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fractualized · 6 months

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Alright. Let's break down this "oh" of an ending. NEGATIVE NANCY, COMING THROUGH

Spoilers, ho!

Ending a story is hard, if they're long or short. Whether you wrap up key threads or leave them open, you want some kind of takeaway that puts a period on things. Even in comics, where we know these characters will go on and on, ideally a story will end in a way that just... fits. Even amateur fic writers have loads of WIPs just sitting there because exactly how to end this damn thing eludes them.

I don't know if Rosenberg had an ending in mind when he started The Man Who Stopped Laughing. I don't know if he decided he'd figure it out by the end of it's year-long run. I don't know if DC Editorial lets people do that; it sounds insane, but if you've been paying attention to their current level of editorial "oversight," which I imagine is supposed to make concurrent titles mesh together reasonably well, I wouldn't be shocked if they let people wing it. Or, more likely, perhaps DC Editorial swooped in and made Rosenberg change the ending he had planned and that's why the result falls flat.

In any case, after 11 issues of enjoying myself, I'm left feeling deflated.

But let's start where #12 does, with the Joker who's been told he's John Keyser, a toxin'd henchmen that the real Joker made into a doppelganger for funsies. He approaches a hotdog vendor.

I'm stuck on "Hello. I've been looking for you"?? I didn't catch that on my first read. Joker has a favorite hotdog vendor? lol

Shut up, Waffles!! All we have is your word for it!!

In any case, hey, Keyser Joker has already been Jokering this long, so yeah, why not keep going? And why not with help from poor woobie Jason, fresh from nearly getting himself killed in Gotham War?

Bruce did not fix Jason at the end of Gotham War, so his adrenaline is still triggering fear in his brain. But Keyser Joker has a solution for that!

It's a tiny dose of Joker toxin to take the edge off of Bruce's programming. Joker makes a point of saying that the effects are only temporary, though. (And like, I assume this is just the quick-fix solution Rosenberg came up with to pull off his own ending when told Bruce's plans for Jason over in the other titles.) Jason is skeptical of this "help," naturally, but Keyser Joker brings up their matching interest: getting rid of the other Joker.

Jason, why you gotta ruin Albert's good time? 🙄

Cut to Red Hood dragging a clown henchman through the streets of Gotham.

But "his" face being blacked out and some of the dialogue clue the reader in: things aren't what they seem.

DERAIL TIME: what is up with this batmobile?

Like from some other angles, it looks sportier, but in most of the panels it looks like an old Buick? lol ANYWAY.

With the flaily way this person jumps off the bike and runs, I was sure that this was Keyser Joker and we might see Batman interact with him. Alas.

It's Ravager, who survived last issue's explosion. She's helping Jason 1) distract Batman and 2) get Albert out of harm's way, far from Keyser Joker's plan.

Naturally Keyser Joker is planning something more destructive than he's led Jason to believe. Also like…

The idea that Keyser Joker really is this John guy, not the real deal, is still not sitting fucking right with me. Seeing him here in another costume, with a goofy death train with mismatched eyes just like his, it feels like a signal that he actually is Joker and Waffles is either lying or mistaken somehow. Like compared to the other Joker, who we haven't seen in a costume? Who left Gotham for weird reasons? I really thought there was going to be a reverse reveal.

And since it doesn't come, I guess it's a good time to mention that! There is no reverse reveal of who the real Joker is. Things get a little muddy later, but…. hrm. HRM.

That said, the other Joker does something pretty dang Jokery: he shows up in a dirigible with his face on it.

Killer Moth and a bunch of clown goons (that aren't supposed to be available because of Gotham War but WHATEVER) attach the dirigible to the train and it's pretty chaotic!

I love when villains are like, "Look I may kill people, but an endangered gorilla?! Get outta here!" 😂

Jason also arrives in style.

I guess he was observing Ravager's distraction?? Which feels like it defeats part of the purpose of having her do the distraction. But then he couldn't have this cool entrance in which he bludgeons people with a motorcycle. Trade offs!

Meanwhile, Real Joker makes it to the front of the train to confront Keyser Joker. One of Real's goons offers to shoot Keyser, but Real Joker wants to make this personal and kills the poor hench so he can do it himself.

Jason coming in like YEEEEEAAAAHHHHH 😎

Then he gets the bad news.

Keyser is as casually suicidal as your average Joker! Also "Real" Joker never acknowledges Red Hood's identity, afaik. It's always Keyser Joker. Details like this got me thinking that reverse reveal was coming, AND YET.

That aside, next comes a fun comedy beat.

Real Joker going right for the hair!

Jason isn't going to let this be the end of it, of course, and once again Killer Moth must suffer at his hands.

Jason shoots so many clowns. Just never the one he wants. 😞

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaait wait wait. You're telling me that Bruce knew about the imminent TWO JOKERS situation. But he decided to prioritize a report of Red Hood dragging a clown through the streets. When in the same breath he's saying there are other people coming to the scene with him, so he obviously could've sent someone else? On the same day Batman #139 is like "oooh Bruce is totally onto Joker now"? This is what you're telling me?? Augh.

Well, we can't rely on Batman right now, clearly, so it's up to Jason.

Meanwhile, Keyser Joker has told the other one that he actually does have a secret way off the runaway train safely. After they fight some more, the tune starts to change.

Alright so, this "deal," which would sort of start them back at square one, doesn't bother me because obviously it's on shaky-ass ground and one of them is definitely killing the other before this issue is over. What does bug me is the "franchising" line, for two reasons:

1) Is this supposed to imply that Real Joker is the one who was behind Joker Incorporated in the Batman Incorporated issues, not a third one?

2) I was just SO SURE it was another indication we were getting a reverse reveal. Joker absolutely does not love the franchising idea. That's kind of been the point of this whole series. The genuine Joker in Keyser Joker's hallucination/memory said that having two Jokers around is stupid. HRRRRMMM.

Anyhow, they leave the train together, though the escape plan is literally just jumping off, which has more issues than they bargained for.

So do you think, assuming the Gotham War writers actually communicated at least a little, that Zdarsky asked Rosenberg what he needed Jason for at the end of TMWSL, and Rosenberg was like, "oh I need him to heroically crash a toxic blimp and almost die?" And then Zdarsky was like, "er, I need him to heroically fly a plane into a magic meteor and almost die?" And then they just shrugged and closed the Zoom?

But yeah, the blimp crashes, and I'm sort of confused because I thought that earlier Bruce was saying that even if the toxin gets into the water, it'll still make it's way to the city. So for one thing, it's still exploding in the air and it's still gonna drift. And the parts that dissolve in water are still gonna drift. There's a part to the equation missing here.

But these two are just thrilled at the excitement.

Until the sudden yet inevitable betrayal.

BUT WHO WAS JOKE

Shortly after this, Ravager shows up with Manhunter, who also survived last issue's explosion. (It just doesn't come up at all. Like it doesn't have to, I guess, but it's just weird that there's not a word or wound about it.) Ravager dives into the water looking for Jason, because she instinctually knows he did something grand and dumb. She finds him among the clown bodies and brings him to shore.

Nothing can kill this man! He came back from the dead with nine lives! And also maybe that Lazarus resin from TFZ is still helping, I dunno.

Elsewhere along the shore, what's left of both Jokers' crews find themselves waiting in the same spot for the Joker they expect to be triumphant.

You know what. I'm soured on Waffles now. Leave him.

And then, from the water…

And that's it. That's how it ends. With a sort of snide cop-out?

Like, it's Joker's POV, so yeah, you could say the dickish tone is just him. But following this story for a year, and then seeing it end with simply the old "you'll never know which Joker prevailed," it doesn't feel clever or whatever this is going for. It just feels obnoxious.

Honestly, it feels like the same takeaway as freaking Three Jokers. 😐 That it doesn't matter who Joker is. All the lead-up to this, where maybe we get a tiny bit of depth and development, even if just in this story, eh. Doesn't matter! We're ending this with blah payoff.

