#and his sense of loyalty to the idea that batman should not kill would not lead him to be upset that bruce did not kill his killer | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

little-engineer-who-cant · 26 days

Text

Silena and Jason make up

Part 8 of Sirens Scream Names Forgotten by Tomorrow, Laid to Rest in Infinity

(also posted under cut)

“God said: God made you. God does not care if you are guilty. I said: I care if I am guilty! I care if I am guilty! God was silent. Everything was silent. I lay back down in the snow.”

- The War of Vaslav Nijinsky (Frank Bidart)

It’s not often he wishes he was a child again but fuck he wishes he was a child again. To have all that brash, ignorant naivete that drove him to Ethiopia. To not comprehend every conceivable way in which apologies can go wrong. To think that love is so universal that it can survive any hateful words spoke in anger.

To have the courage to just knock on the door.

He has a fucking key, for crying out loud. She never took it back. There was no time to take it back. Maybe he should go. Slide the little metal piece under the door and get the fuck out of here before she-

Opens the door. Blinks at him. Freezes him in place and makes his breath catch even as he sees tear tracks dried on her face.

“Either come in or leave,” her voice is raspy and raw, rubbing him the wrong way too. “But stop making me feel whatever this,” she gestures to him from head to foot with an irritable flap of her hand, “is outside my door all day.”

“I’ll come in,” he says before his head can catch up to his heart. Before logic can outweigh his need to be so tightly wound with her that there is no telling where they each begin and end. One continuous being, forever bound and inseparable.

Part of him wishes she didn’t let him in so easily. That she would put up even a token resistance, make it a bit easier for his better sense to win out. If she took even a moment to argue with him, there might have been a way to escape from whatever cocktail of love and anger and-

(Devotion, loyalty, whatever it is you call virtuous that killed you in the first place.)

He steps in as she steps back. The door shuts behind him, a final gavel slam of judgment.

(Where will her gods put you when you die? Where did they put you the first time?)

“Clarisse is still here.” It’s a warning of some kind. If it means a lack of privacy or his impending death, he doesn’t know.

“Why did you come to Gotham?” he blurts. She blinks, the two of them huddled together in the bubble of illusionary privacy that her little corner foyer offers. Almost chest to chest, her craning her neck up and back as he hunches his spine and peers down.

“Because Gotham is the most dangerous place for someone like me,” she answers, quiet, near breathless. “But it’s the only place I could go where I wouldn’t be hunted by people like her.” She jerks her head towards the rest of the apartment. He doesn’t bother to check if Clarisse is watching. It doesn’t matter.

“This city will kill you,” he warns and her eyes sparkle with a joyful humor that makes his heart seize in his chest like some invisible hand has reached out and decided to pop it open.

“I’m a dead woman walking everywhere I go.” Her fingers reach up, barely skimming the streak of white in his hair. That permanent reminder that he should be in the ground, not about to launch himself into her arms. “But at least now I can say I’ve lived first.”

“Silena…” He knows this is a bad idea. There’s too much left unsaid between them, too many words spoken in rage but here he is anyway. Drawn to her touch, her light, just.. her like a moth to its demise in flame. Maybe she’ll incinerate him, maybe she’ll set him free, but at least he’s going to get one more-

Clearing her throat, her cheeks flush as she steps back, skitters away, bursts their small haven of quiet words, half-felt touches and near-shared breaths. It hurts, but the ache is more pressing on an old bruise. Why would she let him near?

“Would you like something to drink?” Ever polite, ever charming. He clenches his fists to resist the urge of following the trail her fingers cut across her cheek with his own, to pull that bit of hair she just tucked away free just so he can watch her do it all again.

“Sure.” Dance the dance, play the part. That’s all they’ve ever done. Pretend, turn blind eyes that see too much.

“I’ll get you some tea.” He’d prefer something a lot stronger, but his instincts tell him not to be compromised around her.

(Bit late for that, isn’t it?)

(Shut up.)

(Hm, no.)

The front rooms are empty, devoid of the person she’d assured him was still here.

(Liar-)

“Clarisse is in the back,” Silena jerks her head towards the bedroom. “Sent her there when I felt you. Figured this didn’t need an audience.”

“Hm.” He’s grateful even as he’s antsy. There’s a variable here, one he doesn’t know and lingering out of his sight. It itches along his spine and he can’t watch her do the familiar routine he knows like the back of his hand.

So he plops on the couch instead, sprawling out across it. Like he can shape himself into the exact form of however many people have also called these sticky vinyl cushions a temporary home. Maybe, if he can contort himself properly-

The kettle clicks on, the low hum increasing the restlessness in his bones, the need to pop his joints over and over and over just to do something besides do what he came here to do. Talk.

But even as the kettle begins to burble cheerfully, the first signs of a boiling point, there’s nothing else presenting itself as a distraction.

“What did you do?” There’s nothing else to do but talk besides go insane and he’s done enough of that already. “After…” He doesn’t find the courage to finish the sentence.

“I didn’t stay long,” she says, clicking on her kettle. Always ready in times of crisis, the routine of her busy hands making Jason release a half-laugh of a breath. A nervous tic he recognizes well now, her inability to stand still, to not constantly be doing something with her hands even as conversation occupies her mind. A tic he’s sharing right now it seems. Only he can’t invade her space. He has no right. Not anymore. “After you two left. I went out.” I went out, the implication of those words sink into his chest and claw viciously at his shriveled, necrotic remains of a heart.

“Where did you go?” he asks, eyes closed under his forearm. It’s totally not because he’s too big a coward to actually look at her. It's a good thing the back of the couch prevents him from seeing the no doubt smug satisfaction on her face. She’ll know she’s under his skin, trying to dig into him like he ripped into her, don’t give in.

“I went hunting,” she says blandly. Something pops, a jar unsealing. Opening up the honey then. The kettle burbles.

“Hunting?” Now he peers up from under his forearm at the dinghy ceiling in confusion.

“For the Joker.” Now he freaks the fuck out-

“You what!” Sitting up that quickly was a terrible idea for keeping consciousness, but the adrenaline keeps him upright as his vision spots. “You went-”

“Hunting for the Joker,” she repeats calmly, but now that he’s looking at her he can see her knuckles turning white, her teeth biting into her lip. Blind side facing him. “I wouldn’t stop you, but I would get to him first.”

“But you could have stopped me,” he blurts because he’s stupid. She freezes for a moment before slowly turning her head to actually look at him for the first time since she walked away from him. “Clarisse told me,” he babbles on because he’s so very stupid and throwing everyone under the bus to die with him. “Charmspeak.” Silena stares a little longer, then snorts. A harsh, violent wrenching of sound from deep in her chest as her tongue flicked out to swipe over teeth baring in a macabre imitation of a grin. Hauntingly familiar, like a death’s head grimace that always results from-

“I could have.” It’s as sure as a blow to the head. “But I…” she shakes her head, lips shutting, teeth tucked away under the illusion of civility again. Of life. “I won’t. I can’t. Not to you. Not even to save your life. I- I won’t take that from you.”

“So you went hunting the Joker instead?” How the fuck he found someone even more insane than him, he’ll never know.

(Are you thanking the gods or cursing them?)

(Does it matter? Doesn’t seem like they care.)

(You know what they say about assuming.)

(Fuck ‘em.)

“Yes.” Her chin lifts, daring him to restart the argument and oh he wants to-

“Hunting the Joker,” he mumbles, trying to pretend like the thought of her, standing over a crumpled body in an alley with a knife and those bared teeth and blood on her hands doesn’t do anything for him.

He’s terrible at lying to himself.

“He’s not in Gotham,” she supplies like all they’re discussing is yesterday's weather. “At least not that I could find yet.”

“How?” he demands, ignoring the yet part of that sentence. This is already enough of a fight without adding the dimension of implying she’s not done-

She shoots him a disbelieving look.

“You’re smart, Jason,” she snaps. “Figure it out.”

“I-” he stops himself. Takes a breath. Lays back down. “I didn’t come here to fight,” he says mulishly, glaring up at oily smoke-stains.

“Then why did you come?” she presses, voice significantly colder than it had been before. He takes another deep breath.

“I came to apologize.” He waits a moment, but she doesn’t seem to have anything to say. He sits back up. Maybe seeing her will change things. Convince her of his sincerity or some shit. “I’m sorry,” he hopes she can feel his regret, however her little talent works. “What I said was… I shouldn’t have. It was out of line and… I was angry. I should have slowed down. I should have… I don’t know what I should have done. But I absolutely should have never said that.”

“But you did.”

“But I did.” Silence engulfs them, so total that for a moment Jason wonders if he’s back in the ground, not even a heartbeat thundering in his ears of breath stirring in his lungs. Her blind eye bores into him and he can’t stop staring at the way the scarring around it looks like drops of red, puckered trails of a bloodstain, pink rolling down her cheeks like eternal tears emerging from a weeping head wound.

“You’re wrong,” she says at last, lips barely moving. “I don’t care if you believe me or not, but you’re wrong.”

“I’m wrong about a lot of things,” he admits hoarsely, ducking his head in shame until his chin digs into the vinyl, making them creak and groan under the weight. Breaking the silence, the tension, the guilt and reminding them that the world is still spinning.

“I wish there was a way to make this a two way street.” She takes a step, the first onto a rickety bridge built by half-assed understandings of each other. “That you could feel me the way I feel you.”

“I don’t.” He can’t imagine stepping into the world and bearing the weight of all its grief, its fear, day in and day out. “I…”

(You don’t know what you want.)

(I want her.)

It’s all he knows.

“I don’t know how to let you go,” he confesses, the closest he can come to admitting what she knows. “I can’t let you go.” It’s ugly, this yawning beast in his chest that wants her inside of his very being. Subsumed into his existence, utterly entwined with him until there is no point of separation.

“It isn’t kind.” She takes another step and he’s looking at both life and death, cradled in her palms, entombed in her face. His fingers itch, for a trigger or her skin, he doesn’t know. “What I feel for you. This” —she touches her heart, takes another step—“isn’t soft or sweet. I’ve loved someone that way before. I was willing to die for him.” Her shoulders heave in a deep breath as she takes another step. “But that’s not the love I have for you. I’m not willing to die for you Jason.” He stands, the couch between them, cushions pressed against his shins and the back meets her stomach. Blood stained cushions wiped clean again. “I am not willing to die. But I am willing to kill.”

“I can’t let you go,” he repeats, a broken whisper.

“Then walk beside me,” she urges, holding out a hand over the barrier between them. “I won’t leave.”

“Even if we walk together, we’ll never see eye to eye on him,” he warns, but he takes her hand anyway. Because he cannot let her go.

“I know.” She tugs him forward until he’s braced on the back of the couch, closer to her level and he cannot resist the overwhelming force of her, his own desire to close that last distance and taste her again. All brimstone and iron and his hand digs into her neck, like he can hold her there forever. Teeth and tongue and blood, painting each other with possession. It’s not kind, she had said, and he’s not a kind man. Not anymore. It’s not kind, the way he hauls her over the couch and into his embrace. It’s not sweet, the way her nails dig into him, and he knows there’s blood on the damn couch again.

(What a monster she’s awoken. How long before you devour her?)

(She’s devoured me.)

Carved herself into his bones, sanctified herself in his blood, stolen his breath and consumed his heart. The bloody strings are still hanging from her teeth as she bites his lip and he yanks her closer to ensure there’s nothing left of his carcass by the time she’s done.

(Dead boy, forgotten girl, monsters of your own making.)

(Exactly.)

She pulls away first, letting him burrow into her neck and paint it purple with a pleased hum. His blood under her nails, is bruises around her throat, her scars on his body and their hearts beating as one again.

“You won’t stop, will you?” he asks against her skin, licking the imprint of his teeth so very close to her jugular. Violence and love, so very close to each other.

“No. I’m not.” Her fingers in his hair pull him back until he’s looking up at the stubborn set to her jaw and ice in her eyes. He focuses on the redness around her lips instead, the irritated skin yet another mark of his presence. “I refuse to.”

“I can’t help you,” he confesses. “I can’t watch you take those risks-”

“Then don’t.”

“What?”

“Then don’t.” She nudges their noses together, chest to chest, eye to eye. Her fingers trace the jagged line over his temple, down through his rough stubble until she finds the carved J and taps it. “Hunt on your own if you must, but so will I. Don’t stop me and I won’t interfere with you.”

“What do you want to do then?” he asks, half-hysterical. “Compare notes?”

“I don’t know!”

