#the only good politics are batman is in fact a movement and not just one man

[moonlight-lu]

So, let's start by closing old holes.

I'll put a big spoiler tag in here.

SPOILERS

Uncharted. Which one is the one with Tom Holond. He reached Russia in a very difficult way, like Batman, but he did.

(I want to say right away that my blog is not about politics. I love everyone and everyone. And in general, the world, friendship and chewing gum.)

The movie, I really liked it. I will say that I did not sell my soul in vain. Because Sam was added and paid a lot of attention to him.

So much screen time that there is clearly a proposal for a sequel. And, let's be honest guys, no one fell for his fake death. At least for those who know exactly the game.

Honestly, I can talk about my love for Sam, just for hours. I was really glad to see him..So welcome to my harem baby

In general, young Nathan and Sam are very nice. In general, a special thank you for the cast in this film. Everything looks very harmonious.

By the way, on this page there was a joke about the fact that in the film, the directors will want to film all the films at once? Now, this is no longer a joke.

The film combines pieces from several games at once. And frankly, it looks like a very familiar hodgepodge. (Damn, I don’t know how to replace the word “hodgepodge” in English. I hope they understood me).

While watching, I was sometimes bored, at some points. You know, something like, "Hey, I saw that in a movie!" (That is the same about Sam's "death"). This is not bad for those who are not familiar with the game series, but not for those who are in the know.

The same effect gives from the protagonist. Which is not in the film. They gave Mr. Antonio not the biggest role, and then they replaced him, I admit, with a very beautiful woman. Tati Gabrielle, very beautiful, but for me she is the shadow of Nadina Ross. (Tell me that I'm not the only one who thought so? If not, then don't pay attention)

Riddles, jokes, even movement at the moment of jumping, it was immediately clear where the Playstation people had a hand. The movie will make you happy.

In summary, it's a good movie, I would watch it again and would like to see a sequel.

Oh, and the views, and the camerawork itself. Thank you very much for the new desktop pictures

#tom holland #uncharted movie #mark wahlberg

[miss-choco-chips]

Bird Watchers

It was something like an open secret in Gotham, that even though all it’s heroes were open to help no matter the situation, each one of them had a special affinity to certain matters.

For example, children from all districts knew to yell for Nightwing if they found themselves lost and scared. Small business owners often painted little Oracle symbols on their doorsteps, to warn away possible thieves with the knowledge that Gotham’s cryptic hacker had their eye on them. Working girls would send a quick prayer to the Red Hood before seeing their seediest clients; and as such, knew who to call for if things took a turn for the worst.

And Red Robin… well. His was a very specific bunch.

---.---

Warnings: depression, suicide attempts, overdose comic-typical violence (discussed, not explicit). Hurt-comfort all the way, baby. There’s also one scene, with the redhead, that I copied from the comics.

(it’s almost 2 am, I wrote half of this in one go, don’t @ me for mistakes. I’ll edit tomorrow. Maybe.)

---.---

The first time he stopped a suicide, he had just turned thirteen. The suit still felt wrong, too loose in all the places where Jason’s bigger presence would have been a better fit. Too small, too brainy, not brash enough, not good enough.

He would never think himself worthy, but he was all Batman had. There were no other candidates, not ones he could have thrown the job at without risking Bruce’s identity, so he’d have to make do.

But even so, he had been gaining a little confidence over the past few months. His training with Shiva, and Dick’s and Bruce’s focus on making him as ready for the streets as humanly possible, had ensured he never encountered a situation where he couldn’t handle himself, or get back up in time to avoid any casualties.

Except for right now.

“Hey! Don’t do it, please!”

Yeah, maybe yelling at the man precariously balanced on the edge of a how many feet tall building wasn’t his wisest moment. He’d berate himself later. Now was freak out time.

Said man stumbled for a second before regaining his footing and turning to look at Tim. He couldn’t be more than forty, with a bit of an overgrown beard and tired eyes. He had something clutched in one hand, tanned and calloused from work, the other over his chest, probably due to the scare of having a bat suddenly appearing behind him.

“R-Robin…”, he gasped, shook out of whatever reverie he was going through for a second. “W-what… I mean, why are you…?”

‘Okay, Tim, breath. Can’t call B, he’ll notice, get startled and jump. Can I catch him if he does? My grappling hook is made to withstand more than my weight, but if I can’t handle the strain of swinging us both to safety…’

He couldn't risk it.

“Good evening, Mr…?”

Surprise and good manners made the man automatically answer, “Ed. Ed Harrinson.”

Encouraged, Tim took a tiny teeny step forward. Ed’s entire body shock and he leaned backwards. Tim froze, fear keeping his breathing and heartbeat hostages for the time being, stopping the first and kick starting the second.

“Mr Harrinson, I’d like to ask you to step away from the edge? I’ll call an ambulance for you, and…”

“No!”, the man screamed, suddenly over his surprise, a look of determination trying to masquerade his obvious exhaustion. “If you call an’one, I’ll jump.”

Tim wisely kept the ‘you were gonna do it anyway’ to himself. He nodded slowly, hands emerging from the confines of his cape to show Mr Harrinson the lack of a communication device.

“I won’t, then, but may I come closer? Please?”

It was on the last word, high pitched and wavering, that the man cracked. With wary demeanor, he waved him over, pointing to a patch of rooftop a little far but close enough for Tim to feel comfortable- or as comfortable as he’d get, in these circumstances.

As he approached, he could feel the man analyzing him. The little gasp when he stood by his side didn’t go unnoticed.

“You are… smaller than I imag’ned. Too small for a bat. My boy’s taller than you” he mused, likely to himself, but Tim grasped onto that bit of information and clutched at it with both hands, desperately.

“I’m short compared to my peers, so maybe I’m the same age as your son. How old is he?”, he asked, in his most conversational tone. Fear still had a grasp over both his lungs and heart.

Something in the man’s face shifted.

“He… he just turned fifteen.” Older than Tim, then. Ed continued, “He’s… ”, in a second, the sadness was replaced by pride, “he’s grown up p’tty well, if I say so m’self. A fine young man, that kid. He’ll go places.”

For a beat, Tim tried to imagine his own dad here. As much as he’d hate to see Jack in Mr Harrinson’s place, he couldn't help but wonder if he’d be talking about him the same way Ed spoke about his son.

He… didn’t think so. If on the verge of death, thoughts about his son would probably be the farthest from his dad’s mind.

“You sound like you love him very much. He’s a lucky guy” he said sincerely, a tendril of hopefulness still twisted around his stomach. His hands weren’t shaking any longer, finding solace in the fact that the man in front of him didn’t look like he was about to jump right that second.

Mr Harrinson’s face fell.

“Got served an’ unlucky hand, with an old man like me”, his eyes went back to the abyss, to the empty, poor litten streets below them. “Go ‘way, kid. Leave m’ be. Notta business what I do. Gotta do this f’r my kid.”

Fear came back, full force.

“I- Sorry, but I can’t help but think about your son”, he blurted out, the only bit of information he had about the man was his only tendril of hope. “Someone who loves his child as much as you seem to must be a good father. A father that… would be missed dearly, if lost so young.”

Mr Harrinson looked even more devastated. Tim was doing this all wrong, wasn’t he?

“There’s no other way t’ keep’im safe!'' he yelled, and for a minute Tim thought he had decided to jump then and there. Instead, he dropped to his knees, hands to his head, paper still clutched in one fist. “They’ll get to him if I don’t! Once I’m dead, they’ll just leave’im alone!”

Tim crouched next to him, tentative.

“Who is ‘they’, sir? Maybe I could help…”

Ed was already shaking his head.

“Nay, they said not to go to the bats. Kill my boy, they will, if I do. Seen them offing others for less, so I believe them.”

“Ah, but I’m too short to be a bat, am I not?” he smiled, wobbly at best but sincere. “Besides, who’s gonna tell them you spoke to me? I”, he gestured to his mask, “know how to keep a secret.”

He considered for a beat, before tired shoulders fell, defeated. He offered the slip of paper towards him, unseeing eyes on the street below.

Robin read the note carefully, noting the sloppy penmanship and cheap paper as well as the message itself.

“Mr Harrinson…”

“I know”, he whispered, “I know working for the Black Mask wasn’t my best idea. But m’boy needed to eat, and the landlord was gettin’ impatient. And now, for whatever reason, boss wants me dead. And if I make ‘im dirty his own hands, he’ll dirty ‘em twice and send me with my son for company to the other side. Felix is too young, and he’s good. Can’t let ‘im pay f’ his old man m’stakes, ya hear me?”

Tim thought his words over carefully.

“Mr Harrinson… I don’t think this comes from Black Mask himself”, for one, Blackie wasn’t one to avoid blood on his gloves, nor to send such a shitty note. The man lived for the drama, like most A-listers did, and he’d never forgo the aesthetic of an expensive peachment and beautifully worded threat. Also, if he wanted this man gone, he would have put a bullet in his head the second he clocked in; and if it were revenge he was after, he wouldn't have gotten a warning note but his son’s head sent to him instead.

He folded the paper and put it into one of his multiple pockets, free hand going to the man’s shoulder.

“I know Black Mask’s M.O, mister, and this is not it”, no need to spook him further by describing what it was, though. “Probably just a colleague who wanted your position, or has a grudge for whatever reason. And that, I can help you with. If you work with me on this one, we can both make sure Felix has his Dad making breakfast for him tomorrow morning, and all the days after that. After all”, he smiled, no longer uncertain now that he had firm ground to work with, “your son is going places, and he’ll have to be well fed to reach them, right?”

Mr Harrinson’s smile must have had magical properties, Tim thought. There was no other explanation for the way it returned his breath back to his body.

---.----

The next time he saw a jumper, a few months later, he was slightly more ready for it. Bruce had congratulated him on his work with Mr Harrinson, and the subsequent raid they could make on one of Black Mask’s warehouses thanks to the man’s information, but Tim hadn’t been satisfied until he had read every single mission report on the batcomputer about attempted suicides. And succeed ones, too. Need to know what went well and what didn’t, after all.

So when he saw the fifty-something woman crying on top of a tower in City Hall District, he didn’t almost-crash in his attempt to get there in time. He landed softly, making just enough noise to let her know she wasn’t alone, but careful to not startle her.

“It’s a little cold up here, Lady. If you’d like, I can walk you home?”, he tries for cheeky, despite the cold fear nesting in his stomach like a grumpy, spiteful bird.

The woman, sitting by the edge, turned her head to look at him. The movement called attention to her long, strawberry blonde hair, neatly braided, and her pretty diamond earrings. The face under her perfect make up was gaunt and pale, tear tracks cleaning paths of skin to his trained eye.

Despite him interrupting what probably were very private thoughts, she smiled at his approach, kind and polite. It didn’t reach her eyes, but the intent to put him at ease was generous enough.

“I may be a lady, but any adult worth their salt would insist on walking the young child home, instead of the opposite. Besides”, she patted the rooftop under her,” I live here, so it’s not a long walk at all.”

Tim stepped closer, carefully.

“May I sit?”

“I could use the company for a bit”, she accepted, head turning back to the city below.

They sat there for a few minutes in silence, before Tim’s soft voice broke it again.

“Is there anything I can do to help convince you not to do it? Please?”

The lady smiled. “You are a very sweet boy.”

“That’s… not an answer. Can I at least know why?”

“Won’t it torment you, in the future, if we speak now?”, she asked a question of her own, turning to face him again. Despite her words, there was nothing but kindness in those deep green eyes. “If you don’t know me, I’m just another one who jumped. If we talk, I’m afraid I might stay with you long after I’m gone. You are too young for that kind of weight.”

Tim swallowed. 

“That’s easily solved, Miss;”, Dick’s rule of thumb; if unsure, always call a lady Miss before Mrs “don’t do it.”

She spared him a long, meaningful look, and he slumped over.

“Not my best, I know, but I’m kinda freaking out now?” She wasn’t like Mr Harrinson, no motive he could see, no strand to pull and unravel her pain. “Please, just… why?”

She patted one of the hands gripping his own knee. His other hand rushed over hers, sandwiching her cold, slim fingers between his gloved palms.

“There’s nothing left for me. I have a nice job, live in a pretty side of town, have friends, and still… it feels so empty. So… Meaningless. Why even bother?”

Tim chewed on her words silently. He was way out of his depth. A tangible, physical problem? He could solve those, no biggie.

Depression, though… that was a different giant to tackle. Was he even prepared enough to?

A strong gust of wind made the lady with braided hair shiver. Without thought, Tim unclasped his cape and draped it over her slim shoulders.

“Aren’t you cold?” she asked, head tilted like a curious woodland animal. Tim felt strongly protective of her, of this kind, sweet lady, who said she had it all, except the one thing that mattered to her.

“I’m used to it”, he shrugged. “This suit is very warm, but cold air often trickles down from the neckline and… well. Gigs of the job and all that.”

The lady tutted, frowning for the first time since Tim arrived.

“That won’t do, young man. You need a scarf. The nights will only get colder from now on.”

He shrugged again.

“I just… don’t have the time to buy one. And I had one, but… There’s these kids who often hang out by the park, and they were so cold, I just couldn't swing by and ignore them. So I gave them my scarf to share between them. I’m just kinda bummed that I don’t have more to make sure they all stay warm.”

The braided haired lady hummed for a second.

“Well… I knit”, she started, carefully. “I don’t have children or grandchildren to give my final products to, so they’ll go to waste after I’m gone. If you’d take them out of my hands, you’ll do me a favor.” 

Tim wanted to say no, unwilling to make this any easier for her, but the chance of getting her away from the edge was enough to quell his voice.

She went and came back within minutes, a big cardboard box balanced over her shaky arms. He rose to help her, meeting the woman halfway through the roof, a good distance away from the abyss.

“This red one would look good with your suit… oh, and the green one, to keep with the theme! Or maybe the yellow one… Shame pink would be such a bad fit for your colors, because that wool is the best I worked with…”

Tim’s hand carefully took said carf out and looked it over. There were about six others in the box.

“I could take this to those kids I mentioned before… It’d still not be enough for all, but more to share between them means less cold.”

She hummed again, looking at the unfinished projects on the bottom of the box.

“If… If you give me a few days…” she muttered. “I mean, I’m in no rush”, a hand vaguely gestured towards the rooftop’s edge. “I could spare a few days finishing those, and you could take them to these kids you spoke about… and maybe, I can help make a few children less cold with this silly hobby of mine.”

Elated beyond words, Tim nodded vigorously, waxing poetry about her work and about just how excited little Ellie would be with this soft, pretty pink scarf.

His patrol route could use a few detours, after all, if that meant keeping Braided Hair Lady away from her roof.

---.----

He was just returning from a late supply run when he bumped into The Cats.

It was in an alleyway, a block off from Mrs Eloise Denvarow (formerly known as Braided Hair Lady). The older woman had caved after three months knowing each other, of Tim passing by her apartment once every other night to pick up her baked goods or knitted masterpieces, to distribute between street kids and working girls, and told him her name. It was said in passing (“Stop with that ‘Lady’ thing, honey. It’s Eloise”), as if lacking importance, when in reality it meant the world to him. Sure, he’d already known, having run a background check on her the minute he came back to the cave after stopping her from jumping, but there was that implicit vow between them, that she wouldn't tell him her name and jump, wouldn’t make him carry its weight on his shoulders forever, so it was… it was a promise, on her end, a reassurance, and Tim wasn’t even embarrassed that he cried in her arms like a baby for ten minutes.

So here he was, a month after that, still riding that high, when the desperate call from below caught his attention.

There were two teens on the dirty ground, nested among cracked bottles and old newspapers. The girl was lying in the boy’s arms, with him screaming for help.

“Robin! Thank fuck!”, he almost sobs, arms visibly tightening around the girl. Tim wants to ask how he knew to call for him, and if the proximity to Mrs Denvarow’s place was luck or not.

But it wasn’t the time to ask.

The girl was pale, which only highlighted the bruises on her face. Someone with a big fist punched her. It doesn't seem likely, considering just how distraught the other kid is, but he checks his hands just in case; fortunately, too small for that kind of damage.

She’s also breathing erratically and, when he puts a gloved hand to her neck, he realizes just how crazy her pulse is. 

Fear Toxin? Except Scarecrow is still in Arkham as far as he knows, and even if he had gotten away recently, he needs time to develop his precious chemicals. Joker’s Venom and Mad’s Hatter drugs don’t have quite this results, and Ivy doesn’t usually attack street girls just for kicks; they are also too far from her usual turf for her to be a viable suspect.

So, that leaves very few choices.

“Overdose?”, he ventures a guess, hand already fumbling through the pockets on his belt.

The other boy sobs harder, nodding while looking down at the girl in his arms. Tim gently takes the girl from him to position her straighter, to help her down the vial he finally found in his belt. It was supposed to help flush out any chemical in a few minutes, tops; they usually used it when a new type of Crazy Criminal Drug made its way to the streets and they didn’t have the time to properly prepare an antidote. It was strong, and vicious in its path to devoid the body of any and all external agents, which was why it wasn’t a preferred method; who’s to say the civilian in need of a flush isn’t in some important medicine? The Big Flush, as Dick calls it, lacked any kind of finesse or discrimination.

But it was their best shot right now, so there goes nothing. 

There’s silence while they watch the girl’s progress. He doesn’t bother asking if he called for an ambulance; they are obviously minors, probably homeless, and even if the Wayne Foundation takes care of children’s hospital fees, they’d avoid it to keep themselves out of the foster system.

But then, the kid kept talking.

“I… I found her near Grant Park. I… I didn’t know what to do, so I dragged her here. She/” and then he breaks again, hands grasping one of hers, as if letting go meant he was giving up on her and he couldn't bear it.

“Grant Park is only five blocks away,” Tim thinks out loud, mind already a mile away “and Moench’s Row illicit night clinic is about the same distance from there as this place. Why did you bring her here?”

“She… Alley… Oh, her name’s Allison, by the way. And I’m Thomas. Tom.” Introductions, miraculously, seem to do the trick here and calm him down. “Nice to meetcha.”

Tim’s not deterred by his toothy grin, but he has to admit he’s kinda cute. Like, stray cat cute.

Huh. Alley, Tom, cat… Yeah, that checks.

“What happened with Allison?” he presses softly, one arm still keeping Alley up and against his chest, the other hand on her pulse point, taking note of the way the heartbeat seems to be stabilizing. The puking fest was gonna start soon.

“She… It was on purpose.” Tom confesses, eyes going clouded for a while. “She tries to not be home, yknow? I met her in kindergarten, and even then she’d try to hide behind the teacher’s desk in hopes they’d forget about her and close the building with her inside. Anyway, we pretty much live on the streets these days, and Alley… she’s very depressed. I convinced her to see someone a while ago, even stol/ I mean, earned the money for it myself”, he’s quick to correct, eyes glancing up to see if he was smooth enough to cover it; which he wasn’t, but Tim was in favor of letting that small one go, “and they gave her a prescription for antidepressants. She’s been kicking it down the road, but she’s gotten a lot worse and I wouldn't lay off her case about it, so she sneaked back home to get some money from her folks to pay for it.”

By the way the kid looks at her bruised face with unmeasurable guilt, Tim knows she didn’t go unnoticed.

“And… I don’t know. We were supposed to meet up by the Commerce Street Highway, but she was late, so I walked around for a bit and… I saw her there, on a bench. She was/ she was still conscious then, and she told me… she said ‘these aren’t what the doc gave me, but they took the pain away all the same’.” Again, Tom chokes on his own emotions. If he had any free hands, he’d try to put one on his shoulder for comfort. “I don’t even know what she took, or where did she get it from!”

Tim has heard whispers of loan sharks and drug dealres camping toghter by the Fashion Distric, just north of Grant Park, so he can make an informed guess as to how that happened. Also, he now knows what he’ll do the rest of the night, once these kids are safe.

When Tom has gotten a grasp of himself, he pushes again.

“So, why did you bring her here?”

He shrugs, a bit abashed.

“Well… I mean, everyone knows about how Mrs Denvarow is the one giving clothes and food away, and that you help her distribute it. Well, not everyone, but… you know, the street kids. We flagged her building with a yellow skull and everything.”

A yellow skull grafitti, Tim’s mind translates, is the street equivalent of a ‘don’t fuck with this place’ sing. A sort of protective sigil. He wonders how he missed it.

“And… This is kind of your thing, right? So I figured you’d be better prepared to deal with it than some overworked clinic that might even not have enough free equipment to help us. Good think I did, too” he gestures at his friend, whose face is now looking flushed; a sign both of growing health, and of the upcoming puke. Tim’s quick to turn her so her back is to his chest, head tilted down just in case.

As if rehearsed, Alley chose that exact second to empty the contents of her now flushed stomach. Tim would need a sample of that, to catch the responsible dealer.

Tom held her hair away from her face while Tim kept her steady, and she blinked bearily at them after it was done, still not completely lucid but a world away from the girl she was ten minutes ago.

“She’ll still need a hospital.'' Tim informs Tom sternly. The boy had taken his friend in his arms again, softly rubbing her back to help with the uncomfortable ache leftover after puking your guts out. “The Moench’s Row clinic should be able to help with any side effect, but she’s safe for now.”

He nods, thanks Tim again and again and politely refuses his help to take her to the clinic. They part ways, both parties probably thinking this would be the last time they saw each other.

Still, their situation sticks with Tim during the rest of his patrol, and he decides to stop by the clinic, just to check on them. His knuckles still ache from the absolute beating he delivered to the ones who gave Alley the money and sold her the drugs, so he’s in better spirits and hopes to spread it to the kids.

Alley is awake when he visits, and her shy, little smile is enough for the rage inside of Tim to die down. The bad guys dealt with, the civilians safe, everything in its proper place.

He sleeps a bit better that night.

---.----

He almost doesn’t see him. 

Actually, he probably wouldn't have, deeply lost into his own head, had the guy been anything other than a redhead. That exact shade of  orangy-brown auburn, that he would have to pick up from his workbench at Titan’s tower after Bart had decided to ‘keep him company’ during his all-nighters. 

It was ironic, how now he would give anything in the world to have those same strands of hair fucking up his experiments, if only for the impish, ‘please-don’t-kill-me-I’m-an-angel’ smile he would receive in exchange.

“Hey”, he greets, landing softly at the man’s right, sitting a few feet away from him, too tired to even stand up on common ground. “What’s happening?”

He shouldn’t be doing this. He really, really shouldn’t. His own mental health was less than stellar, and even thinking about it made him feel worse. He didn’t deserve to feel bad, not when civilians were in the hospital after his latest fuck up, Cass was missing, Cassie barely hanging in there, the family a mess with Damian’s lovely introduction, and… well. Every other person he knew…

Point being, there must be someone else, in a better inner place, that could speak to this guy. But since no one seemed to be patrolling this route, Tim could only hope to stall him long enough for a more capable vigilante to show up.

The guy looks startled, then angry. He has green eyes, he notices, under the glasses. Not sure why that sticks to him.

“What are you doing here? You’re not going to try to stop me, are you? You’re not going to swing down and catch me in mid air or something, are you?”

He seems defensive, but Tim notices a bit of hesitancy. He has worked with less.

(He wishes he had more energy to do more with what little he has)

“No. If I did, what’s to stop you from doing it again later, or tomorrow? I can’t be with you every second.  If you want to do this, you are going to, no matter how much I don’t want you to. And I don’t want you to, just so we are clear.”

The guy still looks suspicious, but he hasn’t taken that last step forward, so… a win?

“I just needed to sit down for a minute. ‘been thinking about all the ways I’ve screwed up lately, and…”

Auburn-hair deflates a little, turning away from Tim to examine the night sky. “Well, that makes two of us.”

The bat signal lights up the night. His newfound companion looks at it, then him. “Do you need to get that?”

“Nah. Batman will, and if he needs help he’ll call me.” Tim shrugs. He needs a coffee-power-up. He needs to sleep. He needs for his loved ones to not be dead.

He needs to see if there’s anything he can do for this guy.

“So, do you want to tell me why you’re doing this? So someone can go to your family and friends to let them know?”

After all, if it was him who did it (and… wasn’t that food for thought?), he’d like Bruce and Dick to know why. To not… to not blame themselves.