On the other hand, the part of about about there being more questions, about this ending not being tidy, makes me think that this is leaving open the possibility that Keyser Joker actually was the real one. After all, we don't get a flashback to the actual events. The events we see are part of a hallucination, and Keyser never said he had clear memories of being the real or the fake one. He just went from assuming he was the real one to taking Waffles' word for it that he was the henchman.

Also, Keyser Joker was always the Joker giving narration. And the narration boxes for the Final Joker at the end remain in his style. So it seems like we actually have a huge indication of which Joker prevailed-- unless we're meant to assume that if the other Joker prevailed, he merely took over the narration.

I mean, this is what we have. So if I can just choose what I want to believe, I'm going to believe both that Keyser was actually the real guy and that he won. But it puts a real sour taste in my mouth to be super engaged with a story and wanting an ending that says something about Joker's character… and the ending is just that one murders the other and you don't know who, neener neener. It's anticlimactic. It's a predictable direction that I thought SURELY Rosenberg wouldn't go in. It feels like a dick move.

And... what else is there to say? So ends my year of consistently buying a comic, I guess. Nothing else has really grabbed me like TMWSL did, though City of Madness looks promising. After the multiverse and Gotham War stuff, I'm not about to start picking up Zdarsky's Batman. #139 had plenty I should enjoy, but it's soured by Zdarsky deciding to bring a canonical take to the three Jokers concept for some ungodly reason.

A new three Jokers take feels extra stupid after a year of a story about two Jokers. And the second Joker in TMWSL isn't even taken into account in Zdarsky's story. Based off that #135 scene, it really looks like he's going to say that Darwin Halliday accidentally copied TKJ Joker somehow. lmao Why. Why do we have to do this. Why can't this just be one of the things that gets retconned away. I just want my murderclown to be fun.

I need to get back to my list of unread older comics. Or read One Operation Joker! I didn't think I was interested, but I think a random goofy premise is actually just what I need.

#the man who stopped laughing #joker #spoilers #my jibber-jabber #sorry for being a downer