“Seems to be a running theme,” comes a new voice. Clarisse is leaning in the doorway, hands in the pockets of what Jason’s pretty sure are a spare set of his sweatpants.

“What do you want?” he snaps, exasperated. If his hands on Silena’s hips spasm, he’ll plead ignorance until he sees new bruises.

“Come on,” the interloper jerks her head. “You can talk more later. But you need to blow up a building before you blow a blood vessel.”

“We’re in the middle of something, Clair,” Silena tries to brush her off.

“In the middle of another pointless fight from the looks of it. Just when you’ve made up too. And I’m not suited to walking through minefields so let's not make any more, okay?” He hesitates but Clarisse snorts and doesn't give him a choice.

Kneeling on couch cushions isn’t the most stable position, so when she tugs roughly his shoulder, he almost falls with a rather undignified yelp.

“Alright, alright,” he grumbles because really, she’s right. If he stays, they’re going to fight again. Silena knows it too, by the way she sighs but slithers out of his lap, pouting the whole time. “I’ll be back,” he promises. Silena smiles, nodding her acceptance.

As he walks out the door, eyes fixed on Clarisse’s back, he does his best to ignore the part of him that’s latched onto the alarming thought that she hadn’t promised him she’d be there waiting.

(She doesn’t love you enough to wait.)

(She doesn’t love me enough to die.)

(You’re going to get her killed.)

He follows Clarisse down the rickety stairs and into an alcove barely big enough for both of them.

“Do you have a place in mind?” she asks.

“Joker’s got a couple safehouses,” he replies, quickly rotating through the list he’d nabbed from Barbara last time Dick bullied him into the manor. “About six I haven’t gotten to yet.”

“Plenty of time.”

“For what?”

“For you to not drive yourself insane while she does what she’s going to do.” He swears under his breath, only her fist pressing against his shoulder in warning stopping him from striding back up those stairs. “She’s going to do it,” Clarisse warns, eyes dark with a knowledge that Jason would kill for even as he fears it.

“I don’t want her to die,” he whispers, a harsh reminder of the only ending Gotham holds for everyone who lives there.

“Are you deaf?”

“What?”

“She’s not going to die for you.” The fist falls, something complicated passes over Clarisse’s face, bitter and angry and devastated. Gone as quick as it comes. “You’re worth more to her than her life.” There’s nothing he can say to that, not in the face of whatever Clarisse is feeling as a result. “Come on,” she yanks him out of their alcove of shared secrets and back into reality.

“I’ve got a stockpile nearby,” he says, half against his will.

“You’re that easy, huh?” But the mockery is the same as all of his. Defensive.

“Yeah,” he swallows, their shoulders knocking together as they walk down the narrow street under dark shadows. Consuming them both in red and black and damned. “Because you need to do this just as much as me.” Clarisse may only care for Silena, but that didn’t matter when Jason didn’t have to look over his shoulder as much in the dead of night. For that, he’d return the favor. The bowels of Gotham have plenty of goon-riddled houses for her to blow a few for herself.

—

Silena isn’t anywhere to be found when they get back. Her bedroom is empty, every window and door is closed, locked and no sign of forced entry.

“She may have just left,” Clarisse suggests but Jason knows she’s lying. Knows she was in on this. That he’s been played. Hell, he knew that when he let himself be walked out the door. He appreciates the effort, even if he’s tired of playing pretend. “Taken a walk.”

“She-” he rubs his face in pure frustration. Look where lying to himself had gotten him? “I’m losing this battle, aren’t I.”

“Silena can take care of herself.” The woman who knows his lover better than he does grabs his shoulder and steers him towards the couch, forcing him to the creaky vinyl-

(Hm, too clean.)

-cushions with the exact opposite of delicacy. “She’s a tough cookie.”

“Joker’s cracked tough cookies before,” he mumbles, not that I was tough, being all of fifteen, but he goes without a struggle. It’s the closest any of them can get to a verbal surrender in this war.

“And Silena can sweet talk a mountain into moving miles. She’ll come back.”

“I hope to whatever god you want to lob that prayer to that you’re not wrong.” Clarisse barks out a laugh.

“You’re learning, Hood,” she grins at him, all teeth and fire and blood, a matching beast to the monster in his chest. Both of them pacing and slobbering and snarling, bloodthirsty beasts that Silena let in the door and keeps at the foot of her bed like pets. “Keep doing that and you might just live.”

“Can’t kill what’s already died.”

“If that were true, we would be gods.”

“And we’re certainly not their favorites, are we?”

“I wouldn’t be so quick to assume that,” Clarisse cautions. He looks at her in disbelief.

“Everything that’s happened, and you think the gods like-”

“They’re gods, Jason,” she cuts him off. “Their love is…” Her tongue rolls over her teeth, face twisting in pained recollection. A hairline scar on her chin gleams in the low light, a reflection of another one cutting through her left eyebrow. “Depending on what god loves you, their expressions of that devotion are not always good.”

He’s interrupted from having to form a coherent response by the door opening, heralding the woman who brings both of her monsters to their feet in an instant.

Silena sweeps through the front door, gliding past both of them in a silent cloud of perfume and artfully draped silk. It reawakens that awful beast in his chest, one he sees mirrored in Clarisse’s face. The woman in question doesn’t acknowledge if she tastes that bitterness or not, just retreating right back behind that damn door.

Probably the best decision. As much as he knows he’s losing this cold war, it still pisses him off that she’s going out. And going out alone. So much so that he can’t stay in this apartment a moment longer without saying something even more colossally stupid than what he’s said in the past.

“Where are you going?” Clarisse asks, tipping her head to watch him yank his helmet back on, movements jerky with his anger.

“Back out.” Maybe if he comes back with Joker’s head, this ridiculous game of showing violent devotion would end.

“Figures,” she sighs, as she follows him again. And he doesn’t stop her. It’s weird, having someone at his back, but a welcome weird. He knows she’ll make sure he gets back to their shared axis of orbit, even if she has to kill to do it. He also knows why.

(What a pair you make.)

#jason todd #silena beauregard #clarisse la rue #batman #percy jackson and the olympians #my writing #ao3 link

1 note · View note

watch-grok-brainrot · 4 years

Text

Wei Wuxian and Chinese Virtues of 忠孝仁义

There’s a lot of conversation about Wei Wuxian and how he struck out on his path without a concern for the Jiangs; about how he’s reckless and not giving a sh*t about his role within his society; about how he had a family and siblings and threw it all away for his sense of right and wrong. But the way I read his actions is within the context of the virtues of 忠孝仁义 (and how the virtues, especially 义, is ingrained in him via the Jiang sect motto). WWX’s major decisions can all be read as him acting in accordance with one or more of these virtues. Even when WWX is being his most irreverent self (and yes he’s rude and bring about a lot of second hand shame) he still remembers the we-self (to borrow from baoshan-sanren’s post) context as the head disciple of the Jiang Sect. Even when he seems to abandon everything, he didn’t abandon his understanding of these virtues.

First of all, let’s talk about 忠. 忠 (zhōng) is loyalty, devotion, fidelity. I usually associate the concept with loyalty towards your country but it can be applied to other units too. In the case of CQL where we don’t see an Emperor or country, it would only make sense that this concept be applied to either a person (e.g. SuShe at JGY) or a sect.

Tangent, feel free to skip: An (maybe THE) embodiment of this virtue is 岳飞 (Yue Fei), one of THE MOST famous Chinese generals. Yue Fei lived during the second half of the Song dynasty. He loved his country so much, he wrote poetry about drinking his enemy’s blood and eating their flesh (壮志饥餐胡虏肉，笑谈渴饮匈奴血) and taking back his country’s lands and saving the two previous emperors from being POWs. He is famous for the tattoo of the words “尽忠报国” (exhausting all loyalties to replay country aka i will be loyal and fight for my country until i die) on his back bestowed by his mother before he left home. When he was unjustly executed for treason, the executioners saw that on his back and the people knew a great man was wronged.

(if anyone wants a translation of the poem and a rambly share about some of my favorite Yue Fei related facts/stories, let me know. Otherwise, i’m gonna get back to our favorite necromancer)

So back to WWX. His loyalties are very much with the Jiang sect. After JFM and YZY dies, within the structure of 忠, Jiang Cheng is effectively who he needs to be loyal to because Jiang Cheng is the sect leader and essentially the symbol of the sect. The act of giving up his core to JC, then, embodies the idea of loyalty within the context of 忠. (I’ve seen memes about how WWX gave consent, WQ gave consent, but JC didn’t. drwcn has a great post about consent. For this post, i’m not going to go into it because this is outside my defined scope.) Furthermore, 忠 compels WWX to protect the Jiangs. I’ve read meta that thinks WWX was trying to get himself killed based on the crossing of his hanfu and his mouthing off at Wen Chao. I’m inclined to believe that reading because if dying means JC would never find out, so be it. And as long as WWX is dead, there will be no evidence of the core transfer so JC would never lose face before other cultivators. It would mean the Jiang sect can be rebuilt to its old status without being tainted by WWX’s sacrifice.

Ok, next is 孝. 孝 (xiào) is most often translated as filial piety. I don’t think there is a good sense of it in western culture. In chinese culture, it is the expected deference younger generations need to display to elders in their direct lineage. [Note: i use lineage because you can be 孝 towards your biological parents and grandparents, your kungfu master and their master, your adopted/honor bound parents, etc but not to everyone who is in a higher generation. It’s very family/lineage based.] 孝 is complicated because it’s ingrained into Chinese kids at a really young age. Go pour your grandparents tea. Go give your grandparents a back rub. Listen to your parents. When your parents get old, you’ll take care of them. Respect your elders. Even if your elders are wrong, don’t talk back. It’s a set of emotions that tie you to your ancestry. To turn your back on it feels like turning your back on your culture and identity.

Tangent, feel free to skip: Ok, this is really cool and I had to share. In looking up 孝 in the online xinhua dictionary, it says about the etymology: “形声。从老省，从子。” This is so cool! We have two characters: 老 (old, as in Yiling Laozu) and 子 (child). You’ll notice 孝 is a character where to top part of 老 is taken and 子 essentially follows. This character is a style of character where the meaning comes from the structure of the character. So 孝 is where the children follow the old, often blindly and with disregard of their own needs.

WWX, as an orphan, can only direct his 孝 towards Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan. 1) No matter how awful they were as parents, JFM and YZY raised WWX. 2) WWX is the head disciple. That means JFM is his shifu. [He calls JC his shidi and JYL his shijie for that reason.] That teacher-disciple relation is often described as “一日为师,终生为父” (a teacher for one day should be treated like a father for life). Both 1 and 2 bind WWX to the Jiangs regardless of his adoption status. So, when on the boat YZY and JFM tell WWX to take care of JC and JYL, it’s the order of an elder in his direct lineage. To not listen, to not defer to that order would not be 孝. Considering they perished at Lotus Pier, WWX was obligated to execute those orders to their fullest whatever the price (i.e. golden core).

Along those same lines, out of 孝 (and human decency, tbh) WWX and JC had to retrieve JFM and YZY’s bodies. Wen Ning helping them out in that situation is a HUGE favor. Not to mention all the other things WN and Wen Qing does for them. I will get to the favors and their ramifications later.

Ok, moving on to 仁. 仁 (rén) is most often translated as benevolence or humanity. (I want to say I find the translation of humanity very interesting from a bilingual child’s perspective because the chinese character for person/human is 人 which is also rén. I got the concept confused a LOT.) 仁 is found in the love and kindness shown towards fellow humans. Ctext often translates it as virtue, which is a bit too broad, IMO. I think this line from Confucian Analects explain the concept succinctly:

樊遲問仁。子曰：”愛人”

Fan Chi asked about benevolence [仁]. Confucius said, "It is to love all men."

WWX embodies this love better than everyone else in the story (except maybe LSZ but LSZ probably gets it from WWX). WWX meets stuttering WN and acknowledges him, offers to give advice, and truly sees the younger man. He treats WN with kindness and friendship (and yes, he takes advantage of WN’s willingness to push him around in a turnip wagon but that’s more shenanigans). WWX also sees the Wens at Phoenix Mountain as human and steps out of line to help them. His blindfolded five arrow show stems out of his 仁. His saving Mianmian is also an expression of his 仁. So many of WWX’s actions stem from 仁. A lot of the fandom see it as his empathy and I agree! It is that! But it can also be viewed as his internalization of the virtue to love humanity.