Redhead looks annoyed again. Uh. A short fuse, this one.

“Don’t try any psychology, or try to make me feel guilty about hurting anyone… this isn't about anyone but me.”

He shouldn’t say it, but… “That’s pretty naive,  but whatever. Tell me anyway.” He smirks a bit, then “Unless you’re in a hurry or something.”

He hears the guy (he really should ask his name) as he tells his story. A cold, clinical part of his mind recognizes the symptoms described almost unconsciously by the guy as depression. He would know, after all. The other part of him, the part that made him Robin, that made him human, discarded the label; there was much more to this guy than his illness, and he would treat him like it.

“So here I am,” he finishes, now sitting side by side with Tim, both their legs hanging above the bustling city. “Now’s when you tell me how stupid this is. That other people have much bigger problems, there’s hunger and war, and I’m weak because my problems are nothing next to stuff like that.”

Tim thinks of a father, desperately thinking his death would save his son’s life, when in fact it would have only made it worse. He thinks of a woman, so full of love and warmth, looking into the abyss and feeling empty inside. He thinks of a couple of kids, one hanging to life with nails and teeth, the other hanging to her just as fiercely.

He thinks about himself. About looking at a future version of himself, hating what he sees, and deciding to drown the bud before it can even flower. He thinks of sickly green water, of cloning equipment in a laboratory, of a phone falling to the ground after delivering him with more bad news.

He’s still in a bad place, still probably not the most capable person to be doing this, but a part of him is sure this is the right answer. The only answer.

“No. Your problems are worse than anyone else’s, because they are yours. I’ve... felt bad like you have, and some pretty bad things have happened to me.”

Red hair looks as tired as Tim feels, so it’s a surprise that he has enough energy to glance at him worriedly, hand stretching a bit in his direction in a half-formed attempt to comfort.

“You guys make it look so easy, swinging around, having fun… Things get bad for you, too?”

Tim looks down, and smiles. It’s a sad, bitter thing. He thinks about parents lost before ever connecting to them, about a girlfriend going away, a sister lost to the madness of their lives, about two best friends gone, one even dying in his arms. 

He gives no details. Doesn’t talk about it all, just shares a little bit of himself. It’s only fair, after hearing about this guy’s demons. Misery loves company, doesn’t it?

“So what do you do? How do you deal with it?” the guy asks when he’s done, looking at Tim by the corner of his not-very-dry eyes.

Tim forces himself to remember. “One of the things I’ve learned is that it gets bad for everyone sometimes, Superman, Batman… everyone. I remember that I’m not alone, that things do get better. Sometimes on their own, most times when you work at them. And when I have trouble remembering those things, I find people to talk to.”

Most of those were dead, but Tim is hit with the epiphany that not all of them are. He still has people. He still…

“And you’ve got people like that? That you can talk to?” asks the guy, tone both worried and hopeful. Tim stands up, does his best to look calm.

“Yeah. Your folks, and old friend, even a trained counselor you’ve never met before… someone who has a totally different perspective because they’re not as close to your problems as you are. Maybe they give you advice, and that’s great… or maybe they just listen. Sometimes, that’s all you need. Anyway, that’s how I deal with it when things suck. And it works. Want to come down from there and give it a try?”

The guy gets back to his feet, as Tim watches from behind. Having been in this situation before, the fear grabbing a hold of him isn’t new, but it's different. He thinks he's too worn down. It takes the edge off of any emotion. 

Except hope. Hope still hurts like a sharp knife when it’s snatched away. He prays it won’t be, right now.

Green eyes (Jason- that’s who they reminded him of) look down, deep in thought. Then he turns, smiles at Tim. There’s hope in him too.

“Yeah, why not?”

They get down together. He gives him a few numbers and they have breakfast together. The guy promises to call his English teacher, at least. Tim promises himself to call his brother.

At least, he still has Dick.

---.----

He’s been putting off doing his rounds since he came back, he knows. But…

It changed him, a bit. Going around the world, dealing with his grief while staying on his toes, ready to break down one second and having to field off attacks from all sides the next, with the Demon’s honeyed whispers echoing in his ear and mind. 

He’ll never tell anyone, just how tempting it had been. How much he had wanted to reach for that offered hand. To lay his head on someone’s shoulder and let the responsibility bleed from his.

Tim will never tell anyone, but he’ll always know. And it’ll always make him hate himself a little bit more.

So, he’s different now. And he’s scared- that the people he gave hope to, that he talked with, that he could never stop thinking about, even halfway across the world- that they won’t like this new, worn down him.

That Mr Harrinson the Good Father, Braided Hair Lady and her sweaters, the inseparable Stray Cats, the girl with the bright yellow cardigan, the kid with the scarred wrists, the woman with beautiful star-like freckles that she’ll hopefully pass on to her baby, the gentle giant man with calloused hands, the petite but fierce young teen with defiant eyes and dead name, the soft spoken girl with the loudest laugh, auburn-haired boy and his hopeful and sympathetic green eyes… and so, so many more. They all knew him, maybe not at his best, but certainly better than now. The boy that kept them from jumping had been a bright, magical Robin. The teen that came back to their city was dark, weary Red Robin. It felt kinda like he had cheated them, returning this broken version of himself to their doorsteps.

But he had to go check on all of them. Even if Cass (and it was such a relief, that even after he lost everything else, the return of his sister could at least be a speck of light in the mist of misery surrounding him) had promised to do so, there were so many of them… and she couldn't possibly remember everyone, all the time. And if anyone had fallen through the gaps… if anyone had stood on a rooftop, waiting for their Robin to save them, only to think ‘nobody cares’ as he didn’t show up…

Tim gets sick only thinking about it. If it did happen, then he needs to know. He has to carry their names with him, that’s the least he can do for failing them.

So he’ll go check on them… anytime now. Soon. The moment he gathers enough energy to climb back to his feet and get his grapple hook out.

...The city looks full of life, beneath him. Like it feels the return of its Knight. The end of the internal quarrel among it’s vigilantes, that almost tore it all apart. The relief in Nightwing, the hesitant peace in Red Hood, the mellowing of Robin.

(He was feeling poetic tonight, in the worst ways)

Maybe it also feels Red Robin’s emptiness. Maybe that’s why it's so lively down there, like the ground is calling to him, just as it did when Ra’s broke the window with his body.

He thinks... he won’t have to check on anyone, if he jumps. And that way, there will be no name to carry with him to his grave.

“Robin!”

“Stop!”

“Don’t do it, please!”

He startles. Hadn’t even noticed when he got to his feet, nor that one of them was hanging over the abyss. The fact that he wasn’t alone on that rooftop any longer hadn’t even breached his usually perfect spatial awareness.

They didn’t call for him, but the voices sounded distraught, they were close, and he was a former Robin, so he turned around, tired, but with obedience and service too ingrained in him to consider denying help to whoever it was.

It turned out, he wouldn't need to go make his rounds any longer. His rounds had come to him.

There were… too many people on this roof. It was way too crowded.

“Robin!”

It was one voice now, not a mixture of them, so he could identify the one yelling his former alias. Allison broke from the mob of people (and there were more still, filling in from the open rooftop door, like a never-ending stream…) to run to him, looking like she might have just jumped into his arms, if not for Tom clutching her hoodie to stop her a few feet from him. Good move, considering he was still balancing precariously on the edge.

“Alleycat?” he whispered, a little blown. She looked so different (magenta looked amazing on the tips of her hair, and she totally pulled off that lip piercing), but he’d recognize those eyes anywhere. He’d been so relieved, when she first opened them after that dangerous overdose.

“We were so fucking worried, dude”, came from Tomcat just behind her, still gripping her hoodie (still keeping her safe; some things never change).

“I…”

“Where were you?” Maddie, not longer yellow but still wearing a cute cardigan, stepped up too.

“I’m… I’m not Robin”, he blurts out. They… knew it was him?  It… like, obviously there was a new Robin, Damian was (still, but probably not for much longer) smaller than him, but to immediately know that he was…

“Yeah, no shit. I’d know that long hair and noodle limbs of yours anywhere, kid. Known you too long to be fooled. And the new kid’s really trigger happy with that lon’nife of his... You’re still the Robin I prefer, and fuck if I understand the name passing you heroes do” Mr Harrinson spoke from the back of the crowd, one hand clutching his kid’s shoulder, the other arm around…

“Braided Hair Lady?”

Eloise smiles at him, soft and warm as ever, a little shy when his eyes go to the arm hugging her close and back to her. He recognizes some of her handmade scarfs around the necks of plenty of people on the roof. 

“I… wasn’t aware you all knew each other.”

A petite young teen steps forward, walking until they were shoulder-to-shoulder with the Strays.

“Most of us met through the app, and then introduced the others. There’s more, of course, but not everyone could meet here. Samantha’s baby was born just two months ago, so she chose to stay home, but we promised her pictures, so you’ll have to say cheese soon birdboy. Also, I found my name. I’m Cal.”

Allison’s smile broadened and she sneaked an arm around Cal’s waist.

“They are the new Straycat. Calico cat’s are the cutest shit ever, aren’t they?”

Well… Having someone as badass as Cal watching Tom and Alley’s back would sure make Tim feel a lot better about both kids being out in the streets. 

Were they still on the streets? He’d need to find out and fix that, soon.

Then it hit him. “What app?”

Auburn-hair smiled from his place, at the front of the crowd just behind the Cats.

“Felix over there,” he pointed over his shoulder at Mr Harrinson’s son, who smiled shyly at Tim, eyes shining in gratitude and admiration like they always did when Tim did his rounds and checked on his dad, “defended you in a GothamHeroes forum once. Some bratty douchebag was complaining about you landing over his car or something and this kid went for his fucking troath.”

“I was in that chat too,” spoke Tom, smiling a little too savagely for a kid that sweet. “He tore the idiot to shreds, speaking about how you saved his dad’s life and took it upon yourself to make sure he was still okay even weeks after you met. I mentioned how you saved Alley and Mrs Denvarow, we exchanged numbers… then we met Cal during one of our rounds handing out Mrs D’s scarfs and food. They were weary of everyone else, but trusted us because they heard you talk about the clothes and baked goods... And Cal’s friend Gina worked with Samantha on the streets and told them about her story...”

“Soon, it seemed like people personally saved by you were just… popping out of the snow like daisies” Blair laughed, and it was still the loudest, brightest noise. The night seemed a little clearer, the air a little fresher for it. “Felix made his own private chat and added us, and we added everyone else we knew… The word went around about it, and more and more people joined in…”

“It’s really a wonder how you had any time to fight crime, seeing how often you were apparently comforting jumpers on the roofs” Ailbert, still as gigantic and gentle as always, raised a hand from the middle of the group. He had a little girl on his shoulders, probably the baby niece he had taken in after his sister’s death. 

“Then the new kid appeared and Gotham went to hell on a basket, and no one saw you around any longer”, Elijah, wrists no more scarred than the last time he saw him, his arm tangled with Maddie’s, went on. “We were… well, we were a bit confused.”

“Speak for yourself, Cal jumped Red Hood one night, held him at knife point and demanded to know what the fuck happened to our Robin. We were like, zero chill.”

“Sorry, they did what?” Tim was definitely in the twilight zone now. 

“No thoughts, head empty, only murder”

...Tim needed to give Jason a quick call. Also sign Cal up for anger management. And probably, judging by the way both Alley and Tom were looking at them, get one of the adults to give them the talk.

Mrs Eloise smiled at him, and like always it served to calm his nerves. That woman was a different kind of magic than Alfred, but magic indeed. “Anyway, dear, what matters is that we were worried about you. And then this incredible young man, Aaron,” she waved at him, and he winked one of his green eyes in response, “suggested we kept in closer contact with one another, so anyone who spotted you could inform the others.”

Aaron shrugged, his auburn mane of hair bobbing with the movement. “It just seemed like it’d be easier to have an alarm set up, since messaging everyone would take so long… and then someone suggested making a map of Gotham so we could have clearer routes for the kids handing out Mrs Denvarow’s stuff… and someone wanted a shared blackboard to write theories on where the fuck you were with others… and a few demanded a space to share photos, possible sightings or old selfies with you… It kinda spiralled and I thought it’d be less of a chaotic mess if I made an app that could do all of that, instead of all of us using multiple apps for the different fixtures everyone asked for… Since this is Gotham, we also added some Rouge Alarm for whenever a criminal was set loose. It helped keep us safe, and if we knew when crime was happening, we could pay attention to which heroes answered the call…”

“And then, you fought that firefly guy the other day”, Felix said, still by his dad’s side, still looking as awed as ever when looking at tim. “I was in the crowd, and I recognized you within a minute.”

“I don’t really understand technology that well, and the group chat was such a mess that day” Ailbert lamented, but he was still smiling. They all were.

That hit Tim then, hard. 

They all looked so happy to see him. To have him back. They had been waiting for him to be back, banded together to make sure they’d all know when he did.

“You looked so sad the last time we saw you” Blair added softly, sadly. “And… when you saved Aaron, you told him about such sad things…”

Elijah winced “And I heard the Midnighter fell from Wayne Tower a few weeks ago, but then he was never seen around again, and your suit looks kinda similar, so that was probably really you… and, that fall…”

“We were very worried” repeated Eloise, but her eyes didn’t lose their warmth. “But you’re back now, and we can keep track of you and each other now, so it’s all good. It’s wonderful to have you back, love.”

This was an out of body experience.

Something must have shown on his face, because Cal snorted.

“We adore you, you dumbass. You are our hero.”

Alley smiled. “You are our Robin.”

Tim fell into her arms, and away from the roof’s edge. The rest of the crowd was upon them in seconds, all eager to pat his back or joke about the cowl hiding his hair from their hands.

He met eyes with Aaron, over Alley’s shoulder. He looked like the hope Tim had helped plant in his heart all those months ago had flowered, and the petals filled his heart.

(He was feeling poetic tonight, in the best ways)

“You should download the app too, so you always have someone to talk to. Look it up. It’s called BirdWatchers, because we’ll always look up and out for you. Because when we wanted to jump, you lended us your wings to fly instead.”

It was like this fucker wanted Tim to cry.

“Welcome home, Red Robin.”

#My writing #Tim drake #batman fanfic #red robin #trigger warning: #depression #suicide attempts #discussion of suicide #overdose #mental illness #hurt comfort #Tim doing the comfort and being the hurt #until he gets the comfort #happy ending #wholesome #I swear the tags are scary but it IS wholesome #Tim drake centric #my writting

[liquid-luck-00]

Maribat Secret Santa 2020

@maribat-secret-santa-2020

Happy Holidays everyone🎁

In my defense there was a minimum of 2000 words and there was no max so this ended up being 6112 words sorry, I think. There is some Adrien, class and Lila salt, Adrien gets some sugar later.

Without further ado @eve-v0lution I am your Secret Santa, enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette has never been a normal girl. When she was born the goddess Tikki appeared claiming her as her chosen and the next Ladybug. She was born the granddaughter of Ra's Al Ghul, the head of the League of Assassins, the sister organization to the Order of the Miraculous. Her older brother, and twin, Damian was called to be the next Demon.

When they were five, she was taken to the Temple of the Order of Miraculous. she and her brother kept in contact, but it wasn't much more, than 'yes I am still alive, are you?' which was fine with them. As they were often trained together by both the League and the Order.

A week before they turned 10, she was named the Great Guardian and given the Miracle box. On their 10th birthdays he returned to the League to support her brother as he was officially named the heir of the Demon. However, things never went that smoothly. Slade Wilson led an attack on the League killing their grandfather. Damian rushed on to fight the Mercenary. She followed at his side the only thing she said before entering the fray was "Duusu fans" and combat fans dropped into her hands.

Between the two of them, they pushed Deathstroke back. However, he didn't retreat before throwing a sword at Damian. She called upon Wayzz's "Shell-ter" catching the sword in the shield’s dome. She took the hilt of the blade before dropping the dome. The two of them shared a look before running to find their Mother. Together they used Kaakli's portal to go to the Order.

However, they were met with an equally gruesome sight. Many of the monks laid dead, those that weren't were not in much better of a condition.

A single elder survived, speaking of the simultaneous attack on the Order and League. He told them that he will rebuild the order, but that Mari needed to keep the Miracle box safe. In the end Mother told them that she will be leaving them with their Father.

To say it was a surprise that their Father was Batman would be a stretch. Mother and Grandfather only allowed perfection, so not as surprising as one would think. Batman being Bruce Wayne, sure that wouldn't be her first guess but so what. What actually surprised her were her new brothers.

Damian hated them but she loved their antics. Where Damian became the next Robin, Mari stayed in the cave manning the comms as well as their numerous and often injuries.

However, when she did join everyone on the roof tops, Scarlet joins them. A red cropped hoodie that ended a little below her ribs. A long sleeve Kevlar shirt with a high neck. Black gloves and arm guards were holding the sleeves of the hoodie down. Her pants were the same Kevlar as the shirt and was just as formfitting, there were guards on her thighs that wouldn’t impede on her movement as well as knee pads connected to the shin guard. Short combat boots, a red sash tied to her waist hiding the utility belt and yo-yo, and a mechanical mask that conceals the bottom half of her face. And to top it off Tikki turns her eyes violet and her hair to white.

"Scarlet" Nightwing called to her. They were partnered and patrolling the west side of Gotham.

"Yes"

"Let’s race"

"What do I get when I win?"

He held his hand to his chest in mock hurt "Just so you know one week, anything the winner says is law for one week for the loser"

"Make it one favor redeemable whenever and you've got it" she challenged. He was torn but he agreed.

"Count me in" they heard Red Hood.

"Same" Red Robin also entered "Robin?"

"Tt. No"

"Fine. First back to the cave wins" Nightwing answered. "Go!"

She swung through Gotham and dropped into a pitch-black alley 'voyage' Mari whispered too low for the comms to pick up. Dropping through the portal and into the cave. Her transformation dropped and Tikki went to sit on her shoulder. Alfred was there waiting, Duusu perched on his shoulder as well, with a tray of cookies. She gave him a nod in silent thanks, as she still had a comm in her ear.

Ten minutes later Red Hood pulls in and was about to celebrate when both Red Robin and Nightwing crash into him. Creating a mess of limbs over the motor bike.

"Ha I win now you guys owe" Jason was about to rub in his victory from the bottom of the pile when Mari giggled, pulling the attention of her three brothers.

"Sorry Jay but you lost" she, Alfred, and the kwami were clearly in the middle of tea and cookies.

"She is correct Master Jason. Miss Marinette has been here for the past 10 minutes"

"Tt. Honestly don't race against some one who teleports." Damian grumbled as he walked away from the Bat-mobile.

"Don't worry. I'll wait until you forget you owe me to cash in" she smiled wickedly. "Good night."

And that was when they remembered 'Right Mari has the ability to use the powers of several pocket-sized gods' that was a lesson they wouldn't forget soon. Well Tim and Jason didn't forget; Dick would still bet against her though.

Jason found out she is the perfect prank partner. And no one in or out of the manor was safe. How they managed to swap all of Green Arrow's arrows, each being a different gag, was a mystery even Batman couldn't or wouldn't attempt to solve. The fact that the Justice League saw and heard Batman fall to the floor laughing, scared most of them from finding out. Those who didn't learned what happens when you don't leave well enough alone.

School was well boring; between the curriculum of the League and the Order she had already gotten 2 PHDs and 5 masters. School was nothing more than a pleasantry at this point. Father wouldn't let them out of school, something about needing to be normal kids. That only seemed to draw the twins into the spotlight more, because they were the only two blood children of Bruce Wayne. Damian became known quite fast as Gotham's Ice Prince, but Mari became known as Gotham's Sunshine just as fast.

But don’t let the name fool you, within the first year their classmates learned that yes Damian Wayne is scared of something, and that something was actually a someone who just happened to be his twin sister. Damian apparently was feeling petty about something, and for the life of her she can’t remember what, but he decided to write in big red letters ‘NO!!!’ across every page of her sketchbook. She found that out during lunch, and that was when the entire school learned that the little sunshine child was the only thing that can put the fear of God in the Ice Prince.

---

Freshman year Mari finally got her Dad to agree to letting her into the exchange program for the next four years.

So, she decided on Paris.

Why, why did this exchange have to be four years long. I’m not gonna survive this.

Admittedly it started off okay, okay not really but then things went downhill, fast, faster than you could imagine.

It started when she met her host family. They met her at the airport and that was an experience, I guess.

"Mlle Wayne? Correct" a tall slender woman in glasses asked her.

"Yes Madame" she replied with a polite smile.

"Natalie Sancoeur" the woman replied "And this is" she started but was cut off by a boy around her age, he had blonde hair and green eyes. But what stood out to her was his attributes reminded her of an overexcited and hyper puppy.

"Adrien Agreste" he smiled at her, so she did what was expected of her in polite society.

"Marinette Wayne" and she extended her hand to shake his. However, instead he pulled her into a hug. Once she realized what was happening, she pushed away from him and took a step back. She looked at him and her thought of him being a puppy was only reinforced with the look on his face. So, she looked at Sancoeur, while the woman looked at Agreste with indifference she looked at Mari as if she was in the wrong.

This is going to be great. Was the only thought as she endured the drive to the Agreste household.

Agreste would not shut up the entire way and seemed to be hurt that she didn't answer him. Agreste was also the one who was to give her the tour of the mansion. It wasn’t so bad it gave her the chance to gauge the defense systems, which was lacking, and the layout was simple compared to the Wayne Manor, the League's compound, and the Order's temple.

Unfortunately for her, Agreste ended the tour with her room and then proceeded to sit on the bed and continue to ramble about whatever was on his mind. She did try to get him to leave but that was a complete waste of time and effort. Kwami it was like he couldn't hear me or more likely didn’t even care about my opinion. So, she put in her headphones, hid them behind her hair, pressed play to of music and went to unpack.

As she was finishing setting up the bathroom she noticed, like every other door in this house, there was no lock.

Ugh I need to speak with Monsieur Agreste.

She went back out and saw him. Agreste was at the desk where she had set her laptop and was trying to open it.

"Excuse me but what are you doing?" she asked pointedly, having taken out her headphones and set them in the case.

"I was trying to see what you had on your laptop" he shrugged "can you tell me the password to get in?"

"No" she deadpanned; he had the gall to look shocked. That was when Mme Sancoeur entered the room, without even knocking.

"Lunch is" was all she said before Agreste cut her off.

"Natalie make her open her computer for me" Agreste whined.

She was about to speak but Marinette beat her to it. "Um No. What I have on my personal computer is none of your concern" his face fell while Mme. Sancoeur pursed her lips. "Furthermore, I am assuming since you are at the desk, the bed is askew, and the drawers are open and my clothes are in shambles you were going through my things" she was now glaring at the blonde invading her space. Now he had the decency of looking ashamed. "Am I to assume lunch will be held in the dinning room?" Mme. Sancoeur only nodded, and she left the room.

Lunch, if you can call it that, was also a disaster. Apparently, Americans eat chicken noodle soup, a hamburger, and a load of fries. Because that was what was set in front of her.

Ugh this is going to be a long four years.

"Mlle. Wayne, I hope everything has been to your liking" M. Agreste, Gabriel, as he introduced himself earlier spoke. “You have hardly eaten.”

"Would you prefer my honesty or would you rather me lie to you" Marinette responded swirling the water in her glass.

"Your honesty" he answered slightly unsure.

At this she scoffed "I am going to assume that you and no one else had bothered to read the file of my information that was sent to you" he as well as Mme. Sancoeur remained quiet "Because if you had you would know I am a vegetarian."

Mme. Sancoeur searched some thing on her tablet and there was a soft "oh" from her.

"Your son is also suffocating, to the point that when I asked him to leave the room so I could settle in peacefully, he remained as if I hadn’t asked him to leave" M. Agreste was going to say something but she continued "He also has no sense of privacy as he went through all of my belongings and was attempting to go through my laptop as well." Again, he was going to say something, but Mari continued. "On the topic of privacy neither the bedroom door nor the bathroom have a lock."

“Paris is completely safe, as the house is protected, it should not matter if there is a lock on the door” he replied in a monotone.

