I saw you two dance. Maybe you changed her mind. Maybe she’ll come running back to Starling right to your door. Maybe you’ve already swept her off her feet and you don’t even kno-”

“Stop.”

Will’s voice is harsh, decisive, lacking any playfulness as he stares blankly down at his empty plate. There’s only one other time Oliver can remember Will’s tone toward Jules taking on this edge of cold frustration. But it’s not Jules he’s angry at. Not this time.

“...I was just playing,” Jules says a bit uneasily. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Yeah,” Will says, clearing his throat and blinking hard before looking up at his sister with no trace of his typically ever-present smile. “I get that. But I still need you to stop.”

“Okay,” Jules nods, watching him with freshly appraising eyes. Oliver wonders what she sees. They’ve always been so in sync, his two oldest. They’ve always understood each other best. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Will says, pushing back his chair and standing with a big sigh. “I should go check on Bethy.”

“Will,” Jules protests, grabbing his sleeve softly.

“Really,” he assures her with a forced smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s fine. We’re okay, Jules.”

She lets go reluctantly with a nod and watches him with concerned eyes as he makes his way from the room toward the kitchen, plate in hand and shoulders drooping sadly. Part of Oliver wishes he could make this better for his son. Watching him heartbroken is so hard. But at the same time, it feels like maybe this is an experience he needs to go through. Will has grown into a wonderful man, someone Oliver is so very proud to call his son, but he’s never had a woman challenge him, never had someone who mattered to him. Not like this. Oliver remembers clearly what a life like Will’s was like, and he knows how much better things were once he had a woman in his life worth fighting for, someone who fought for him too. He can’t say that Amelia will be that woman for Will. Maybe, but right now it looks awfully unlikely. Still, the experience knowing someone like that is out there, that he even can feel that, has to be something that will be good for Will.

In the long run, anyhow.

“I didn’t mean to upset him,” Jules says, the minute she’s sure Will’s out of earshot. “I didn’t realize she meant that much to him.”

Felicity sighs. “I don’t think he did either,” she acknowledges. “Not until the gala. But don’t bring Amelia up again unless he does first, please? This is hard for your brother.”

“Her name’s Amelia?” Jules asks, looking back and forth between them. “How does he even know her?”

“She worked for Grandma,” Nate informs her. “She’s completely awesome. Is there any more salmon?”

“In the fridge,” Oliver tells him. Nate’s already had two helpings, but it’s not at all a surprise that he’s going back for me. The kid is a bottomless pit these days. “Just leave enough for your mom’s lunch Monday, okay?”

“It’s fine,” Felicity says, waving off the concern. “I have a meeting with R & D during lunch Monday. You can finish it off, Nate.”

“Cool,” he says with a nod. He fidgets as he gets up and, before leaving the dining room, he sort of throws his arms around Jules unexpectedly. She jolts in surprise, but rests her hand on his arm and holds him close anyhow. “I don’t want you to go, but I’m glad it’s not far,” he mutters.

A pleased flush works its way across Jules’ cheeks as she looks up at her baby brother and ruffles his hair. “I’ll still be around, squirt. Just not sleeping down the hall anymore.”

Yeah, Oliver’s trying really hard to not think about where she’ll be sleeping, but at least her words seem to settle Nate a little and he shuffles out of the room with a smile and a small backwards glance.

It’s just him, Felicity, and Jules then and there’s a heaviness to the room that hadn’t been there when it was the whole family. It feels like a metaphor, all of them leaving one-by-one, and Oliver knows instinctively that his wife will have a much harder time with this than she’ll ever let on in front of Jules.

“You aren’t too mad at me, are you?” Jules asks worriedly.

“No,” Felicity says immediately, picking at the edge of the tablecloth. “No, I’m not mad. When I think about where I was in my life at your age… I can’t be mad, Jules.”

She’d been done with college already. She’d been mourning a boyfriend whose death she thought was her fault. At Jules’ age, Felicity had already had her heart broken in ways that Jules can’t even conceive of. It puts things in perspective a bit.

“I’m a little sad,” Felicity continues, in what Oliver knows for certain is a monumental understatement. “I’m going to miss you so much and I’m going to worry about you all the time. But that’s just part of what being a mom is, I guess. Maybe one day you’ll understand that.”

Jules scoffs and rolls her eyes at that. She’s been pretty clear that she doesn’t picture kids in her future. Oliver has to wonder how Jackson feels about that. Have they talked about it? Are things that serious? He hopes they’re on the same page, but at the same time he just wants her to slow down, to savor the moments she’s in. That’s a lesson he learned the hard way in life and one he wishes he could pass on to all of his children, but it seems to be something they need to figure out on their own.