Finally, 义. 义 (義,yì) is actually the reason this ENTIRE post came to be. 义 is the same 义 as Yi City. I offer the traditional version of the character above so you can see how it compares to the stone on the way to Yi City. You will recall when WWX says Yi City, LWJ asks, “Yi, which means chivalrous?” And WWX explains same character but for coffin/mortuary in this case.

Actually, 义 is used in a lot of words:

正义- correct/rigit + 义 = righteousness

意义 - ideal + 义 = meaning

侠义 - knight -errant + 义 = chivalry

义气 - 义 + air = personal loyalty; code of brotherhood

名义- name + 义 = nominal

义父 - 义 + father = sworn father (this is a difficult to translate idea that sometimes i translate as godfather for simplification and cultural parallelism. it’s a parent figure that you acknowledge via vows. If the character for father is replaced with brother, then it’s the relationship that the 3zun have. And OMG i want to talk about the 3zun and romance of 3 kingdoms and how much of a awful un-义 person JGY is… but also holy out of scope batman)

In the case of virtues/morality, we’re looking at 义气 - the 义 that means loyalty to people and a code of brotherhood. The Jiang Sect ancestor is described as a 游侠 (yóu xiá, wandering hero). The ancestor’s identity as a 侠 (xiá), which indicates a highly skilled martial artist/fighter who will defends others (à la wuXIA and xianXIA), places him within the world of 江湖 (jiāng hú, sometimes translated as rivers and lakes or “pugilistic world” in some wuxia subtitles). In 江湖, 义 is the most important virtue. Based on 义, you help those in need. You stand out and do what is right. You are an outlaw that follows a strict moral code. 义 is the foundation of the Jiang Sect’s motto. Furthermore, the idea of 义气 can in some ways be viewed as currency. You do me a favor, I owe you one. You treat me with decency, I return the favor. You DO NOT return kindness with ill intent. It is taboo.

WWX exemplifies 义. 义 is part of what makes him so lovable and reckless. For 义 , he sticks out his neck for LWJ during Wen Summer Camp. For 义, he follows LWJ to search for the Yin Iron. Under 义 , he is free to be the hero who lends a hand whenever it’s needed. Oftentimes, 仁 and 义 go hand in hand because to stand up and stand out for other requires love of others and seeing their humanity.

So let’s get back to the Wen remnants: for 义, WWX must protect WN and WQ. As I mentioned before, WN and WQ had done WWX and JC (and thus the Jiang Sect as a whole) MULTIPLE HUGE FAVORS. 1) saving JC from Wen Chao at Lotus Pier. 2) retrieving JFM and YZY’s bodies. 3) transferring the golden core against WQ’s best judgement. All of these actions are so vital to the survival or the reputation of the Jiang Sect. WWX knows it. I’m positive JC knows it. To turn their backs on WN and WQ would be 不仁不义 (neither 仁 nor 义). Really, the ONLY thing they should be doing from the perspective of 义 is helping the Wens to repay their kindness. But WWX knows, as the head disciple, that JC cannot afford to align the Jiang Sect in sympathy with the Wens because it’s political suicide. The Jiang Sect WILL NOT SURVIVE if Nie, Jin, and Lan all turn against them. Even if Lan stood neutral, Nie and Jin would still be able to wipe out barely rebuilt Jiang.

So what does WWX do? He has already painted himself as a rebel, as rude, as ill bred. And from an outsider looking in, WWX is in alignment with his slippery descend into darkness. WWX knows if he steps just a little more out of line, he can accomplish everything else his morality dictates. (We could talk about WHY WWX feels like it’s ok for him to give up everything and analyze WWX’s self worth and what not. But that’s also outside the scope of this post and i’m pretty sure other people have done a better job of it than I could.)

Save the Wens, run away to the Burial Mounds, and defecting are all aligned with WWX’s morals. Defecting protects JC and the Jiangs sect in an act of loyalty (忠). Defecting also protects JC and JYL, thus fulfilling the filial piety toward YZY and JFM’s instructions (孝). Saving the Wens returns the debt of 义 that JC and WWX owe to WN and WQ. Saving the Wens also appeal to WWX’s sense of 仁 towards the non-cultivators. Lastly, protecting the Wens means JC does not end up 不仁不义. From WWX’s perspective his actions are the only option for him to really have no regrets when he asks his heart.

791 notes · View notes

ambelle · 3 years

Note

I don’t see how people actually like Dick/Dawn together? I thought the writers used the relationship to show that Dawn (like Robin) is Dick’s past. He was with her at a time in his life when he was young. He pretty much confirmed that with Rachel in 1x02. Meeting Kory changes Dick. Donna (Dick’s oldest and dearest friend) quickly realizes he has feelings for Kory (who she witnessed trying to kill Rachel) yet he defends her to the end. She says Kory’s a dangerous woman and he messed up with Dawn but Dick persists in helping Kory anyway. Donna’s words are fresh in Dick’s mind when being tested by Trigon in the S1 finale. Trigon shows Dick what his life could be with Dawn. Dick seems happy on the surface with a “normal” life; however, is easily distracted once he returns to Gotham and Kory comes back into the picture. The ordeal with Trigon reveals to Dick that Kory (not Dawn) is his light when Batman kills her and he gives into his darkness. He even asks Kory to come with him and the kids in 2x01, but she says she still has some things to work out. Dick obliges as she did after the asylum experience. Moreover, Dick/Dawn’s chemistry pales in comparison to Dick/Kory and their relationship hasn’t even been fully fleshed out yet. There is a trust, loyalty, protection and intimacy he’s got with her that isn’t shared with the rest of the team (old or new) which is why none of them realized he was about to sacrifice himself for Jason. They all abandon him (with the exception of Gar) when he tells the truth about Jericho. Kory comforts him and says that things will get better once they get over themselves. If Fidei wasn’t an issue Kory would’ve stayed too. After Rachel came to her senses and tried to enlist Donna, Dawn and Kory to find Dick the only one that helps her is Kory. She seems to hint that she fell in love (with Dick) when she talks to the psychiatrist she hooked up with in 2x11. S3 will most likely revisit them saying that they would try again after they figured out who they are and what they plan to become. Working closely with Kory again and the threat of losing her (whether in battle with her sister or to a new love) I hope will push Dick to come to grips with his feelings for her as well. #SlowBurnTorture

“He pretty much confirmed that with Rachel in 1x02.” <<< Honestly this part.

I have no idea why people like DickDawn/ think they are a threat to Dickkory. He does not have romantic feelings for Dawn in present day. And yeah when he and Donna had that conversation about Dawn (which in context was her casually blaming him for Joey’s death yikes) he didn’t even react. His focus was finding and helping Kory.

With the Trigon thing I think Dawn represented the life he thinks he wants/ would have if he quit being a hero. Not sure why anyone thinks that quitting being a hero is a good thing on a show about being a hero LOL...But anyway Dawn and Jason pushed him to go to Gotham and help Bruce who represented darkness to him. I think Kory was his subconscious. She appeared out of nowhere and pushed him to be happy and free much like she did in real life. And the last thing Dawn says to him in that dream is “of course it’s Kory.” Because yeah it’s obvious where this is all going.

And I don’t know if it’s the directing or Brenton but if you pay attention to group scenes Dick doesn’t even look at Dawn. And although I think Dawn harbours attraction towards Dick I don’t think she loves him anymore or she wouldn’t have left him to rot in prison. (I mean I’m not convinced her love confession was genuine in the past considering how easy it was for her to leave him after Slade almost killed him but I digress.) And he didn’t return that I love you. If they really wanted to sell us the ship they have been doing an awful job.

Season 2 showed us Dickdawn completly fall apart as she and the others put all the blame on him even though he was grieving too. Dawn is no different from Hank and Donna but Kory is. S2 was basically the group divided into who gives a damn about him as a person VS who thinks him being the leader means he can’t make mistakes (even mistakes they all pushed him to make. Looking at Donna being crazy in 108 in particular ). Kory just shows up and gets him and that’s it and likewise he always defends her. The ship is good in writing and in chemistry. I wouldn’t trade what we get for what other couples get at all. Also TBH Feddei was a bigger threat than Dawn because Kory was more interested in what he was going through and was willing to return home to save his life. Even though it was platonic that’s better than what happened between DickDawn in s2- her threatening to burn his house down was the longest conversation they had present day. In the past she was pushing him to be like the man he told her was a violent sociopath while he was grieving. Then her complaining that he was too busy to cuddle with her and should quit trying to stop Slade. ( and how are they superheroes if they are willing to let Slade go free to continue murdering people because they are scared? WTF?) Then just leaving without a word.

If nothing else the fact DK was the only pair who didn’t fight or argue or betray each other in s2 tells me the writers aren’t planning on pulling back. They easily could have had her turn her back on him too. But nope because “it’s Kory”.

#dickkory #the slowest slow burn in the world #but im here for the ride LOL #Anonymous

26 notes · View notes

kinnoth · 3 years

Text

AVENGERS INFINITY WAR MEGATHREAD

-really doubt i'm gonna be able to finish this movie so we'll just see where i get to

- we already know how i feel about loki and thor, we don't need to revisit this

- ok but if i were going to revisit this, i mean come on, who wants to talk about "hela draws her power from asgard, same as you" cos i wanna talk about that

like what if that's the reason thor, god of thunder, king to a civilisation of warriors, was unable to fend off like, 4 dudes and a big purple dinosaur? the royal family of asgard draws its power from asgard, and without it, they are weak, they are mortal. maybe that's why heimdall is unable to just, you know, bifrost everybody off the fucking ship the minute it comes under attack. maybe that's why loki can't fucking conjure up a swarm of fucking microscopic knives to fillet the invaders from the inside out. MAYBE THAT'S WHY LOKI TRIES TO KILL THANOS WITH A FUCKING DAGGER. BECAUSE TAKE AWAY HIS POWER, TAKE AWAY HIS GODHOOD, WHAT DOES HE HAVE LEFT OTHER THAN HIS WILE, HIS TRICKS AND HIS BROTHER

WHAT IF IN SAVING THE UNIVERSE AND DESTROYING ASGARD, THEY'VE LOST EVERYTHING INCLUDING WHAT MAKES THEM GODS

somebody talk about this

- etc etc what if the reason loki is unable to attack the purple dinosaur with magic is because when he tackled thor earlier, he used whatever magic he had left to spare in order to heal him

checks out cos thor goes from flat on his face to swinging his fists in the space of like 30 seconds and the only thing to happen to him in between is said bit about loki tackling him

- why does heimdall save hulk? i mean, i could understand it if he were trying to aim the bifrost at thor and somebody somehow knocked off his aim and he accidentally saves hulk, but like, we've established that heimdall's loyalty is to the royal seat of asgard upon whom sits thor's mighty ass. thor who, in this scene, has just been incapacitated by a metal eggshell(?) and is at the mercy of their assailants. given heimdall's priorities, it is baffling to the point of inconceivability that he would preferentially save fucking HULK over his own king.

- if this next scene isn't the guardians of the galaxy coming across thor clutching loki's dead fucking body floating through space then i don't know why any of us are even here

- "he sent loki! the attack on new york was thanos!" makes no sense? like, if loki's scepter had the mind stone in it, which we established it did in the last movie when we broke it open to retrieve vision, then.....why didn't thanos just....take the mind stone in the first place? cos rock collecting is and has always been his goal?

what, do you think that just because you assert a thing makes us forget all the shit that happened before?

- i.....am actually with tony stark. why don't they just destroy the stones they have so that thanos can't get to them? oh, you made a promise? well promises change and circumstances change! you tell him tony! you tell that stupid fucker --

oh my god i'm gonna be ill

- i think the only person whose ego can match tony stark's is probably a neurosurgeon so 👍 i guess

-i love how we immediately went back to the "so dark can't see shit" aesthetic after ragnorak because ensuring that one's audience can SEE what is HAPPENING IN YOUR MOVIE is apparently for radical directors like taika waititi

- cannot believe that tony stark staring at captain america's phone number is being played with the same emotional intensity as thor losing his soulmate entire people

- honestly how many times is the mcu gonna invoke 9/11 imagery til someone calls them out for being terrorists

- lmao i know i said this before but peter's spidey senses tingling AFTER the giant alien anus has already started sucking up new york and it is right outside his window is fucking hilarious. that's just called using your eyeballs peter

- "friday notify first responders about the giant alien anus sucking up new york" lol like the first thing somebody did when the alien anus showed up wasn't to fucking call 911 GREAT IDEA TONY

- still can't believe that they let failed neurosurgeon dr strange do more magic than god of tricks and sorcery loki lol

- i know i rag on dr strange a lot about the fact that he's a neurosurgeon it's just that he sucks.

as a neurosurgeon eyy.