“I’m sorry doesn’t matter, in what universe is it alright for two teenagers of the opposite sex be in a house where one of said teenagers doesn’t respect the other enough to leave them alone” she almost started yelling, but kept her head and voice level.

M. Agreste didn’t respond right away, but he gave a small hum before stating that “I will take your request into consideration.”

“Alright, just know that I will guard myself and will not hesitate to use force if necessary” she knew they wouldn’t take her seriously but hey I am warning them, they only gave a nod that they heard. “Also M. Agreste I tend to have a strict morning regimen is it possible for me to continue it using the home gym while here?”

“Of course,” he waved dismissively.

“What does this regimen include?” Mme. Sancoeur asked politely.

Marinette had a wicked smirk as this was going to be the lightest of her routines, she could give but would still most likely shock them. “Oh it is nothing much just a 5 kilometer run as a warm up, then half an hour of boxing, a half an hour of sword forms and training, half an hour of holographic combat training, followed by half an hour of ballet, and half an hour of meditation.” She was smiling watching their reactions and it was priceless. “I usually start around 4 in the morning.”

All of them were shocked, and who would blame them, here I am in my 5’2” high glory with a sunshine disposition stating I can most likely drop kick them into next week. “Actually, if you don’t mind, I was unable to do it this morning on account of being on an airplane, this will be a good way to see the city” so she smiled leaving them gobsmacked.

Finally, she was able to breathe as she ran the streets of Paris listening to her music softly. Back at the mansion she had figured out she had an audience less than ten minutes into boxing, but she continued. As she was about to start the holographic training, that Tim, Barbara, and she had created, but by now the entire Agreste household was watching her. “If you’re only going to watch me leave or else have the decency to spar” she shot at them.

“I’ll do it” little Agreste spoke up “But if I beat you, you’re giving me your computer password.”

“Fine, but when I win, I get locks on both my bedroom door and the bathroom inside” she challenged.

Agreste senior nodded his head and replied bored “Only if you win.”

“First to be knocked down three times loses” she grinned. She went to grab her two training twin swords and handed one to little Agreste.

“These are real swords” he exclaims clearly off balance by the weight of the weapon.

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, neither have an edge” they got into positions and it was easy to see who would be victorious. I got locks and some privacy oh the small victories are truly sweet.

---

Sunday was uneventful, but so long as she was in the mansion for meals unless she had checked in with Mme. Sancoeur, she was free to her own devices.

Monday she would come to regret that it had to end later, but not for a while at least.

Mari rode to school with little Agreste and that was her first mistake. Everyone in the entire school watched her exit the car added to the fact that she's starting in the middle of the semester and that kicks.

She was wearing a charcoal shirt splattered with metallic red paint, a faux caramel brown leather jacket with a hood, black jeans with burgundy all stars. Her hair was down, and a black messenger bag was over her shoulder.

She got out and simply walked in and towards the main office ignoring everyone, she got her schedule and a map of the school. The principal himself walked her to her homeroom and to her horror little Agreste was in the class.

"Mlle. Bustier" he spoke. "Meet your new student."

"Please introduce yourself" she spoke with a sweet smile.

"Bonjour my name is Marinette, and I will be a part of your class for the next four years."

Marinette moved to take the open seat in the back but of course Little Agreste had to speak. "Mari there is an open seat behind me."

It took all of herself control to not facepalm. "I prefer the back"

"I'll spar you for it"

Now she couldn't hide the smile in her eyes or the one playing on her lips "Okay Agreste, but what makes you think you'll win this time?

"Fencing uses lighter swords" he answered mumbling the end.

"Wait why are you challenging the new girl?" a boy in a red hoodie and two-toned hair asks.

"Probably to redeem his honor from our last bout" she was now smiling. Maybe this won't be all bad.

"Then I get the next challenge" the same boy answered confidently.

"Alright" she agreed "Name your sport, um..."

"Sorry Le Chien Kim" he supplied. "Swimming freestyle"

"You're on" a devilish smirk on her lips. Afterwards everyone introduced themselves and she sat down in the back.

They spoke with M D'Argencourt about it during lunch and he told them to wait until after school for the fencing club to set up. So, they did. Honestly, the class isn't so bad, just a little pushy, apparently a student isn't here today but should be back soon. When they all went back after school, that was when Marinette saw her.

"Gami" Marinette ran to the girl in a red fencing outfit and gave her a brief hug.

"Mari-hime what are you doing in Paris?" she asked.

"Exchange program" Mari waved it off.

"Your brother?"

"Not interested" Mari responded.

"So why at the fencing club?"

"Agreste challenged me."

She looked towards the blonde and gave him a pitying glance. "Then you should both change"

"Right" Mari called as she went to the locker rooms. Her uniform was a red bodice with black sleeves and pants, but the gloves, shoes, and socks were a shade of green so dark it appeared black, the stitches on the entire thing were in golden thread. Both her saber and helmet were a combination of black and gold.

They both got into positions when Marinette heard her.

"This is going to be a slaughter" and Gami was right.

Faster than anyone could blink Mari had scored a touch before little Agreste even moved.

"Huh and here I was hoping for a challenge. Agreste" she turned away from him and faced Kagami "Match?" was all she asked, and the girl stood and faced Mari.

Facing Kagami was like fencing Damian. Both are powerhouses and decisive, but Mari's strength was in speed and agility. They met each other strike for strike, she is probably one of the few civilians that may be a match for her and her brother. By the end of practice, she was offered a spot on the team which she accepted.

To little Agreste's dismay Kagami offered to show her around Paris, to which she had agreed.

---

One-month Mari had to settle into her new class. She made fast friends with Le Chien, after their swimming match where she also met a girl named Ondine, Alix Kubdel was next she is competitive with a need for speed, side note never let her meet Jason. Max Kante and Nathaniel Kertzberg were also added to our little group. She met Luka Couffaine while wandering Paris for inspiration, they became fast friends, and she designed the costumes for Kitty section as well as their Demo Album cover. The final and most shocking, apparently, addition to their group was Chloe Bourgeois. Along with Kagami her small group of friends were unshakeable and for the next four years will be thankful for them.

After that one month, a weasel entered the class. Her name was Lila Rossi and everything that came out of her mouth was a lie. Honestly, Mari wouldn't give her a second thought but then the strikes against her grew.

Lila's first mistake was lying about her best friend, Jon, or in reality about Superboy. Oh, she was in a relationship with him. Sorry but Jon is super bi, but leans towards men more, like a walking romantic mess that was a golden moment when he figured it out. The same can be said when it finally dawned on Damian when he figured out for himself. As the amazing sister that she is of course she would tease those two. But the teasing and cooing only escalated when the two started dating. So ya not buying that he took you out, much less as Superboy.

Lila's second mistake was threatening Mari in the bathroom. Please if your going to threaten someone make sure you aren't being recorded. And second don't threaten a Wayne, especially an Al Ghul turned Wayne. So, Marinette recorded every lie, every threat, and every reaction. If she were going down not even the Devil himself would think to help her.

Unfortunately, it had a rather annoying side effect. Little Agreste kept pulling her aside to try and make peace with the liar.

"Please Marinette, can you stop calling out Lila" he repeated for the up-tenth time . They were on their way to dinner about two months after Lila rejoined the class. "Just take the high road"

They were in the hallway outside of the dining room.

"No" Mari stated as calmly as she could. As they both walked in, Mme. Sancoeur and M. Agreste were already inside.

"Why? Her lies aren't hurting anyone"

"Not hurting anyone" she spoke finally turning towards the blonde "What unicorns and rainbows paradise do you live in?"

"Wait, what?"

"Nino almost didn't enter his script for a contest because Lila said she would get someone in Hollywood to help produce it" she answered "It took Max, Nathanial, and I almost an hour for him to submit it on the thought it couldn't hurt"

"Okay that's one"

"Alya's reputation as a reporter is plummeting. She doesn't fact check and believes Lila solely on the idea that 'Lila wouldn't lie to her'. Where Lila uses her blog to spread her lies."

"Yes but no one believes everything they hear or read.”

"Really" Mari arched her brow, Alfred would be proud "then explain how most of Paris believes you and Lila to be an item"

"Mlle. Wayne came to explain" M. Agreste finally spoke.

"Oh, most of Paris believes that your son is in a romantic relationship with Lila Rossi" Mari spoke calmly as she opened her phone and pulled up the post from Alya's blog to show the screen.

"What?" the confusion was clear on little Agreste's face as he also pulled up the blog. The meal for her was quite quick but M. Agreste held back little Agreste.

Mari was sketching in the quiet of her room latter that evening when she heard a soft knock at the door. She opened the door and there stood little Agreste fidgeting.

"I'm sorry I never liked how Lila hung off of me but that was harassment, then I realized that's what I've been doing to you I am so sorry. You probably hate me for how I acted, and I understand if you can't trust me or forgive me and I'm sorry." He spoke so fast and barely breathed as he turned about to leave, but he stopped when Mari spoke.

"Okay. Redo"

"What?" he asked tilting his head.

"Let’s start over" she smiled.

"So, you forgive me!"

"No, I am not forgiving you" he looked saddened "I will hold you accountable, but I am, willing to start a new chapter."

"Okay” he looked a bit relieved.

"Hello. I am Marinette Wayne." she extended her hand to shake his.

"Adrien Agreste" he smiled shaking hands. "I'Il get out of your hair then." he sent a small wave that she returned and left.

---

Okay so maybe I exaggerated a bit, but Lila did make these past three and a half years a living pain. Mlle. Bustier fought to keep their class for all four years. The only addition was Kagami in the second year of Mari’s exchange.

But here she was sitting in the back with her friends waiting for the last class of the day to start. Then it happened Principle Damocles and Mlle. Bustier walked in.

"Mlle. Wayne" Damocles called.

"Thank the gods" Mari stated packing up her things and she walked down. "I would say it was a pleasure but that would be a lie" Mari just finished speaking when Alya decided to open her mouth.

"Where are you going class hasn't even started." Alya smiled trying to get Mari in trouble, but neither adult did anything.

"If you really want to know because it seems you've forgotten. I am a foreign exchange student from America, where I will be finishing the final term." Her words must have made some sense to their one community brain cell because they nodded, and she left.

Marinette flew back to Gotham and oh was this going to be great.

Of course, when she landed Poison Ivy, Harley Quinn, and Catwoman were making mischief in the airport. She recorded a video of the Bats stopping them, of course they were monitoring it because of her flight but I digress, and Nightwing lecturing them while Batman looked so done. Along with Jay-Jay or really Red Hood taking Mari's phone and taking a selfie with her, her hair was in braid tucked into a black beanie with a pair of red sunglasses. A halter top that had a golden rod yellow X on it. The top quadrant was red, and the rest was back. A black sweater lined and faded to red at the bottom. Comfortable black and red leggings with black flats. She posted the videos and picture captioned 'Back in Gotham. Home Sweet Home! Hood give me back my phone.' on her public account, before even exiting the terminal.

Her class will be here in about two weeks and stay as long, but right now she need a good stretch.

She found Alfred and loaded up her bags into the car and jumped in, told Alfred, transformed, and portaled out. As soon as the portal closed, she was in the middle of a huge hug from all her brothers. Patrol wasn't too bad, there was a run in with the Riddler and a separate incident with Killer Croc but that is a light day in Gotham.

After patrol was mostly filled with junk food, video games, and movies with her brothers.

Going back to Gotham Academy was like she never left. In a way she didn't, as every break she made sure to spend some time with her friends, dragging Damian with her. She would constantly text or video chat with them. To the extent that they knew about Lila and her class, almost as well as her family.

Two blissful weeks of quiet and patrols filled with teasing and bets was amazing. Yes, she will miss patrolling with Nightrunner. Yes, he is part of the extended Bat clan, but it is different with her brothers.

---

Three days granted that was longer than Marinette gave the class to avoid a villain attack. Of course, it had to happen when they were visiting, WE. Dick had volunteered to lead the tour, mainly to get more evidence, but Mari wasn't there. Since she was on break, she decided to take lunch for her brothers. The cafeteria food was good but still, and Tim would probably be holed up in his office.

She was in a blue collared button up tucked into a black skater skirt. A black and indigo letterman Jacket, black glasses frames and blue heels finished the outfit.

"Nettie?" Dick asked when she entered the cafeteria.

"Brought you lunch." Dick's face lit up.

"You are a god send"

She giggled as he took the food. "Not exactly but close."

"You going to force Timmy to eat"

"Yeah. Is he still in his office?"

"Should be"

"See ya at home Dicky Bird" she turned and found herself facing her class. Most of them registered she was there and glared at her seemingly guarding Lila from her sight, her friends noticed her so she sent a wave to Kagami, Chloe, Kim, Alix, Nathanial, and Max.

Getting Tim to eat usually proves a challenge. Mostly because he has one hand glued to a coffee mug and the other on his work. Yet when you make an entire meal into finger foods that are perfectly bite sized it is a breeze. She was going to leave when both Tim's and her phone shot an alarm. It was from Dick 'WE 2 Face' In a flash Mari transformed and waited for Tim, opened a portal, and fell into the lobby.

The two of them took out the goons and restrained them before turning towards Two Face.

"The word on the street is that you and the bird are dating, and you know the Bat." Two Face spoke out to everyone, "Let's hear what other secrets these lips will spill." A gun was held up, presumably to the teen's mouth, but neither Red Robin nor Scarlet could see.

He was clearly holding a teen hostage, and that was when they saw the two hanging sausages, Lila. For the first time since Mari had known her, she was quiet, or at least silently whimpering.

"So, who is she dating?" Scarlet asked yoyo in hand pointing at Lila.

"Robin" she gasps.

"What!?" Both of them yelled before Red Robin started again. "Crap when did I get a girlfriend. Scarlet please tell me this is just a hallucination! I swear if this is, I won’t drink a single drop of coffee for a month!”

Scarlet however was barely standing doubled over with laughter. "She’s a little young for you don't cha think."

"Not helping" Red Robin was in full out panic pacing back and forth trying to comprehend what was being said.

That was when Lila seemed to find her voice again "I'm dating Robin not you."

"Wait, What?" Both vigilantes snapped out of their laughter and panic respectfully. They shared a look and fell to the ground laughing. Two minutes later Batman and Robin showed up. Scarlet and Red Robin were now on their feet but still laughing. No one not even Two Face moved because as everyone knows, Robin is taken and no one will be getting between those two, much less a girl.

"Robin" Batman nodded and to the two laughing teens, Robin nodding in acknowledgement.

"No need B" Red Robin finally stopped laughing.

"Hey Birdie when did you get a girlfriend?" Scarlet asked fully knowing the answer already.

"Tt. Don't be idiotic Scarlet."

"Then why is she saying she is?" Two Face now had the bat fam's attention.

"Who are you?" Robin asked the girl pinned between Two Face’s arm and gun.

"Apparently the girlfriend you never knew existed before three seconds ago." Red Robin supplied, now fully enjoying the shock on his brother’s face.

"Is that why you two were laughing like idiots?"

"Well yes" Scarlet spoke up then whispered 'Voyage, Venom' and Two Face became frozen in place.

Lila was now glaring at Scarlet as she began to yell "What the hell. Why didn't you do that sooner!"

Scarlet snapped her fingers and pointed at Lila "Oh now I remember you" she semi shouted getting the attention of everyone in the lobby. "You’re the girl from Paris who said she was dating Superboy." Lila now seemed to significantly pale.

"Are you saying this girl has claimed to have dated both Superboy and I" At this point both Scarlet and Red Robin had moved and were physically holding back Robin.

"Scarlet" Batman called.

"On it" 'Voyage' "Hey Supes your boyfriend needs you" Superboy then took Robin in a hug from behind resting his chin on top of Robin's head. Her brother now willingly refraining from moving to stay in his boyfriend's arms, while Red Robin left to talk with Commissioner Gordon.

"Miss you are lucky no one was injured, and we were here to take action, your fantasies are just that. Let's go" Batman had lectured the girl who could have been switched with a statue at this point.

All the vigilantes left, and Mari sure as hell made certain Tim finished his food. In fact, he hadn't even changed out of his Red Robin uniform, so Mari guarded the door. She only left when he finished eating, knowing he could now fully react.

Mari was walking out of the elevator and into the lobby and you could practically see the change that occurred. Most of the class were huddled together, her friends were to the side along with Adrien, and Lila was practically glued to the teacher.

She spotted Alfred with Dick not far from her friends, so she decided to go over and speak with her friends.

Unfortunately, that just caused hell's gates to open as she approached, she heard. "You knew she was a liar didn't you" Alya yelled at her friends and Agreste, but Alya was specifically yelling at Agreste. That made her blood boil, so she stepped in.

"Yes, but you didn't believe me when I told you, you didn't believe them either" Mari was now standing between her friends and the blogger. "Agreste didn't want to rock the boat and how you were all treating me it is no wonder."

"Ya but she is a liar, and you are a bully" Alya retorted.

"Was I a bully. Or was that what you were told by the liar" Alya now went quiet. Of the almost four years she was in Paris there was never any proof she bullied Lila. No bruises, no destroyed items, just she said claims. "Yes, I called her out on her lies but that was all. You all were the ones who acted on her words that I bullied her with no proof and bullied me to ‘teach me a lesson'. I have more than enough evidence however, on most of this class and the liar, for cases of assault, slander, defamation of character, and destruction of property."

By now everyone in the lobby was watching this unfold. The class seemed to pale and attempted to shrink in on themselves. Lila and Mlle. Bustier seemed to try to become one with the floor. Her friends were to the side struggling to not laugh along with Dick and Chloe you traitor put down that phone.

"Miss Wayne" an employee came up to Mari seemingly afraid to get her undivided attention.

"Yes" She smiled, becoming Gotham's sunshine that everyone knew, allowing the employee and the other Gothamites to relax.

"The CEO has locked himself in his office and the Board meeting starts in three minutes" the employee fidgeted with the tablet in his hands. That snapped her into professional mode.

"Dick is the tour done?" she held out her hand to take the tablet, opened it and started going trough the documents.

"Ya"

"Go dig Tim from his office. I'll deal with the board."

"On it"

She quickly looked up to her friends "Sorry guys we should catch up later." She walked away the employee on her heels giving her more information.

A whistle was heard next to the group. "Damn I feel bad for the Board members, Mars is on a warpath and not her usual professional warpath" Dick said to Alfred.

"Reminiscent of Master Bruce even" was Alfred's response.

"She really is a Wayne"

"Master Richard"

"Yes Alfred"

"I believe it is in your best interest to retrieve Master Timothy as Miss Marinette is on a 'Warpath' as you say" Alfred barely finished as Dick began to sprint to the elevator. Alfred only sighed as he followed the eldest Wayne child, leaving very bewildered and mortified Parisians in their wake.

#dc x miraculous #dc x mlb #maribat #mlb x dc #miraculous x dc #batfam #marinette wayne #Adrien salt then sugar #ml marinette #damianette twins #damimari twins

[aster-aspera]

Just a short chapter I wrote for new year.

CW: child abandonment, homelessness

Pairings: romantic/platonic DLAMP, romantic anxceit

Happy New Year everyone, I hope you have a great day/night and I hope 2021 brings everyone better tidings <3

Masterpost

Janus ignored the urge to straighten his bowtie before walking up the small path that led to the house. As much as he wished he could make some final adjustments to his look, his hands were currently full, with flowers on one side and his cane on the other. He figured dropping either to fiddle with his bowtie would be a rather ridiculous look.

It would be fine, he told himself. It was just a small celebration at their house, it didn't matter how he looked. They loved him, they wouldn’t judge him.

And oh, those words. They loved him.

The thought made him simultaneously want to leap with happiness and run for the hills as fast as he could. It was so terrifyingly new and at the same time it felt so comfortably familiar. The phone calls that lasted way longer than they should. The bad days when all of them came over and baked him bread. The banter over the comms when he was too tired to join in on patrol. They loved him.

A raven haired head popping itself out the door distracted him from his brooding.

“Dude, are you just gonna spend the whole evening standing in our garden or are you gonna come in?” Virgil asked.

“I was just admiring the flowers,” Janus drawled.

Virgil raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

“Come in, everyone’s waiting for you.”

He stepped inside and handed Virgil the flowers.

“Aww, are those for us? How sweet,” Virgil cooed.

Janus definitely didn’t blush. “It’s polite.”

“It’s romantic,” Virgil teased.

“Virgil,” Janus sighed, trying to sound exasperated but only managing to sound fond.

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop. Come on, I need to start frying the gulab jamun.”

“You’re making gulab jamun?” Janus asked, pleasantly surprised. They were apparently a famed treat in this household.

“Yeah,” Virgil stopped when he walked into Roman.

“And now he shows up,” Virgil snarked “Here, go put these in a vase, I have dessert to attend to.” He shoved the flowers into Roman’s hands and quickly disappeared into the kitchen.

Roman beamed at Janus. 

“Hello darling,” He purred “You look absolutely stunning.”

“You are not allowed to use that nickname, it’s mine, I licensed it,” Janus protested.

“Oh, but I just love the way it flusters you, darling.” 

Janus could feel the heat creeping all the way from under his collar up to his cheeks. Roman was definitely getting back at him for all the times Janus had flustered him in costume.

“Roman, stop,” Janus sighed as he gently pushed his shoulder.

Roman just chuckled and led him into the living room, where Logan was arranging some snacks.

“Guess who arrived!” Roman announced to the entire house.

Logan looked over and smiled brightly.

“Hello Janus, you look good.”

“As do you,” Janus complimented as he walked over to shake his hand. Logan ignored the proffered hand and pulled him into a hug.

Well, okay. He hadn’t seen that one coming.

Of all four of them, Logan was the least keen on physical contact. Patton and Roman were always going in for surprise hugs and even Virgil would frequently rest his head on Janus’s shoulder. But Janus had only ever seen Logan hug his boyfriends. And that one memorable time when Janus had nearly drowned and Logan had cuddled him to keep him warm, but he really prefered not to think about that.

“Will you be joining us for patrol?” Logan asked when he pulled away.

“No, not today.” Janus lifted his cane a bit to illustrate his point.

Logan nodded understandingly. “We’ll be happy to have you on comms for tonight.”

Janus made his way into the kitchen, where Patton was sliding something into the oven as Roman bothered him.

“You can’t bake something at 1800 degrees, Roman, that’s not how baking works.” Patton sighed. He noticed Janus entering the kitchen and beamed at him.

“Dee!” Patton smiled at him. “I’m so happy you’re here. Food’s nearly ready. ”

“Why not? 10 minutes at 180 degrees equals 1 minute at 1800 degrees. That’s how math works.” Roman interjected.

“Well, it’s not how ovens work,” Virgil groaned, from where he was bent over the frying pan, a little closer to the hot oil than was probably safe.

“If you guys would just listen to me, food would be ready in a minute,” Roman sighed.

“Virgil’s right, sweetie, that’s not how ovens work,” Patton said.

Virgil stuck his tongue out.

“Very mature,” Janus laughed.

Eventually, when all the food had been baked at an acceptable temperature, they gathered around the table.

“So, does anyone have any new year’s resolutions?” Patton asked them.

“New year’s resolutions are just a festive way of lying to yourself. Nobody actually keeps them,” Janus said.

“See! He gets it,” Virgil said triumphantly.

“Come on,” Patton pleaded, “humour me.” 

Virgil sighed and rolled his eyes, but Janus could see the fondness in them.

“Well, my new year’s resolution is to take more time to read books I’ve been meaning to read. I have a whole pile of interesting paperbacks,” Logan went first.

“Of course you would choose something so nerdy,” Roman teased, “My resolution is to spend as much time as possible with you, my loves,” He swept a grand gesture over the room and Janus tried not to think about how he was somehow included in that, “and I vow to give you all the kisses and hugs you deserve.”

“Well, next year I resolve to make better bad decisions and to remember to write 2021 instead of 2020,” Patton chimed in with a bright smile, “but in all seriousness, I hope to spend more time writing next year and maybe sign up for some art classes.”

“That’s a great idea, Pat, I might join you for those,” Virgil said.

“See, now you have some new year’s resolutions too.”

“What about you, Janus?” Logan questioned.