“You don’t have to worry,” Jules assures her. “You’ve raised me well. I can take care of myself and Jackson would never let anything happen to me.”

Oliver’s pretty sure that Felicity was talking about her heart, but neither one of them are about to correct that misconception right now. And besides, Jules isn’t done talking.

“It’s not that I want to leave you guys, you know?” she asks. She looks almost embarrassed by the admission. “But, I want my own space. I’m not leaving you. I’m just… I’m just growing up. That’s all.”

It’s the same thing to her parents, but Jules doesn’t see that. She can’t. And, in truth, Oliver doesn’t want her to. So, he just smiles, nods and reaches for her hand across the table.

“We’re going to support you no matter what, my Julie-bug,” he tells her, watching their fingers. He remembers so clearly when the whole of her hand wrapped around his thumb. But that little girl is gone now and in her place is a beautiful, bright young woman with the whole world in front of her. Letting her go is hard - so very hard - but he can’t help but wonder if she’s more ready for this than he and Felicity are. “Anything you ever need, we’re right here. Whether that’s help moving boxes or someone to talk to or a home to come back to… that’s okay.”

Felicity’s hand settles atop their joined grip. It’s almost imperceptible, the way her fingers shake, but Oliver picks up on it and he knows how very stressful this is for her.

“We’re always going to love you,” Felicity adds, clearing her throat. “No matter what. Always. I can’t lie and say this is easy for us. It’s not. But we both want what’s best for you and if you think that’s moving out and living with your boyfriend… we aren’t going to do anything to stop you. But we do really want to get to know him better and I want to see your beautiful face around this house sometimes still, because you make everything better, sweetheart. And this house will feel so empty without you in it.”

Jules looks stunned. She and her mother so often have had trouble communicating their feelings for each other. They’ve made progress, especially this last year, but it’s rarely been as overt as this and Oliver knows it’s a moment that’s hit them both hard.

Letting go of their hands, Jules gets up and hugs her mother tightly. It’s a firm grip and Oliver watches as Felicity buries her face in the crook of their daughter’s neck and breathes in their little girl’s scent, trying to commit it to memory. His mind flashes back to a hundred times when Jules had fallen asleep on one of their shoulders, her soft little puffs of breath ghosting across their necks. She’d been such a sweet baby, such a reserved but good little girl. In spite of everything they’ve been through with her, in spite of all the challenges they’ve dealt with over the years, he can’t help but think it’s all been worth it because it’s led her to become the incredible, self-reliant woman he sees before him today.

And that woman takes his breath away.

“I love you too, Mom,” Jules says quietly, so quietly that Oliver isn’t sure he really heard it for a second. But his wife’s knuckles turn white as she holds onto the back of her daughter’s shirt and she lets out a shuddering breath, and Oliver knows he heard the words after all. “No matter where I am. Thanks for supporting me and not freaking out too much,” she continues, barely louder.

Felicity’s short wet chuckle answers her as she pulls back slightly and rests a palm against her daughter’s cheek. “I’d support you through anything, Jules, but I can’t say I’m not freaking out. I’ll just keep doing it internally for a bit, okay?”

Jules must think she’s kidding - she’s not; Oliver knows that - because she just chuckles and shakes her head a little before backing off and standing up fulling. “Deal,” she says. “I’m gonna go try to make things right with Ellie, if that’s okay. I just… I need to fix things with Ellie.”

It’s clear that she’s enormously bothered by how upset her little sister is and Oliver can’t help but find that heartening. Just a few years ago, she’d have brushed it off. It wouldn’t have bothered her at all. Some of the change in his older daughter is just age, some of it is the therapy she went through after the kidnapping, some of it is her own professional success. She’s more confident these days, more thoughtful of others. But he also has to wonder how much of this is Jackson. He’d noticed, back in January, that she’d been happier, more open. At the time, he’d credited that to her excitement for her fledgling career. But now… knowing she’d met Jackson at the same time… he has to think that some of it is him. And Oliver is intensely interested in getting to know the young man better because of it.

Anyone who helps his daughter feel open and expressive and happy is worth his time.

“Okay,” Felicity agrees. Her hands rest next to her plate, but Oliver can see her itching to reach for Jules again, to hold on. She’s keeping it together right now, but just barely. “I appreciate that. I think she will, too.”

“Yeah,” Jules echoes, chewing on the edge of her lip. “I hope so… Thanks again.” She sort of shuffles in place for a moment before kissing her mom quickly on the cheek and moving to him, doing the same. She doesn’t linger, escaping the room and bolting toward the stairs.

The breath Felicity sucks in the moment their daughter is gone is ragged and shaky. Her eyes are dewy and her nose a little red. He knows exactly how she’s feeling. He might show it a little less, but she’s far from alone right now.