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liquid-luck-00 · 7 months

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Marks of Magic

Day 4 Leaves of Maribat Spooktober 2023

First *** Previous *** Next

Language and cursing is used

1540 Words

~~~~~~~~~~

She’s been at Gotham Academy for a little over a month and the seasons were starting to turn. She was sitting in Gotham Park under a giant white oak in the middle of the park.

Sure she had to deal with an odd rogue here and there but this was peaceful.

"You know you shouldn’t be alone." She looked up from her book and saw Jason standing above her.

"I haven’t been here that long." She put away the sketchbook in her bag as she got up.

"Really?" He reached above her and plucked something from her hat. "It seems you’ve been here long enough to start growing leaves, Nettie."

"I wouldn’t have if you actually got here when you said you would." She pouted at being called out, mostly because she did loose track of everything that happened around her. More than likely she was under that tree for an hour or two.

"B was being a pain, Alfred’s been watching me like a hawk, and…" He trailed off, he looked down kicking the ground.

"Jay." She grabbed his hands, they were cold but he didn’t seem to notice, pulling them up as his eyes followed the motion. "What happened?"

"It’s nothing." He grumbled looking away from her. So she grabbed his shoulder and squeeze them.

"Jason Peter Todd, Wayzz help me, for fucks sake something is bothering you so spill before I make you." She pulled him up slightly so they were eye level with each other. She was taller by a few centimeters but still.

"It’s nothing, really."

"It’s not nothing." She let him go. "You don't have to tell me, but if you want to I'll listen."

"I… not yet."

"Okay." She didn’t pry but knows her friend needs a distraction. "So why are there skeletons and spider webs going up everywhere?"

"What do you mean, it’s October."

"Yes and?" She tilted her head to the side, wondering why the month made a difference.

"Halloween!"

"What?"

"Have you never had Halloween?!"

"Sorry can’t say I have."

"Is it not a thing in Paris?" She shook her head in response. "Everyone gets dressed up and there is a huge festival here in the park. We would…" He would have kept talking but seemed to catch himself.

Fall she understood, granted back home it would be winding down from tourist season which meant a few final fairs would pop up. But there wouldn’t be much to note.

But this! This seemed like so much fun she had to try it.

"Dressed up, in costume?"

"Yeah! Heroes and demons, angels and monsters. Anything really."

She thought of elegant suits and dresses, masquerade was what she pictured. Not what Jay was describing at all.

"This is flying over your head, huh?"

"A bit."

"So what do you want to do?"

"It’s getting late, maybe grab a bite?"

"There’s a pretty good hotdog cart near by." Jason jabbed his thumb behind him.

"Lead the way."

Granted they weren’t even out of the park when they noticed. However in their defense they were pretty much in their own little world. It got eerily quiet, but just as fast everything came into hyper focus.

"Now which one of you was lucky number 13 to leave and set off the area?" Mari quickly looked around before her eyes focused on a stage of sorts and a man in a tacky three piece green suit with purple question marks all over it. She should probably keep more of an eye on rogue locations and incarcerations, but she just turned 14 and this should not be on her to do list.

"Well why don’t the two of you participate together, then." The Riddler practically giggled as a few henchmen shoved them into the center of this makeshift square.

Police cruisers blocked the street in order to stop traffic. The Riddler was standing on the bed of a semi truck with canons on either side of him, and what she assumes is a detonator in his hand.

"Three riddles, three detonators set up around the park. For each wrong answer I push a button, but if you’re right I won’t touch it."

"And how do we know you’ll actually keep your word?" Jason shouted at the villain.

"Quick on the suspicion, aren’t we! Where’s the fun if there’s no trust. Now!"

Mari was planning, she knows he wouldn’t actually let them go if they were right so she had to think. Two must be duds so... even if they answer right he could toss them, only one switch works so which is it?

"Let’s start simple and festive, shall we? Why do zombies never win at poker?"

She looked at Jason since she had no idea, yet he had a shit eating grin on his face.

"Because they have a tell-tale heart." Of course an Edgar Allen Poe reference, that explains his grin.

"One down two to go, kiddies." He dropped a remote, almost as if to prove it was in good faith, two remotes, it’s a 50 / 50 shot.

"Walk on the living, they don't even mumble, step on the dead, they mutter and grumble."

She blinked, the answer was simple. "Leaves."

"And the little miss speaks, correct". He drops one more remote, but this time he pulls a cane from behind him. Two henchmen come and grab each of them. The cane pointing at her, and she noticed the hollow barrel, a gun in the cane.

"Last one." Should she have been more surprised maybe, but who knows at this point. "While some spring forward, I choose to fall back. Come and join me while you sit on a haystack. I may show a movie with a crazed maniac, I will for sure host a festival to give you a heart attack."

Jay was staring livid, too angry to say a word, as he grit his teeth. This was not how she was going to die.

Sass.

Was all she thought when she closed her eyes, the riddle ringing in her mind, but no answer came. Then she opened them.

"There’s a pretty good hotdog cart near by." Jason jabbed his thumb behind him.

She looked at him puzzled, there was no way that happened, but it was so vivid in her mind, could it have actually happened, and how did she come back to this moment.

"Hey earth to Nettie is anyone home in there."

She felt a flick on her forehead, as her attention was drawn to Jay.

"Sorry I got the strangest feeling of deja-vu. This might be off the wall but… " She took a breath and recited. "While some spring forward, I choose to fall back. Come and join me while you sit on a haystack. I may show a movie with a crazed maniac, I will for sure host a festival to give you a heart attack."

"A riddle really?"

"I know it silly but it’s stuck in my head." She shrugged trying to play it off.

"October." They were walking now. "That’s the answer."

"Oh."

And then it happened, the Riddler, his speech, the suspicion from Jason, and it clicked, she called on Sass’s power, she turned back time.

"Now! Let’s start simple and festive, shall we? Why do zombies… "

She didn’t let him finish before she answered. "Because they have a tell-tale heart."

He was surprised and dropped a remote like before. "Walk on… "

"Leaves."

"While…" He stalked towards her.

"October." Things had changed, but she crossed her arms, a sense of confidence and lack of fear, made her ask. "Can you cut the theatrics now?"

"Why you little brat." He lunged at her and she pulled her fist back and caught him square in the nose before flipping him on his back.

She debated on answering him but she didn’t have to as Batman flew onto the scene.

"How? You? Nette?" Jay stumbled through his words.

"I’m from Paris, why wouldn’t I know how to do this?" She shrugged.

"I have more questions."

"Which can wait." An officer came out from the police line. "May we get a statement."

She looked over at Jason who was again staring at his shoes as if they were the most fascinating thing in the world, a feeling that someone was watching them, prickled down her spine.

"Yes, but do you mind driving us home after, it’s getting late." She tried to sound a bit shaken at the events and the officer smiled at her. He seemed honest enough.

"Of course I can, what’s your name."

"Marinette."

"I’m commissioner Gordon, and your Jason, right." She looked between the two, he nodded but Jay still avoided everyone’s eyes. "Alright let’s go."

The commissioner guided them away from the scene.

They gave a short statement before they were driven home.

She was the first one to be dropped off, and Jason tugged on her sleeve as she was getting out.

"Can…" He whispered but stopped. "Good night."

"Night Jay." She smiled as he let go, but she knows something is wrong. But she can’t do anything if he won’t tell her so she’ll wait.

"Come on Wayne." She heard as the door closed, and she blinked.

Did she hear that right. No it can’t be… can it.

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@jennifer-rose123 @toodaloo-kangaroo

#maribat spooktober 2023 #maribat october prompts #maribat #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #dc x miraculous #miraculous x dc #ml marinette #maribat jason todd #luka x mari x jason

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mbrainspaz · 2 years

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Dreamt Kingpin from marvel comics was my dad and I sold him out to the FBI. There was this whole plot about him reaching out to me wanting to reconcile after he escaped from prison again and I was facing a moral dilemma. Of course he might’ve just wanted revenge when he invited me to dinner in a circus tent in a dark alley by the wharf. I wanted to believe he actually still cared about me though. So I snuck in in disguise and saw a waiter spike Batman’s drink. What a loser. He got absolutely sloshed and ate a live frog. Needless to say I decided trusting my crime boss dad was a bad idea after all and tried to get away. Someone spotted me so I used cat woman as a hostage. She’d been about to serve hot dogs to the table, so we started madly chucking hotdogs at our pursuers as we got away parkour style into the night. I chucked one last hot dog from the top of a building and hit a sign to make a distracting sound. All the henchmen ran off in the wrong direction.

#weird dreams #the themes of my dreams could stand to try subtlety one of these days #lucid dreamer #journal of a dream mercenary #dc marvel crossover

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iphoenixrising · 3 years

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How do you think the boys will react to Dr Tim in fear gas (like full dose of it)??

Hi babe.

I’ve said it before, but ah. Be careful what you wish for, heh.