“Well, I guess if I have to, I resolve not to kill as many people this year,” He answered sarcastically.

Patton shot him a look. “Try again.”

“Fine,” Janus sighed, “I resolve to read more books, I guess.”

“Splendid resolutions, my dear lord of the lies,” Roman praised.

“Are we going to eat now? We have to patrol in a few hours,” Virgil complained.

“As always, you really have your priorities sorted, Virgil,” Logan said teasingly.

Logan shrugged himself into his costume with precise movements and fastened the cloak at his neck.

“You know, I really don’t get the cloak. Isn’t it awfully impractical?” Janus asked him from where he was draped against the door frame.

“Maybe, but I distinctly remember it coming in handy when you nearly died of hypothermia. How would people say it? It saved you ass?” Logan answered smugly.

“That was one time, you can’t tell me you wear a ridiculous cape,”

“Cloak.”

“Whatever, because someone might fall into the harbour. How often does that even happen?”

“More than you’d think. Also, Batman wears a cloak.”

“Batman is designed by nerds who don’t even know how to throw a punch, it’s a wonder you haven’t tripped over it yet when vaulting over rooftops.”

“Unlike some people who don’t need a cloak to trip when vaulting over rooftops?” Logan asked, voice full of faux innocence.

Janus growled exasperatedly and punched his arm, in the friendly way.

“As much as I love hearing you two bicker, we do need to start patrol,” Roman interrupted.

“Bye, Dee!” Patton hugged him and gave him a quick kiss on the nose before bustling out the door. 

Roman and Logan followed in quick succession, pressing kisses to his cheek and forehead. They sauntered out of the room, leaving him reeling with the ease they had done that. 

Virgil smirked up at him from where he was sitting at the computer, looking over some police reports. 

“What?” Janus asked him.

“Nothing,” Virgil replied with a shit eating grin, “You just look awfully cute when you blush.” 

“I’m not cute,” Janus snarled.

“Whatever you say,” Virgil replied as he walked past him. He stopped for a moment, staring into Janus’s eyes. His look didn’t bode well for Janus. He placed a gentle hand on the back of Janus’s neck and then pulled him close. 

“Is this okay?” He asked, his eyes drifting to Janus’s lips.

“Very,” Janus managed, his voice a little rough.

Virgil leaned forward and pressed a soft but insistent kiss on his lips. Janus felt himself leaning into it, the sweet taste of honey and saffron overwhelming his senses.

After what felt like a mere fraction of a second, Virgil pulled away. Janus made a small noise of protest and Virgil chuckled.

“Later,” He promised, “I have to go patrol now.”

He walked out the room, leaving Janus feeling lightheaded and wondering if the others were as good at kissing as Virgil. He sincerely hoped so.

~

Patrol was surprisingly uneventful. Generally, the statistics indicated there was a rise in crime around the holiday period. New year itself was always quite a hazardous day, with the large crowd of people out at late hours and the fireworks masking any sounds that could give you away. 

Yet this year, Logan had found himself inexplicably looking out to the new year. Maybe it was the fact that a certain former villain had enthusiastically agreed to come over and celebrate.

Whatever the reason, the city had decided to grace them with a calm night and Logan sat on a rooftop ledge, watching Virgil teach Patton a back handspring on the adjoining rooftop.

“Can you do one of those?” Janus asked him over the comms as they watched Patton fall onto his back for the third time.

“They’re not too hard.”

“That doesn’t answer the question, nerd,” Roman chimed into the conversation from where he was checking out an alleyway somewhere.

“I’m sure I could manage it,” Logan sighed.

“Like Patton’s managing this one?” Virgil quipped as Patton landed on the ground once more. Logan was incredibly grateful for the shock absorbent breastplate he wore.

“I nearly got that one!” 

“Sure, pat.”

“Shit,” He heard Roman hiss through the comms.

“What?” Janus’s voice was immediately on edge and Logan heard the familiar clicking of keys, telling him Janus was probably pulling up the live feed from Roman’s mask.

“Oh,” He said.

“What’s going on?” Patton asked, righting himself from the wet rooftop.

“A kid,” Roman gasped.

Logan felt his heart clench. 

“Is he hurt?” Virgil asked.

“No, not as far as we can see, but he does look malnourished,” Janus explained.

Logan got up and quickly swung down from the rooftop, the others right behind him.

They entered the alleyway, where Roman was crouched in the corner, whispering quietly.

He looked up and gestured for them to stay back. They obliged, Patton sitting down against a wall as Virgil walked a bit further back to make sure no one would enter the small street.

Logan leant against a dumpster bin, trying not to look too threatening.

“It’s alright, we won’t hurt you. Could you just tell me your name?” Roman asked gently.

“My mom told me never to give a stranger my name,” The kid deadpanned.

Logan smiled, if the kid was quipping back, he couldn’t be in too bad a shape.

“Touché” Roman chuckled, “you can call me prince.” 

“Like the singer?” The kid asked with an audible chuckle.

“No,” Roman sighed and Logan heard Patton giggle.

“Well, you probably should have chosen a better name then.”

“Probably,” Roman said, “At least give me something I can call you, if you’re not gonna tell me your name.”

The kid thought for a moment. “Fine,” he drawled, “You can call me J.”

“Ok, well J, that corner doesn’t look all that comfortable, if you would come with us, I’m sure we could find you more suitable lodgings.”

“No!” J snapped, fear colouring his voice.

“Why not?” Roman asked, clearly taken aback.

“You’ll just stick me in the system and... they don’t want me there.” J choked up a bit and Logan saw Patton’s eyes fill with sympathy.

“No, we won’t,” Roman promised.

“Oh yeah? What’re you gonna do with me then? Nobody wants some abandoned street rat.” J sighed bitterly. Logan ached at how he seemed to have given up any hope of someone caring for him. The poor kid had clearly been through too much in his life.

“Do you really have no one left?” Roman asked.

“Do you think I’d be sleeping on the streets if someone still cared about me?”

Roman looked back at them helplessly.

“Isn’t there anywhere he could stay on short notice?” Virgil asked.

“I have people,” Janus interjected quietly.

“Dee, no!” Patton exclaimed, “we’re not going to drop some kid off with those thugs you work with.”

“Not like that,” Janus sighed and Logan could almost see him pinching the bridge of his nose, “I know someone who works for me who’s really good with kids. He and his partner have fostered kids before. I think they could help him.”

“Really? You think he’d just be okay with it if we rolled up with a kid?”

“I’d have to discuss it with him first, but I’m certain we can find a home for J, if not with this guy, we’ll definitely find someone else.”

“I could ask my moms,” Patton conceded,” I don’t think they’re up for another kid, but they might know someone who wants to take care of him.”

“And what for tonight? We can’t really show up at someone’s house and just drop him off.” Virgil said.

“Take him to our home,” Logan suggested.

“Are you crazy? That’s a huge security risk,” Virgil burst out.

“We can’t just leave him in the cold to freeze,” Patton protested.

“I have a safe house near where you are, just take him there,” Janus interjected.

“Is that settled then?” Roman asked them from where he was still crouched in the corner, the annoyance clear in his voice.

“Yeah, I think so,” Patton replied.

“Okay kid, let's get moving. We’re taking you to a safehouse near here,” Roman told him.

“Did you explain everything to him?” Logan asked, he really hadn’t heard Roman say anything.

“Of course, you guys were too busy bickering to notice.”

J still regarded them warily and Logan was vaguely worried he was going to bolt the moment they got out of the alleyway.

“Hey,” Logan said, trying not to sound too awkward, “we’re not just going to abandon you to the system. We're heroes and that means we’ll find a way to help anyone.”

J just looked up at him with an unimpressed expression. “Right.” He shouldered past Logan, heading to where Virgil was waiting.

Patton quickly caught up to them, probably because Virgil was looking at the kid like he wanted to flee to the nearest rooftop.

“So you’re really not gonna tell us your name?”

“No.”

“You guys want me to head to the safe house too?” Janus asked, ignoring their chatter.

“We’d love that,” Roman beamed, “We might even be just in time for the new year.”

They got J settled on the ratty couch in the squalid safe house. It wasn’t a terrible safe house, it was actually quite clean. It just clearly wasn’t used for much except the occasional emergency.

Janus arrived quickly, dropping a bag filled with what Logan presumed was food.

J froze when he saw Janus. “Deceit?” He asked and Logan felt his stomach plummet. Of course the kid would be afraid, they had trapped him in a small space together with the city’s most notorious crime lord. It didn’t matter that Janus had never and would never harm a child, his reputation was terrifying enough.

But inexplicably, the kid’s shoulders relaxed and he seemed moderately more at ease.

“You know, most people don’t look so at ease in my presence,” Janus said, clearly also puzzled by the reaction.

J shrugged. “You’re not that bad, you’ve helped a lot of my friends, gave them jobs and places to stay. You do more for the street kids of this city than these heroes.”

Roman gasped in mock offence. Logan shrugged. It made sense, they didn’t have the resources or connections to help kids like J, but Janus had been putting an effort into helping the worst off in their city for years. It seemed his efforts hadn’t gone as unnoticed as they had previously assumed.

Janus grinned at them, his expression smug and then grabbed something from the bag. 

“Here,” He held out a soft sweater, “this is for you, it would be a shame if we went through all the trouble of getting you here and then you died from hypothermia.”

“You could just invest in a space heater for this place,” Virgil complained.

“Sure, because this space is used so often. It definitely isn’t a waste of money to purchase heaters for all those safe houses I barely use,” Janus snarked.

J ignored their bickering and sauntered over to the window, pulling the sweater over his head.

“Hey, guys,” Patton interrupted, “I think it’s time.”

Logan looked at the time on the corner of his display. He was right, the clock told him there was only one minute left of this year.

They all gathered round the window, looking out over the city.

“To new beginnings,” Patton announced.

“To new beginnings,” They all replied. J just rolled his eyes.

Logan felt Patton clutch his arm and Janus loop an arm around his waist as bright fireworks exploded over the city skyline. He looked over at his friends, how they stood gathered together, their faces awash with the colours of the fireworks. 

And he looked at J, the young kid who was staring at the fireworks as if they were something magical, his hands tangled in the sleeves of his sweater. 

Logan promised himself he would do everything to get him a good home, he deserved so much more than the world had given him.

New beginnings, it was a fitting sentiment.

#janus sanders #ts janus #virgil sanders #ts virgil #sander sides #logan sanders #ts logan #patton sanders #ts patton #roman sanders #ts roman #sanders sides fic #dlamp #ts dlamp #romantic dlamp #anxceit #virgil/janus #superhero au #ts superhero au #my writing #uhhh #i feel like i forgot to tag something #tell me if i did

[jinmukangwrites]

Whumptober Day 30

Ignoring an Injury

Ao3

For @fidothefinch, I really hope you don't mind how fluffy this one got.... This one gave me a lot of feelings about Dick and Damian.

Summary: Damian get's injured on patrol, and out of fear of being sent away, he says nothing.

-o-o-o-o-

The Batmobile came screeching to a halt inside the cave, and Damian did not waste a single second jumping out of the car and stalking to the changing rooms; his cape carefully placed over his shoulders and his hood pulled up to make it seem that he’s as grumpy as he looks.

He’s not grumpy. Not right now. But Grayson doesn’t need to know that. Damian just needs him to believe it for the moment.

“Damian, you did good out there,” Grayson calls, but Damian ignores him, biting the inside of his mouth. He’s sure if he turns around, he’ll see Grayson wearing a hurt face beneath his pulled down Batman cowl. Damian doesn’t care.

He shoves himself past the butler who’s holding two steaming cups of calming tea, something he normally looks forward to at the end of a patrol, but right now must be ignored. The second he vanishes into the changing rooms, he releases a shaky breath and locks the door behind him. He waits until Grayson begins to whisper worries to the butler, things about how he thought Damian was in a good mood tonight and sometimes he’s not sure how to read Damian...

Which is fine. Damian doesn’t be read tonight.

It makes it easier to shrug off his cape and look at his side, where his red tunic is stained a darker shade of the same color. He brings his fingers to his side and pokes his fingers through the hole in the fabric, wincing at how the stab wound in his stomach smarts angrily and dribbles a few streams of blood down towards his pelvis.

He winces and brings his hands away, wiping his gloves off on his tunic. Stupid. Pathetic. Reckless. Rash. He’s normally better than this. The thought that this wound was delivered by a druggie made his toes curl in shame. He was only trying to take the drugs away. He didn’t see the small switch blade until it was in his stomach.

It’s a good thing it hasn’t hit anything important. Damian can tell.

He’s learned to be able to tell from a young age.

He exhales as quietly as he can through his nose before looking around the changing room for his clothes. Thankfully, the change of clothes are all loose fitting and warm. Sweats, a long sleeved shirt, and a hoodie that he slips over his head with minimal breaks in between to force himself to ignore the pain in his side. 

He takes a deep breath, fixes his clothes, then stuffs his Robin tunic under his baggy sweater. 

It presses against his wound, which hurts, but it will be hidden so he can retreat upstairs with minimal questions. .

With a final, encouraging inhale, Damain exits the changing booth and makes a bee-line towards the manor stairs. Grayson seems to be inside his own changing room, and the Butler is simply standing by the computer giving Damian his normal narrowed eyes.

He’s not stopped leaving the cave, and he’s not stopped in his fast walk through the manor. He keeps his breaths even and he forces himself to ignore the stretching of his abdomin as he rushes upstairs. Eventually, he finds himself in his room, biting his lips to push through the pain. He locks his door behind him then kneels down by his bead to pull loose a single floorboard. He pulls out a small first aid kit filled with things he’s slowly stolen from the medical room in the cave over the few months he’s been here and then settles down on the floor. He slips off the hoodie and the shirt before digging through the first aid kit, bringing out a curved needle already attached to a long length of thread.

His stitches are perfect. When he wraps bandages around his belly, they’re perfect as well. It doesn’t take long at all before he’s stuffing the kit back under his bed and wiping specks of blood from the floor. As he’s forcing himself to breathe through slipping on his shirt, he hears a pair of footsteps approach outside his door.

Ignoring how badly his stomach aches, he runs to the door, unlocks it, then jumps into his bed. The door opens when he settles with the comforter over his head, his back towards the door and his face turned at the wall.

He recognizes Grayson’s breathing. Damian bites his lip raw until he hears a sigh and the door closes once again.

Damian then immediately goes boneless under his bed covers. With a single hand placed against his side, Damian closes his eyes, and meditates until he forces his aching body to fall asleep.

-o-o-o-o-

Ignoring the stab wound in his side for the entirety of the next day is a difficult feat to do. Luckily, Damian manages. It’s a weekend day, and Grayson has unavoidable meetings with Lucius Fox and the rest of the Wayne Enterprises board. So really, as long as Damian stays out of the way of the butler and doesn’t make any sudden movements, Damian will be fine. He’s even managed to sneak into the medicine cabinet and take some painkillers without anyone catching him.

Really, the closest he got to anyone finding out was just in the morning when Grayson wrapped him in a goodbye hug. Damian barely contained his flinch but redirected it into simply struggling out of the embrace. Grayson gave him a concerned look, but didn’t ask, perhaps just chalking it up Damian simply not wanting to be touched today. 

Not that Damian ever wants to be touched... especially if that touching is as useless as a hug.

By the time the sun is beginning to set and Grayson returns home haggard and wearing deep, black bags under his eyes, Damian has almost hyped himself up enough to not dread patrol.

It takes all of his strength to hide his relief when Grayson mentions being too tired to patrol tonight. Damian pretends to argue, and then retires to bed.

He sags against his bedroom door when it clicks behind him. His stomach still hurts badly, but at least he will not be forced to jump around and pretend everything is normal tonight, so he won't reopen his stitches. Besides… he hasn’t had time to clean and fix his tunic yet. He takes a few deep breaths, then wobbles over to his bed to once again pull out the first aid kit. He brings it to the bathroom his bedroom is connected to and then stands in the mirror as he slowly works his shirt up and off his sore body. His bandages... do not look good. There’s a weird stain where his wound is.

Apprehension settles in his gut as he slowly begins to unwind the bandages.

Soon enough, he’s staring in the mirror at his wound. The stitches look irritated, and his skin looks red. Near the sewed up seam of his wound, there’s little beads of almost transparent yellow liquid. 

Infection. How... how has that happened? He’s been careful today...

He looks at the festering stab wound and bites his lip, trying to remember what to do if you ever get an infected wound such as this.

It would be helpful if he could sneak down to the cave and grab some of that ointment the butler likes to use... except Grayson has an alarm on the grandfather clock, and the second Damian goes down there without permission Grayson will know. 

He can’t let Grayson know... Damian isn’t weak. He can’t let Grayson see his foolish mistake of an injury. 

He turns on the tap and wets his fingers, he then runs the water over the wound until he’s about to blink out tears from the pain. He pats the wound dry with a clean towel, then takes a deep breath and wraps his wound once again before he slips the shirt back over his head with close to laborious effort. Once he exits the bathroom and he’s close to crawling into bed, there's a soft knocking on his bedroom door. He sighs, wipes his cheeks to make sure no tears have fallen, then straightens his posture.

He opens the door to find Grayson standing sheepishly on the other side. 

“What is it?” Damian inquires with disinterest. Perhaps if he acts not in the mood for conversation, Grayson will leave sooner. 

Grayson smiles, and Damian glares. “Hey, kiddo,” Grayson greets, his voice deeper than what it normally is. He’s exhausted, Damian can tell. Not that Damian cares... “Alfred was just telling me that he was cleaning the uniforms, and your tunic’s missing. Any idea where it could have gone?”

Damian makes sure to keep his face straight. “Perhaps the servant just misplaced it.”

Grayson’s eyebrows lower slightly. “Dames...”

“I’m tired, Grayson. I do not know where the butler has misplaced my tunic, but I expect it to be found soon. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to retire to bed.”

Grayson opens his mouth to perhaps argue, but Damian doesn’t allow him to. He shuts the door, locks it, takes a deep breath and then stumbles like a dead man to his bed. He can almost imagine Grayson standing outside his door, a worried frown on his young face, fist lifted to knock on the barrier separating them.

However, he can also imagine Grayson sighing and shaking his head; lowering his fist and walking away.

Damian doesn’t get much sleep that night. In fact, by the time he finally falls into something that can be mistaken as sleep, the last set of numbers he remembers being illuminated on his phone’s screen is 03:46. When he wakes up, it reads 05:23, and Damian feels like he’s tussled with the embodiment of death itself while he was in the laughable excuse of slumber.

His body is hot. Too hot. His brain is woozy and when he just barely manages to stumble to the bathroom, he finds his wound looking more awful than ever. He frowns, tries to wipe more water on it, but stops when the pain becomes too great. He just barely manages to rewrap the wound and crawl back into his bed.

It’s Sunday. Perhaps Grayson and the butler will leave him alone today and not notice.

A few hours pass, and his door ultimately has a fist politely knocking for entrance. Damain thinks that if he ignores it and pretends to be asleep, the intruder will just go away. Unfortunately, his hopes are squandered when the door opens anyway, and Grayson’s soft voice calls his name.

“Damian? You up?”

Damian bites his lip, glad that he’s at least facing the wall again.

He listens to the footsteps that trek across his floor, and he resists a flinch when a hand falls on his shoulder. 

“Dami, hey,” Grayson coos, like a worried hen. Damian scowls then opens his eyes before Grayson can begin shaking him. 

“What is it?” He demands, turning to glare at Grayson.

Grayson’s eyes widen, and Damian realizes his mistake too late. 

“Woah, kid,” Grayson breathes, and Damian can’t help but flinch when Grayson wraps his hand around Damian’s forehead.

There’s a scowl on Grayson’s face when he feels how warm his temperature must be. So, instead of dealing with Grayson’s worry, he smacks his hand away and shifts so his back is towards him. His entire stomach protests at the movement, but he has hope that he can get out of this without Grayson realizing anything. 

“Tt, I’m fine.”

“Oh no you’re not,” Grayson argues, and Damian immediately knows his hopes and plans are out the window. “You obviously have a fever... Are you feeling sick? Throw up? Diarrhea?”

Damian frowns. Then sighs. He might as well just rip the metaphorical bandaid off. “My tunic is under the bed,” he mumbles.

He listens as Grayson stills, then bends down to search under the bed. By the time Grayson comes back up, Damian is biting his lip so hard he’s afraid he might chew through the flesh. 

He can tell the exact moment Grayson finds the bloody hole in his uniform. He gasps harshly and... fearfully. Next thing Damian knows, he’s weakly struggling as Grayson rips off the comforter and tugs Damian up so he’s sitting. Fingers lift up his shirt and ghost over the bandages. 

“‘m sorry,” Damian mumbles as Grayson looks up at him with an intense worry in his eyes. It’s so odd that that look is directed at Damian. No one has ever looked at him like that before. No one ever cares about Damian that much. He swallows, feeling guilty and scared. “I think it’s infected... please don’t send me away...”

And that worry turns into shock. “Send you away? Why would you think I’d send you away?”

Damian goes to bite his lip again, but a hand curls gently under his chin and coaxes Damian to look Grayson in the eyes. 

Damian can feel those traitorous tears forming again. He takes a deep breath. “Because I’m weak. I got hit... Robin shouldn’t be weak... you shouldn’t have to worry about me getting hurt-“

And then the world blurs as Grayson tugs Damian forward into a tight embrace. It hurts Damian’s stomach. Badly. But he wraps his arms around Grayson before he can even think about how pathetic that is. Grayson’s arms are just so warm, and strong, and safe, that he can’t help it. He can’t help but feel at home in them.

Damian never quite feels at home anywhere else. 

“You don’t have to be strong, Dami,” Grayson whispers. “You can tell me when you’re hurt or scared or just feeling a little unwell. I will never send you away. Never.”

Damian chews the inside of his cheek before he nods his head. He believes Grayson. Grayson has never lied to him before. “Are you mad?”

“Just worried,” Grayson assures, “which is why I’m taking you to Leslie, and you’re gonna promise to never hide an injury from me again.”

“... okay.” 

“Good.” Grayson tightens his embrace and Damian lets out a shaky sigh. A single tear leaves his eye, but he wipes it away in Grayson’s shirt. 

Next thing Damian knows, he’s leaving Leslie Thompkins’ medical clinic already feeling a little better. Grayson has a paper in his hands for a prescription of antibiotics, and a plan to head to the nearest Walgreens and then the nearest restaurant that makes acceptable ice cream shakes.

By the time they head back to the manor, Damian is practically asleep on his feet. But Grayson doesn’t let him retreat to his bed just yet. Instead, he scoops Damian up into his arms and carries him to the living room where he turns on the TV and inserts a colorful looking disk that must have some sort of sort of childish Disney or Pixar film loaded onto it.

Once Grayson grabs a blanket and collapses into the sofa, Damian knows he will be helpless but to stay here in Grayson’s arms to suffer a movie beneath his level.

“This... is the story of how I died...” the movie begins, the animated screen zooming in slowly on a tree with a wanted poster on it. 

Damian sighs, then allows himself to curl into Grayson’s side. The movie begins, and admittedly it isn’t awful even if the singing is cheesy. Grayson’s arms squeeze him gently in a one armed hug, and Damian surrenders himself to a night of cuddles and Disney’s Tangled. 

He doesn’t know why he was worried. 

He falls asleep in Grayson’s arms, feeling safer and more wanted than ever

#damian wayne #dick grayson #robin #nightwing #dc #dc comics #batman comics #fic #fanfiction #jin writes #whumptober 2020 #no.30 #ignoring an injury #fluff disguised as whump #stab wounds #injury tw #stitches tw #snuggles #cuddles #hugging #dick being damis dad oop #insecurity

[army-of-mai-lovers]

Why Amon Should Have Been An Android

(spoilers for LoK and Young Justice season 1) 

If you followed my LoK liveblog at all you may have noticed that I theorized at one point or another that all four major villains of LoK (Amon, Unalaq, Zaheer, and Kuvira) were secretly robots/androids (the term I used was robot, but the more accurate term would have been android.) Now, with Unalaq it was definitely just because I found him boring, with Zaheer it was to make fun of the fact that he was an Airbending prodigy with zero training, and with Kuvira it was because it was a thing at that point for me to predict that an LoK villain was a robot (and I was kind of right that time!!) 