- i hate that peter parker has to be here!!!!! leave him alone!!!!!

- tony stark should not be allowed within 100 feet of children or minorities

- it is very weird to me that steve "brooklyn" rogers has an area code from georgia

- since when was hela a half-sister? ODIN'S DAUGHTER AND THOR'S BLOODED SIBLINGS OR BUST YOU FUCKING COWARDS

- i am very disappointed that thor is going to go get another weapon after we spent the whole last movie talking about how he is not the god of hammers

- i just need thor to have much more PTSD than he has right now. fucking hulk has ptsd. maybe they're saving the ptsd for later. one can only hope.

- i am glad that they are letting him be cleverer though

- THEY ARE LETTING VISION DATE A TEENAGER WHY

GOD. FUCKING GROSS.

- wait when did vision turn into a white man again? did i miss that movie?

- i am disappointed that vision the computer techno robot apparently has a penis. like what a stupid limitation to give your computer techno robot, gender. 🙄

- i think that the mass destruction of infrastructure and architecture in the MCU is because of the pg13 no blood limitation that disney has set? like there's no way to show destruction to the body, so one may only show the exponential destruction to one's surroundings. like imagine how much more dramatic intensity you could wring out of a regular fight scene would be if people were allowed to bleed?

- cannot believe that a computer techno robot and a witch are having a punch up with the bad guys. of all people to fight with something not their fists, it's these two

- wanda has no enhanced strength or durability? she's a regular teenager who's a bit witchy. the first time she got thrown through a glass door should have shattered her vertebrae. again i don't understand why we insist that everybody must have the same powers and capabilities when it's clear they don't. think about how much more interesting it would be if some avengers were more fragile than others and had to be given accommodations as such

- IT IS INCONCEIVABLE TO ME THAT FUCKING BLACK WIDOW (regular human), CAPTAIN AMERICA (enhanced human), AND FALCON (regular human with wings) CAN DEFEAT THE CHILDREN OF THANOS WHEN THOR COULDN'T UNLESS THOR (god of fucking thunder carved of steel and stone) WAS NERFED

- still don't understand how we'll lend aliens afro features but not afro hair, like, seriously? you're gonna dream up green aliens with gills who look like black people but imagining them with black hair is a step too far?

- the gap of commentary in this liveblog is simply because i do not care at all for the galaxy defenders

- "earth just lost her best defender" who? who does captain america consider earth's best defender? it's not thor; he doesn't know thor's presumed dead. it's not tony; he doesn't know tony's on an alien anus. who else has died so far?

- love how exhausted bucky looks. have always loved how exhausted bucky looks. love bucky.

- i forgot that tony was with peter parker. god i hate that.

- "i'm peter btw"

"dr strange"

"oh you're using the made up names then. i'm spider man"

ok that was cute, but peter's cute, we knew that already

- i want to fling both strange and stark into space and i'm having a hard time deciding which one to push first

- "you went to bed hungry, scraping for scraps" oohhhh thanos is just anti-poor people, he would literally rather poor people be dead than struggle, i get it nowww

this is on brand for mcu

- oh my god thanos gets 2/6 stones by torturing siblings in front of other siblings, seriously? you couldn't come up with 6 different ways to find his stupid rocks you had to reuse one twice?

- which one of thor's friends was stabbed through the heart....? fandral??

- "if i don't get my vengeance what more could i lose" more like what else is there eh? what else is there for a king of no people but their vengeance?

- CANNOT BELIEVE THEY GAVE HIM BACK AN EYEBALL JESUS CHRIST IF YOU DIDN'T LIKE THOR RAGNORAK JUST SAY SO YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO FUCKING

VEHICLE FOR AUTHORITARIANISM, NOTHING IS ALLOWED TO CHANGE, FUCK YOUR CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT I GOT MINE

FUCK

- i do enjoy that thor is now science fiction rather than fantasy, i don't think anybody knew what to do with fantasy cos fantasy is again, ultimately about conservatism and the status quo. so i do like that we're embracing the new and boundless for whatever that's worth.

- marvel is a cesspool of toxic masculinity. at no point are characters allowed to actually feel anything because weakness is uncool i guess and therefore unmanful. like thor lost ALL OF HIS PEOPLE. fucking ALL of them. he watched his brother die in order to save him. he is not allowed a single fucking response of mourning. i don't care if he's pushing it back because revenge or whatever, this is the sort of grief that rules you, which will bring all your load bearing structures down to heel, and they let him do nothing; he does not even rage. perfect control. smooth witticisms. why. why aren't we allowed to see his sadness?

- yo i can't believe red skull is a scifi villain now lol space nazis for real

- OH MY GOD THEY WASHED BUCKY'S WIG AND IT LOOKS SO BAD

- michael b jordan was right btw wakanda is complicit in africa's exploitation

- i do LIKE black panther i guess in the way you technically like that cousin you met once when you were like 9 and never saw again?

i like how we have here in wakanda the sears tower (chicago), the batman building (nashville), and the gherkin (london)

- ok but like, presumably not a death cult super technologically advanced wakandans who are deffo made of human flesh and human blood still arm their people with spears

i mean unless wakanda is also a death cult

why is this chicks entire fucking face cgi'd she looks like a fucking cut scene video game character

- oh ok they have LASER spears, ok

so then why did they give bucky a fucking gun

- what is bucky supposed to be able to contribute here exactly, like fucking, again, he's spycraft isn't he? he's a one man, dead of night, operation go loud and then immediately silent kinda operation. why do they have him on the front lines of a fucking lock-step formation battle??

- "it will be the noblest ending in history" WHAT, FIRST COUNTRY TO EVER BE OVERUN BY ALIEN JACKALS??

- stormbreaker is just leviathan axe, somebody's said this already right

- omfg i'm so glad they're finally acknowledging that thor is OP as fuck and does not belong amongst the fucking squabbles of earth

-"titan was like most planets, too many mouths to feed not enough to go around, so i proposed a plan, dispassionate to rich and poor alike" JUST SAY YOU HATE POOR PEOPLE MCU. YOU CANNOT HAVE RICH AND POOR, YOU CANNOT HAVE DISPARITY, YOU CANNOT HAVE SOME WITH TOO MUCH AND OTHERS WITH NOT ENOUGH AND CALL IT EXTINCTION. THAT IS NOT A QUESTION OF OVERTAXED RESOURCES THAT IS A QUESTION OF RESOURCE FUCKING MANAGEMENT. IT IS AN ARTIFICIAL CRISIS IF THERE EXISTS ENOUGH TO GO AROUND BUT SOME PEOPLE ARE JUST HOARDING IT THAT'S WHEN YOU KILL THOSE PEOPLE AND TAKE THEIR SHARE. KILLING HALF THE PEOPLE IS THE KIND OF FUCKING SOLUTION TO INEQUALITY THAT RICH PEOPLE COME UP WITH

GOD. ITS LIKE NONE OF YOU EVER READ

-you've got the big fucking boss in an ambush AND YOU ATTACK HIM WITH A MAGIC SWORD STEVEN STRANGE?????

THIS FRANCHISE HAS NO IDEA HOW TO UTILISE MAGIC USERS FUCKING HELL

- when will somebody please utilise ironman like the one man artillery he fucking is WHY IS HE FIGHTING WITH HIS STUPID FISTS HE IS LITERALLY ONE CONTINUOUS CARPET BOMB JUST USE HIM THAT WAY

cut of his arm CUT OFF HIS ARM YOU BLOODLESS SPINELESS USELESS FUCKING CUNTS . this is a manufactured crisis, KIND OF LIKE THE ONES THANOS LIKES I GUESS LOL

- dr strange could have very easily prevented or stopped quill from punching thanos but he didn't cos i guess even the movie forgets steven strange exists sometimes

- i like that the shield around wakanda has the same weakness as a poorly constructed chicken coop -- you always build into the ground a couple feet to stop the diggers man, come on, what is this, your first energy shield?

- oh disgusting, a girl boss moment. whatever you're all fascists.

- nobody adores martial might like fascists do fucking change my mind

- " avengers: not one person in this fucking cast is able to stomach ANY AMOUNT of personal sacrifice" more like

- "why did you give away the time stone?" "we are in the endgame" THAT'S NOT AN ANSWER THAT'S A FUCKING MOVIE TEASER FUCK YOU

- why didn't strange just trap thanos in a timeloop again? we've already established that is a perfectly acceptable way to deal with planetary annihilation. IS IT POSSIBLY BECAUSE NOBODY ON THIS WRITING STAFF KNOWS HOW TO DEAL WITH MAGIC

- THOR OP BLIZZARD PLS NERF

-CAPTAIN MARVEL SERIOUSLY THAT'S WHO YOU'RE GONNA SEND YOUR LAST PAGE TO JESUS FUCKING DISGUSTING

#the asshole liveblogs #avengers infinity war #internal thor tag

2 notes · View notes

wesavegotham · 4 years

Text

Talia, Damian and choosing between good and evil

Before Grant Morrison created Damian in 2006 Talia was seen as one of Bruce's greatest loves for a long time. She was the first love interest of Bruce that showed him from a more passionate side:

Bruce and Talia loved each other, but Talia could never really choose between her loyalty to her father and her love for Bruce, even though in most stories she would end up helping Bruce against Ra's.

While she was morally gray, Talia was originally a kind character, who fought against child rapists, murderes and other villains, patched Bruce up when he was hurt or down and even threw herself between Bruce and bullets that were about to hit him. In the 1987 graphic novel "Son of the demon" the two even married and Talia got pregnant. Bruce went pretty much overboard trying to keep Talia and their unborn child safe and almost got himself killed in the process. Which is why Talia lied to him about suffering from a miscarriage and asked him to leave her. Later she gave birth to their unnamed son and gave him to an orphanage:

The graphic novel was later taken out of continuity because DC didn't like the implication of Bruce having sex and not knowing that he had a child when he's supposed to be the world's greatest detective.

The reason I'm mentioning this story is because it would later serve as the base for Damian's creation in 2006. While the idea of Bruce and Talia having a child came up in Elseworld stories before (Ibn in "Kingdom Come" and Tallant Wayne in "Batman: League of the Batmen") the introduction of Damian marked the first time their son became canon in the main DC universe.

When Grant Morrison started his run on Batman he decided to bring "Son of the demon" back into continuity, but didn't bother to read the graphic novel he only vaguely remembered. His vague memory ended up basically destroying Talia's original character, something she hasn't recovered from since 2006.

In his memory they didn't have a consensual relationship and Talia raped Bruce to have a child. Morrison reduced her to the "Asian Babymama" trope and turned her into a mustache twirling villain, a worse version of Ra's basically, who turned evil because Bruce rejected her. Suddenly she was willing to sacrifice both Bruce and Damian to reach her goal of ruling the world. I have a lot of issues with this premise, most importantly its racist and sexist undertones, but this post wouldn't end if I started ranting and there are fans who are more knowledgeable about Talia and better at explaining why this sucks so much.

Grant Morrison later admitted that he remembered the story wrong and tried to explain that Talia went evil because of the continuity changes Superboy Prime punching the universe caused (Don't ask, comics are weird) and that when Bruce accused Talia of drugging him Bruce was actually lying about getting drugged, because he didn't want to admit to himself that he had loved her and slept with her out of his own volition.

If you don't believe me, here is the link to the interview: https://www.blogtalkradio.com/hotb/2016/11/15/064-the-zorro-of-arkham--an-interview-with-grant-morrison

Think what you will about that explanation. Fact is, the last time Bruce commented on Damian's conception he said this:

So to all the people who love to yell that Talia is a rapist and Damian a rape-baby, kindly shut up. Morrison's mistake got retconned years ago.

Anyway, Damian inherited Talia's struggle to choose between Ra's and Bruce, only that they turned Talia into a second Ra's and gave all her previous conflicts to her son, which is probably one of the reasons DC is unwilling to return her to her former character.

Some writers like Patrick Gleason have tried to give her some redemption, like when he wrote that Talia had been posessed during Morrison's run and cleansed during her resurrection, but the rest of DC pretty much ignored his attempt.

I'm not a fan of DC's extremely black and white, good and evil narrative they have created for Damian and the execution is pretty lackluster.