But no, really hasn’t poor Dr. Tim been through enough? Guy has already narrowly escaped collapsing bridges, been up close and personal with the Joker, fought off Scarecrow’s goons, AND was smack dab in the middle of an honest-to-God Arkham Riot.Now we’re going to just get him all up in some fear toxin? Good Lord, can the man get a break? He hasn’t had some smut in a while tbh. (winks over to chippon)

BUT.

WARNINGS FOR:

Mentions of child abuse

Mentions of gore, blood, grossness

You will be crying by the end. Guaranteed.

Extreme mental and emotional HURT

Tim’s fears are Jesus-Fucking-Christ level bad

You’ve been warned :D

He’s not even back to work yet after that ambulance wreck, still feels the road rash, pulled muscles, and residual owfuck from a little rough and tumble time at Arkham Asylum.

But, he’s in a convenience store for fuck’s sake because Jay wouldn’t let him have coffee this morning (nah, Sweets. Ya ain’t godda get up yet. Jus’ go back ta sleep wid’ me, yeah? We’re gonna stay here all warm n’ snug. Sshh. I gotcha, Timmy), and he’d managed to wrangle himself out of Jay’s arms when he woke up again, found out there’s only enough grounds for a shitty, weak pot, and Tim can’t even stand the thought of it.

Unfortunately, he gets a whole lot of random bad guys stopping in for those terrible hot dogs and road drinks on their way out of Gotham.

(Crane looks just as horrifying as he remembers from the hospital that one time, and Tim fervently hopes, hopes none of these henchmen recognize him in a beat-up hoodie and saggy sweatpants.)

What makes matters worse?

Crane isn’t even trying to be, you know, an evil villain.

There’s a put-upon sign behind the mask, and the fear gas comes out of nowhere, getting everyone in the store because the guy just doesn’t want to deal with civilians right this moment. He missed the break-out and decided to have a party all on his own, but he hasn’t even gotten the time to get the plan for his next evil scheme ready yet.

So he raises a hand and sprays a little gas to keep people from being lucid enough to call the cops and rat him out. He needs some time for a good getaway.

Tim, however, sees the inevitable coming and is frozen to the spot, can’t get his weak knees to unlock so he can at least try to duck. Instead, he gets it full in the face.

In a sweep, Crane sprays the small store as his henchmen drop a $20 in front of the coughing clerk and take off back out the door. Hotdogs and all.

Tim scrabbles for his phone, the noxious cloud makes his eyes water, his lungs fucking burn on the first choked, shocked breath. Even when he tries to hold his breath, he’s too terrified, knees going out just as he thumbs the screen behind his back.

“Timmy?” is tinny and far away while he tries to at least breath shallow, eyes dart to the door, his brain tuned into the whole get out and away before the inevitable happens.

He’s got to get to Jay, he’s got to get out of here and get to someone. If he starts talking while hepped up on fear gas, he could give away everyone’s secrets. He could tell random strangers who everyone really is, he could tell anyone their weaknesses, he could put everyone in danger.

Building blocks. If he can get to a lab, to Steph’s, back to his penthouse, anywhere not here, he can probably crack the building blocks of the toxin before it takes him over completely.

He doesn’t even hear, “Baby? Ya there? Didja butt dial again? Thought I tol’ ya ta stay in bed with me, yeah?”

Not with the door right there.

All he has to do is make his weak knees fucking work, ignore the burn in his lungs, his brain, his eyes teary with the cloud still thick around him, with the abrupt slam of his heart in his chest, with the sudden shadows in the niches that hadn’t been there before.

He just has to get to that fucking door. Has to be able to run.

Tim manages to mostly get there before the screaming starts.

Dick is working the day shift in the uniform when word Crane struck come over the wire.

Whenever it’s one of the big bads, he gets close enough to get the details before handily disappearing to slip into something a little more comfortable.

(He knows his ass is spectacular in the Nightwing suit.)

A boop from his pocket is his Batcomm notification, and he pops it in just as he dips into the men’s room with a plan to get out one of the usual windows.

“We’ve got Crane on the move, O. Might want to drop B a line.”

“Already aware, Boy Wonder. It’s more severe than you realize.” His phone goes off as Dick is shimmying out the window and up the building where he keeps a spare suit in a nice waterproof bag hidden in the overhang.

When he checks whatever oh shit is added to a potentially deadly scene, he’s got a text from Jay and a picture from O.

Surveillance footage from inside a convenience store where Crane evidently attacked some civilians. His breath catches when one of the faces turned away to try avoiding the gas is–

Timmy.

“Fuck,” is a little breathless with a very different kind of fear, and Dick immediately turns it up a notch, throwing his suit on and slapping a domino over his eyes. “What can you tell me, O?”

Quick check on what he’s got to work with.

“B and Rob are already in pursuit. Signal is approaching to assist. As far as we can tell, this is the only place Crane managed to hit. Everyone’s mostly been accounted for by GCPD.”

“I sense a but coming–” and he checks his phone two seconds before time to fly, and the text from Jay is something about Tim and screaming, and now he won’t pick up the phone...

“O?” Because dread strikes him in the chest.

“He’s the only civilian missing. He must have already taken off before the patrol car got there.”

“He was hit with fear gas, and he took off?”

The jumpline is already in his hand before he even hits the edge of the roof at a run. It’s go time.

So, it’s a race to find Tim, all doped up on fear toxin and probably tripping out of his mind in one of the most dangerous cities in America where people like the Joker and Two-Face might hold a grudge.

Jason was already suited up before he sent that text to Dickie, was outta there when the sounds came over the line, the familiar screams. It’s a particular flavor of terror spelled out that Timmy, was probably in trouble.

He hits up O with the deets while Nightwing hits the almost-night, making the first swing fucking count.

The world alters and shift around him, almost throwing him off his feet more than once.

He’s already completely lost his sense of direction, trying to keep his eyes closed in a last ditch effort to keep the hallucinations at bay.

(It’s just chemicals fucking with your brain. You can beat this. It’s not real. None of it is real. You know that. You know it’s just–

Brick under his fingertips, abrading the sensitive skin. Stumbles over a curb, and the loud whonkkkkk almost rips a surprised yip out of him. Tim cracks his eyes open, heart picking up when the yellow lights look like the porch light from the Johnson’s house–

– before they brought him back.

“He’s…a special child. He needs more than we can give him–”

“He can’t get along with the other children, so I’m afraid–”

“Well, you see. Mary is pregnant! It’s-it’s a miracle, and we like Tim, really we do–“

Tim grits his teeth, hears so much wahwahwah than anyone really talking, telling him to get the hell out of the street, what is he thinking?

But instead of a shadow of a motorist that had pretty much almost run him over, all he can see is Detective Gordon, way back when he’d been the one to come to the Drake’s manor and give him the news.

His mom and dad weren’t coming back, not ever.

“N-No,” he whimper screams, slamming his eyes closed, and takes off again. It’s a full tilt run, every person he meets with someone else’s face.

Michael McCannon, the guy that beat the shit out of his foster kids.

Lilly Wright, wanted the income from having a foster in her house, didn’t care if he went to school, if he slept, if he ate, if he was dead in a gutter because he fell off a roof running after–

He smacks his palms into brick, scraping his face, turns and there’s Tony Stark back when he’d first met. Intimidating and imposing, eyes narrowed in distaste.

He runs faster, only half recognizes the buildings as he goes. He knocks into someone, eats face in an alley, panting and sweating, eyes full of tears, brain on fucking fire.

“Drake!” Hissed from the shadows, the darkness parting for red, gold, and green.

But it’s too much red, too much red.

“N-no, nonono,” and now he’s outright sobbing, scrabbling to his feet because Dami, Dami, is in a ragged, torn tunic, skin broken and blood fucking pouring out of him.

He’s got both hands on the vigilante, brain failing him, spitting out the mortality rate of being run the fuck through.

“No, no, no Dami, Dami,” he’s pressing on the worst wound, tears streaming down his face, babbling incoherently, apologizing, begging this kid, the little brother he should have had, not to fucking die and leave him too.

Robin, laying where the doctor had apparently thrown him, is staring up in shock, hands on Drake’s forearms where he’s pressing at some imaginary wound.

“Don’t die, Dami. Stay with me! Please stay with me!” Is fairly screamed in the cold night.

And Robin catches his breath at this, this, as one of Drake’s worst fears.

“D-Don’t leave me. I can’t lose you. I-I can’t lose you, too.” Tim weeps, pulling both hands back, staring down at what must see as blood and viscera.

“I am sorry, Timothy,” Robin breathes out hoarsely, frees a hand to pull back, teeth clenched against what he’s about to do, and punches their doctor with real intent.

As he hopes, Tim goes down like a stone, unconscious on the dirty ground, tears still on his face from terror and grief.

In a breath, Robin is on his feet, kneeling over Drake, tapping the comm in his ear. “Hood, N, Father. I have located him. He has been…affected. I am uncertain if the anti-toxin in my belt would do further harm, so I have not administered it as of yet.”

“Rob,” Hood’s response is immediate, “Big Wing’s with Daddy Bat takin’ care a’ the last of ‘em. I’m headin’ atcha now.”

“Meet me at the Black Bird. Hurry,” Robin cuts off, and gently, oh so gently for his normal, lifts Tim’s upper body against his chest, points a gauntlet at the roof to fire the jump line, reel them both in.

At sixteen, the youngest vigilante has nearly outgrown the doctor, and has no trouble lifting Tim up to carry him across the roof, occasionally looking down to make sure Tim is still out.