But with Amon? I was completely serious. We never see his face, his cause is stupid (and the perfect way for his programmers to start some trouble in Republic City), and he was able to resist bloodbending, which, if you’ll recall, requires that the victim have blood for it to work. You know who doesn’t have blood? That’s right, androids/robots. 

But there’s another reason that I sincerely thought Amon was going to be a robot (android), and it’s the reason I’m writing this. There was something naggingly familiar about LoK to me, and no, it wasn’t that it was a sequel series to ATLA. To me, LoK doesn’t really feel a lot like ATLA (barring, of course, the very poorly shoehorned in fanservice cameos of Iroh, three times, like he’s a recurring character or something.) I struggled to pinpoint exactly what it was, but in my own observations and the observations of other people that I was talking to while liveblogging, a couple key differences became clear: 

[ID: an image of Korra from the back looking out towards Republic City, which is shown to have large white skyscrapers, a bay, and numerous smaller buildings. Much of it is obscured by fog and clouds. The city is built in the middle of a sprawling bay. /End ID]

1. the setting of LoK is incredibly Americanized and Eurocentric. While ATLA displays a lot of cultural insensitivity towards the cultures it borrows from in choosing how to depict them, LoK...doesn’t really depict other cultures. Republic City to me felt very similar to how 1920s New York is typically depicted in media, and no setting in the Earth Kingdom or Water Tribe was explored enough to really explore the unique cultures of those settings. While you can tell in ATLA that bryke was somewhat interested in (a vague, exoticized, unrealistic vision of) East Asian culture, LoK is very clearly inspired by America and Europe, with very little else influencing how the setting was depicted. 

2. there are no “unimportant” people in LoK. Everybody is related to somebody we know from ATLA (or somebody from ATLA), a powerful business mogul, military, somebody high up in the government, a celebrity, and/or the Avatar. The only character I can really think of that’s an exception to this is Kai, who really does not have much of a role. (I guess you could argue that Mako is an exception but y’know...he was a famous pro-bender for a while there) You don’t just get to meet a regular person living in a village anymore. Every character in LoK has political, social, or cultural power. 

These points, put together with the technological prowess of the world of LoK (which is different season to season and sometimes even episode to episode depending on how the writers are feeling that day), made the show feel very distant from ATLA, but very, very close to another show that I have watched and loved. And that show is Young Justice. 

[ID: an image, from left to right, of Batgirl, Blue Beetle, Bumblebee, Beast Boy, Miss Martian, Nightwing, Superboy, Wondergirl, Robin, and Red Arrow in the foreground, posing together. Above them and in the background are the adult heroes, obscured in shadow. From left to right, Red Tornado, Aquaman, Martian Manhunter, Batman, Superman, the Flash, Green Arrow, and Wonder Woman. They are all against a gradient blue background. /End ID]

For those not in the know, Young Justice is a DC animated cartoon focusing on the teen sidekicks, proteges, and relatives of superheroes like Batman, Superman the Flash, Green Arrow, Aquaman, Martian Manhunter, and others banding together to form their own superhero team. YJ is set in America, vaguely, with characters residing in cities with names like Gotham City, Star City, and Central City (a naming convention that Republic City fits right into). And as is apparent from the premise, most of the characters you’ll meet in YJ are superheroes, related to superheroes, or otherwise important business moguls, celebrities, or political figures. And while the world of YJ is of course significantly more technologically advanced than that of LoK, there’s more overlap than you’d think. Besides spaceships, teleportation, smartphones, and genetic engineering, there’s really not a lot of tech that YJ seasons 1 and 2 have that LoK doesn’t. 

So you may be thinking, “ok Arthur, we get it, you’re a fucking nerd, what does this have to do with robots?” I’m glad you asked! One of the storylines of YJ focuses on the war between rival tech moguls Tio Morro and Professor Ivo, in which they build increasingly sophisticated androids. Ivo’s are pretty much just designed to kill supers, but Morro’s are expressly designed to mirror the human psyche, and desire to be a part of human society. Amon very clearly also desires a community, and does much of what he does to integrate himself into a community of nonbenders where he really doesn’t belong. Further, Morro’s androids are immune to threats that humans are not immune to because they are not made up of organic matter. For example, in season 1, episode 3, Miss Martian attempts to read Red Tornado’s mind, to no avail, because she can only read the minds of organic beings. In a similar vein, Amon was able to resist bloodbending, and while unfortunately that was not because he was an android, it would have made sense given the conventions of the cartoon android genre. I didn’t realize it at the time, but my previous YJ knowledge very much influenced the way I read that scene. The way Amon’s body was animated very much mirrored the animation of Morro’s androids trying to resist their evil creator’s programming. 

So, I’ve taken you through the what, the how, but I promised that I’d say why Amon being an android would have been better, and I plan to deliver. First, it needs be remarked that while Amon being an android wouldn’t have made much sense, it would have only made slightly less sense than the canon explanation of Amon being Tarrlok’s secret brother. In fact, I’d argue that, if handled correctly, Amon being an android could make more sense and be more impactful. Here’s how I envision it: android! Amon would be pretty similar to Red Tornado, in that he would know that he was an android and be programmed to help people. He was of course, built by Hiroshi Sato (that man designed and likely built all the Equalists’ weapons he has the range), who sees himself as a sort of father to Amon. Hiroshi tells Amon about the systemic disenfranchisement of nonbenders and how a Firebender killed his wife, and Amon, being programmed to want to help people and to desire participation in human society, decides he wants to lead a revolution against benders. However, an android can’t very well openly lead a revolution (you could add a bit in the backstory episodes about how humans don’t trust androids or something), so Hiroshi and Amon come up with the story that Firebenders burned his face and hands, which is what prompted him to lead the revolution. Thus, his whole body, including his face, is covered, and his followers assume that it’s because the burns are so bad, and they follow him. In the latter half of the season, the krew would uncover Hiroshi’s involvement with the Equalists, but Asami would be the one to realize that Amon is an android that Hiroshi built. Amon being Hiroshi’s “son” of sorts would be another element of Asami coming to terms with the evils of her family, as Amon in this case would be a machine programmed to be easily manipulated to follow Hiroshi’s cause and would consider himself her brother, and she would have to reckon what to do with both of them. The nonbenders’ cause would still be legitimate after Amon was exposed as an android (unlike it is when the literal figurehead of their movement is also antithetical to their movement) and the heroes would have to reckon with the realities of bender supremacy and the hurt it caused. Amon could even get a redemption arc and work with world leaders to make a better society for nonbenders and androids like himself (I’m sure there’s some parallel you can draw between nonbender oppression and android oppression, though I can’t think of one atm) As an added bonus, Amon wouldn’t be able to bend, so he couldn’t bloodbend Korra, which would be one less time that an LoK villain took away Korra’s bodily autonomy. Amon could even be a recurring character in the later books, because really, wouldn’t LoK have been more fun with a newly-redeemed android sidekick still learning about what the world is outside of his creator’s narrow worldview? Plus, that would give Asami more to do in books 2 and 3 than meet Varrick and participate in love triangle drama (Amon is of course replacing Varrick’s presence on the show), and getting to know and bond with Amon could be the catalyst for her visiting her father in prison in book 4. 

Remember, I didn’t claim that this would be good, I claimed that it would be better, and since the bar was on the ground with that secret brothers twist that wasn’t too hard to accomplish. tl;dr bryke are cowards, take the plunge and make him an android. 

#still don't understand why bryke cut pro bending after b1 #it was genuinely brilliant #i know amon's not a bender but i would want him to be involved in a pro bending storyline post book 1 somehow #longpost #meta #ehhhhh is this a meta tho? #genuinely kind of a stupid meta but once my brain made the republic city star city central city gotham city connection this genuinely #would not leave my brain until i made it #amon #lok #idk honestly i feel like what i wrote is actually more thematically appropriate for an atla sequel series #like found family and redemption and that junk #plus asami could potentially get an arc #if i were writing it she'd get an arc #well generally if i were writing the show asami would get an arc but also specifically with this android thing #tbh if you ask me how much of this is a joke i couldn't even tell you #it is a thing that exists and you can interpret it as a high effort joke or as sincere #it's 2020 cringe is dead

[scribble-blog]

Black Cats and Robinettes part 3!!!!

Part 1   Part 2

“No.”

Marinette eyed her brother balefully, even as she stuck another pin into the sleeve she was working on. “I don’t see how this is any of your business.”

“You’re my little sister,” Dick lamented. “I feel that it is completely my business to veto your budding love life.”

“The love life you know of,” Marinette muttered, ignoring Dick’s yelp as she stuck him with a pin. “Can you leave it be?”

“Can you leave him be?” Dick mocked her, rubbing the spot where she’d pricked him. 

“We’ve got more important things,” Marinette directed him to move, having him spin as her keen eyes watched. He did some light stretches to test the fabric, and she nodded. “Like, I don’t know, that hero Dad wants us to meet with?” 

“Hero schmero,” Dick grinned. “What are the volatile superhero politics of a different country compared to the love life of Gotham’s sunshine princess? And what are you going to have Alfred cook up to woo him tomorrow night?”

“Had it not been for the laws of this land, I would have slaughtered you,” She scowled, punching him. He just laughed in return.

———

Damian was not sitting on his bed mooning over Marinette Wayne.

No, Damian was staring out his window and mooning over Marinette Wayne. It was a small difference but it mattered, mostly because if he hadn’t been staring at the cloud cloaked sky and wondering if she had been flirting with him the rest of the day after her masterful takedown of Lila that had left the girl sobbing. She’d invited Adrien and Chloé, and him he supposed, to dine with her family the next night. She’d actually tried to include him in what could clearly have just been time for her to spend with her friends. 

What did it mean??

Staring out the window was nice, a sobering reminder that even if anything could come from this, Marinette Wayne was still the rich, beautiful, girl who was regarded as the Princess of Gotham. And he lived in Paris. 

And speaking of Paris, he caught the familiar movement of a red and a yellow suit, moving over the rooftops.

He couldn’t stop himself from standing up, a small intake of breath his only outward sign of surprise. Ladybug and Queen Bee? He watched them, spots and stripes, dart over a roof break, the streetlight filtering up and leaving them in stark definition. 

“Plagg,” Damian said, and the Kwami looked up from where he had retreated when it seemed clear that he was just going to pine over a girl for the whole evening. “Do you know why Ladybug and Queen Bee are here?”

“Why should I know that?” Plagg snacked on another piece of Camembert. Damian made a face, incredibly glad he’d started putting Camembert in double ziplock bags to keep from smelling like it constantly. “I’m your kwami, not theirs.”

“Claws out, Plagg.”

It was a simple matter to climb out of the window, and throw himself to the rooftops using the staff. 

He spotted them immediately, the familiar joking and banter that Queen Bee and Ladybug exhibited during battles easy to hear. But now, with them here, he honestly would have felt stupid if he hadn’t already known that there was magic that kept any casual comparisons from revealing their identities.

Of course, it was Adrien and Chloe. Of course it was his two friends. Out of all of the idiots in Paris, it had to be his two idiots who ran around in magical spandex fighting monsters with him.

There wasn’t any other explanation for why they would be in Gotham of all places. And if they were using the Horse Miraculous to return to Paris for akumas-

Damian scowled. And now they were going on a joy run around a city they had no business being in? If anyone else was able to make these connections like him-

“So,” a voice behind him interrupted his train of thought. “Are you just an opportunist in a cat costume trying to meddle in the Bat’s affairs? An amateur wannabe hero? Should I let Catwoman know she’s got a copycat running around Gotham?”

Damian spun. Behind him was a girl, shorter than him despite the clear platforms on the boots, dark green mask glinting in the low evening light.

“I thought capelets were out of fashion,” Damian said dumbly. The girl smirked at him.

“Well,” she shrugged, “It’s part of the Robin ensemble. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to deal with a full cape.” Her pose never faltered from battle-ready, despite her easy tone. “Now what’s a boy like you doing in a place like this?”

Damian spluttered. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” She nodded towards where Ladybug and Queen Bee had been, stepping forward, into his space. “You were following the two Parisian heroes. Don’t argue, I caught you at it. What do you want with them, catboy?”

Damian wished very desperately that his mask could keep him from blushing. Was there something wrong with him today? First Marinette Wayne, and now Robin? Batman’s partner? Why was he noticing how cute she was when he’d been pining after Marinette earlier? Was there something wrong with him?

“Well?” Robin challenged.

“I’m Chat Noir,” He started babbling. “I’m their partner too, but I didn’t know they were here in Gotham, and I’d prefer they didn’t-”

“Find out?” Robin grinned, backing away a step. “You scared they’ll be upset for the misunderstanding?”

Damian fought the urge to squirm under the blank white eyes of her mask. What to tell her? “They don’t know who I am, and I’d really rather not have to deal with revealing myself tonight.”

She leaned away, taken aback. “You don’t know who each other are? How do you get anything done?”

Damian laughed. “Honestly, we don’t. I’m thinking that’s probably why they’re here, isn’t it? To ask you and your group for help. That’s how you knew they were Parisian. They’re here to meet you.”

She finally dropped from her fighting-ready pose, tilting her head as she looked at him. “You’re pretty sharp. I wish I could trust you.”

And then she swung, and Damian jumped back automatically. She had a staff, an extendable one, and she knew how to use it. Before she could make another move, Damian swung himself out over the open street, dropping until his staff caught him, carrying him to the next rooftop over. 

“I don’t want to fight you!” He yelled back at her. He could practically see the way she rolled her eyes. Honestly, if this had happened to him back in Paris, he couldn’t say he’d be any less suspicious than she was, but it was still annoying him that she couldn’t just take his word for it.

Which meant that he had three options, he reasoned as they stood off against each other, the river of traffic between and far below them. He could try to fight her and possibly incur the wrath of the rest of Gotham’s vigilantes, which, no. He could try to run away and transform back, and give up this whole outing before making his way back to the hotel. Or he could go after Chloe and Adrien, possibly reveal himself and them to the vigilantes they were meeting with, but prove to Robin that he really wasn’t just some masked asshole making the best of the rooftops that night.

He wanted to groan as he watched her pull out a grappling gun. And he decided that sometimes, retreat really was the better part of valor.

He leapt for the next rooftop, only to have her swing in front of him. He tried to course correct, but she managed to block him, leaving him lunging for the next roof. 

He swerved the second he landed, immediately jumping again. He had super strength! It shouldn’t be hard to out distance her!

Except that whenever he thought he’d managed to get out of her sight, she’d corner him again.

Finally, he realized mid leap that she wasn’t trying to catch him. In fact, she was barey trying to chase him.

No, she was corralling him somewhere. He sprang from the edge, to another, and found out where she’d been forcing him.

“Chat?” 

“Chat?!”

Ladybug and Queen Bee were waiting there, along with two other masked individuals. Damian didn’t scowl when he heard Robin’s landing behind him, but it was a close thing.

“Oh my god,” one of the others whispered. “We have to tell Catwoman. It’s fucking genetic.”

“Shhhh,” the taller hushed. “Robin. I take it this is Chat Noir?”

“Yes,” Ladybug answered for him, green eyes burning into his. “Glad you made it, Chat.”

Ah. Okay. Damian could put off talking to them until later then. Thank god. But he turned back to Robin, one brow raised. “Good enough for you?”

“Oh,” Robin grinned, and despite being named for a bird, she looked like the cat that caught the canary. “What do you think we are? I’ve known you weren’t lying the whole time. Welcome to Gotham, Chat Noir.”

Her teasing smile made his heart stutter. He might honestly have gone a bit weak in the knees.

Gotham was trying to kill him, he realized. And it’s chosen method was flirty dark-haired girls who were out of his league and far more trouble than he thought.

TAGLIST:

@silverwhiteraven

@ash-amg  @vixen-uchiha @redscarlet95 @dramatic-squirrel @athena452 @novaloptr @bee-wrecker @constancetruggle @pr-y-sha

@thestressmademedoit @noirdots @ranger-gothamite @the-fair-maiden-of-fandom @zalladane  @mewwitch @mochegato @justafanwarrior @catcusxx @indecisive-mess-named-me @resignedcatservant @marinettepotterandplagg @myazael @mochinek0 @shizukiryuu @fancandi @fusser90 @loveswifi @gm-nasai @peachedpocky @danielslilangel @whatthefox22 @jardimazul @ladybug-182 @schrodingers25 @karategirl119 @smolplantmum @maribat-is-lifeblood @thebookwormfairy @sassakitty @area51qt @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @amayakans @dast218 @myvividreams @dorkus-minimus @alexandriamw @elmokingkong @tis-i-beanbandit

#maribat #daminette #daminette role reversal #black cats and robinettes #fanfic #OH BOY DAMIAN youre really in it now huh #the other two are Tim and Dick jsyk #back in the hotel room after... #Adrien: what the FUCK is Chat doing here #Chloe: oh no I've known Damian was Chat Noir almost as long as I knew you were Ladybug #Adrien: WHAT

[bigfan-fanfic]

Now I Get It (Batboys + Batman x Male Reader)

Requested for anonymous for “ If this hasn’t been done yet, I’d like to request the BatFam’s reaction to suddenly realising that they’re gay when they fall in love with the reader. That would be genuinely interesting! ”

Bruce

For a man so smart, he’s really not too good with reading his own emotions.

But it starts when he tries to “Bruce Wayne flirt” with you for the cameras and press, and he finds he can’t do it.

Well, he can, but he finds he doesn’t want to.

He tries to examine himself to figure out why that is.

And he realizes that he wants it to be real.

So he tries to get to know you better before he begins to flirt.

And it isn’t in the “Bruce Wayne” way, but in a more sincere kind of charm.

Dick is the first to know, and Bruce is so grateful for how kind and supportive he is.

Alfred is told next, because Bruce was deathly afraid of disappointing his father-figure, and then it is announced to the family.

Then to the public, which is how the League finds out. Ollie claps him on the back and says “So, I do have a chance after all, huh?” before Dinah grabs him by the ear and pulls him away.

Dick

Gets really excitable

At first he’s confused, because he wants to know if he’s attracted to you, or he just thinks you’re an amazing friend.

Then he realizes that it’s both, and he’s really happy.

He comes out to the family, and he does cry when they’re accepting of him. He was worried that they wouldn’t be okay with it.

And then he courts you like a prince would. Sends you gifts, little heartfelt notes, smiles at you when he sees you approach

He just loves you so much

And he’s so glad that everyone’s behind him.

He becomes a big supporter of the lgbtq+ youth movement in Gotham, convincing Bruce to create safe spaces for them

Comes out publicly to show his support

and is really shy when he asks you to be his boyfriend.

Jason

Jason is unfazed.

He sees you one day and is like, “oh. So, I’m gay.”

And Roy looks over at him and is like “Uh, yeah? You’ve only been staring at my butt since forever.”

He scoffs. “don’t flatter yourself.”

But anyway, he doesn’t really act any different. In fact, he purposefully doesn’t mention your gender when he brings up bringing you to the Manor to meet his family, instead calling you his “lover”

“Hey, can I bring my lover over for dinner one of these days?”

They earn his respect when they’re respectful and polite to you and compliment Jason that he found someone nice.

Tim

He realizes that he’s in love with you late at night while looking through evidence for a case.

“Holy, crap, I’m in love with Y/N! I’m gay!”

Everyone already knew.

Tim has followed you around like a puppy for months, and gushed about you to the rest of them, and spent every free moment with you. Made every excuse to hug you, hold your books, talk to you.

Even while he was looking through the evidence, he was texting with you.

So he decides to do it.

“hey Y/N im gay” he texts.

“lol”

He starts freaking out. What does this mean???

“???”

“i know your gay. your my bf lol”

“seriously???”

Then you call him, and he realizes that you had asked him on a date, but he thought it was just a friend date. 

“Wow, Tim. Really?”

“Yeah... can I have a do-over? I can be a better boyfriend if you still want me.”

“Of course I do. ...and nope. I’m keeping this memory to tease you with.”

Tim: *sighs*

Damian

Freaks out a bit

The League of Assassins is big on bloodlines and lineage, so they’re not so big on homosexuality.

He gets a bit angry and yells at you for no good reason.

He’s not so great with the feelings

Eventually Bruce sits him down for a talk. Lets him know that he’ll be loved regardless of whom he loves.

And Damian breaks down.

He gets advice from all his brothers and then asks you on a date.

Which he is super nervous at but excited too.

Alfred (bet you weren’t expecting that, huh?)

“You’ve dropped the ball here, Pennyworth old boy.” Alfred says to himself.

He’s occasionally wondered why, over the years, he never pursued or wanted to pursue a romantic relationship.

But when he saw you, he understood. He’s been looking in the wrong place.

He considers this new information for a while before going up to you and very genteelly asking you on a date with him.

He tells Bruce very soon after.

Bruce is ecstatic for him

The boys are more concerned about him being taken away from them than him being gay.

Honestly, he’s pretty good at dating and being charming.

He adjusts to it easily.

#batfam headcanons #batman headcanons #batman x male reader #batfam x male reader #dc headcanons #headcanons

[comic-brew]

On smoldering ashes

Chapter One: Early hours of a nightmare

@whumptober2020 days 1. Waking Up Restrained | Hanging and 12. Broken Trust

Summary: Bruce Wayne has gotten vulnerable. Bruce Wayne has found love. His love and his kids are all he needs to find happiness.

Some sick concept of fate doesn’t like him being happy.

Reading Time: 25 mins (3k)

Warnings: whump, being restrained, implied nonconsensual sedation, idk what else to put but it only gets worse from here

AO3 | Next Chapter

ps: reblogs and feedback greatly appreciated uwu

***

By January, he’d told her about the night at the theater. About the alley. How he had felt like his entire world was obliterated, sinking in his parents’ blood, their eyes staring right through him with the eerie glint ot lifeless terror.

By February, he’d told her about Alfred. About how he had raised him in more ways than one. Not enough could be said about Alfred that would satisfy Bruce’s love for him.

By March, he’d told her about his children and how he was so proud of each and every one of them, how he loved them more than anything in the world. They were all the meaning he truly needed in his life. He emphasized that he didn’t know what he’d do without them. Where he’d be without them.

By April, he’d told her what he did when he lost one of them. When he lost a piece of his soul.

By May, she met the eldest son. She wore her brightest smile and noone could tell her apart from the person she painted on herself.

By June, she met the youngest son. She kept any and all comments to herself, and instead chose to admire how much the boy resembled the father.

By late July, she had gotten to see him smile. Not one of the plastic, industrialized Brucie Wayne smiles, nor a half lit smirk. The true smile of the man behind the facade carefully tailored to appease the masses. A genuine reflection of the light in his heart.

And if that wasn’t somehow insinuating that she’d been slowly let inside, by August she’d gotten to taste Alfred’s infamous cucumber sandwiches, more than once.

“I’m Batman” he whispered sincerely in her ear one night of early September, which of course she already knew. She silenced him with a kiss and told him she didn’t care. Told him that she loved him. Before he could revel in his happiness, or perhaps precisely then, the world was drowned passion.

By October she’d heard every story he had to share. Every weight he needed to let off his chest she carried, every muffled scream he expertly hid in late night conversations she was awake to listen and relieve. She even graced him with her own narratives lived through the eyes of a woman she never knew and never would. But to him, they were treasured like droplets of potable water in a desert. She had stitched together flesh and stitched together heart, carefully planting a thread that if she pulled would make him all unravel.

Oh, how she yearned to make it all unravel.

Patience she no longer needed.

The time had come for the thread to be plucked.

***

Bruce walks all around the ball room, untouched glass of champagne in hand. Fake smiles change before him and his hand has been shaken more times than he can possibly keep track of. He congratulates somebody’s kid that got into college, discusses financial partnerships with members of the elite, stroking their ego with a flattering speech about how much good their presence and financial assist has helped their oh so beautiful city of Gotham.

It all fades away so quickly, but the night’s end is nowhere in sight. The great grandfather clock is ticking away the seconds almost pensively, dully enough that Bruce thinks he could fall asleep to its rythm.