“I guess I’ll do the dishes,” she says quietly, standing and blinking down at the table as she starts to collect discarded plates. She doesn’t even look his way as she busies herself with mundane chores. It’s clear she’s avoiding her feelings however she can, but he knows his wife well by now. He has no doubt what she needs in this moment and it’s absolutely not to do the dishes.

He gets up and moves behind her, stilling her with a hand over hers. She doesn’t turn to look at him and he doesn’t say a word, but she does freeze in place and let out an unsteady breath that nearly turns into a sob at the end as she leans back into him.

“I want to go back,” she says in a hushed voice. She’s still faced away from him, toward the table, but his arms are around her and his chin rests on her shoulder, surrounding her in his presence as best he can. “I want to do it again. I want my baby girl safe in her crib while I worry about silly things like if it’s too soon to try solid foods or when she’ll start walking. I want to rewind my life just to do it all over.”

Oliver gets it. He feels that, too. Sometimes he looks at their kids and he blinks because they’ve just grown right in front of his eyes. Ellie can’t possibly be applying to colleges yet. Nate can’t be closing in on high school. Will can’t really be fast approaching 30. His little Julie-bug can’t really be moving out with a boy. Just last week, it seems, she’d held onto his finger with her whole hand and called him ‘Daddy.’ They’re so big now and it feels like that can’t possibly be real.

But it is. He knows because he’s held onto every single moment as it’s passed them by, savored every laugh and smile, found joy in little things like waffles on weekends, Will’s ballgames and Jules’ recitals, ice cream with Ellie and camping trips - no matter how ill-advised - with Nate. He can’t claim he doesn’t have a sense of nostalgia that creeps up often these days, but he also doesn’t have any regrets. Not with his children.

“Would you do anything differently if you could?” he asks.

The laugh she gives in return is pained and she turns her head to catch his gaze. “That’s a trick question and you know it.”

“Is it?” he asks. He smiles at her and he can feel the lines around his eyes crinkling as he does. They’re hard-won, those wrinkles, born of laughter and joy and a million moments over the last two decades that he wouldn’t give up for anything.

“If I say no, then there’s no point,” Felicity tells him. “We’d wind up right back here. If I say yes, then I’d change things, I’d change our whole life. And I don’t want that. Not really. I love our life together, Oliver. Even the hard parts. Even the worst parts. Because as hard as this is, as much as I want to stop time and keep them from growing up so fast, that’s only because I’ve enjoyed them so very much.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, kissing her shoulder. “Me too.”

It’s quiet for a very long moment after that. They just stand there, remnants of dinner littered across the table as Oliver holds onto his wife and lets a sense of solidarity build between them both.

“So… Jackson,” Felicity says after a minute. It sounds like she’s testing out the name.

“Jackson,” he agrees.

“Any clue what his last name is?” Felicity asks.

It’s in the media clippings. He knows it is, but in all honesty he hadn’t paid that much attention to them. Not to the extent he should have, anyhow. But hindsight is twenty-twenty and he doesn’t have the luxury of going back and doing things again. Still, it’s very, very obvious that his little girl is a whole lot more serious about this guy than he’d assumed.

“I don’t,” he tells his wife. “But honey… I think we’re gonna need to find out.” s

#olicity #olicity fic #olicity fanfiction #forever is composed of nows #ficon #pieces of always #oliver queen #felicity smoak #william queen #ameliam #julianna queen #ellie queen #nathaniel queen #arrow #fanfiction #my fics #my fics: cowritten #so-caffeinated #dust2dust34 #sorry for the late postage everyone! #i've been hermiting for reasons

[timotheusxdraki]

Post Flashpoint Tim Drake

Character Wanted: Tim Drake

Face Claim: Ludi Lin

Age: 18

Codename: Red Robin (formerly); Al Makhtar - The Chosen [One]; Ra’s al Ghul [The Demon’s Head] (current)

Occupation: Leader of the League of Assassins

Skills: Expert martial artist, genius intellect, forgery, computer and forensic science, acrobatics, infiltration

Sexuality: Questioning

Gender Identity: Non-binary

Species: Human

Status: Presumed dead by friends and family; actually alive and leading the League of Assassins

BIOGRAPHY:

Past: Tim Drake was a unique child at a very early age. His parents, Jack and Janet, were loving, but distant, as they traveled often. But they were proud of their extraordinary son, and got him the best tutors possible. They pushed for excellence with their son, recognizing his abilities at an early age. Tim can play five instruments and is a talented actor and singer, and he excels in academics. Easily able to balance school work with his special interests, Tim started to get into trouble in grade school when he started hacking the high school computers to help struggling students overcome poor grades and attendance records. He was threatened with expulsion a few times, but because the special private school he was going to didn’t want to risk losing his talents - or his parents’ money - they kept him on. Tim also figured out how to hack into secret, obviously illegal bank accounts, and started siphoning money from the criminal world, into various charities.