His own vehicle, the Black Bird, is hidden close to a safe house for the Bats. Balancing Tim in his arms, he taps his utility belt, the container hiding the car folding away.

Hood is on the ground, immediately takes Timmy from Rob, looking at the scrapes on his face.

“In, in!” Robin snaps, shooing Hood in the back with their Doctor. “We must get him to the Cave immediately.”

He dives in the driver’s seat, revving the engine fast, tapping his mask for the whiteouts to slide up. He takes in the immediate area with a glance, and peels out into the night.

Jay deactivates the helmet, tosses it in the front seat, wraps both arms around Timmy in his lap, tapping the comm to listen up at Dickie and B on clean-up whiles he winds up to get all the deets outta the Demon.

“Tell it ta me straight, Lil’ D. How bad wassit?”

He’s looking in the rearview because the kid’s eyes always give him away.

He ain’t prepared to see the Demon blinking rapidly, jaw clenched tight. “He is fully effected. Hallucinations, inability to discern outside voices. I called to him. He was not able to hear me. See me, yes, but he believed I was…dying. He attempted to treat me, asked me not to…”

Robin makes a hard right turn, shoves his foot against the pedal to drift it. He shoves in the clutch, shifts the gears, biting down on his lower lip (“Don’t leave me, I can’t lose you.”).

He evens out, hitting the Robert Kane Bridge to take them out of Gotham proper and closer to the Manor.

“Dames?” Jay makes it soft because the kid is obviously shook.

Robin pushes the car to 105 mph to sail over the bridge.

“His fear was he would be unable to save me. The wound…he believed the wound made by Hush would kill me yet again, I believe.”

Jason Todd breathes in sharply, freeing up a hand to fit at the back of Rob’s neck, make circles with his thumb.

“Sorry that mighta brought ya back.” His tone is low with sympathy, empathy.

And for a moment, Damian Wayne, not Robin, leans back into that hand, lets it ground him while the night flies by the window, while he watches the darkness for everything while he downshifts, when the road starts getting less defined further out of the city they go.

“It is not that,” Damian admits, “one day, one of us, perhaps all of us, will not return. Nothing he can do will prevent that.”

“I know, Baby Bat. Let’s hope it ain’t any day soon, you feel me?” And Jay, tries to keep it gentle, tries to keep the circles going, tries to be easy about it so Baby Bat won’t try ta pull away, put it all back inna box to fester.

“Agreed. However, do not be surprised if he comes to fighting. We must monitor his vitals closely if this toxin is similar to the last batch.”

“I gotcha. S’all right, we’re gonna take care of him, ain’t we?”

Damian makes an affirmative noise and leans forward out of Jay’s grip, pressing the gas, then gearing back up.

Tim comes to as the restraints are tightened, Alfred Pennyworth securing several sticky discs to his chest, and a pulse oximeter to his finger.

“We’ll see you soon, Son. Be a good boy while we’re gone.”

Makes his eye fly open wide, his heart slam painfully against his rib cage, his arms jerk where his wrists are restrained.

“Boys,” a cultured voice calls the second his eyes open, but Tim can’t see anything, not with his heart in his throat, not with his Dad’s voice ghosting out after over a decade and a half.

When he glances over, horrified at the tall figure coming closer, hands raised up in surrender, and his eyes were empty, gorey sockets, black sludge from the empty cavity. Purple lips and half-rotting flesh, the last clothes he’d seen his father wearing, his best suit, the one he’d wear to Drake Industries on the stints they were home and Dad worked in the office.

Tatters and grave dirt, bone peeking out from shriveled flesh…

“Dad,” is a broken, hoarse croak, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I tried. I tried to be good,” and the closer his dead, decaying Father gets, the more he fights whatever is keeping him still, won’t let him run for his own fucking sanity, “I tried! I tried and you still didn’t come home! It wasn’t my fault, it wasn’t–!”

He chokes, gags because Dad is right by the bedside, and now Tim can see the inside of his black mouth, the tongue putrid and pale without blood, and the smell–

He’s probably screaming, even if he can’t hear himself.

Something is strapped over his face, and he fights it, knows it’s a plastic mask, pumping something into his lungs, just like the fear toxin.

A turn of the head, and it’s the reversal of his first meeting with-with

The Joker.

Harley isn’t on the table bleeding out this time. It’s the two of them standing over him, a huge needle full of green sludge right by the Joker’s shoulder, right next to his horrifically sick smile.

He’s wearing a mock head lamp and white coat, Tim’s own badge dangling from his pocket. He turns to the smaller figure of Harley, the nurse sidekick with a frightening set of tools. The orbitoclast is brown with old blood and brain matter, the leucotome wire is rusty, the plunger to send that wire into his brain almost black with old gore.

And he fucking chokes.

“Hold on to those, Nurse. If my wonderful formula doesn’t do the trick, then we’ll have options! Huh, huh, huh,” and the bastard leans into him, that sickening smile, those wide, lucid eyes.

“He’s going to be our good boy, one way or the other, isn’t he?” And the dark growl of it, the promise is what makes him start screaming again.

Hands on his straining arms, a big body right by the bed when he turns, flinches away as far as the hold could let him.

“Oh no. No no no,” is a whimper, a plea, “I didn’t say anything to anyone, Mr. Johnson, I swear. I didn’t tell anyone anything.”

The grip on his arms becomes bruising, painful, terrifying all over again.

Tim clamps down, remembers the beatings hadn’t been as bad if he could keep quiet.

“Jesus Christ, you’re such a little shit.”

It’s Mr. Johnson’s words, but Jason’s voice.

“You need a good ass beaten’, kid. That’ll straighten you right out. That’s what all you fuckers need. Lucky for you I don’t mind making sure you keep on the straight and narrow.”

He doesn’t realize he’s chanting, “don’thitme, don’tdon’tdon’t, please please, don’t,” while Mr. Johnson backs off, the old recriminations and reprimands rolling right out in Jay’s smooth baritone.

He’s outright sobbing, arms trembling above his head where he’s trapped, trapped. He can’t move, he can’t run, he can’t hide, he can’t–

And a blink takes him to the same fire escape outside his penthouse where he’d found Nightwing bleeding out, pulse already weakening, breathing shallow–

“What–“

The whiteouts on that domino are up so he can see Nightwing’s blue eyes flutter open weakly, can see the hand move gingerly to the bleeding wound on his abdomen.

“I can help you,” he yells out, hoping to make those eyes look at him, to get the vigilante to come to him, “I can save you, but you’ve got to get here.” This time his hands, his arms, his whole body is straining to get free, to reach the vigilante that needs him, that’s dying on him while he fucking watches.

The vigilante half-smiles at him, finger stripes more dark than blue, and his head goes back, visibly slumping.

“Nightwing, Nightwing, look at me! Open your eyes!” He knows he’s begging, fighting, but there’s bands around his chest, around his wrists, his ankles and thighs.

“I need, I need sutures, gloves, blood bag, and-and, I need, I need–“ but Nightwing’s head flops and his chest stutters, “LOOK AT ME! You can’t die like this, you can’t. I’m right here, I can save you!”

He sobs out loud, whole body jerking to get free.

“Ssshhh, baby doll, ssshhh,” makes him open his eyes even though he can barely see through the tears streaming down his face, his sobbing, his heart pounding copper in the back of his throat.

And there’s Jay, lying on his chest, all soft and sweet, with a post-sex grin. He’s too beautiful to be real.

“Jay?” He croaks.

“Yeah,” all soft and sweet.

Until he tilts his head, and the horrific smile below his chin leaks rich red down his throat.

“J-Jay?!” His eyes go wide and horrified because there’s his vigilante boyfriend bleeding out all over his chest, far gone enough to be silly and loopy with blood loss.

“S’okay, yeah? When s’time, s’time. Don’t gotta be sad about it, Timmy.”

“N-No, no, put-Jay, listen to me, put pressure on it, okay? Put both hands and press down. You-you’re loosing too much blood. I need you to–“

“That ain’t what’s happening here, Timmers.” Slurry and low, Jay’s face getting pale, eyes fluttering. “Like I tol’ ya b’fore. One day…one day I ain’t gonna come back. S’ just gonna be my time.”

And Tim’s shirt is wet with it, Jay’s blood staining him, soaking through his clothes, the weight of his big body heavier as his strength goes, as his eyes get dimmer, the jade flecks all but gone.

“You can’t. Jay, babe, you can’t. You have to fight. Please fight,” his hands are straining, but he’s so tired, weak, isn’t strong enough to get to them, to save them from their fates. "I don't... I can't be the last one left standing again. I can't. Please, fight. Please!"

'"Nah, Baby. Small right now. Love ya. Love ya s'much."

"I love you too," he sobs, can't breathe, can't think.

(He’s never been strong enough, has he? He’s not strong enough to be what they need.)

He finally can’t fight anymore, just stays pinned under Jay’s weakening body to cry and shake apart.

“Do something,” Dick yells, tears running down his face where he’s pinning Tim’s legs down so he stops hurting himself fighting the restraints.

Alfred, eyes narrow and wet-looking, huffs and turns on his heel abruptly. He fishes out supplies from the cabinet, uses a clean hypodermic to puncture the sedative.

Master Jason is staring up at Master Tim’s face, trying to be that boy in the Robin cape from all those years ago. Trying to be strong in the face of such horrors.

“Master Bruce, account for general anesthesia,” Alfred calls briskly and injects carefully into the IV.

“Understood,” the quickly working vigilante calls back from the lab, running the number a second time, darting looks at his children doing one of the hardest jobs he’s ever asked them to do.

He can tell by how Damian’s shoulders are shaking, Dick is opening crying against Tim’s hip, Jay’s lower lip trembling, eyes wet where he’s keeping Tim’s forearms pinned around the IV in his arm.