He wishes he could anyway.

Somewhen amidst the bleakness of it all Bruce finds a spare moment to glance at the moonshine washed city before him on the other side of a window. It’s a rare sight to be able to admire the lunar pathway illuminating the city skyline without thick smog clouding Gotham’s view of the night sky.

The heavy oak doors creak in indication of motion and Bruce’s head snaps towards the sound. And there, beside the mahogany entrance stands her, as beautiful as ever in her white gown hugging tightly around her waist and falling down to the ground with superfluous grace.

Bruce can’t take his eyes off her as she looks around the ballroom, politely nodding at the people of varying prominence eyeing her intently, with esteem and curiosity all the same.

This is the first time he sees her.

This is the night they meet, Bruce observes.

Cecile is edging her way towards him and his hand twitches where it’s hovering above his mildly inflated pocket. The ring sits comfortably enough encased in the same cashmere as him. Nonetheless his fingers are drawn to it like a magnet, itching to reveal it to her, dying to admire it delicately complimenting her eyes.

He’s imagined the diamond shining on her pristine fingers many times before, but of course it never shines more brightly than her smile.

Cecile greets him ever so charmingly, extending her hand. Bruce offers his to be shaken in her grasp, and even though he can trace all the lines in her palm by memory, her skin feels foreign against his.

This is the first time they meet.

The ring has yet to be purchased, it can’t be hidden in his pocket.

The night they met was months ago.

Cecile’s image falters right in front of him, but his body doesn’t seem to notice or care. He’s left smiling and making small talk with the empty ballroom.

It’s all fake, Bruce reminds his extracted self.

His self, who’s still chasing after ghosts of memories from future and past alike.

***

When he realizes that he’s been asleep, Bruce forces his eyelids open. They almost begrudgingly obey him, fluttering open drowsily as he struggles to will himself awake.

You’re in civilian clothing, he muses. His head is unpleasantly exposed to chilly air, the safety and burden of the cowl all the same isn’t enveloping his skin. Neither is his belt as he can guess. Being completely stripped off his tools and armory is never a good sign when he doesn’t know where he is.

So he tries to focus on exactly that. Finding out where he is.

First thing he sees is the soft blue glow of pixel letters on a screen. The low contrast of blue on ebony feels prickly enough to his eyes when he attempts to figure out the words. The light of each letter blends in with one another until it has formed a melange of shapeless nothings.

Bruce squints with the lingering grogginess, determined to read the inscription. After staring contemplatively at the screen for a couple of seconds he concludes that written on it’s sleek surface is the phrase ‘Please Remain Calm’.

It’s when the words are processed in his brain that he registers he has no feeling in his arms. Glancing up, he more feels than sees the chains, as if he needed to judge the situation with his eyes in the almost pitch black room to acknowledge that he’d been hanging from a rusty pipe on the rather low roof.

The batman inside him scolds him, and mocks him for his peak detective skills. Who knows what else he missed. Worlds Greatest Detective his a-

“B?” calls a voice from the shadows.

Bruce whirls around abruptly at the unforeseen sound rebounding on the walls. His rolling stomach protests by urging bile to rise all the way up to his mouth, but Bruce can’t bring himself to care. He swallows back the bitter taste without blinking.

He knows who that voice belongs to, even if it’s slightly distorted by the texture of the room.

No amount of vertigo could ever stop him from recognizing it.

From recognizing any of them.

“Jason?” his eyes search helplessly the shadows for the boy, to no avail. Of course you can’t see him. You’re not Batman now. You don’t have night vision. “You’re here too?”

“Yeah… Yeah. Wherever the fuck here is anyway. Just woke up?”

Bruce nods simply. He realizes a little late that the gesture was most likely lost amidst the darkness.

“-Yes. Just now” he adds quickly. In fact, his senses are still swimming and his stomach churning, but Jason doesn’t need to be aware of that. “What about you?”

“Been up for a bit. Enough to know that these,” Jason growls, pointedly moving around in his restraints to let Bruce hear the metal jingle, “Were probably made to hold King fucking Kong”

Bruce accepts the information with a soundless sigh. He doesn’t acknowledge defeat though, he doesn’t. He hasn’t tried anything yet. And he knows Jason is perfectly capable of evaluating the situation himself. He knows if something could be done he could have done it.

But.. he doesn’t want to know it. Kidnappings never end well for any of the people involved. Which should be promising enough for their captors’ inevitable fate, but he’s not alone in here. He wouldn’t mind enduring anything they might throw his way to acquire whatever knowledge they might be after. But he can’t let his Jason go through the same pain as him.

So he’s going to try everything again, himself.

Just perhaps.. perhaps after the gastric acids settle back down in his stomach. Yeah, he could assess the situation first. Figure out where they are. Doing so doesn’t require much movement.

At the corners of his vision sleep demands to drag him back underneath, but on the other hand his head is reeling and the urge to vomit has a strong hold over him still. He suppresses both the vertigo dancing inside his head and the blooming ache in his hanging limbs, shakes his head in a feeble attempt to pull his thoughts out of the murky haziness that lingered after his wake.

An image briefly crosses his mind, bright and vibrant, yet it fades quicker than Bruce can form an impression of its context. It whispers a few words conspiratorially to him, a few words he’s embarrassed to admit he hadn’t thought of.

“The others,” Bruce mutters under his breath.

“Hm?”

“The others,” Bruce repeats sternly. “Where are the others?”

Jason stays quiet for a bit and Bruce’s shoulders stiffen. With every passing beat he feels the pain shearing through his flesh all the more clearly.

“I don’t know” Jason admits finally. “I don’t know, I thought I was on my own before you woke up. This place doesn’t exactly have the best lighting”

Bruce has already stopped paying attention to Jason’s voice and anything else he might be saying. He’s almost frantically searching and scouring every far corner of his mind to salvage any fragments of memories sunk deep inside sleep induced mist. The dark blue words that fail to illuminate anything other than the edges of the screen and the beginning of the pipeline climbing the ceiling only further contribute to his frustration.

He needs to remember what happened. Concentrating brings blurry images to the front of his mind but a strong headache stops him from attempting to decode the puzzle his fragments of memories compose.

So he travels further back in his mind, where events are more discernible.

The last thing he remembers is being in the Manor. He assumes that’s where and when the ordeal took place. Everyone was there (aside from Kate, still abroad, and perhaps Alfred, if he could remember the time placement) because they had met Cecile for the first time-

Cecile.

Cecile, who was a civilian. And if he and Jason were snatched that easily and with no recollection of how it happened, then… if Cecile and the kids aren’t here with them..

Bruce’s ear picks up rustling of metal and his thoughts are interrupted.

“Was that you?” he whispers to Jason.

For a brief moment the young vigilante remains silent. His probable reaction can be brought to Bruce’s memory clearly as day. He doesn’t need sight to decide it’s not a good sign.

The presence of his pause is never consoling, least of all now.

“No,” he replies.

Silence.

And again sound, echoing for just half a second.

“Who the fuck is there?”

“Jay? Jay it’s me” a startled voice calls.

Duke

“It’s me, Duke.”

Bruce heaves a breath of relief, but his heart only clenches up tighter.

***

Cassandra wakes up soon after. They’re al here, together. The concentrated effort that must have been required from their captors to achieve that is daunting, making their intentions appear darker and dangerous as they sit shrouded in mist.

As soon as every last of them have opened their eyes a couple of groaning light bulbs nestled in between pipes flicker to life.

The light reveals his… affiliates’ position and dishevelled state. The sedative induced retching is only now beginning to abate, leaving the prickly sensation on his throat behind.

The last bulb to switch on illuminates the space just behind the screen which is now displaying nothing but tv static. The presence o light at last makes known the existence of a man of heavy build dressed in all black and opaque sunglasses standing proudly behind a layer of protective glass.

The bulletproof glass, if Bruce were to make an estimated guess, is attached as a window to the wall facing the bats, and them also faces the man with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

Small drawn patches of exposed skin tease Bruce’s memory, but he can’t quite figure out the exact shape of the tattoo on the man’s forearm. A quick glance at the henchman -he supposes- gets Bruce knowledge of a lump that could easily be hiding a gun, and a wire that most likely serves as part of a communications device.

He spots the slit of a sliding door to his right and past the space Jason is positioned, hanging from the second pipe. No indication of a handle.

The room large in depth, and while Tim, Damian, Cass and Stephanie are bound to the same pipeline as him, Dick, Barbara, and Duke follow right behind Jason in that order.

They can’t escape, is the bitter realization.

In no way can they reach one another as their feet hover helplessly above the ground. Heavy cuffs are holding their fists securely in place, clenched uncomfortably in the heart of the metal.

Bruce can only hope whoever the man in black works for will slip up and give them an opportunity to strike

They’re all perfectly capable of handling the situation, no matter how hard his heart is beating in his ears, all showered in concern for the young people here with him.

And the people that are not with.

Cecile was with them.

Now she isn’t.

She must be somewhere else. She’s still alive, Bruce know this. She has to be.

And he’s about to find out where.

“There was another woman with us. Where are you keeping her?” Bruce inquires, and his speech gradually deepens as he leans into Batman’s cruel, hoarse timbre.

The man doesn’t spare him a second glance. Simply standing with the poise of a statue, ever unflinching.

The provocative absence of any type of response fills Bruce with equal pique as it does dejection. Before he knows it he’s fuming and seething in powerful conniption, metal clashing against metal with the same ferocity.

Where is Cecile?!“ he yells, thrashing about in his chains. "Tell me what you bastards did to Cecile!”

The man only stares blankly back at him. Bruce shouts even louder. The blood is boiling in his veins, the cacophony of the force with which the chains clash against one another and the pipeline can almost be described as ear numbing.

“Hey B! Bruce! Calm down, okay?”

If they hurt her, he swears he will-

Bruce’s vehemence withers away when a familiar presence carefully closes the small door beside her and begins strutting her way towards the glass.

The other side of the glass.

She stops right where he can soak up the sight of her and smiles, cocking an eyebrow. A smile so far from being as beautiful as he remembers it. This smile fills Bruce with dread. Just a little too wide to be kind. More teeth are showing than they normally should.

It’s not as wide as the Joker’s- they’re never as wide as the Joker’s. But always just a little too wide.

“Well oh my! I’m flattered my absence has had such a huge impact on you, love. Truly”

All the air has been ripped out of Bruce’s lungs in an instant, and all the air his delayed breaths provide is immediately rejected.

It can’t- It can’t be.

It can’t be Cecile.

“No”

Not her. Not the woman he loves. Not the woman he’d trust with his life.

No, no, no-

Cecile regards him curiously, finding it’s the perfect time to play with her Auburn locks of hair before deciding to speak.

“Well for one, I have to give you this. It was fun, while it lasted dear” she says with amusement. Clearly enjoying ripping Bruce’s heart into a billion pieces.

Bruce feels nauseous, and this time the lingering aftereffects of whatever sort of sedative he’s been injected with have absolutely nothing to do with it. The only creature residing in his eyes is heartache as Cecile forcefully shoves her betrayal down his throat with every laugh and word.

Bruce can only find it in himself to gawk at her, thunderstruck.

She gestures towards him, barely able to hold back snickers.

“It’s just- I mean, this will surely be plenty more enjoyable than our time together, not gonna lie”

Her silver eyes’ malicious shine is unmasked, openly expressing itself. Her awful fits of laughter are as good as daggers embedded hilt deep into his chest but everything is fading with every new gash. Everything but his thoughts.

He has fallen for an illusion.

For nearly ten months, his entire life has been a lie. The foundation he built his newfound happiness on was never steady, and the first seism has arrived to shake his world apart.

Cecile is standing aside, looking particularly pleased with herself, and Bruce only wants to stop.

He only wants to cease existing.

#bruce wayne #batman #batfam #whumptober2020 #no.1 #no.12 #tw restraints #sedation #my writing #jason todd #red hood #duke thomas #batfamily #dc comics #bruce wayne x reader #only not really #original female character #whump #my fic #batman fanfiction #batfam fanfic #idk how to tag yo #broken trust #hanging #waking up restrained

[octothorpetopus]

Half-Past Midnight (Rafael Barba x Sonny Carisi)

It's 12:32 a.m. and Rafael Barba and Sonny Carisi are still awake.

A/N: okay, so technically I wrote this last December, but I never put it on tumblr so I figured I’d share it here, because I thought it was pretty good! thanks for reading, and I always read and appreciate any comments or feedback you have!

There was only one office still lit up at 1 Hogan Place this late at night. In the darkened DA’s office, it seemed to Rafael Barba as if it were the only light on in the whole of Manhattan. Laughter echoed through the empty building, a rare combination of Sonny's unrestrained, drunken giggles and his own hysterics, which sounded unfamiliar without the usual air of constraint. There was no need for constraint now, with a half-empty bottle of tequila between them, jackets, vests, and ties all discarded and littering Rafael's desk. He had his feet kicked up on his desk, not caring if Sonny could see his solar system socks.

They had been drinking for almost two hours now, sipping tequila out of coffee mugs (Rafael's custom-made #1 ADA mug, a secret Santa gift from last Christmas, and Sonny's favorite glow-in-the-dark Batman mug. It was the only mug that Rafael allowed to stay on the shelf below the coffee maker in his office), and they had been working long before that, but when Rafael suggested breaking out the tequila, Sonny had suggested that maybe they shouldn't get drunk while they worked. It didn't matter, anyway. They had reached a dead end in the case- no one more to subpoena, no more witnesses, no more evidence. They weren't going to win, and that was clear. So they drank, and they smiled, and they laughed, because what else can you do?

They were playing Never Have I Ever now, having exhausted all of their normal conversation topics (politics, the Rangers- that's it), and having played far too many rounds of ADA/defense attorney/cop Fuck, Marry, Kill, a game which, despite their best efforts, they would never be able to clear from their minds. Both of them still had all of their fingers up, and the game had just begun.

"Alright, never have I ever... had sex with a coworker." Rafael rolled his eyes and took a long sip. Sonny snorted. "Really? Who?"

"Trust me, you don't want to know." Rafael muffled a laugh at Sonny's horrified expression. "Not that it's that bad, I just don't want it to be weird the next time you see each other." Sonny's eyes widened even further. "...I'm just making it worse, aren't I?"

"Can you give me a hint, at least?" Rafael considered for a moment. He liked how easy it was to fuck with Carisi, because he could fuck with Rafael right back.

"Okay, fine. She's not a cop." Carisi visibly relaxed, then tensed.

"Wait. If she's a woman, not a cop, and I've met her, then... oh my god. Oh my god." He finished off the rest of his drink and refilled it. Then he chugged half of that, his green eyes watering.

"Hey, it's not even your turn!"

"I'm sorry, but no amount of alcohol will ever wipe the image of you and Rita Calhoun having sex out of my head!" Rafael snorted.

"I never said it was Rita." But Rafael's poker face got weak when he got drunk, and he flushed a little.

"Jesus Christ, Rafael! Was it at least before she became the enemy?"

"Yes. Mostly."

"Fuck." Sonny made a retching noise.

"You know, for a catholic boy, you've got a hell of a mouth on you."

"Fuck you." Rafael took another sip. "And it's your turn." He considered momentarily.

"Never have I ever... lost a karaoke contest." Sonny sneered and gulped tequila.

"Not all of us have Broadway-worthy musical talent, Rafael."

"Yeah, but not everyone has your ability to never, ever sing the right note, Dominick."

"Karaoke night with the whole squad was a horrible idea and I still resent you for it."

"That's just because you lost."

"Shut up." Sonny tapped his fingers on the side of the mug, a familiar action that meant he was thinking hard. "Never have I ever gotten suspended from work."

"Low blow."

"Takes one to know one."

"That doesn't even make sense in this context!" They both burst out laughing, and by the time they were done, they weren't 100% sure what they'd been laughing about in the first place. "Never have I ever been in love." Sonny stopped mid-chuckle, the amused expression on his face fading into confusion and curiosity, clearly jarred by the sudden change in mood.

"Never? Like, never?" Rafael just nodded. "I... how?"

"Don't know. It just never happened."

"Oh." That seemed to be all Sonny could say, because he repeated it. "Oh." He tried to smile, but it didn't go any further than a small curve in the corner of his mouth. "That took an unexpected turn."

"Sorry." Rafael coughed. "I'm a shitty drunk. All over the place."

"We've gotten drunk together enough times that I know this is the time I'm supposed to walk you home. Come on." Sonny stood, but Rafael didn't move. "Let's go." Rafael still didn't move, just gestured towards the window with his chin. Sonny followed his gaze and they watched snow fall onto the sidewalk below for a few minutes. It had begun to pile up, just wet enough to be icy.

"I live twenty blocks away, it's the middle of the night, and it's snowing like a Hallmark movie on Christmas. Do what you want, but I'm not going."

"What, you're just going to sleep in your office?" Rafael pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out a thick fleece blanket. "Oh," Sonny replied, his question answered.

"The armchairs by the fire are decently comfortable if you don't have back problems. You can stay, if you want." Sonny regarded Rafael oddly for a moment, somehow detached and yet curious.

"Thanks." He sat back down. Rafael's head tipped back. All of his limbs were heavy with exhaustion. They didn't talk for a bit, just drank and watched the snow fall. It was falling faster now, somewhere between a flurry and a blizzard. Every so often, Rafael sneaked a few furtive glances over at Sonny, watching the reflection of the snowfall in his eyes. He was struck with a vision of Sonny standing out in the snow, flakes catching his eyelashes, coming to rest in his hair, on his coat, drops of water trickling down his forehead as it melted. "What?" He was snapped from his thoughts by the realization that he was staring, and he had finally been caught.

"Nothing." He cleared his throat and flushed pink.

"You lied."

"Hm?" He met Sonny's eyes again.

"You lied."

"Yeah? About what?" Now Sonny blushed, but he didn't look away.

"When you said you'd never been in love. You lied."

"How would you know?"

"You've got a tell."

"I do not-"

"You look to the lower right and scratch your left ear." Rafael froze, thinking. "Trust me, you do."

"Oh."

"So, why would you lie about that?" Sonny arched an eyebrow. "You had no reason to. It was your turn to come up with the question. So you were, what, trying to convince yourself? Why?” Rafael couldn’t even tell if Sonny knew the answer. Hell, he didn’t know if he himself knew the answer. Sonny stood up again and circled the desk, sitting on the other edge so close to Rafael that Rafael could see the shallow rise and fall of his chest. “Why?” He asked again, and this time, Rafael answered. He wound his fingers tight around Sonny’s collar and pulled down. The space between them seemed infinite, but closed within seconds, and then Rafael’s lips were on Sonny’s, a position he’d imagined they would be in only in his dreams. In fact, this had happened in his dreams a hundred times in the last two years. Not always in his office, sometimes in the empty squad room or their favorite dive bar or even the secluded courthouse stairwell. And just like in his dreams, Sonny didn’t pull back. He pushed forward, leaning into Rafael, his movements intense as he slid one hand into Rafael’s hair, tangling his fingers into the gray-black mess. His other hand rested lightly on Rafael’s cheek, radiating warmth into his already warm face.

His own hands had somehow teleported to Sonny's waist, one or two fingertips brushing over bare skin where his shirt had ridden up. Sonny reached back just for a moment to yank the rest of it out, never once breaking the kiss. Rafael pulled back first, his breathing shallow and heavy.

"Are you-?"

"Yes." Sonny knew what the question was before it was even asked, and his own answer long before that. He leaned back into the kiss, this time reaching up to unbutton his own shirt, then Rafael's. They slid to the floor, gathering Rafael's soft, quilted blanket around them, not that they needed it. As cold as it was outside- and it was plenty cold, a near-blizzard- the office was bathed in a soft gold warmth as they melted into each other like snowflakes on the window pane.

"Thank you." Sonny snorted as Rafael rolled onto the floor beside him, breathless.

"For what? My d-"

"If you say your dick, I'll throw your clothes out the window."

"Okay, well, I wasn't gonna say that." Still, he quieted.

"Thank you for making me- for letting me- Christ. For wanting me, I guess." Rafael turned onto his side so that he was facing Sonny. "It means a lot. It means everything."

"Don't thank me for that. It wasn't a choice." Rafael chuckled.

"Way to make a guy feel good about himself."

"That's- shit. That's not what I meant. I meant... I would want you no matter what. I didn't choose to want you, I- I had to. It's like... it's like I'm drowning, and you're the lifeguard who's giving me mouth-to-mouth. In more ways than one, if you know what I-"

"I got it."

"But I would want you even if it were my choice. That's just who you are to me."

"Oh." Rafael brushed Sonny's cheek with an uncharacteristically tender thumb. "We should probably get dressed. I don't know what finding us like this would do to Carmen, or god forbid the DA, but I don't want to find out."

"Right." Sonny stood and offered Rafael a hand. "So, do you remember which clothes are yours and which are mine?"

Carmen did find them the next morning, although they were both very much dressed. She found them asleep in Rafael's twin armchairs, pushed together so that the blanket could be draped over both of them. Sonny's head was resting on Rafael's shoulder, and their hands were interlocked in a vice grip. They looked rather peaceful. Rather than wake them, she just adjusted the blanket, closed the blinds, and shut the door, allowing them a few more moments of peace and quiet.

The snow outside stopped falling.

The storm was over.

#barisi #svu #law and order: svu #rafael barba #barba #sonny carisi #carisi #svu fic #svu fanfiction #svu fandom #barisi fanfic #barisi fic

[rosecorcoranwrites]

Heroes and Villains are Not the Same

That's right, I hold the controversial opinion that heroes and villains are, in fact, not the same thing. Crazy, I know, but I stand by it. Let's step back a bit. Recently, I've come across a few writers and commentators saying something along the lines of "who the hero or villain is depends on who's telling the story". This sounds provocative, I guess, but it disregards a lot of standard terminology surrounding storytelling

Let’s talk about four types of character.

First, you have your protagonist and antagonist. The protagonist, obviously, is the main character. The antagonist is the character who works against the main character. Wikipedia puts it rather eloquently: "The protagonist is at the center of the story, makes the key decisions, and experiences the consequences of those decisions. The protagonist is the primary agent propelling the story forward, and is often the character who faces the most significant obstacles," while "an antagonist is a character in a story who is presented as the chief foe of the protagonist".

It is true that who the protagonist and the antagonist are depends on who’s telling the story. If Les Miserables were from Javert's perspective, then Valjean and all the revolutionaries would be antagonists. If there were a book series starring Draco Malfoy and his two cronies, then Harry, Ron, and Hermione would be the antagonists. And, yes, in these two instances, I think you could call Javert and Draco heroes; the first has a classic Greek heroic flaw, while the second goes through a long redemption arc.

Let's look at another example. If L were telling the story of Death Note, he would be the protagonist. And yes, the hero. Unlike in the other examples, he already was the hero. If you're unfamiliar with Death Note, it features a high school student, Light Yagami, who obtains the book of a Grim Reaper. If you write the name of an individual in that notebook, that person will die. Light, deciding to rid the world of horrible criminals, goes to town with it. But lest the audience see him as some tragic hero who goes down a dark path, it's made clear early on that he has a god complex—assuming the name "Kira"/"Killer"—and is willing to murder anyone who gets in his way, including the famous detective, L, who has been brought on to catch Kira. L is the antagonist to Light's protagonist, specifically, his villain protagonist.

That's why the idea that the villain and the hero are just the same thing from different perspectives is so confusing to me. We have villain protagonists. That is the other perspective. Though I feel like the insistence on heroes and villains being the same stems from our relativist culture, I think it also comes from a misunderstanding of what "hero" and "villain" mean.

A hero is a character who, generally speaking, struggles with some flaw or conflict. Their main arc deals with either overcoming this conflict or eventually capitulating to it. Greek tragedies are built around a "heroic flaw" that undoes the hero no matter how much they struggle against it. Modern superhero stories do the opposite, where the hero fights against internal vices or external foes, eventually winning the day, proving that virtue wins out over vice.

And that is the important thing about heroes: virtue. Whether or not a hero follows the path of virtue to its conclusion or ends up failing and falling off it at the end, they are at least seeking it. They are trying to be good. This is why you can essentially say that a hero is the Good Guy. The Good Guy might fail at the end, but that doesn't mean he wasn't trying his hardest until that point.