First of all, it's pretty racist that the Al-Ghuls lost a lot of their complexity over the years to serve as Damian's dark and evil side of the family, while the batfamily (which is pretty white) is presented as the light and good side. It gives me major "white saviour" vibes and has lots of unfortunate implications, especially because DC likes to pretend that Damian is white and only touches his arab/chinese roots when they write him in a more negative light. DC does the same thing with Talia, where they draw her as white when she's more sympathetic and give her brown skin when she's evil.

Second of all, DC loves to label Bruce as a man of high morality, but I think he's actually a pretty bad hero and parent. Some part of me is convinced Talia isn't allowed to be a better mother because it would make Bruce look bad in comparison.

I talked enough about why I don't think of modern Batman as a good person and a hero in my previous post, so I'm going to focus on Talia and Ra's Al-Ghul.

Making Talia evil robs her of her character and history, erases one of Bruce's most important romantic relationships and after a while it just lacks story potential. If the Al-Ghuls have no redeeming qualities then writing Damian struggling so much between the two sides becomes baffling after a going through this character arc several times.

You can argue that Damian got gaslighted for years and that he was still an impressionable child, but if the Al-Ghuls are really as evil, brutal and selfish as DC writes them nowadays it makes it really hard to sympathize with anyone who thinks about joining them (which happens a lot with the batfamily).

Another fact that DC loves to forget is that originally Ra's used to be an eco-terrorist. He planned to wipe out some part of the human population to save plants and animals from extinction, which is extremely relevant today. Ra's is a villain, we don't have to argue about that, but he used to have more depth that made him interesting as a character and made it more plausible why someone might join him. He also loved his daughter, which explained why Talia struggled to leave him in her old stories.

The way they are written now it makes little sense why Bruce should have so much respect for Ra's, something that made their relationship special, there is no reason why Bruce ever loved Talia and decided to sleep with her and there's no reason why Damian should ever return to the League.

Establishing a more loving relationship, both between Bruce and Talia, even if it's in the past, and a better relationship between Damian and Talia has a lot more story potential for Damian's seemingly never ending storyline where he can't decide if he wants to follow Bruce's methods (whatever that means for modern Batman) or the way of his mother. Because as it stands his character developement is stuck in a loop where he just looks like a boy who is unable to learn and can't see how one of the possible options has nothing going for it.

#Talia al Ghul #Damian Wayne #bruce wayne

157 notes · View notes

why-this-kolaveri-machi · 5 years

Text

i preserved in him what he needed to believe about you.

i wrote yesterday that this episode had a lot riding on it. for the most part, it delivered--mostly in anchoring both dick and slade’s arcs, expanding on the themes introduced in s2, and in firmly establishing jericho as My Favourite Forever And Ever. it was also very flawed, but in (mostly) interesting ways. let’s talk about it!

SPOILERS ahead.

1. jericho has my whole heart and then some. i think it would’ve been very easy to paint him with broad strokes--my fear was they would drag the innocence all the way to the edge of infantilisation, which, good god NO--but while he is enthusiastic and ready to believe the best of both his friends and family, there’s a sharpness to him, a kind of reckless guile, and quite a lot of unresolved and complicated feelings about father figures.

1.25. he is obviously very proud of his father having served in the military--he’s even tangentially aware that he was experimented on, given his nonchalant attribution of his own powers to “drugs” that his father took while serving. (this awareness has to include the fact that his father definitely took a number of lives as a soldier.) even the awful assault that took away his voice and eventually his father from his life tracks with a single, knowable truth. knowing this helped him ground his own identity--the problem comes when he realises that what he’d used to build himself on was itself built on a lie.

there is a tension, then, between his loyalty to these friends who used him but ultimately revealed the truth to him, and his desire to have that cornerstone of his life back. his compromise is to talk to his father, but only with dick’s permission; in it, he would know if his father was finally ready to be completely honest with him, and if there was more to dick’s friendship than merely using jericho to get to his father.

1.3. of course, it doesn’t exactly work that way: in the final fight at the church, there are two men who insist on their truth while pushing him to the side. in it, he sees one of them ruthlessly cut down the other, and he sees the other using his own body and life to protect him. jericho makes his choice in the end.

1.45. dick i think was absolutely right and justified in bringing jericho to a safe place where he can explore and learn to control his powers, even if dick was surprisingly blase about the potential ethical tangles of being able to possess other people’s bodies without them being aware of it. it was honestly a bit disturbing to see that hank was chosen to demonstrate jericho’s powers, given his history and the fact that he describes the experience as a “blackout”. i’m just going to assume that he would’ve come around to it eventually.

given the relative paucity of Big Bads and grand superhero battles, i’m kind of taken with the idea of the titans essentially being a support group for young troubled superheroes who need help and training and ways to ground themselves before heading back to their corners of the world.

1.5. ultimately this episode once again drives home what should be the essential question in a show that revolves around a team of superhero sidekicks: are we destined to be what we were moulded to be? is the point of their existence to perpetuate what their mentors/fathers did? slade and jericho both struggle with this; so do dick and donna in this episode. so do rose, and jason, and rachel, and conner, and kory in the broader context of the series. the answers they find are complicated and at the cost of a great deal of pain, but the process is always interesting.

1.8. obviously jericho isn’t actually dead. i wonder what that initial dreamscape sequence was all about? is it some secret pocket dimension that jericho jumped into at the last minute when slade killed his body? is that where he’s been for the last five years?

2. dick grayson is lost. he is utterly buried under artifice and armour. i mentioned in a previous post (i think the one for 2.07) that he performs quite a bit of emotional labour for the team on top of being their leader in a tactical sense. here, he’s trying to hold it together for the team after a devastating death; he’s spearheading an effort for revenge he thought they all supported. he pulls on batman-goggles, trying to look at what he’s doing from a logical, emotionally-removed perspective, even while burying his bleeding heart as deep as he possibly can. no wonder he’s acting “like a ghost” and “burning at both ends”--it’s a terrible burden to bear.

then the team turns around--once they’ve already gotten the info they needed, mind!--and tells him to cut jericho out of this operation; that it’s wrong and awful to have involved him at all. when he tries to do just that, he sees that he can actually help jericho as a friend and teammate, and at the urging of dawn, comes clean to him. meanwhile garth’s death and donna’s grief is still an unrelenting pressure on the back of his neck, driving him to find deathstroke at any cost--except when that cost is betraying jericho’s trust. ultimately slade nearly murdering donna is what breaks him--and he decides to follow jericho to slade anyway.

at every point he is so desperately trying to do good by everybody that he loses himself in the process. that his reward for this is being beaten up, a truckload of survivor’s guilt, and being abandoned by his closest friends is just so fucking awful. his friends are so used to his artifice and he is so used to absorbing all the blame that they think nothing of both praising him for being someone that saves people and believing he would sacrifice innocent lives for the sake of a mission in the same day.

(but this makes dick/kory so beautiful and refreshing--she has no time for his artifice and he doesn’t have to Be Someone around her. their relationship is defined by being undefined, and in that sense--at least for now--both of them find peace in the other.)

2.5. slade commenting coldly on dick’s fighting skills and the way he uses dick’s feelings for jericho to distract and defeat him makes me think that slade’s been playing this game with dick for far longer than he was aware: slade used both jericho and donna as bait to lure dick to that church, fought him in a cold, critical way undoubtedly reminiscent of a thousand sparring sessions with batman, and drove him utterly to the ground not just to prove a point to the titans and the superhero community at large but to jericho as well: this man is weak, manipulative, and ultimately a poor substitute for slade.

2.75. who knows for how long dick wallowed in his failure, still seeing jericho take the blade that was meant for him, utterly alone? did he go back to the batcave, utterly defeated, and did he listen to bruce call him out on his mistakes? how much do you think he internalised all the terrible things he’d been told he was until he believed it all to be true? until he couldn’t live with himself and spiralled and spiralled until his self-hatred lead to outright self-destruction?

like--no wonder he completely fell apart in the present day when deathstroke showed up again. he’d just started to trust--he’d just started to build a family again. and here it is, a reminder of his biggest failure threatening to have him fail spectacularly once again.

... this boy needs so much therapy. or at least a long nap and a series of hugs.

2.8. (that fight between him and slade tho... goddamn. even my shitty quality stream couldn’t take away from how thrilling it was to watch.)

3. dawn is... well. i know it’s been frustrating to follow dawn this season, as she’s been either non-existent or, uh, flat, but there was something interesting in the way her dynamic with dick moved and shifted in this episode. she thrills to ideals without considering the consequences of actually following those ideals. in the space of a few months, she can implore dick to act like batman, then tell him no, she was wrong to have asked him to do that, then say that she loved him for saving people and then barely days later abandon him for being a reckless sociopath who exploited innocent lives. in the present day, she can support hank in his retirement and rehabilitative process, yet still think it’s perfectly ok to go behind his back and continue being a vigilante. she supported protecting rose in the tower but still piled on dick for going off on his reckless suicide mission to try and save both jason and rose. she endorsed (and once praised) dick taking on troubled young superhero charges, yet turned around and berated him for daring to open up titans tower and “put them in the firing line”.

i mean, for all that she takes the considerate, sensitive line in conversations, it’s almost always in contradiction to a position she’d taken earlier. it’s too consistent to be a coincidence, and i think it’s fascinating.

4. i didn’t realise amazons could be defeated and killed so easily?? who issued the contract to kill jillian in the first place and what was the “important work” they were doing in san francisco in the first place? a mystery within a mystery...

5. if this season were the draft of a story, i would go right in with a red pen and start moving around all the parts to make it flow better; excise entire passages and rewrite a few others. the pacing has been terrible, and this has meant that the younger titans--and the team we came to know and love through the first season--have gotten almost nothing to do, either plot-wise or emotionally. even if kory and gar and rachel become absolutely vital to the story in the last 4-5 episodes, it would still be a fairly significant failure, storytelling-wise.

that’s a pity because this show is packed with a stellar cast, always looks gorgeous, and is filled with genuinely insightful human relationships that are allowed to unfold in ways you just don’t see in other superhero media. just--*vibrates* a little more love and care from the people making and producing the show please!

#titans #titans spoilers #meta #jericho #dick grayson #slade wilson #deathstroke #dawn granger

72 notes · View notes

violetsmoak · 4 years

Text

Appetence [10/?]

AO3 Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/20251420/chapters/47997634

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: Red Robin is investigating the disappearance of a friend and stumbles into a spot of supernatural trouble. He doesn’t expect to be saved by Jason Todd, miraculously alive five years after his death and now with the inexplicable ability to commune with the dead. Meanwhile, when Jason returned to Gotham he meant to maintain a low profile and not get involved with Bat business. That was before he found out how hot his Replacement is.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: N/A

First Chapter

________________________________________________________________

Tim swerves into the Cave, skidding into the parking area with a little less finesse than usual. He’s got a shivering Batgirl bracketed between his arms on the bike, not having wanted to risk her falling off the back of it while they drove. He’s got a nasty case of frostbite on his shoulder himself, courtesy of a cold grenade in the wrong place and the wrong time.

He was helping Batgirl and Signal with the clean-up after Freeze’s latest temper tantrum and accidentally triggered the blast. Steph shoved him out of the way, taking the full brunt, and it was only due a quick reaction time and a few well-placed portable heating disks that she hadn’t been flash frozen.

She might not have any major lingering damage—she was well enough to request going to the Cave because of Alfred’s tendency to make homemade soup whenever any of them have a less than stellar encounter with Freeze—but Tim’s anxious to get her warmed up as soon as possible.

Also, he needs to treat his own injury.

“If-f I get a cold I’m k-killing Freeze,” Steph mumbles as Tim helps her off the bike and walks her toward the medical bay. “There’s nothing w-worse than a summer cold.”

“Says the woman who survived being used as a human pincushion.”

“It’s a d-different kind of misery.”

There are several heating blankets already plugged in and ready, and Steph is already peeling herself out of her uniform with shaking hands. Tim does the same, tossing aside tunic and body armor to rummage in a drawer for the special heating plasters; they warm an affected area gradually, making them perfect for frostbite.

“Geez, Tim, you been sk-skipping meals again?” Steph reproaches, frowning at him in his shirtless state. “Seeing a lot more rib than usual.”

“You’d do well to take a page out of his book, Brown,” Damian’s voice snarks from the doorway, loitering in all his scowling twelve-year-old glory. “I’m surprised your suit doesn’t split down the back when you move.”

“Shut up, Damian.”

“No, Tim, I got th-this,” Steph pipes up and then shoots the youngest Robin a steely smile. “I’ve g-got Martha Kent’s email. Wonder what she’ll have to s-s-say when she hears about Dami fat-shaming people.”