He add the variables, taking deep breaths, makes mental notes all over the place to look into Tim’s past foster parents.

Johnson. Right.

And the hardened bat can’t say his heart isn’t thundering in his throat watching Tim’s struggle, scream, cry out in grief, trying to use his reasoning and logic, having the fucking Joker of all people as part of his perpetual nightmares…

Bruce takes a calming breath, forces himself to be the Bat while he aches for the kids.

Twelve hours later, he comes to somewhere not his Penthouse or Dick’s apartment.

It’s chilly wherever he is, but for some reason his whole body just aches, hurts like he’d been in another damn car wreck or something. It’s too much effort to lift his head and look around, not when he’s pretty sure he’s in Dick’s lap, recognizes the smell of Dick’s jugular.

He hums a little, glad someone at least gave him a blanket because he’s at least mostly warm. His nose is pretty cold, but he just snuggles into Dick’s neck and sighs.

He tries to raise his knees to fold in, get warmer, but his heels bump into legs, and cracking his eyes open, he realizes Jay is sitting by Dick on the floor of the Cave, Tim laying over their laps.

He’s got a cotton ball taped to the inside of his forearm, and no idea why. He blinks a few times, lifts up enough to see Dami on Jay’s other side, head nudged against Jay’s shoulder. A hand is still on Tim’s ankle.

The sudden need to go to the bathroom drives him from their huddle on the cold floor, but at least he spreads the blanket out over them after he manages to pull out of their arms without waking them.

From their faces and expressions, whatever he isn’t immediately remembering couldn’t have been good.

But first, bathroom. Then, maybe coffee? Because that? Would be absolutely stellar at this juncture. Maybe some ibuprofen.

Luckily, there’s swanky digs in the Bat Cave, a set of lockers, showers, nice hot tub for long soaks after a night of kicking bad guy ass.

All the vigilante amenities.

He’s bleary and sore, staggering to the bathroom, noting B is asleep on the big computer, and Alfred sitting back in another chair, tea cup and saucer on the hard drive next to him.

He smiles a little, wonders if he can find a few more blankets somewhere.

A glance in the mirror as he was washing his hands shows him a bunch of road rash city. Man, he must have been caught up in the middle of something again.

Seriously.

He splashes cold water on his face, works out the low throbbing ache of his bandaged wrists.

He’s shuffling back, thinking about just waking everyone the hell up to send people to bed, like themselves because his ass is numb, and there’s warm beds upstairs. When there’s pounding footsteps, skitters, and slides, whoosh of air, and Dick is right there up in his face, panting like he’d just sprinted all the way across the Cave in a quick hurry.

“Timmy?!”

He blinks up, still bleary about everything, his throat and voice wrecked as fuck, “hey honey. How was your night fighting shitty bad guys?”

He has no idea why Dick’s expression crumples, his eyes getting teary out of nowhere. He’s not prepared for Dick to start crying, to see his beautiful boyfriend hold a hand over his eyes and break down.

“Dick? Dick?”

He goes from holding himself, shuddering with the cold and ache in his bones, to up in Dick’s face, hand on his shoulder, looking for some injury, something to tell him how to help–

But Dick takes a few shuddering breaths under his hand, and Tim just wriggles his arms around Dick’s chest to hold on for a few long seconds before he gets full-on octopus hold right around his everything.

(Okay, that’s a relief.)

“…was it bad?” He asks softly, making circles with his palms as wide as Dick’s hold will let him.

“Y-Yes. It was bad. You don’t remember?” Dick sniffles against the side of his head, rocking them both gently.

“Not yet.” He shrugs an unconcerned shoulder. As someone who’s had a concussion (okay, okay, concussions), and has worked in the medical field in one of the most dangerous cities on the fucking planet, he knows there are plenty of bad guys with chemical weapons that don’t always leave short term memories in tact.

Dick shakes a little and holds him tighter.

“Fuckfuckfuck. Didja find 'im??!” As Jay rounds the corner and almost slams right into them.

He skids to a stop as Dick swiftly shifts them around out of the way. Jay doesn’t do anything to dislodge Dick’s grip, but palms the sides of Tim’s face, his eyes a hard, icy blue.

“Hey, Sweets, hey,” low in a dark way, not the usual, fun dark way. Tim has a strike of fear, takes stock of himself, of Dick, of Jay, wonders who else in the Cave might be hurt! That’s why they’re here. Someone got hurt coming after his ass, didn’t they?

“Dami? B?” He interrupts, eyes going from Jay to Dick and back.

“Fine, everyone’s fine,” is curt, short with him in a way that doesn’t make sense. He doesn’t have enough evidence.

“O-kay. You both are fine. B and Dami are fine. Alfred?”

Over his head, his boyfriends exchange a look that is really starting to worry him.

But the next twelve hours are virtually impossible to escape. The sordid details come out once Tim remembers being in that convenience store. He gets snatches of half-lucid memories, probably never will remember the entire things. The brain is the most fascinating part of the body for a reason, not only as the control center, but also as the decision-maker on what things to blot out to protect itself.

By the time Dami starts out, they’ve migrated up to Wayne Manor, parted ways to shower and wash off the night. Dick and Jay bracketing him in, being absurdly gentle, consistent soft touches, fingers wrapping around his, hands on his back, kisses pressed into his hair.

There’s some scrapes on his forearms along with the ones on his face, washed gingerly in the shower where he finally feels warm again. Alfred leaves a special bled of his healing goop and has set out pajamas for all of them before he left, requesting them to please come have breakfast.

Tim’s stomach rumbles while they’re getting dressed, and he’s pretty much picked up, and carried down the massive staircase.

(Ugh, this is after the bridge fiasco all over again.)

But the end result: food and coffee in Wayne Manor, so bonus?

Dami is looking at him like a kicked puppy. A perpetual pissed off kicked puppy, but he tilts his head to the side inquiringly, raising his eyebrows in invitation.

“I found you almost at Sheldon Park,” Dami starts softly, but at least everyone’s eaten first.

He flinches a little when Bruce tells him what he’d said about his Dad. When Alfred tells him about the Joker and Harley Quinn either going to inject him with some crazy sauce or lobotomize him.

(Yup. Pretty horrifying either way.)

Dami tells him about seeing everyone die around him while Dick has a firm hand on his knee under the table, their chairs closer together than necessary. Jason gives no shits keeping his fingers wrapped up tight, squeezing occasionally. Alfred keeps the mug in his free hand full, stands just by Dick’s other shoulder.

“I mean,” he finally starts after everything is out in the open, “it’s literally a toxin that fucks with your brain chemistry. Not shocking I’d see pretty awful things. I see awful things...a lot, so,” he shrugs a little helplessly in the face of the whole family looking utter raw and split open. “I...I’m...sorry, really sorry I worried everyone. I’ll try to stop getting into trouble so much, you know? But, um. It is Gotham.”

The family crowds around him, bringing in rank around the table.

And if he doesn’t have to stay at the Manor for the next week, geeze, and get coddled as fuck by the Batfamily, and get picked up from Mercy General every. single. night. for a while, and get wrapped up against two incredible vigilantes that whisper soft things against his throat, his ear, his mouth, his, well, his everything.

If he doesn’t get Bruce herding him into the study where the fire is burning, and it seems like the Batman is the most patient person ever to let him–let him talk about some of those old pains when he was in the system.

If Alfred literally can not make him eat enough food to be satisfied. Ever. And gives him a side-eye when he starts to push away a plate that has even a bite left.

(Alfred pizza is god-level, and you’ll never convince him otherwise. But if he eats anymore, he’s going to die. Please stop killing him with your tasty love.)

If Dami doesn’t make him watch NatGeo Wild with popcorn and boxes of candy, then grudgingly plays Mario Kart with him until Rainbow Road is like theirs. No questions asked.

If he finally doesn’t go back to his penthouse, breathes in the familiar smells, gets absolutely destroyed in the Best. Possible. Ways for the next five straight hours. If he isn’t a boneless pile of I can’t possibly come again, for the next week at least.

If Baby Bird, Timmers, Sweets, Timmy, and Baby aren’t wrapped around him with arms and sweet kisses pressed to his forehead and hair every time he leaves for work or they leave for patrol.

If he was before this, in the slightest bit uncertain he belongs with them, as part of their family–

–he sure as hell knows better now.

At least that’s one less thing to be afraid of.

Note:

In Tim’s fear fueled delusion, the Joker is Alfred, Harley is Dami holding equipment to treat him. His dad was really B taking the blood samples from Alfred to analyze. He’s horrified once he realizes what Tim is seeing.

Mr. Johnson, the abusive foster parent is Jay, which Tim kind of associates because of the accent.

Dying Nightwing is Dick bent over to hold his legs down, and the next switch is really Jay laying over him upper body to keep him from hurting himself more.

(Congrats for making it to the end. *Hands tissue*)

#winter answers #doctor!tim #tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #read at your own risk #read the warnings #hurt/comfort #fear gas #holy shit tim #you will cry #but it's worth it #my fic #my writing #dickjaytim #damian wayne #alfred pennyworth #cuddle tf out of our boy #bruce wayne

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evildisneydorks · 3 years

Note

I wonder how the henchmen reaction to the imps can and will eat trash? Did they go like kronk and try to keep the imps out of the garbages and get them/help them make something to eat?