What makes a hero different from a villain? Well, obviously, the villain is the Bad Guy. No, really. A villain is "a character whose evil actions or motives are important to the plot", “a cruelly malicious person who is involved in or devoted to wickedness or crime; scoundrel; or a character in a play, novel, or the like, who constitutes an important evil agency in the plot". While a hero concerns himself with trying to lead a virtuous life, even if they fail, the villain doesn't. Maybe they actively pursue selfish and evil ends. Maybe they just don't care. Maybe they do think they're the hero (a popular idea in writing circles that will get its own blog post later), but are willing to do evil actions to achieve those good ends. The point is, while the hero pursues the good, a villain pursues evil.

So, with these as our criteria, let's look at a recent example: the 2019 film, Joker. Is this protagonist a hero or a villain?

I'll go ahead and say spoilers, but I actually don't think spoilers matter for this movie. I watched about two dozen reviews of the film before seeing it myself—to see if it would be too intense for me—so I knew every plot point going in. It was still amazing! The way those plot points were presented made them intriguing and fresh. Nevertheless, if you want no spoilers, I would bow out now.

Joker is the story of a man beaten down by society and circumstance. Arthur Fleck, as he is named at the beginning of the story, is a mentally ill man working a low-paying job at a clown-for-hire agency. His life is pretty awful: he gets beat up by teenagers, his coworkers don't respect him and even fear him due to his illness, he lives in a somewhat shabby apartment with his elderly mother, his therapist doesn't listen to him, and so on. All this pressure and anxiety finally come to a head when three jerk businessmen on a subway start assaulting Arthur while he is still in his clown costume. He shoots two of them in self-defense, then runs down the final one and shoots him in the heat of the moment.

Due to the swirling unrest in the city—there's a garbage strike going on, the social service budget has been cut, businesses are closing down, and so on—this nameless clown striking out against three rich men starts a movement. The unhappy masses don clown masks. Then they start protesting. Then they start rioting. While all this is happening, Arthur soaks it in. Though he states that he’s not political and doesn't believe in anything, he clearly likes seeing people imitate his look. He likes seeing the story of the killings in the news.

Eventually, through several more dark turns in the plot, he learns that his mother has lied to him about who his father is (maybe? The story kind of suggests that maybe his birth certificate is forged? And there's the writing on the back of that photograph? I don't know...), and that she allowed him to be mercilessly abused as a child. He makes a speech here, about how he has never in his life been happy, but that he realizes his life is not a tragedy, but a comedy. Then he smothers his mother with a pillow.

This is truly the moment he throws away "Arthur Fleck" and becomes the Joker, underlined by him dyeing his hair green and donning an orange and purple three-piece suit. He kills again, on television nonetheless, then basks in the rioting and burning he has caused. He thinks it's funny. Now, we not only have Arthur Fleck turned into the iconic Joker, but we have the city turned from an admittedly grimy and unjust place into the mask-clad-murderer infested burning hell hole that is the Gotham we know.

So, is the Joker a hero or a villain? Does it matter how you look at it?

One of the reasons this movie was so popular—aside from being about the most famous comic book villain ever—was that different sides could see what they wanted in it. Those in favor of movements like Antifa could point out the economic injustice that led to the riots; the movie makes no attempt to hide how unjust the society in Gotham is. People who see such movements as dangerous can say that, even if there were reasons for the protesting, at the end of the movie innocent people were murdered and the city is literally on fire, which the film also presents as a pretty bad thing. Maybe if Arthur was helped to get proper medication and counseling, he wouldn't have felt so hopeless, and thus wouldn't have become the Joker. True. Maybe if Thomas Wayne or child protective services had stepped in—since they both apparently knew Arthur was being abused as a child—and removed him from his mother, his life would have had a totally different trajectory. Yep.

No matter what particular political message you want to take from it, the fact is that Joker, the movie, is about the failure of society to address wrongs and about the chaos that comes when no one does anything about it. Remember, at this time in Gotham, there is no masked vigilante looking out for the little guy. Not yet, at least.

It's also a movie about one of the most iconic villains ever. The fact is, Arthur does not care about starting a movement. He likes that he did, because at least people are noticing him, but he doesn't care. He doesn't care that people are rioting and that the city is on fire, but he likes that the rioters look up to him. He doesn't care that he killed three businessmen on a train, or smothered his mother, or hacked up a colleague and got covered in the guy's blood, or that he shot a talk show host on live TV, or murdered his doctor at the end of the movie, because he liked doing it.

Yes, he does have a motive beyond that: revenge, for being lied to, or made to take the fall, or for being made fun of. As he says: What do you get when you cross a mentally ill loner with a system that treats him like garbage? You get what you deserve. He has a point, and he's bitter, but he also really likes killing people. Throughout the movie, he laughs uncontrollably at inappropriate times— almost always when he is nervous or uncomfortable with the situation. But what does he do after he kills? He dances. Because he likes it. He may not be happy, but he still thinks he's in a comedy.

And that is why we can say that he is not the hero of his own story nor the hero of a Batman movie where it's told from the Joker's perspective. Because as sad as Arthur Fleck's story is, he's never trying to be virtuous, he's just trying to get by. In the end, the way he chooses to get by is through murder. It's tragic, but, as he himself says, it's not a tragedy. He's not a tragic hero. He's a comic villain. The only thing that depends on who’s telling the story is whether or not you get the joke.

#joker 2019 #joker 2019 spoilers #joker movie #heroes and villains #protagonist #antagonist #hero #villain #literary analysis #movie analysis #literary commentary #movie commentary #writelr #writeblr #protagonist vs hero #hero vs protagonist #villain vs antagonist #antagonist vs villain #writing blog #relativism

[jupitermelichios]

Reasons I want to pick up Gotham and drop it right into the middle of the Marvel 616 Universe (even though I’ve never managed to make a fic with that premise actually work);

- Bruce and Tony have been friends forever, and the fact that they’re both pretty bad at this whole being friends thing hasn’t stopped them yet.

- Jen Walters thinks both Bruces are great (if deeply messed up) people, and keeps inviting them both to social events. They’ve been pretending they don’t hate another for a decade at this point, and they both care about Jen enough that they’re not planning on stopping any time soon. They spend any social engagements they both attend asking hurtful questions barely disguised as small talk, and have come worryingly close to throwing actual punches more than once, and Patsy has made it her job to run interference so Jen never finds out about this.

- Janet is so completely unlike all Kate’s other friends that she’s not sure exactly why they are friends. She’s straight, and perky, and the fact that she’s the only person who knows how to design an evening gown to Kate’s very specific tastes shouldn’t be enough to form a solid friendship on. But despite that, Janet is the one who buys Kate ice-cream and vodka after her and Rene split up, and Kate is the one who ices Janet’s black eye when Hank snaps.

- Selina says Felicia is a copycat. Felicia says Selina is yesterday’s model. They meet up once a week for mimosas so they can tell one another in person.

- Dick and Spider-Man meet when they’re both way too young to be superheroing, decide that they’re going to be best friends, and never change their minds about that. Peter knows there’s nothing he can’t tell Dick, and when Dick gets too far into his own head, Peter takes him to New York and they backflip off buildings until he stops feeling like he can’t breathe.

- Kitty Pryde and Dick should never be allowed near glitter or sequins, especially not together.  They average a costume a week each for the first two years of Nightwing’s career, and they don’t give a damn what anyone else says about wing collars and balloon sleeve because damnit they look fabulous.

- It takes a lot to shock Charles, but entirely human Barbara Gordon turning up on the mansion doorstep with a backpack of clothes hanging from the handles of her chair and asking for a job comes pretty close. He makes her their IT admin, because Danger has enough to do and God knows Hank can’t be trusted with it, and when she goes back to Gotham a year later they’re all sad to see her go.

- Barbara didn’t set out to found a team, but Laura Kinney obviously needed something to do with her time that wasn’t getting recruited onto yet another X-Men black-ops team, and no one else ever seems to know what to do with Magik, and Black Widow is just damn good at what she does, and honestly any excuse to hang out with Dazzler is a winner, and next thing she knows they’re a team, and something like a family as well.

- Robin II and Speedball vs Red Hood and Penance, a love story in three acts (and one death)

- Teddy is absolutely convinced Billy fancies Tim. Billy is convinced Teddy fancies Tim. Tim is convinced no one will or should ever love him, but by God he’s going to get these two idiots to go on a date if it kills him. (And if he’s a little bit on love with both of them, well that’s his secret).

- Tim definitely isn’t moonlighting as a sidekick, he’s only just managed to stop being a sidekick, but once you get past all the deeply weird, Moon Knight is a pretty great guy and a half decent detective, and Tim’s really on board with that whole ‘protecting the travellers by night’ thing. Plus the all-white costume he’s designed for himself looks pretty sweet.

- Steph has more than enough superheroes in her life, thank you very much, but honestly the amount the Storm-Richards are offering just for babysitting it’s got to be worth it. (Turns out Gotham-shock-proof is exactly what’s needed, and Franklin and Valeria adore her, and she adores Sue and Ben, and once she’s punched Johnny out for hitting on her they actually manage to be pretty good friends. She thinks Reed is a dick, but so does everyone else in the Baxter building so that’s okay).

- Bruce has no idea what to do with Cass, but he knows some people who might. There are plenty of Avengers who know a thing or two about teaching a kid raised as a weapon how to be a person. Natasha teaches her to set boundaries, and Echo teaches her to communicate, and Spider-Woman teaches her to have fun, and all of them attend all her ballet recitals.

- Kain has no idea why Batgirl likes him, but it’s not like he’s complaining. Cass has no idea why Kain keeps insisting he’s a terrible person, but as long as he keeps being a good guy she’s going to keep being his friend. (Aracely thinks they’re both unspeakably wonderful and makes them all friendship bracelets).

- Damian is not friends with Molly Hayes, okay? He isn’t. He’s definitely not. He’s just wearing his half of their best friends necklace and agonising over what to get her for her birthday because she’s got super strength and it would be tactically unwise to upset her. Definitely.

- Just because Luke hasn’t yet managed to persuade Riri that they should get married and have beautiful super-genius children, doesn’t mean he won’t.

- Harper’s not really much for leaving Gotham, but she has to admit this whole social justice global movement thing Viv Vision and Ultimate Spider-Man have going on is pretty cool, and after all if she doesn’t join up, who else is going to represent the unique clusterfuck of problems that is Gotham city?

- Duke isn’t really sure about this whole NuHuman thing. The Inhumans have a lot of drama going on, and also they’re an absolute monarchy which he’s really not on board with, but his DNA and Gotham’s ever-present Terrigen Fog doesn’t give him much choice in the matter. He visits New Attilan periodically for training on how to use his powers, and he gets on pretty well with Flint, and Ms Marvel is awesome, but for the most part he’s content to stay way the well out of their weird-ass politics.

- Look, Terry heard the words ‘Batman can’t be on the Guardians of the Galaxy’ and just sort of reacted on instinct. It’s not his fault he’s bad at resisting challenges.

#batfamily #avengers #crossover #birds of prey #young justice #nuhumans #titans #new warriors #batman #iron man #batwoman #wasp #catwoman #black cat #nightwing #spiderman #bruce banner #jen walters #patsy walker #shadowcat #oracle #professor x #magik #x-23 #black widow #dazzler #red hood #speedball #hulkling #wiccan

[billyboyblue]

Superbat and #20 for the writing prompts, please. 😁

Wasn’t sure if you wanted the Fluff or the Smut 20 so i flipped a coin. lol. I could always do the other if that’s the one you meant! haha.

So sorry if this isn’t smutty like at all. lol. I’ll actually continue this later with the sexy parts, promise.

Superbat~ Fuck you/ I’m up for it, if you are.

***

Clark was raised right. He was polite, always tried to be considerate of others and their feelings. Never said anything if he didn’t have anything nice to say and always helped with the dishes after dinners. That’s how his mama raised him and he was quite proud of his down home attitude. He couldn’t help his Kansas smiles and twanging lilt when he was comfortable and relaxed.

Well he was not comfortable now. He was most certainly as uncomfortable as a person could be. Bruce was practically fuming, the only tell of which was his ticking and clenching jaw, which, to the rest of the league might as well have been a neon sign spelling out Batman’s absolute lack of patience.

“The entirely of the mission rests on this reconnaissance. Perhaps sending the most inexperienced, loudest, most destructive member isn’t the brightest of ideas.” Bruce said as he continued to stare Clark down from across the table. His lips were curled into a smirk and Clark was seriously considering how hard he’d have to blow to knock him out of his chair while still seeming like an accident. a thought he immediately felt guilty over. 

Though the look in Bruce’s eye said he knew exactly what Clark was thinking anyway.

“I can hear a whisper from miles away. I think I can handle a dinner party. Gothamites don’t actually have a trademark on those do they? Seeing as it’s all the elite do in this town.” 

Diana’s smile at the head of the table was poorly hidden and Arthur’s gaze shooting back and forth between them was barely ignored. Barry’s wide eyed stare was probably what should have clued Clark in that he needed to calm the situation, but unfortunately that went completely ignored. 

and how do you expect to infiltrate the star lab systems? Or retrieve the data that the techs received from the Galwat system? If we’re dealing with intergalactic meddling on earth we need to know what they have and how they plan to use it. Do you have a complete understanding of how to hack a level seven security system? because with Victor off world we’ll need someone who can do that the old fashioned way. Or was your plan to simply punch the keyboard until it spilled the beans?” Bruce wasn’t even looking at him anymore. He had already turned to Barry, who was still wide eyed and half scared of the tension.

a tension Clark could feel in his shoulders now. That Bruce still thought of him as a muscle headed small town good boy was more than a little infuriating. Also just the tiniest bit insulting as he thought that he and Bruce had been on the up and up lately. getting along and working together well enough. It was frustrating that he’d somehow gotten knocked down a peg or two on the Batman Respect list. 

and frankly, after a year of working together you’d believe Clark would make some leeway in that respect. From Clark’s side, working wit Bruce was amazing. he was focused and supernaturally prepared for just about anything. He was organized and his detective skills were simply unparalleled. his grouchy moods were almost comforting to Clark now, if Bruce was grumpy all was well in the world. That is until recently.

Until recently Clark would have been at the top of the list for this recon. he wouldn’t have been questioned as he volunteered. Until recently Bruce would have looked at him and nodded once in agreement that Clark was the best choice for the mission. until recently, Clark had felt that the moments of trust and companionship had become more solid and sustainable between he and Bruce. Apparently he had been mistaken.

The infinitesimally short instances of something else. Of something unspoken and deeper and much hotter than the casual banter that usually filled their interactions were also snuffed out. Now when Clark’s eyes strayed down to Bruce’s lips, he more than often caught them curling in distaste. 

And now that barely simmering distaste was spilling over into League business and a heart stung Clark was over it. 

“You know what, Bruce?” Clark spoke, voice steel hard.

“Okay, everyone out!” Diana announced before he could continue. Barry was gone before she finished her sentence but Arthur made no move whatsoever to move. Until Diana bodily dragged him by his ear out of the hall half cackling,half protesting. 

“If you’re going to continue, be quick. I-”

“Shut up! You stop talking right now.” Clark interrupted, raising his voice by a piddly margin. The fact that Bruce obeyed was momentarily surprising but he continued on. “Now I don’t know what you got caught up that bat cave of yours but i’m just about tired of it. You’ve argued against me going on just about any mission in past two weeks, and you have been keeping me on watchtower duty for just as long.

“I don’t know what i did to lose your trust, or your confidence, but I’m done sitting on the sidelines hoping i say the right thing that day to get you to smile at me like before. To get you to laugh at my stupid jokes. Or  hell even to get you to roll your eyes at me. Anything that makes me visible to you,because it’s so much worse Bruce. it’s so much worse just not being seen.”

Bruce stared after the outburst. his breathing was even and his heart, Clark could hear, was steady as a drum. He’d barely reacted at all and that more than anything made Clark finally lose it. His mama forgive him.

“Fuck you, Bruce.” he turned to walk away in a huff when Bruce answered.

“I’m up for it if you are.”

Clark was frozen, back to Bruce and mind racing. he couldn’t have heard right, right? Bruce hadn’t actually propositioned him like this. Like an awkward bar pickup artist. That couldn’t be possible. He turned back around slowly and was not surprised at all to see Bruce leaning back in his chair. Calm as you please. The man was infuriating.

“Tell me you were joking.” Clark says before taking a momentous step closer.

Bruce tracked the step like hawk but simply looked up at him as he’d simply been commenting on the weather. 

“Bruce.” Clark warned as he took another carefully tracked step clooser, 

Bruce only looked him up from head to toe, eyes raking over him and pausing in the most titillating places. 

When Clark finally came to stand in the vee of Bruce’s thighs, breath coming too fast and shallow, hands awkward and hanging at his side he wished to god the man would say something else. Anything else. Anything to prove Clark wasnt about to make an ass of himself. 

But Bruce said nothing. His eyes were half lidded and his hands were curled on top of his thighs but his mouth, un-smirking, unsmiling, remained stubbornly closed. So when Clark reached out. So slowly and so carefully it was as if the air itself would shatter. 

HIs thumb traced just below Bruce’s full wet bottom lip. Bruce’s eyes razor bright and tracking his movements unbelievably close. 

He tried one last time. “Bruce, if you want me to stop, you’re going to have to say so.”

When Bruce’s eyes shined with want and his lips followed his thumb and bit down just wantonly enough to make Clark’s knees go weak he knew there was no going back. 

He hauled Bruce up by the back of the neck and inhaled his obscene groan as their lips clashed. Bruce tasted like mouth and mint and Clark couldn’t decide what he wanted to focus on most. Bruce’s hands, spread over Clark’s chest were hot and his fingers were long and strong as he pushed Clark back onto the table. 

Bruce’s smile when they separated was so light and almost carefree it stole Clark’s breath faster than the kiss did. when Bruce fell to his knees, cowl still up and cape spread out behind him Clark realized suddenly where they were again and his breath stuttered.

Big blue eyes ticked up to meet Clark’s and just as he always seemed to, it looked like Bruce knew exactly what was passing through Clark’s head, and he found it amusing. 

When he felt the hot nuzzle against his crotch, Bruce’s breath warm through the fabric of his uniform he lost it completely. he didn’t finish off but only just.

“We are not having are first time where Arthur eats corn dogs by the dozen. My quarters. Now.” Clark said, Bruce’s face in his hands, looking up like some kind of perfect fantasy. he didn’t wait for agreement; he’d told Bruce he wouldn’t be stopping for anything after all. Clark picked bruce up, threw him over one shoulder and blurred into his room. “and i’m going on that mission.”

Bruce’s laugh as he bounced off the bed was loud and free.

#superbat #manny!writes #Clark Kent #superman #bruce wayne #batman #more fluff than anything #lols #smut is incoming i promise

[tessatechaitea]

What do you think about the current state of comics right now and the people known as comicgate

My current take on the state of comics is that they cost far too much for what you get. I wouldn’t mind seeing comics go all digital but still selling physical copies of collected editions. I’m not a business person or care what happens on the business end; I’m just a customer who could live with the paradigm I just came up with in a few seconds because you asked me this question. I also think Image and other non-DC and non-Marvel publishers put out the best comics and have been doing so for years. It makes a difference when a writer knows they own the characters and stories they’re writing. You save your best shit for the stuff you know you’re going to own. Sure, as a comic fan and writer, you would love to do a Wolverine story or a Batman story or whatever. But if you’re a writer for hire, you’re just not going to expend your best ideas on that company. You’re going to save that shit for a company that lets you own your shit. As for comicsgaters, fuck them. They hide behind the fact that the general movement outside of their crappy philosophy isn’t a bad idea at all. Crowdfunded comic books is a great idea on the surface. But when you get right to it, who’s going to crowdfund the next Chris Ware or Warren Ellis? Probably nobody. Artists probably need publishers to get their names out there unless they’re fucking great at self-promotion and the Internet. But that’s not really what Comicsgate is about, no matter what they’d love everybody to believe. To quote Amanda Halley, “Fashion is not an island. It’s a response.” I know, I’m not talking about fashion. But fashion is art and art is the same way. If you read and study a lot of poetry, you begin to learn that poets don’t just spring up because they thought up a beautiful way to express the onset of spring or the decay of winter. They’re almost always responding to previous poets and their methods of writing. They’re responding to the ideas they disagreed with, making changes in method as rebellion, and expressing themselves in ways that differentiate them from the previous generation. Well, Comicsgate is a response to something they feel is wrong with comic books. Sure, it’s a lie of a response because they’ll say shit like, “We don’t want political stories! We just want apolitcal action stories with great plots! Like how comics used to be!” But if you read how comics used to be, the best ones were always “political.” And the problem with Comicsgate is that the “politics” they hate are just stories about people being compassionate and heroic. It’s easy to read a story about a hero stopping a bank robber because the reader can think, “I would never rob a bank. Get those baddies, Batman!” But when a reader reads about Starfire facing the horror of Apartheid, readers become uncomfortable and send in letters like, “Why did you make all the white people so unlikeable? I will not be reading this comic any more. You should be less political.” The problem with Comicsgaters isn’t that they want good stories told with compassion and heroism and maybe a good lot of punching; the problem is they want those stories with a white male heterosexual protagonist. And, to them, a story automatically isn’t good if you change any of their terms for a good protagonist. Yes, I know a lot of Comicsgaters will deny a lot of this. But the move away from everybody being white and male and cishet is verifiably the root of the problem with the movement. We’ve had indie comic books for decades that have told amazing stories that have absolutely been political with non-binary protagonists. Elfquest was the comic book that got me into my first local comic book store (Brian’s Books of Santa Clara, CA!). Now that was a great story and sure, maybe you could make an argument that the protagonist was a white heterosexual male. But I’m also pretty sure he fucked Skywise in the mouth more than once and practiced socialist or even communist ideologies! And Cerebus! High Society, Church & State, Jaka’s Story, Mothers & Daughters? You don’t get more political than those stories which makes them as fascinating and interesting as they are. And, yes, the letters pages of Cerebus really got fucking crazy but I’m not here to talk about that. Whatever your thoughts of Dave Sim’s life journey, he wrote an enthralling story that maybe took a bit of a wrong turn somewhere past Guys. Still, an achievement. And fuck me, I didn’t even mention Strangers in Paradise! It’s like the anti-Comicsgate comic but also a huge indie comic hit! Thinking on my list, Dave Sim, Wendy and Richard Pini, and Terry Brooks were the only artists I ever stood in line to have something signed before I started my New 52 blog.

Anyway, there are still tons of great comics being published and still tons of shitty comics being published. Just like it’s always been and I’ve been reading them since Crisis on Infinite Earths (and before that with Elfquest, of course).

[stvlti]

Joker (2019): an incel sob story, or something more?

I saw Joker (2019) today. Let’s talk about its treatment of mental illness and politics in society.

- MINOR SPOILERS BELOW -

1. Mental illness

This is a tough one to unpack. On the one hand, you could condemn it for making a spectacle and a villain out of the mentally ill. On the other hand, you could argue that because it frames the narrative from said mentally ill character's POV, it sheds light on the struggles and the alienation the mentally ill experiences more than it does Otherise him.

There's a quote in this movie - "the worst part about having mental illness is that they expect you to behave as if you don't" - and that observation is so true that it just feels like it's spoken from the viewpoint of someone actually mentally ill.

But then of course, there's something inherently problematic in the linkage between being mentally ill and being a prospective incel / loner mass murderer archetype. Not all mentally ill people are like that. Now the film itself doesn't glorify Joker's actions, so it doesn't ask you to sympathise with the crime spree he goes on - but it also doesn't condemn Joker's actions either. That means some audiences are going to leave the cinema with a capital-p Problematic takeaway. It is so easy, in arguing that this movie doesn't demonise the mentally ill, that you go too far the other end of the debate and end up excusing a criminal of his actions by blaming it on mental illness.