“You! You are not in contact with her!”

Damian isn’t exactly prone to flushing considering his complexion, but whenever he gets upset or embarrassed, red creeps across his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. That, and the minute raising us his eyebrows suggests he’s more rattled by the threat than he pretends.

“I might be,” Steph allows. “You really wanna t-take that chance?”

Damian scowls at that, fists clenched, and then seems to decide not to risk it. It’s like watching the air be let out of a balloon.

Tim whistles.

“How is it a Kansas housewife has managed something not even two versions of Batman and the League of Assassins could?” he asks, somewhat awed.

“Pie and mom-guilt, I think,” Steph suggests.

“Clearly.”

“Hilarious,” Damian deadpans, facing Tim and doing his best to ignore Steph. “If you’re finished casting aspersions on my upbringing, perhaps you can make yourself useful.”

Tim raises an eyebrow at him.

“Father was distracted tonight,” the kid continues. “He won’t explain and Richard’s not here to do…whatever it is he does that makes him somewhat normal again.”

Tim blinks, having not expected that. “What exactly do you think I can do about that?”

“It’s no secret you and Father are experiencing “issues”,” Damian says and uses honest-to-goodness air quotes. “Perhaps seeing you will irritate him into letting something slip.”

“I highly d-doubt Bruce is that upset that he’ll unclench long enough to tell T-Tim anything,” Steph sniggers.

“Perhaps not, but once Drake strikes out I can ask Father after a requisite amount of time has passed and under less fraught circumstances than directly after a fight. He’ll be more likely to confide in me.”

“Right,” Tim drawls. “Because that has a snowball’s chance in hell of working. Pass. How do you even come up with these ideas, anyway?”

“It’s a simple enough ruse, Drake. Jon says it is called “tag-teaming”.”

Again, with the air quotes; clearly Damian’s latest visit to the Kent farm came with another dose of ‘how-to-be-a-real-boy’ lessons.

“And if you think Bruce is gonna fall for that and magically open up about something he doesn’t want to talk about, you haven’t been paying attention the past few years.”

“That’s not what this is,” Steph says, squinting at Damian like she’s trying to read his mind or something. “You’re worried.”

“I am no such thing!”

“You’ve gotta be since you’re asking Tim for a team-up.”

“I am not!”

“Good, because I’m not interested,” Tim says. “Whatever Bruce is brooding about will come out. It always does. Try prying it out of him beforehand and he’ll get cagey and mean about it.”

I know what that feels like, and I wouldn’t even wish it on you, demon-brat.

“Fine, don’t do anything,” Damian growls. “I should have known you would be too pig-headed and cowardly to approach Father while you’re in this pointless...detente.” He turns on his heel. “You’re as useless as I’ve always thought. Good to know it’s been confirmed.”

He stalks away.

Tim sighs and stares at the ceiling. “I guess on a scale of one to stabbed-in-the-chest, that went okay?”

“You two seriously need to deal with your drama,” Steph sighs, shifting beneath her blanket. “And you should go figure out what prompted all that. He really is worried. And hurt, now that you shot him down.”

“His entire existence has been dedicated to shooting me down,” Tim points out. “Literally sometimes.”

“Don’t exaggerate. Not his entire existence.”

“You know what I mean.”

“He’s a kid, Tim. One with a shitty childhood, a massive inferiority complex and who’s about to enter the super-fun world of puberty. And he came to you. Not me, or Dick—”

“Dick’s in New York.”

“Dick’s a phone call away and if Damian really wanted to go get him, he’d have stolen a car and gone to him. But he came to you. Probably because he knows as well as any of us that you’re the most Bruce-like and can talk to Mr. McBroody when he’s at his most pod-person level of weird.”

“Funny, I didn’t hear any of that beyond the constant insults.”

“He’s just jealous.”

“And that gives him a free pass?”

But his question sounds whiny even to him, and he sighs as Steph crosses her arms at him.

“When did you start becoming so wise and all-knowing?” Tim grumbles.

“Search me. I guess I just woke up one day and bam! All the secrets of the universe were just waiting for me to share them with the unwashed masses. Like you. You reek, by the way.”

“Right, because you smell like a rose.”

“Thanks!” Steph chirps unrepentantly.

“I think you are getting a cold,” Tim grumbles and starts out of the med bay. “The snot’s clearly going to your head and cutting off brain flow along with your sense of smell. I should go see if Alfred’s got anything to fix that.”

“Hot chocolate please!” she calls after him. “And don’t skimp on the mini marshmallows!”

“You know the way to the kitchen.”

But he’s already climbing the stairs and heading for the main computer dock. Tim was responsible for a different sector of the city, but it took longer than normal to get the all-clear. Maybe Bruce is distracted—if so, it would have to be something pretty serious.

Maybe Selina’s back in town…

“My god…!” he hears Alfred say as Tim reaches the top of the stone staircase.

Bruce is seated, Alfred behind him and holding on to the back of the chair so tight the knuckles on his hands have turned white.

“Are you…are you quite sure, Master Bruce?” he asks, the question faint.

“I’m sure,” Bruce replies. “I was sure at the cemetery.” Tim’s ears perk up at that. “And these results…they just confirm it. He’s alive. Somehow…somehow, Jason’s alive.”

Tim freezes in mid-step.

Well…so much for me having to tell them…

He’s relieved.

He thinks.

The situation with Jason has been on his mind the whole week, and he’s never had a harder time keeping a secret than he did trying to stick to his promise to Jason. It’s been a constant struggle between his loyalty to Bruce—remembering how shattered he was in the weeks and months following Jason’s death—and his respect for Jason, a potential ally, friend and maybe one day family.

(He’s been doing his best to shut down the ‘inappropriate childhood crush’ angle during his mental justifications.)

Usually, Tim is good at separating his emotions from making hard decisions, but this time it’s…well. He blames it on still being in a state of shock that Jason is alive and that he has been alive all this time.

And he didn’t come back for some reason, and even now doesn’t want to have anything to do with the Family.

So why come back to Gotham at all, then?

“…looked him in the eyes,” Bruce is saying, in the same tone he uses to profile criminals. That’s troubling. “He’s as determined as ever. I’m not sure if there’s a broader reason for his return—for his…his avoidance. But I have a good idea. It will need confirmation; someone will have to keep an eye on him—”

“Master Bruce,” Alfred interrupts, tone breathless and almost indignant. “This is not some criminal mastermind or domestic terrorist. This is your—”

“I’m aware,” Bruce interrupts. “But there’s too much unaccounted for. He had a lot to say and still didn’t give anything away.” He rubs at his chin in thought. “He knew things, Alfred. Information on events he wasn’t present for—that were not shared in the media.”

Tim goes still, suddenly beset with a sense of foreboding.

“He’s communicating with someone,” Bruce goes on in manic calculation. “Someone knew he was alive. He said…'replacement’.”

Well, frack.

Tim begins to take a step back and nearly knocks into Damian, who’s crept up behind him with his usual maddening silence.

“Watch it, Drake!”

Damian’s voice echoes and Tim winces, head whipping around to glare at the boy.

Double frack.

There are moments—few and far between the actual assassination attempts and sabotage—where Damian displays all the bad timing that only younger siblings seem to possess. This is definitely one of those moments.

When he looks back, Bruce is already on his feet and stalking over, cape whipping behind him and expression like a thundercloud.

Damian, for his part, doesn’t seem to realize what he just did as he watches his father in surprise. This is echoed by Steph, who has followed him over, no longer wrapped in the blanket but wearing one of the generic sweatshirts that they keep stored in the recovery area.

Conveniently, they’re both blocking Tim’s nearest means of escape.

And now Bruce is towering over the three of them, eyes flicking briefly across each face, before zeroing in on Tim, who tenses.

“You,” he determines. “You knew.”

Annoyance pricks at Tim. There are two other people beside him, why does Bruce automatically think it’s him.

“Knew what?” Damian demands.

“Not now, Damian.”

“If Drake has committed some monumental blunder, I should—”

“Oh my god,” Steph gasps, her eyes roving past everyone to stare at the computer screen. The DNA comparison is still bright and clear, and in the background the picture of a young Jason Todd is unmistakable. “Is that…?”

“Jason Todd,” Damian reads stiffly, clearly recognizing the name. He scans the relevant information, including the date of the most recent DNA sample. “Todd is alive?”

“So it would seem,” Alfred confirms faintly.

“You’ve been feeding him information,” Bruce accuses Tim, and it’s almost a hiss. “You’re the replacement he mentioned.”

“Technically he had three,” Tim points out if only to try to stall.

“Aside from the fact you’re the only one here who doesn’t look surprised, he referred to a male.” Something passes over his expression, almost a grimace as if he’d rather not think of something, before he continues. “And if it were Damian, he would have informed me immediately.” He takes a step forward, the stony and emotionless countenance of Batman firmly in place. Tim half expects those thick gauntleted arms to grab him and hoist him in the air like so many an unlucky criminal. “You knew Jason was alive. And you didn’t say anything.”

“No,” Tim says, at last, deciding he might as well own it. “I didn’t.”

“Why?”

The sound is primal and broken, somewhere between a hiss and a growl. Tim is aware of the gazes upon him—Bruce’s anger, Alfred’s hurt, Steph’s confusion and Damian looking torn between satisfaction at Tim’s discomfort and agitation at his father’s obvious agitation.

“There were a few factors,” Tim admits. “First of all—”

“Factors?” Bruce barks. “This isn’t an experiment, Tim! This is my—this is Jason—!”

“And he asked me not to say anything!” Tim shoots back. “I figured after everything he’s been through, the least he deserved is someone listening to him.”

Trapped in an asylum and forgotten about? He deserves more than that…

“You never met him! There’s no way you could have been sure it was him, and even so—”

“I didn’t know him?!” Tim challenges. “There are a couple hundred pictures I took that say different! Or have you forgotten how I even got involved in all this?” He sweeps his hand around the cave. “I saw him enough at events when my parents were alive to recognize him, and even if I hadn’t, how many times did you make me go over his file when I started? Foster care records and psychological profile and autopsy reports! Since you needed me to be extra aware of what could happen to me if I screwed up as a Robin? And you might never talk about him around me, but Dick always did. Alfred too, sometimes.”

“That still doesn’t excuse your lack of discretion! You were foolish to interact with him—to make that decision without consulting with me, not least of all compromising the mission by sharing information that could expose everyone—”

“What exactly would I be compromising?” Tim shoots back. “Anyone who could impersonate Jason that well, who could talk about the things we did would already know where all the skeletons are buried. I doubt there’s much I could say that he didn’t already know, and you…you didn’t see him, okay?”

Tim’s defensiveness falters a little here, remembering how tense Jason had been throughout their whole encounter. He was thrown-off, uncomfortable, angry…and he was also trying his best not to let on how curious he was about how the family was doing.

But Bruce only bristles. “You still should have told me the minute you suspected—”

“Told you what?! ‘Hey, so, guess what, I ran into Jason last night. Yeah, that Jason, your son that got killed by the J—”

The name gets stuck in his throat, like his esophagus is closing, causing a crack he knows no one misses. Bruce winces and Steph’s confusion becomes worried. He needs to take an extra breath before he can force himself to keep talking.

“Killed by an explosion’,” he finishes. “We both know you wouldn’t have believed me if I told you he was alive and in Gotham.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Don’t kid yourself, Bruce. We both know exactly how it would have played out. I’d tell you what happened, you would tell me how impossible it is. You’d say stuff like you’d know if anyone had disturbed his gravesite, or that I’m stressed out or paranoid or under the influence of Ivy or Crane. Or you’d accuse me of making an inappropriate joke, and then we wouldn’t be talking again for a while.”

For a moment, Bruce looks hurt and a little guilty—probably because he knows it’s true.

“You would never lie about something like that,” he says at last. “If you believed Jason had returned, I would have trusted you enough to look into it.”

“And how was I supposed to know that? It’s not like you and I have exactly been all about great communication and understand since Captain Boomerang and Mr. Freeze.”

“I’ve been…giving you time.”

“Funny how giving me time looks a lot like avoiding me.”

“Master Timothy, that is quite enough,” Alfred interrupts at last.

All of his defensiveness toward Bruce vanishes in the guilt he feels for contributing to that look on Alfred’s face.

“I didn’t stay quiet to hurt anyone,” he tries to assure the old man. “And I was going to tell you all. But Jason asked for a week. For breathing room, I guess. I was going to tell you today—yesterday, really, if Freeze hadn’t shown up.”