Plus I have a feeling pain and panic don’t know how to work a non fire stove or a microwave due to their ‘kingdom’ they use fire pits/clay ovens to cook ^^, (they cook hotdogs on Hades’s flames for Pete sakes) so they kinda have to rely on the other henchmen to help them learn to cook hot meals or at least supervise them so they don’t get another kitchen disaster and have to get new appliances~

Anon referencing this post

For the first thing yes, I feel like the other henchmen would make sure to keep the Imps away from the trashcans by providing snacks, not entirely out of kindness but beacuse they don’t want to smell trash.

-Yeah, those two could teach the imps how to use apliances... but Pain and Panic probably started multiple fires in the process.

#sorry this took long; i was looking for the original post for context #asks #pain and panic

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animebw · 5 years

Text

Binge-Watching: Soul Eater, Episodes 37-39

Holy. Flaming. Hotdogs. In which I lay my thoughts on this show as a whole bare... just in time for it to destroy me all over again.

Lost in the Plot

You know, there’s a part of me that’s started to wonder how to properly balance my increasingly complicated opinions about Soul Eater. That’s not so much a reversal on any observation I’ve had about over the course of this analysis thus far as it is a realization that I’ve been building my way towards for a while now. Soul Eater is a very good show, even great; at times, it approaches something close to being the perfect representation of what it’s setting out to do. But the closer I get to the end, the more I realize that its quality is actually kind of... unevenly dispersed? Yeah, I think that’s the phrase I’m going for. To put that in more understandable terms, Soul Eater juggling a lot of different elements and plotlines, and they’re all of varying levels of quality. None of them are outright bad, but there are definitely some subplots that leave me feeling more “meh”, as well as subplots that suck me in from the word go and never let up. There are characters I adore, characters I tolerate, types of comedy that really work, types of comedy that only kind of work, and my relative enjoyment of any one episode highly depends on which of those elements have the most prominence. Essentially, it’s turned my (still very high) appreciation of this show into kind of a balancing act: is there enough focus on the stuff I love to make up for the stuff I don’t care that much about? It’s a question that I’m still figuring out the answer to, and I imagine these final twelve episodes are going to keep adding to my considerations right up until the end. If nothing else, it’s going to be interesting to look back on this show as a whole and figure out how it all stacks up in the end.

For now, though, I think it’s become pretty clear that Soul Eater’s weakest element is by far its overarching plot. This show has always worked best in the realm of emotion-driven character conflict and simple, understandable battles; the presence of a greater, portentous mythos to contend with doesn’t fit comfortably into that equation. Just look at the difference between Arachne and Medusa. Medusa was an incredibly solid villain because she was personally involved and invested in the active lives of our heroes. Aside from being undercover as their nurse, there was a sense of immediate, wicked glee in every evil action she took against them, every cruelty she inflicted upon them. She was up close and personal in a way that made their confrontations feel dangerous and lived in, and that continues to be the case as her schemes develop in the present. She didn’t need some grand, convoluted plan; her appeal lived in the immediacy of the threat she posed. But Arachne? I have very little idea of what’s driving her beyond basic evilness. There’s no weight to her presence in the story, because she’s had so little actual effect on our heroes’ lives; hell, she doesn’t even seem to care much either way about them. All she’s done is sit back and brood in a boring cave with uninteresting henchmen. There’s nothing personal about her villainy, no understandable, immediate stakes to the threat she poses. She’s just a plot device to get the greater mythos into focus, but lacking that personal edge that made Medusa’s danger worth taking seriously.

And that lack of personality is a problem that extends throughout any sequence where our characters are supposed to be tangling with the external demons brought about by Asura’s awakening. I feel myself missing those quieter, character-driven moments that defined this show’s first half, the simple, but real, emotions shared between our central seven. I feel like we’ve spent so little time with Tsubaki recently, or DK’s guns, or Maka’s endearingly earnest father, or any of the countless other little touches of humanity that made this show so worthwhile in the first place. BlackStar brooding over his recent slew of failures just isn’t as interesting as when he was pushing himself beyond his limits to shake off his fears, or putting his trust in Tsubaki to make it out of the enchanted sword alive, or butting heads with DK’s eccentricities en route to find a magic sword. Stein’s increasing insanity would be so much more effective if we could still see the dorky, flamboyant prima donna he used to be peering through the cracks from time to time. Soul Eater as a show just doesn’t really work that well beyond the confines of its central hub; it gets bogged down in busywork that doesn’t reflect the reason I came here in the first place. Outside its main cast of characters and their emotional narratives, this show just isn’t that special.

But man oh man, are those emotional narratives something to behold.

Agony

When last we left Crona, we left him right on the verge of a complete breakdown. His newfound family and friendship with his fellow meisters was threatened by Medusa calling him back into action, a call than ingrained trauma and fear prevented him from refusing, despite how clearly he wanted to just run from the situation as far as possible. It was an uncomfortable, wrenching experience that drove me close to tears; Crona’s pain is palpable in every single haunted expression he makes. I care for this kid so goddamn much. Hell, the first moment he shows up on screen in episode 37 was enough to plaster a huge smile across my face, just by virtue of him being there. I want to see him shake off these shackles for good and embrace his new life with everything he’s got. But every violent struggle just ends up pulling those chains tighter around him. His mother’s claws are dug deep into his skin, so deep that he’s lost hope of ever digging them out. He’s trapped. And he just betrayed the first people who ever offered him an escape hatch. Their loss at the battle of the Brew was his fault.

And he knows it.

And Jesus fucking Christ on a stick, does it hurt.

Every single time Crona was on screen these episodes was an exercise in my biting my lip harder and harder, trying to keep from exploding with anguish every time his pupils dilated in horror at his actions. No joke, my chest actually ached watching him. There’s a moment when he’s talking to Maka about her missing mother, and it’s so abundantly clear that he’s trying to sort through his hatred towards his own mother, but she’s not giving him any of the answers he needs, and he can’t forgive himself for how much he hates Medusa, even after everything she made him do, and everything Maka says is just convincing him more and more of how much of a monster he is, and God, hasn’t he suffered enough? Hasn’t he been through enough hell without all his old terrors crawling back up and dragging him down into the muck? Without seeing flashes of Medusa infect his mind, turning the memory of that wonderful photo he and Maka share into an object of shame and disgust? Without his chance at a better life being poisoned by everything he wishes he could just lock away?

And he wants to lock it away so fucking much. He wants to cast off the pain of his past and just be the person his new friends know he can be. Just listen to the wonder in his voice when he hears Maka tearing across the sand, screaming his name at the top of her lungs. Listen to that heartbreaking, overwhelming sorrow. He wants to believe her so much. He wants to feel happy that she’s refused to let him slip away with his shame. But he can’t forgive himself for what he’s done. He can’t forgive the monster he sees boiling in his soul. He can’t stop himself from pushing her away, laying his crimes bare with an almost gleeful level of self-hatred, spitting out his betrayal on a plain that mirrors his oceanless beach far too well. He can only tear at the fabric of his mind as punishment for his evil deeds, flaying himself bare before the first people to ever give him a chance, ripping himself apart in a furious shriek of unchecked agony that refuses to be quelled. And if you thought I was hurting before, then Christ. I could feel my breath shaking with every sharp, fractured intake. I could feel my nerves twisting with every heartwrenching act of self-harm. This. Was. Agony. This was one of the single most painful eviscerations I’ve ever sat through. I felt every single ounce of Crona’s pain, every broken shard lodged in his mind that refused to go away. I felt as the entire psyche of this broken, battered, wonderful kid shattered before my eyes. I. FELT. THIS.

But then, Maka rushes to his side.

And she grabs him will all the force she can muster.

And through shaking breath, she rejects every ounce of that pain with a single sentence.

”I won’t let you hurt yourself anymore.”

Crona’s Smile

Because it doesn’t matter to Maka what crimes Crona’s committed. It doesn’t matter to her how far he’s twisted himself away from the light to stay alive. She can’t ever unsee that scared little kid standing on an oceanless beach, the kid who only needed someone to step over the line and reach out a hand. She, quite literally, felt his pain in her soul. She knows Crona. She knows how much it must have hurt when Medusa made him betray them. She knows how desperately he must have tried to escape it. She knows how much he still wants to be the Crona in that picture, the Crona who could smile in the comfort of people who truly care about him. She knows the pain of feeling abandoned by the people who were supposed to protect you. And if she can find the strength in herself to be more than her father’s abandonment, then he can to.