Around that time, Tim became fascinated with the vigilante known as Batman. He researched the Bat, along with Nightwing and Robin. It didn’t take him long to figure out who each of the vigilantes were. He approached Batman one night, and offered to help him with his computer work. Batman was impressed, but gently told him that he had to wait a few years, because he felt that the boy was too young. Tim fixed that problem by changing his hospital records to say that he was two years older than he actually was.

It was around that time when Jason, the Robin at the time, was killed. Tim practically forced himself into Batman’s life, keeping the other man from completely losing control. Eventually he became Robin, but not until Bruce insisted on extreme physical and mental training. He traveled all over the world with Bruce, training with some of the very people who had once trained his mentor. They even stopped at Nanda Parbat, until Bruce suddenly had them leave one night. After nearly a year of intensive training, Bruce finally determined that Tim was ready to go out alone on patrol. Out of respect to Jason’s memory, Tim changed his name to Red Robin.

Three years after joining Batman’s cause, Tim’s parents were targeted by the Penguin. He was after their substantial wealth, as well as their connections to a certain hacker who had once swindled money from him.  Although they did not know Tim was Red Robin, they did know that he had hacked into criminal accounts. When they realized that the Penguin believed that one of them had to be the hacker, they carried on with the charade, unwilling to give up information that would risk putting Tim into danger. With their stubborn refusal to give him any useful help, the Penguin tried to kill them.

Batman and Tim managed to arrive in time to save them, though Jack is still in a coma and Janet’s health is frail. The rest of the world believes they are dead; but Bruce and Tim have created new identities for them, and they are well-hidden from everyone, including the rest of the Bat Family.

Bruce Wayne officially adopted Tim six months later, making Tim’s official name Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne. Tim remained as Batman’s sidekick until Bruce disappeared. Damian did not react well to Bruce being gone, and Dick Grayson decided the best course of action would be to make Damian a Robin, and told Tim he didn’t need him as a Robin, he wanted him as a partner.

Tim did not take that very well, and struck out on his own, angry and resentful at both Dick and Damian. Tim obsessed over what happened to Bruce, and eventually he figured out that Bruce was trapped in another dimension. It took a lot of time and convincing to get anyone to listen, but finally they did, and Tim played a vital role in rescuing Bruce. In between rescuing Bruce, he was investigating a new player. When Bruce came back, the stranger attacked Tim, injuring him severely. It was Jason Todd, returned from the grave, and he left no doubt that he hated Tim.

He never did go back to being Batman’s sidekick, but Tim did work with Bruce on several cases, and even mended his relationship with Dick. It took longer, but he slowly began to work things out with Damian, and even Jason.

While investigating a case, he met the Magician, the man showed interest in him, his skills, and even began working with him on his cases. Tim was suspicious of his motives, and decided to move closer to his family, feeling relieved to get away from him, only to meet the Tiger, an associate of the Magician, in Central City. The two struck up a friendship, although he was still suspicious. Suspicions that were well-founded.

Tim had been tracking some stolen weapons to a warehouse. It was a trap; he was shot within moments of entering the building. Dazed, and in pain, Tim was shocked to see the Tiger and the Magician coming towards him. Tim fought back, and tried to escape. He nearly made it, but the blood loss and shock made him clumsy, and as he tried to escape, he ended up falling down some stairs and landing awkwardly on his ankle.

The two men forced the injured boy to give up his comm and his tracker. After that, Tim passed out, and didn’t wake until nearly a day later, to discover that he was a prisoner of the League of Assassins. He was subsequently tortured, going through the training of all initiates,Tim tried to hold onto who he was, but his captors knew him well, and preyed on his insecurities while he was tortured. Eventually they had to use Lazarus Pit water on him and from then on Tim’s fate was sealed. Once Al Namurr and Al Sah-him were satisfied that he was ready to train to be the Heir to Ra’s al Ghul, and he was renamed Al Makhta - the Chosen [One].

Present: Tim was a good student, and was proving himself a worthy choice. One day, Malcolm collapsed and died. Now he was no longer the Heir, but was in fact Ra’s al Ghul. Tim is working towards keeping the League together and strong while everyone adjusts to the fact that he is the new leader.

Negative traits: obstinate, presumptuous, self-neglectful, cunning

Positive traits: compassionate, steadfast, generous, reliable

@centralcitysfinest-rp  @outlawintheredhood  @ixamxbatgirl  @i-am-batdad @blackxandxbluexbird

#ccfflashpoint #ccf post flashpoint #ccf biography