“So you say,” Damian needles.

Tim ignores him. “I’d say it’s a coincidence that you found out tonight some other way, but considering what Jason’s into these days, maybe not.”

Bruce blinks in realization. “You know he’s a medium.”

“Yes, I know he’s a—wait.” Tim stops abruptly. “He’s what?” He knew Jason was working with the occult, sure, but this? “That part I missed.”

“He sees dead people?” Steph asks. “That kind of medium? Because I loved that show.”

Suddenly the reasons for Jason being sent to Arkham make so much more sense. Waking from his coma and suddenly be surrounded by ghosts? If he spoke to or acknowledged them, no wonder the staff thought he was hearing voices.

“Wait, how did you find out?” Tim asks, frowning. “You were talking about a cemetery before—that’s not exactly your jurisdiction.”

“Gordon put me on a case involving grave desecrations,” Bruce grunts. “That’s where I ran into Jason.”

“Literally or figuratively?”

Bruce is silent.

Tim groans. “Please tell me you didn’t attack him.”

More silence and Tim massages the bridge of his nose tiredly.

As if he wasn’t gun-shy about reconnecting with the Family before, now he’s probably going to leave for another five years…

“You’re taking this surprisingly well,” Steph says to Damian in a conversational tone.

“In case you’re forgetting, Brown, I’ve been dead and resurrected, so it’s not exactly a novelty.”

“Master Damian,” Alfred reprimands quietly.

No one likes to talk about that year.

“I just meant you’re not great at sharing, and now you’ve got another brother showing up—”

“Tt. We are not brothers. Any relation on paper ceased when he died.”

“Damian.” Bruce’s voice is sharp as a whip, and his eyes flash in warning. “I don’t ever want to hear that again.”

It’s not the most chastising he’s ever been, but Damian’s jaw snaps shut, and he swallows heavily.

Tim shouldn’t be bothered by the interchange, but he’s still hit by a pang of hurt and irritation. A dark, twisting little voice whispers at him, letting a longtime anxiety flicker back to the surface.

Of course, Bruce steps in and calls out Damian’s behavior when it’s Jason. Is it because Jason was his son longer? Or because Bruce chose Jason? Like he chose Dick and Cassandra. He’s even started choosing Duke now.

He never chose Tim. Not really. Tim just showed up and inserted himself into things.

Damian just showed up too, but he’s got that whole blood connection that he’s so proud of. Tim’s not—

Tim is like Steph. An outsider.

Maybe it’s why they connected to well back then—because they were the two that Bruce tried to stop from joining the life. Grudging allies, never quite family.

“I’m going to go,” Tim murmurs, turning and heading for his bike. “Wouldn’t want to get in the middle of a family meeting.”

“Tim—”

“You should probably call Dick,” he goes on. “He should find out about Jason from you this time.”

“Tim, stop—”

“I have therapy in three hours,” Tim cuts him off, “so I need at least some sleep.”

There’s no response then, not that Tim expected anything. His therapy sessions are sacrosanct; even Batman won’t interrupt Tim’s continued attendance. Tim’s always hated that, feeling as if he’s being overprotected, but right now, all he feels is a sense of relief.

To Be Continued

________________________________________________________________

I want to know what you think of my story! Leave kudos, a comment or if writing comments isn’t something you’re comfortable with, as many of these (or other emojis) as you want and let me know how you feel!

❤️️ = I love this story! 😳 = this was hot! 💐 = thank you for sharing this 🍵 = tea spilled 🍬 = so sweet and fluffy! 🚔 = you’re under arrest! the writing’s too good! 😲 = I NEED THE NEXT CHAPTER 😢 = you got me right in the feels

Reblogging is also majorly appreciated!

#jaytimweek2019 #jaytimweek #jaytim #fanfic #prompt: supernatural #jaytim fic #drama #mystery #angst #family #supernatural #horror #emotionally stunted family reunions #tim drake #bruce wayne #stephanie brown #damian wayne #alfred pennyworth

4 notes · View notes

rerollpodcast-blog · 6 years

Text

Bloody Oath: Different Approaches to Roleplaying a Paladin

In episode 2 of the podcast I mentioned that new players often run into difficulties when role playing paladins, due to the paladin oath feature. This is because the paladin oath feature is one of the game’s only roleplaying guidelines that also comes with mechanical features. Strict adherence to the oath can cause players to feel unconnected to their roleplay decisions, feel restricted in their ability to develop their character, or even just make poor decisions because “it’s what their character would do!” Now, it’s not my job to tell people how to roleplay, that would be presumptuous of me. However, I do wish that both players and DM’s rethought of the way they think about the paladin oath. Instead of being a restrictive hindrance, I believe it can be one of the most rewarding roleplay experiences in the game, if only people understood it better.

First of all, let’s go through what a paladin oath actually is. In-game, the paladin’s oath is their final confirmation of their principles. It is how they channel divine energy into their spells and attacks, and paladins strive to uphold the “tenets” of their oath; the set of principles that they must adhere to, or risk breaking their oath. These tenets can vary in their tone and specificity depending on the oath, but in general, they describe things like “don’t lie” or “show the wicked no mercy.” In mechanical terms, the paladin oath acts as the paladin’s subclass system and grants different abilities and spells depending on which one they pick. This oath forms the bedrock for who the paladin is as a person, and shapes most, if not all of their major decisions.

This is what leads to the problem that players sometimes face when roleplaying a paladin. No other class has such a strict restriction on their roleplay decisions. Warlocks are bound to their patron, but the Player’s Handbook makes no explicit mention of what Warlocks need to do to please their patron, or even what happens if they oppose them. Even clerics don’t have as many restrictions on them as the paladin does. While clerics are also in service to a god, nothing specifies they actually have to do anything except worship their god. Paladins are unique however in that their roleplay feature has an explicit effect on game mechanics; if a paladin breaks the tenets of their oath, they lose their powers (which is known as becoming an Oathbreaker).

Because of such explicit and consequential instructions on the paladin class, a lot of players (and even DMs) can feel like a lot of their roleplay choice is taken away from them. It’s as if they’re on autopilot and simply have a flowchart that reads:

However, paladins don’t need to be so simplistic. Paladins can be much more than a simple Yes/No machine, despite of, and even because of, their oaths. In order to understand how, we’re going to look at different ways to interact with your oath, along with examples of it from famous media.

Reluctant Adherence

First up, let’s look at what will probably be the most common occurrence for a paladin that chafes against the restrictions of their oath: the Reluctant Adherence. Just because you swore to keep the principles of the oath, doesn’t mean that it doesn’t weigh on you, or that you even enjoy doing it. You can fully acknowledge that blindly following your oath has had many negative consequences in the past. Indeed, you may be tempted many times to break your oath, either out of a need to serve a greater good, or just the sheer convenience of it. However, in the end, you acknowledge that there was a reason you believed in and swore that oath in the first place and you manage to adhere to it regardless of what fate throws at you.

To showcase, let’s look at an example: Batman. Batman has a quintessential paladin setup: he has a simple oath (enact justice, but never kill), and he draws strength from that oath (often believing that his no-kill policy is the only thing that keeps him from being as insane as those he fights). Now if this were the end of Batman’s personality, he would be a very boring character (essentially, he would be what everyone thinks Superman is like*).

However, good writers understand how to portray Batman’s oath as a method for character development. Like many paladins, his oath gets him into a lot of trouble; no matter how many times he takes down his villains, they keep coming back, and hurting other people. Due to this, Batman often agonises over his strict no-kill policy. He questions it regularly, re-examines why he took the oath, and the consequences of keeping to it. He (and those around him) ponders what keeping the oath says about him. These create fantastic moments of drama and character development, as Batman’s complex personality shines through. Instead of being the core of his personality, the oath becomes a lens to analyse Batman’s character, and this makes him a much deeper character with a much higher potential for development (and character interaction).

The lesson here is that the oath does not necessarily need to be the central component of your personality, nor does it need to trump every other facet of your character. People are contradictory by nature, and other beliefs your character holds can easily conflict or contradict your oath. Playing into these can make your paladin much more interesting and three-dimensional.

Adapted Understanding

Next, we’re going to look at my favourite type of paladin oath interaction: The Adapted Understanding. I’m sure that if you examined your own beliefs, you would find that you have refined some of them over the years. Whereas before you held very broad ideas and principles, over the years you’ve reflected on them, re-examined them, cut away anything unnecessary, and what you are left with are ideas that are much stronger and that you hold with much more conviction. Well, paladins can do the same. In fact, I would dare say that the best paladins do this.

Now especially if you look at the oaths supplied in the core material, a lot of them are quite open for interpretation. Yes, some of them are very explicit, like the honesty tenet from the Oath of Devotion (“Don’t lie or cheat”). But then you get tenets like duty which reads “obey those who have just authority over you.” Now a fresh-faced, naïve paladin fresh from paladin school may read this tenet and believe it means they have to follow the orders of any lord, duke, or king, regardless of their motivation. However, a paladin with Adapted Understanding would question what “just authority” actually means. If the paladin is just passing through, does the local lord have “just authority” over them? If the paladin does not consider the king to be morally just, do they have “just authority” over them? Maybe your paladin considers the ‘will of the people’ to be the reigning authority. Now while this may just sound reminiscent of a teenager pointing to select verses in the bible to prove why they don’t need to go to church every Sunday, a paladin that learns to question their oath, and the true intention of their oath, can end up having a stronger loyalty to it.

As an example, let’s look at Captain America. Captain America acts very much like a traditional paladin. He is a strict adherer to justice and a code of ethics and swore an oath to the United States of America. In the 1960’s however, a storyline saw Captain America became disillusioned with the American government due to the comic version of the Watergate scandal. This caused Steve Rogers to reject his oath and discard his identity as Captain America, adopting the new codename: “Nomad.” I won’t bore you with all the details of the story (being the 60’s, it got pretty weird), but Rogers re-adopts the mantle of Captain America after a long period of soul searching and self realisation. He realises that his oath doesn’t necessarily mean he swore an oath to the American government, rather he swore an oath to America itself, or as he puts it:

And Captain America ends up stronger in his convictions after this moment. Rather than becoming a fallen paladin, Captain America never again questions his oath**. His momentary uncertainty becomes a crucible that refines his character.

So, if your paladin is facing a difficult moral decision, they don’t necessarily need to be a robot that blindly follows their oath. Instead, it can be a great moment of character development and can really give them a great moment (I mean come on, look how cool that panel is).

Redeemed Paladin

Now we get to paladins that have…uneasy relations with their oaths. This is the Redeemed Paladin. Jaime Lannister from Game of Thrones is famous for breaking his oath to protect King Aerys, slaying him in order to save the innocent civilians of King’s Landing. Because of this, Jaime ends up having one of the deepest and intense character arcs in the whole Song of Ice and Fire series. Even though we are introduced to him as an oathbreaker, kingslayer, child pusher, and incest enthusiast, we see Jaime struggle with his choices and grow stronger as a character. He stands up for Brienne of Tarth, shows kindness to his brother, and even leaves Cersei to go fight with Jon. Similarly, to the Adapted Understanding paladin, a Redeemed paladin can end up with a greater sense of purpose and with stronger convictions than before.

This is because putting your character in uncomfortable situations can force them to discover new aspects of themselves. Of course, I don’t expect your paladin to go though as long a period of redemption as Jaime did. But it’s not the end of your paladin if they break their oath. In fact, the class description gives explicit instructions on how to redeem your paladin should they break their oath. So, feel free to explore the uncomfortable choice with your paladin. Chances are, you’ll like them more than when they were an unfeeling automaton.

Conclusion and Final Notes

I hope that after reading this, you’ve gained a little inspiration on ways your paladin can interact with their oath. You can have paladins resent their oaths, you can have them question their oaths, and yes, you can even have them break their oaths. If you make a paladin that ardently refuses to break or bend, you’ll end up with paladins like Rorschach from Watchmen, or Javert from Les Miserables. While entertaining, both of them are more like plot devices than actual characters, and neither of them get a happy ending. Remember, people are naturally full of contradictions, and there’s no shame in your paladin being the same. It doesn’t make them a bad paladin, it makes them a good character.

* I enjoy Superman stories, but his good stories usually have nothing to do with his reluctance to use lethal force. I could go on an entirely different rant on why Superman is a good character, but that would be for a different blog.

**Until the travesty that was Secret War

#dnd #dnd 5e #reroll #paladin #roleplay #DMtips

622 notes · View notes

satire-please · 6 years

Text

Fight...NO WAIT DON’T!