She knows... that he’s worth it.

And she is never letting him go.

Ladies, gentlemen, and everyone in between, I fucking lost it. Seeing Crona finally break down, finally admit through his sobs that he wants to stay with his friends, drove me right off the edge and into a fiery train crash. I cried. So. Fucking. Hard. God, Crona’s story is a goddamn masterpiece, and it’s only getting better and better. It’s powerful and resonant and so, so heartfelt in every conceivable way. I almost want to compare it to the level of character-driven honesty that made Gintama so special; that’s how fucking good it is. And I’m so fucking happy for him; he deserves every ounce of the goodwill extended his way. Everything he’s gone through, all the anguish he still can’t escape, but finally, finally, he’s ready to try. He’s ready to put his past behind him, to become the person his friends know he can be. See, this is why I’m having such trouble figuring how where this show falls on my rating scale. It can spend good chunks of time on only mildly engaging plot stuff, but then it gives me something this fucking perfect in turn, and I have no idea where I stand anymore. Well, just keep it coming, show, because the more of this you give me, the better off you’re gonna be.

And Crona? I hope you can find the strength to keep on smiling. Because nothing is more wonderful than your smile.

Odds and Ends

-”In the classroom I’m a bookworm, but out there I’m a beast!” Seriously, I need so much more of Ox’s team it’s not even funny.

-”Why does she get special treatment?” Because she’s awesome like that.

-”Leave that to the main characters in shonen manga.” pfft

-”You did it before, so you can do it again. Ain’t that right?” Have I mentioned how much I love Maka and Soul’s bond?

-”Mandolin?” “Mandelhing!” I have no idea what just happened, but I think I love it.

-”Uncle Bob’s Coffee Shop” Okay, I like this dork.

-”I’m afraid it might be the end for that child.” LISTEN HERE YOU SERPENTINE JACKASS IF YOU HURT MY SON EVER AGAIN

-aksjdhaskd what the fuck was that face Soul

-That... is a lot of pushups.

-”I can’t picture that at all.” Listen Crona Imma need you to stop breaking the fourth wall my heart can’t take it

-”What’s your best memory of her?” “When she got divorced.” askjdhakjsd

-Did BJ seriously fuck with the Death busts just to distract DK’s tail? What a trooper.

-”Guess I really do feel more relaxed when no one’s around.” I feel ya.

Wow, this show is something else. And Medusa? If your re-appearance in Death City leads to you torturing my son any more, then you are gonna fucking get it. Capiche?

#anime #the anime binge-watcher #tabw #soul eater #maka albarn #crona protection squad

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lukejmcgrath · 4 years

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When You Comin’ Back Range Rider? (S02,E05&06)

In which the team meet a new adversary and embrace a western world.

Three jeeps chase a herd of wild horses across the Arizona plains, trying to capture them. As they get close, a Native American on horseback charges towards them, spooking the herd to safety. Turning their attention to the rider, the jeeps speed after him with one of course flipping over in the process.

As the lead car gets near, they manage to lasso the rider and pull him to the ground. The drivers call their boss, Bus Carter, and drag the Native American away along the ground from the jeep.

Elsewhere, we’re introduced to the A-Team’s new arch enemy, Colonel Roderick Decker. The army has had enough of Lynch’s failures and we get an interesting insight into the reasoning behind the pursuit. Chasing down the team is described as a “ridiculous vendetta” and their conviction down to “political pressure”. There’s a clear message that perhaps not even the US army believes the team is guilty, even if they do, they would have preferred to forget the whole matter. Only Lynch’s actions, which have made the team’s status an embarrassment to the army, have kept the chase alive.

As we’re in a two-parter that needs some padding to reach runtime, we get a trip down memory lane. We re-live three of Lynch’s failures, twice where the team stole a jet and once when several MP cars are destroyed. As a final kicker, it turns out Decker is disgraced for his methods and has been side-lined – catching the A-Team is his chance at redemption and getting his career back. The Colonel issues an ominous warning: “I’ll play by their rules, which mean there are none”.

Over to the team and the rider from the opening, Daniel Running Bear, meets Hannibal who’s in disguise as an elderly hotdog seller. Having already met Mr Lee, he’s sent to his third meeting – 2 am the following morning. BA arrives to confirm Daniel (who I’ll call DRB for ease) wasn’t followed.

We cut to Face, who’s now a producer, at a film premiere where Decker and his MPs are lying in wait. A server puts a gun to Face’s back and ushers him into the back, revealing it’s Hannibal in his second disguise already. Hannibal isn’t happy to see Face featured on the front page of Variety but is softened when offered a new monster role.

Their plans are interrupted by Decker and men, with Hannibal leaping through a window to escape. Stealing a car from a valet, Hannibal drives through the city with the army on his tail, evading them by parking on a car transporter.

That night, Hannibal now dressed as a police officer meets DRB, arresting him then revealing his identity. Across town, Face and BA spring Murdock who’s adopted the identity of a TV western character, the Range Rider. Though they’re successful, one of Decker’s men plants a homing device on the van.

The rest of the team meet DRB in a warehouse and we get a call-back to Amy’s first meeting when Hannibal realises their client can’t pay. It turns out Bus Carter is stealing wild horses from the range and shipping them to Mexico to be slaughtered. BA isn’t keen to “save a bunch of horses” but the team accept the mission.

Before they can begin, Decker has assembled a team of his own outside the warehouse and has them penned in. Foolishly giving them two minutes, he watches the van burst through the door and straight off a pier into the river. It’s a ruse of course, with only Hannibal driving and the others escaping the back way in Amy’s car. In a record-breaking fourth disguise, the Colonel mingles with fishermen to sneak away.

Over in Arizona, after some DRB and Amy flirting, we’re introduced to DRB’s nephew who’s quite handy with a bow and arrow. The team decide to dress as cowboys for the adventure, while Amy and DRB head to the reservation. They don’t get far when Carter’s men stop them, leading to a fight in the street with the rest of the team that’s easily won by our heroes.

Back at Bus Carter’s ranch, he’s watching his niece riding one of the horses he actually owns. He warns his right-hand man Stryker that she can’t learn about the horse rustling as she won’t agree with it. Stryker warns his boss about the team out to get him.

The same team are chasing down a train filled with horses and heading for the border, with Hannibal and Face succeeding in releasing the cargo back to the wild. Hannibal decides to celebrate by breaking into Carter’s office and threatening him, but he’s interrupted by henchmen with guns. The Colonel grabs Carter’s niece to stop the shooting and makes his escape.

At their temporary camp, Carter’s niece learns the truth about her Uncle and decides to help the team by telling them the next train shipment is due to leave in the morning. We enjoy a short montage of the team creating a fortress from a handcart before the train is diverted onto another line and the attack begins. While Amy shoots arrows of dynamite at the carriages, the team run their cart alongside the carriages and fire at the smugglers.

The gang surrender and begin to release the horses but are stopped when Carter’s reinforcements arrive and destroy the team’s makeshift vehicle. “I love it when a plan comes together”, Hannibal comments dryly. What a wag.

Murdock, Amy and DRB evade capture, with Murdock heading after the captured team and the others going for help. Carter’s niece helps again by creating a distraction while Murdock frees Hannibal. Face and BA are tied up in the train by Stryker and will be killed over the border. Forcing Carter into his helicopter, the two chase after the train and Hannibal leaps onto the roof.

Stryker is defeated and BA manages to stop the train before it crosses the border. There’s no time to celebrate though as Decker arrives with Amy and DRB. Face hits BA over the head with a plank and the three join Murdock in a chopper escape. Decker’s not happy but makes do with arresting Carter and his gang for federal crimes (despite not being a police officer).

The team don’t go far, returning to DRB’s reservation to say their goodbyes. Face has his arm around Carter’s niece and DRB seems happy with Amy staying. She says it’s because Decker will be on her tale, but we all know better.

Let’s wrap up with a few key questions.

Does Hannibal wear a disguise?

Yes. First, a hotdog vendor to meet DRB, then a waiter at Face’s premier, then a police officer to meet DRB and finally a fisherman to escape Decker. We also hear of Mr Lee and Hannibal really embraces Arizona life with a full-on cowboy outfit.

Does BA get on a plane?

No, but he is knocked out for a helicopter ride.

Should someone be dead?

Yes, there’s an open-top jeep flip and the attached on the train with dynamite and guns should have been lethal.

When You Comin’ Back Range Rider? is perhaps the best episode of the A-Team yet. It benefits from the space of a two-parter, though we do get some filler in the first half with a brief clip show. Colonel Decker is an improvement on Lynch, with a more developed backstory and real energy from actor Lance LeGault. You get the sense he’s going to revel in his new assignment.

The team’s efforts to break up a horse rustling scheme are set against a grand Arizona backdrop, with a double act of Carter and his top henchman Stryker acting as worthy adversaries. It’s almost cinematic in scale with a range of fistfights, car chases and even a horseback attack on a train.

Let me know what you think by joining the conversation on Twitter.

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