Ultimately, I don’t think you can reach a simple conclusion about whether this film did it right in its portrayal of mental illness. There isn’t much to go off of to begin with - the film doesn’t give us any other representations of mental illness besides Joker himself, and his mother. (And it is revealed his mother had criminal tendencies also, and was institutionalised for some time by a court order.) This is a dark, tragic film, and though it isn’t exactly anti-recovery, it never set out to explore mental health recovery because that is not its purpose. And, as I have stated, the film doesn’t pass value judgment on those with mental illness, really. To say definitively that this movie either demonises the mentally ill or that it excuses criminals with mental illness would be disingenuous. 

Plus, that take ignores the other nuances of this movie, namely...

2. Economic inequality

Mental illness as a plot device or no, the movie contextualises the birth of Joker in socioeconomic injustices, too. This movie is so conscious of the economic factor that it's thematically everywhere - from the big picture in the background (the garbage rats pandemic, the election) to the circumstances in the foreground (welfare policies that directly affect Joker's mental health). Hell, the rats epidemic is practically the first thing you learn about this storyworld in this movie (exposited in the opening news audio). And it's not just the Joker either - every character that Joker interacts with is illustrated to be shaped by the economic disparity in some way - as victims who are inconvenienced by it in their everyday lives (e.g. Zazie Beetz’s character), or as the privileged who benefit from their socioeconomic class (e.g. the three Wall Street yuppies who attack Joker on the subway). It would be unfair, in fact, to focus on mental illness as the only theme in Joker's character arc, because that's missing the intersectional look at society that this movie already presents us with.

In this sense, even though Joker (2019) is set in the 80s, it's very much a contemporary movie with contemporary themes of our times.

With that context in mind, I can imagine why some people may be afraid that this movie will leave audiences sympathising with a criminal the likes of Joker - because we are all equal victims of economic inequality, and it makes Joker seem like just that - just another victim. A human, like us. Who became Joker after "One Bad Day". But that’s hardly a new complaint; people see what they want to see, and the incels / school-shooter wannabes / what have you have had so many other movies, good movies, before this one to twist around to justify their worldview and their actions (the oft-misinterpreted Fight Club comes to mind), and Joker (2019) won’t be the last.

3. Joker and anarchy

- SPOILERS FOR “BATMAN: THE KILLING JOKE” BELOW -

I want to preface this section by stating it outright, right now: Arthur Fleck, the Joker as portrayed in this movie, is not the Joker we know from the comics or any of the movies we’ve seen before. It is most definitely not another Heath Ledger!Joker.

Sure, this movie does take from canon DC source material. It somewhat wears its Killing Joke influence on its sleeves (like the fact that Joaquin Phoenix actually says "I’ve had a bad day"). This, at first, was something I took issue with. It seemed to me, by taking from Batman: The Killing Joke but framing it as a sympathetic story, it's missing the point of The Killing Joke entirely. Because the point of The Killing Joke isn't that Joker had "one bad day" and unwittingly became the Joker. The point is that "sometimes [he] remember[s] it one way, sometimes another”, and, “if [he’s] going to have a past, [he] prefer[s] it to be multiple choice". The "One Bad Day" origin story is no more true than any other lie he's told, just a means to test and torture Commissioner Gordon with. The Killing Joke doesn't frame Joker as a victim, but as the unreliable narrator and selfish narcissist that he is. Now, Arthur Fleck is an unreliable narrator too, but the movie takes the “One Bad Day” origin as a linear story and, with it, very clearly frames him as a victim. It even has other characters directly tell him he's a selfish bastard (paraphrased), not as an a-ha! moment, but as yet another illustration of how poor Arthur Fleck leads a miserable life.

But you know what? It’s not fair to compare Joker (2019) to Batman: The Killing Joke beat for beat. These two stories serve different purposes. Joker (2019) doesn’t just repurpose the “One Bad Day” story to paint Joker as a victim; above all, Joker (2019) is an absurdist, nihilistic take on society in the likes of American Psycho dir. Mary Harron (the film, whose feminist and satirical intentions are often overlooked), it is a movie that follows a disenfranchised individual’s descent into (further) madness, and the Joker is just the vehicle with which it conducts this character study.

This is why Arthur Fleck is not like the other Jokers. He isn’t a character who gets to dictate his own path and make his mark on this world. When the comic!Joker* says, “one day, when I’m fully crazy again after all these years - watch out world - I’m comin’ back,” the text actually means it, he lives by his own rules and is unrestrained by the expectations of society and even the criminals he occasionally works with. But when Arthur Fleck declares, “this is the real me,” and tries to 'own' his insanity, the movie continues to strip him of agency. He’s swept along by the events of the bigger picture: he’s chased by 2 cops onto the subway into a crowd of protesters and accidentally escalates tensions between the people and the establishment; he makes a TV appearance not because he fought for the opportunity but because others found footage of him and already typecasted him; he stumbles into the spotlight as the figurehead for a political movement he doesn’t believe in (he doesn’t even remember when the protest is scheduled to occur). He does not play the role of a tactician or criminal mastermind, all the situations where he responds by choosing the criminal option is just happenstance, or something he commits in the spur of the moment.

Here is where you can see the clearest difference from the brand of anarchy that is oft-associated with Heath Ledger’s Joker. That Joker commands chaos and anarchy; this Joker accidentally becomes the face of anarchy. Most poignantly he claims, “I don’t really believe in [the protesters’ movement], I don’t really believe in anything.” He takes a nihilistic approach to politics and society - so nihilistic that he doesn’t even care enough to incite chaos intentionally. And yet, he ends up paraded as a symbol. Every milestone in his road to becoming Joker is incidental. This absurdist take on the character seems much closer to Black Mirror - particularly, Jamie and his nihilistic pundit persona Waldo in S2E02 “The Waldo Moment” - than it is faithful to Joker’s character in DC canon.   

(Ironically, against the backdrop of Gotham City’s descent into chaos, here is where this movie manages to still tap into the mythos of Joker as a harbinger of chaos while shying away and almost downright subverting the idea that ‘giving into his madness' is his path to claiming agency.) 

There is no empowerment here, no satisfaction to be found after Arthur Fleck becomes Joker. And this lack of closure is the biggest reason why this movie does not romanticise Joker. It does not champion Arthur Fleck, it does not celebrate him as a hero, and it most certainly does not glorify untreated mental illness.

-----

(*) I am aware that there have been 3 Jokers in the comics. I was referring to the various characterisations of Joker in-comic in general. This particular quote is taken from Batman Vol. One #451.

#dc meta #Joker (2019) #the joker #mental illness #representation #dc comics #long post #opinions no one asked for #literally why did i write this?? instead of finishing my yj sketch - or even the work i brought home from the office?? #this is 1.6k words babey #Eugenia writes meta #film talk

[iraniq]

Singularity

Barry got downstairs. Bruce had invited him, Diana and Clark for the weekend, since Louise was on a reporting duty, and Clark was a little off, he agreed. And Diana... Well she... Let's say she was free. About Barry... He had no plans in general.

# barry’s pov

I walked in the huge living room. On the... Fancy leather couch there was another boy... With an oversized hoodie, colorful pants and bare feet; eating cereal.

-        Hi...

-        Mmmm... - he mumbled chewing.

-        Tasty, ha... - he didn't made a sound, besides the chewing.

There were steps on the stairs. Melissa appeared, Bruce's daughter... Oh how lovely she was... Even with her short dark hair... Long shirt... More like a short dress... Bare feet... Oh... She is short, not that this matters … people day tall women are prettier, fee ect., but this doesn't mean she isn't living, breathing perfection... “Don’t blush dude, don’t!”

-        What the heck! - she yelled! - You are supposed to be in bed! Your stitches are still healing... – he proceed on chewing.

I was piecefuly sitting at the nearby couch, strongly pretending I am not here!

He suddenly toss the bow on the table... The milk slipped out, he got up and rolled his hoodie up.

-        Jesus ... - I could hear him chuckle, she blushed. - Why you... Uncle Al had to change the pads, and you took them off...

-        If you want me in your bed so badly, you could just tell me!

-        Ugh.... - she then acknoleged me. - Oh... Morning, Barry! - I waved at her.

-        Come on! - he pushed her in the opposite direction and they headed upstairs.

-        Why I can't have a girlfriend like her... Oh... I am hungry! - I headed to the kitchen.

*

It was afternoon already. Diana and Clark were outside at th pool. Sunbathing.

# Diana’s pov

-        I love this place! - Clark gave her the 'judging you' face. - I know, I know... But you can have some fun too... I know... There was an anniversary of your father's death... But he wouldn't want you to suffer and feel down....

-        I know... - he said. - But...

-        Besides that I am sure he will be proud you got yourself a nice life... And that one of your close friends bought your house back fromon the bank...- I made a cute face in his direction.

-        Ha Ha Ha... Keep reminding me that!

-        Come on, he is trying... - I pinched his shoulder. He finally laughed.

There was a light cough. We turned right and saw Barry.

-        Oh, hi, Barry! Ready for some swimming.

-        Damn... This thing is huge! - he squealed when he saw the pool.

I laughed, so did Clak. Barry seemed to lift all our spirits.

Melissa appeared. I felt uncomfortable... Between me an Bruce there was a... Certain tension. Not that we were something... But I felt anxious around his daughter. I know her mother was... Out of the picture, but it didn't make me feel better. Like my presence in general was stealing something.

-        Hey Melissa. - I waved at her. She turned her head at me and smiled, not a smile you made when you are pleased with someone's presence, more like a polite one. She was with her boyfriend. I had no idea how... Bruce didn't killed him by now.

-        Does your father knows you are having company? - Clark teased. I tried to make him stop talking, but he already dropped the bomb, not exactly aware of our “situation”.

-        Well ... - she started - I don't ask him who he fucks... - she looked at me - ... And he doesn't ask me. – her company laughed out loud.

-        Wow... That was...

-        Grown up people talking, Clark! - she remarked.

The boyfriend spoke.

-        What's the old man doing?

-        Testing hyper active guns... - Barry said. It was obvious he had a thing for the young missis Wayne, but was respectfylly doing his best to cover it.

-        No... If they were hyper active, he wouldn't even be there, they respond to even a slight movement...

Now I realized why the boyfriend was still alive. He was having an argument with Barry right now.

-        Come on... Leave the boy alone!

-        Mel...

-        Jack...

-        Fiiine... - he raised his hands and waved getting closer to the table where several guns were lying. He took one, and fired at Bruce. We all froze. I heared him cursing. Melissa laughed. Then her boyfriend throw the gun back to the table and toss her in the pool, jumping after her.

-        Jaaaaack … your stitches … - she yelled, before he kissed her, don’t know about her, but her boyfriend definitely noted Barry’s unfortunate attempts to hide.

*

Alfred appear with some cocktails he made for the guests.

# Clark’s pov

Barry gets super excited when someone brings him food, like a little puppy.

-        I hope these are alcoholil free.

-        Of course they are. - he smiled warmly and handed me one.

-        Uncle Alfred! - the boyfriend yelled.

The old man's hands get shaky, he quickly let the tray on Diana's hands.

The young man quickly got out of the water and headed towards Alfred, hugging him tightly, even lifting him a bit.

-        Oh... - he laughed with a teary eyes. - I haven't seen you in... So long. - he tapped his shoulder.

Melissa was smiling. I knew the Wayne family funded the orphanage, maybe Alfred adopted this boy as a child, or maybe, he was his guardian. in any cases, it was a heart warning to watch. I felt my own eyes got watery, so I looked away.

-        Uncle Al … tell him, he isn’t supposed to be in the water with the stitches.

-        Well … - Alfred was still holding the boyfriend’s hand – He is a tough guy, he will be just fine.

-        Told you! – he smiled at her.

Diana face me a glass with a colorful liquid, Barry was already half through the second huge burger.

-        Where do you put this all? - the boyfriend asked.

-        Hmpf... - Barry said.

-        Yeah... Me too. - he pet himseld. - Do I look good, uncle?

-        I think you should ask your girlfriend, Jack. - Alfred winked at Melissa.

-        How do I look, Love... Do I look bad? - he made a pointing face.

-        Disgustingly horrifying, sir!

-        You ALWAYS know what to say!

-        Yes, like the fact you are not supposed to be in the waster with …

-        I am fine! -  he pinched her cheek, and leaned to kiss her, but she licked his face instead.

-        Hhhm … I don’t know to be grossed or impressed …

Alfred looked away shaking his head.

The three of them laughed. It was definitely an inside joke, obviously Barry got it too. He almont choked on laughing.

I saw Bruce coming in the distance.

*

Melissa and Jack were... Hugging... If you call grabbing someone's ass... A hug...

# Mel’s pov

My dad was heading our way. I am sure J saw him, because he was fast to  squeeze my ass, I as a fair player, I did the same.

-        Hi, old man. - he teased my dad.

-        Ha... - he laughed awkwardly - I am still getting used to your normal hsircolor. - I am sure after this remark of his, everyone imagined Jack in crazy red-purple shades.

-        I am even growing my eyebrows back, look! - he pointed at them, I ccouldn't resist but pet one. He purred.

By the roll of my dad's eyes I got he was uncomfortable. Not that I wanted to be around him... Not because he was childish in love with Diana, but because the fact that be still treated me like a child, and Jack like a bloodthirsty pedophile, although he was only 7 yars and a month older than me.

-        How’s the cabin in the woods? - Alfred saved the silence.

-        I am getting there... It took me 3 and a half years to pick the perfect place. It's... I am getting done... Soon!

-        Ha... Your soon is million years away. – I teased.

-        Shush!

I chuckled and looked away. Barry had almost ate the plants in the vase. Diana and Clark were looking at us, styding. As I made a grymase, thy both looked away. My dad started a small talk with Clark, right after he asked Barry if everything was OK.

Barry was now the "son". The son he always wanted and never had, although for a while he was a leagal guardian of a boy – Jason. After Alfred did his official guarding of the 13 years old Jack, he was 6 when uncle Al got him; my dad took him under his wing. The brilliant genius. "Such knowledge must not be wasted!" - he loved to say. I am not smart, not evn handy, clumsy and shit is my superpower. As a child I was mad I wasn't allowed in the boys workshop. Uncle Alfred loved to say, my dad was giving Jack the love they took away from him... Unfortunately as Jack decided that 16 years old me, he was 23 and already in crime, was an amazing future wife material, my dad cut him short. Jack and Jason had agreed to voulenteer in the crime world, so they could help the one and only great hero of Gotham - Batman, to save the city... Little they knew, if it wasn't on his terms he didn't agree. Jason cut all connections with us, as I know he somtimes calles my prince... but just sometimes.

Now... My love was an object of hate, hate that coms within, the faliar of one’s parenthood. 2 years ago we had a huge fight, he purposely shot J one night, and I told him, if he had hurt J again, I would run away with him, and live in his world. My dad got a change of heart. Uncle Al was beyond happy, he could see his... Well J wasn't exactly his son, but after my dad turned super dark and depressed and pushed the world away, including us, that was a second chance for uncle to have a proper family.

I felt a pinch on my hand.

-        I am talking to you, Mel!

-        Oh... I am sorry I was thinking...

-        You can do this?

-        Don't be a dick J!

-        I... - Uncle coughed in the right moment. He had this superpower of knowing when we will say something stupid. - ... Apologize... - he said and looked at Alfred. He nod his head in approval.

-        Well I guess we all can have lunch now... - my dad started.

-        How about we test for guns?

-        Maybe later Jack...

-        Oooh... So unfair! – Jack made a pretend cry face - I let you fix my car, and now you don't let me fix your guns...

-        You already have advantage enough... - my dad looked at me, so did J and kissed me pasionatly, I can tell all looked away. – Mel is not a price, but … Fair enough. - he laughed .. his way!

Sometimes he can't help himself. After all this years... It's beyond him sometimes.

*

They all jumped in their seats. Alfred sighed with heavy heart. But Bruce was fast enough.

# Bruce pov.

-        Hey it's OK! - I signaled Diana and Clark, Barry seems to be totally in awe.

-        But... - Diana started, a little worried.

-        Yes, it's him! - I said and looked at Clark, he was calm, although our complicated past he trusted me, probably because i bought him his house back from the bank.

-        Upsy Daisy... – he giggled, but it sill came out as himself.

-        Please don't laugh again... It gives me the chills. - he frowned, but obeyed. - Yes... - I signed looking at the shocked Diana. I pinched the bridge of my nose, then rubbed my neck...

-        That's the Joker! - Barry suddenly realized what's going on and screamed.

-        Boo... - J hissed at him and Barry jumped.

-        Don't be childish! – I remarked.

-        Don't be rude! - there she was again, always taking his side.

-        Melissa...

-        Father! ... Yes, he is... Him! - she pointed at him like he was some royalty, he did a little bow, I hate how dramatic they are! - Chill he is OK, he is having some time off...

-        He lives here.... And he is her boyfriend?- Diana was still shocked,

-        We…

-        No! – he stopped her and whispered something in her year, then she chuckled and hug him. Barry was yet again wondering what's going on. Clark was already back at his seat, finishing his cocktail,

-        I think I need an alcohol one now...

-        I can make you a killer one! - J winked at him.

Clark looked at me, I nod my head, he got up and gave his glass to J. The anniversary of his father’s death hit him hard.

-       What’s your poison of choice? – he asked.

-       Surprise me!

-          But he is a bloodthirsty killer! - Diana screamed.

-        Yes, and your people did not kill every man set food on your island, just because they found it...

-        Melissa...

-        Don't Melissa me dad, I am right, also - restrain your girlfriend.

-        I am not...

-        You are!

-        ... Girlfriend... – Diana said in low voice.

-        Oooh... What a shame. - he laughed... This maniac laughter. It haunts me in my dreams too, like the things that haunts me aren't enough... - That was a black dot in your bright future! – the clown looked at me, useing my favorute remark on mysel.

Melissa poked him and he shut up.

-        One... Unhealthy alcoholic cocktail coming your way... I doubt you have a problem with this, it’s not that you can get drunk...

-        My girlfriend is on a healthy diet and I am supporting her.

-        Please... She probability got some nasty ideas form the internet... I will write you a healthy diet, not many involved alchohol, but some not exactly forbid specific ones.

Clark looked surprised, Diana was still shocked, Barry looked hungry, and... Alfred and Melissa were proud.

-        He is vegan... And is good at healthy stuff... - I shrugged, as much as i hated him, I couldn’t deny the truth.

 *

Jack was back with the cocktail, pen and paper ready for the interview.

# Alfred pov

We were all gathered around the pool. Jack brought some energy bars for Barry. And a cocktail for Clark, it smelled like poisonus alchohol mix.

I smiled, the Joker sat next to Superman, and started asking him about Louis, body structure thing, habits, daily routine, preferences on food, guilty pleasures... He wrote them all down and started calculating. I am on the same healthy diet myself. I look around 50, which is big win, as I am actually 64, Mel stopped eating meat 3 years ago, to keep up with his tempo. Bruce also, but he was hiding it. His open fatherhood wound was still bleeding.

Diana wasn't pleased, Bruce was talking to her, couple of meters away. Barry already ate the bars and was sneaking to hear their conversation.

-        Maybe you can make her some epic dinner... You travel a lot, why not gather ingredients from everywhere, it will be a blast.

-        Oh... That's an idea. - Clark smiled.

-        So... You are expert on...this? - Barry, asked.

-        Well... - he looked at Mel, she blushed - I have done it soo many times... look Melissa for example! – he pointed at her, she looks not more then 15, exactly the girls I like. – he said this out loud, for the open public of 2 in the distance. His hatred would probably never heal as well. - Aw... Why you pinched me!

The kids kept on playfuly barking at each other. Bruce somehow convinced Diana not to freak out. Barry was sitting next to J, soaking every word he said, like his life depended on this.

I was happy, all my kids were together and happy.

I remember when I first met the 6 years old Jack, hiding under the bed, with a knife, he was accused of assault on one of the other kids, it turns out he was protecting his room mate in the orphanage. I knew it right there when I saw him, he was just like Bruce, but a little more violent and an idea more brilliant.

I remember when he first met Melissa. She was 9 and he was 16. The way he looked at her. I knew this will end in love.

-        So... - Barry's voice got me out of my trans. - You are the Joker...

-        I am Jack today, I have couple of weeks off, can't you see my hair. And I also have eyebrows! - he pointed at them and Melissa tried to pet one again, but he stopped her.

-        So... You... Live here, you are kinda... Alfred's kid... And he is Batman... And you...

-        Fuck his daighter...

-        J! - she screamed.

-        What, I thought we were grown up peole...

-        God... – she exhaled.

-        He is, kinda. – J pointed at Clark, who smiled in response. – Oh, you meant the other one … Of course he is busy, otherwise you were gonna bother him all the time...

The two of them kept the scandal going....

*

After the disaster at the pool Bruce left for his room, Clak got out for a run and Barry went with Diana to help Alfred make the dinner.

# J’s pov

-        So... - obviously I had to start the conversation.

-        So?

-        You didn't answer my question.

-        Which one?

-        Did the league of shadows knows about our little charade here?

-        No.

-        Are you sure?

-        Yes I am sure J...

-        I know this must be...

-        Hard for me? ... That I thought my mother was dead and suddenly she comes and she is "Hi, I am Talia, and I am the daughter of Ra's Al Ghul, the leader of the League of Shadows... And I know you are playing this silly charade, and if you are good at it and never stop you and the city will be allowed to live...

-        I wouldn’t exactly say it like that, but yes … That was indeed nuts, but we do what we have to do...

-        Nuts... Come on... Do you know what's nuts... Jason... Was chasing himself as Robin and the Red Hood...

-        It was hilarious... - I laughed, she smiled, although she tried to hid it, but I saw.

-        At least he is happy now.

-        Yes!

-        How is he?

-        Fine, under his management there is no rape in his town of operation, the prostitution of underaged girls is also almost gone, I helped on this one! - I wikned at her. - People are frightened but definitely safer. Joker and Red Hood are unstoppable team.

-        I know, thank you Love! - she blushed.

-        Sometimes he asked how you are, how's Uncle Alfred. But just sometimes.

-        Yes... - she smiled.

-        Don't be blue, you knew he was ... Wacko from day one.

-        I know... - she came closer and sat in my lap.

-        What you say... We run away of here...

-        J...

-        Just for day or 2, I want to show you my progress on the cabbin in the woods.

-        No unexpected surprises?

-        No, I promise...

-        You sure...

-        Oh... You read me like an open book... Maybe... Just maybe a little proposal... But I haven't decided yet. - I bite her year.

-        Jack Napier... You are a horrible person!

-        You too Melissa Wayne…. Although I like the name Mrs. Napier more on you.

-        Thank you for not using my other name.

-        I can't even say it, you are named after your grandmother, and the second one means "Light".

-        Yes...

-        Do you think your dad will sneak his girlfriend in here.

-        I am sure he already did...

-        Neat...

-        Obviously we the Waynes have a thing for pedophiles... - she is so cute and hot when she is sarcastic. - ... She is probably twice his age... No 3 times, she was already an adult when the second world war happend...

-        OK... Change of subject...

-        Yes, I will run away with you in your sweet cottage in the middle of nowhere...

-        If your mother is truthful to her word and kills her father, with the help of you and me... Jason will so help us as well … One day we will be able to really go there and never come back!

-        I would love this! - she leaned closer and kissed my nose.

-        Till then we will plot.

-        We will. - she smiled.

_______________________

@diyunho @rhina988 @nikkitasevoli @sougie @itsmeauntie @echelongaga @cadeathens @fanalityfiction @cleoleto @elliegrace139 @esoltis280 @lylabell2013 @lady-grinning-soul-k @b-chocolatelover @inas-cubbins @professionally-crazed @darthjokerisyourfather @50shadesofjaredleto @thathipstaninja @marsmad @gemma60 @batsnspiderz @pandaliciouz @lostnorthofheaven @jaseminedenise @jaredsechelon09 @brightlightsfanficiton

If somoeone wants to be added or removed, let me know :)

#joker #the joker #mr. j #joker imagine #the joker imagine #mr. j imagine #joker fanfiction #the joker fanfiction #mr. j fanfiction #joker one shot #the joker one shot #bruce wayne #batman #diana prince #Wonder Woman #clark kent #superman #barry allen #the flash #Alfred Pennyworth #dc