Summary: When fights get personal between Ra's and Tim? They get...personal in more ways than one. (Realistic established relationship Ra’sTim)

Can also find my story here on Ao3.

Love confessions are the worst when you’re trying to kill each other.

Or maim.

Whatever, take your pick.

There’s three types of fights Tim gets into with Ra’s.

The first is the kind they both enjoy. It’s the classical cat chases mouse, Holmes and Moriarty, scenario. With clues in the dark, puzzles to solve, and explosions that are gorgeous. The stakes aren’t high except for the convenient ‘allies’ Ra’s puts in Tim’s path to mow down in righteous fury. He knows he’s the sharpest tool in Ra’s’ shed, better than any shadow that swears loyalty to the demon head when the League of Assassins has undue...competition. Tim would be more pissed at being used but the millions of ill-gotten dollars he sets on fire tends to make up for it. Another pet project bites the dust. Plus, he swears Ra’s only has to sigh about how plebeian it is for those new upstarts to employ means like children and drugs...and it doesn’t take much after that for Tim to hop a jet and make those bastards burn. International prisons have never been so full.

Sometimes it’s better than roses and chocolate. But don’t tell Ra’s that.

Behind door number 2 is the general good-versus-evil venue. Where massive groups of underground evil organizations band together for another ‘Hey, let’s rule the world or end it’ party, and, you know, the Justice League has to crash that. When that happens, Tim practically always waves at Ra’s when both groups line-up to strike a pose. The mayhem makes for the best photo op.

They have enough time to throw out a, “When the world is new, my love, you will behold the grandeur of paradise.”

“Aw, Ra’s, I thought paradise was whenever you were with me?”

Elsewhere a teenage voice demands, “Grayson, fetch me one of those disposable bags, I require one immediately.”

“Too late,” A retching sound commences, “I used the last one.”

Then they all pick a partner and dance. Once again, Tim’s date is someone three times his size or a glob monster. In the corner of his eye, he watches B and Ra’s viciously strike and dodge. Is able to catch the moment Ra’s mouths his name. The only expressions Batman wears in the cowl is stone wall and displeased stone wall with something pointy. Drifting between the shouts and yells of the crowds Tim can hear Ra’s laugh, and if he wasn’t making sure he doesn’t turn into pancake Red Robin, he’d notice B landing his hits harder. Stronger. More biting. More permanent.

But in this fight Ra’s and Tim don’t engage. In fact, since they’ve become lovers they don’t even spar because it’s not a good idea to play show-and-tell with their best moves...or their new ones.

After all, they might need them for the third kind of fight, the fight where it’s personal.

Now, everyone has their happy triggers. For Tim, it’s don’t mess around with his city and his family.

For Ra’s, it’s the pits.

So tonight, in the present, when the event planner announces the keynote speaker, when the crowd goes wild, when the spotlight descends on one figure in muted green and gold, Tim knows exactly what kind of fight it’s going to be.

And it’s going to hurt.

He winces when he feels more than sees Bruce stiffen at his side. It was just supposed to be “Support the Green” gala damn it.

The statue doesn’t get better with every word that Ra’s projects to the crowd, “Ladies and Gentlemen, I do not believe I could have hoped for a better reception in Gotham than this. You honor me. Tonight, I’m pleased to announce a project that has been in the making for years. An innovative way to clear the air, not only for you to breathe more than the smog that accosts your lungs, but clear a pathway to the stars themselves.” A round of thunderous applause and Tim hands his and B’s glass of untouched wine to the waiter. He carefully palms the side of one and hopes the caterer doesn’t notice the small crack on Mr. Wayne’s.

Ra’s takes his time outlining the project, spinning a web for the audience that traps them in their enthusiasm. The Air Oasis is basically an air filter on steroids. Each unit is almost the size of a car, about fifty of them could be placed strategically around the city for a maximum effect. The machines would suck in every pollutant through the use of magnetics and a chemical of his own design. Tim mimics B, his whole body going going numb at that notion since gee, what chemical or mysterious green substance could the man be speaking about? Then the Air Oasis machines would pump the recycled oxygen back into the city.

“Imagine strolling among the streets and in the place of refuse’s smell and filth, you are overcome with crisp, pure oxygen filling your senses instead?” The man gives a grand gesture.

Behind him when the projector screen is flooded with the Air Oasis design, Tim speaks into his lapel, “Babs, are you seeing this? Can you hack the feed and download the filter’s blueprint? There’s no way the fruitcake isn’t planning something.”

“On it, I’ll send you the analysis immediately once I pick it apart and check every screw.”

Tim whispers earnestly, “You are the most perfect badass I know, O.”

“You’re a liar, but flatter me more. I deserve it.”

“You’re beautiful and Dick never deserved you.”

She snorts in his ear lightly. “Of course he didn’t, that’s why we broke up.”

“And every night his pillow is wet with bitter tears,” he hisses back.

Oracle softly giggles and says, “He’ll have to cry harder than that to get me back. Send you that data soon, just stay on your toes and avoid dark corners with your wicked paramour. I’ll be watching and judging you. O out.”

Tim doesn’t have the heart to tell her Ra’s doesn’t mind having an audience. In fact, as the applause gets louder more people rush to the men at the side, giving their ‘donations’ to the project. Ra’s thrives from it.

The moment the demon’s speech is done, the deafening support on the ‘green’ idea established (which is going to be bitch to sabotage because Ra’s isn’t doing this from the shadows ironically...he’s doing this in the open, getting the public’s rapport so Tim can just foresee the PR nightmare) the two vigilantes wait. They don’t rush the man, but let him saunter from person to person to give his poisoned honey out. Their eyes glued on him, Brucie turning into Bruce turning into the Bat as he gets closer and closer until finally the criminal stands before him.

He is not alone. Next to Ra’s is the most intimidating woman Tim has ever met besides his mother (don’t tell her he said that). Talia.

Tim gives the first volley, “Why do I think you’re not here just to see me in a suit?”

“You do look fetching, no ravishing, in that attire, my love,” Ra’s purrs, his eyes roving over Timothy’s delightful form, “but you are correct. I am not.”

Tim won’t admit it, but Ra’s doesn’t look half bad either. The black suit is fitted to his broad shoulders, delicate highlights of his trademark colors running through the fabric. Beside him Talia floats in brilliant green to match. Long gloves cover the scars she’s earned on her arms, while finery and gems makes her skin glisten.

“What are you doing here?” Brucie’s voice breaks into a growl, unable to keep his lighthearted persona now that the Demon is in his presence.

“Since you so enjoy traipsing through my territory, destroying my property, destroying my pits, four of my—” The assassin’s demeanor cracks a little, his wrath bleeding through for a second until that mouth curls into smirk, “I thought it best to return the favor and find time to appreciate what’s yours.”

“What are you planning.” It’s a demand, not a question.

“If you are unable to uncover the truth on your own, then you are not the detective I once called you.”

The Bat lurches forward, but Tim steps between them, placing a hand on B’s chest to push him back an inch. B looms like the biblical Goliath, dwarfing him (completely unfair), but Tim tilts his head and gives a brilliant smile, “But he does have someone you call ‘Detective’ now. I’m sure with the both of us, past and future sleuths, your plan doesn’t stand a chance.”

“We shall see, beloved.” He beckons to Talia. “But, for now, we shall find ways to enjoy the company of others. All too soon it will be end of this godforsaken city. Daughter, perhaps you could dance with your detective while I speak to mine?”

“Yes, Father. Habibi?” Talia reaches and trails her fingers down Bruce’s sleeve. “Join me for a song or two. We have much to discuss.”

Bruce twists his head to his charge. “Tim.”

“Go, I’ll be fine.”

Bruce continues to glance backwards as Talia leads him to the dance floor. His face thunderous as Ra’s gets closer and closer to his son until they’re barely an inch apart.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what, my love?” Greedily, Ra’s takes Tim’s wrist and rubs a thumb over his pulse. Steady, unafraid...incredible.

“You know he hates when you play the perverted creep.”

“Yet I have not done anything to warrant such a reputation.” Ra’s says mockingly, interlocking their fingers together. “Perhaps that should change. Please, this way. I’ve been told the gardens are most lovely.”

“You are the worst.” But Tim does nothing when Ra’s places his other hand on his lower back. Does nothing against that press as they move further from the crowd to the more...secluded setting. Outside of the pavilion, the rooftop garden is simple but elegant. You have to be rich (or Poison Ivy) to grow anything in this city. It is also speckled with a few benches and alcoves like the one Ra’s pulls him into.

There the Demon head gives in to hunger and finally wraps his lover in his arms. It’s been far too long since he’s held his Timothy. In the night, the music plays faintly in the background and it’s sentimental surely, but there is a definite moment or two where they sway back and forth.

Ra’s takes a deep breath and sighs, “How I long to dance with you in public.”

“And ruin my carefully maintained persona?” Tim raises an eyebrow. “How about no?”

Yet they still dance for the whole song, Ra’s turning them slightly before they add anything.

“I thought we had an agreement. I keep an open mind about ‘certain’ things while you keep your stupid green cape out of Gotham. So why are you here?”

“Because I have allowed too many insults to go unchecked. Thanks to the Bat,” Ra’s spat, “too much of my empire has been reduced to ash without any sign of my displeasure. The time for retribution is now.”

“I destroy your stuff all the time.” Tim points out.

“Yet you tend to leave the secret of my immorality alone, dearest. It was not you that inspired my wrath last month. It was not you who has limited my resources to three pits.”

No. But Tim did give the locations to Bruce when he asked. He also knows very well exactly what kind of firepower that’s needed to destroy a pit for good. He swallows and says nothing, looking away from the man.

“What do the machines actually do, Ra’s?” If Tim can just get a clue, a detail, anything to guess what’s to come, then he’ll have a better chance.

A dark laugh. Well that can’t be good. “I assure you, the filtration units perform their designed function, nothing more. They will filter this wretched air your disgusting city has polluted and leave only oxygen in its place. They will cleanse this city from its filth. Perhaps you will thank me when the progress is finished, my dear.”

“Don’t count on it.” He makes a note to check the machine’s blueprints himself when O is done with them. He’s going to stop him. No matter what, Tim is going to stop him. “Whatever you are planning, it’ll never work.”

“On the contrary, already the fools inside have agreed to install the units on the morrow. In hours—” Ra’s stops and breaks into a tense quirk of a smile, “And already you have me monologuing, for shame my lips are too loose around you.”

“It’s not my fault you love to talk.” Damn. A line or two more could have been vital. But Tim notes his own bad habits, how it doesn’t faze him at all as Ra’s manhandles him to have his back against a brick wall. How the assassin’s arms cage him there and Tim doesn’t feel threatened at all...yeah, he should get that checked out.

“My mouth loves to do many things when it’s around you,” Ra’s mutters, his thumb coming up to rub at the bottom lip that calls to him. “Tell me, beloved, will you hate me when I win?”

Tim doesn’t even miss a beat, “I don’t know, will you hate me when you lose?” He crosses his arms in challenge. His forearms brush against the other with how little space there is between them.

Ra’s stares into those eyes, so pretty and oh so sure and chuckles bitterly. “Let us see what the fates decide.”

“No conscious effort on our parts?” Tim states wryly, but let his cheek rest in that palm. “No chance of you backing down if I ask nicely?”

“I calculate the same probability if I begged you to stay uninvolved.”

So zero, “Fuck.”

“Indeed...would you do if I told you there a jet ready to take you away? Would you leave before destruction leaves none in its path? Or stay to be numbered with the dead?”

“Who says there’s going to be any dead? Who says that your scheme won’t be destroyed, like it always is, instead? What, you think I’m going to go easy on you just because I like you? Don’t kid yourself, when I’m done with you your ninjas will have to scrape you off the dirty sidewalk.”

There’s a sharp intake, a gasp, and for a second Tim thinks his words have some effect. And they have, but it’s not the threat that has Ra’s fingers digging into his jaw, dragging Tim up against him. Tim shoots out his arms to brace himself, yet their chests smush together as Ra’s other arm coils tightly around him.

“Why I believe that’s the first time you’ve admitted any sort of fondness for me...how wildly unfortunate to reveal your affections now.” The green of those eyes darken and Tim’s flinch gives his surprise away. Is it really the first time?

“Is it? Well, I’ve always been more of a man of action.” He starts to pry the hand off his face, but Ra’s isn’t having it. The digits just slide through Tim’s hair to the base of his skull and pulls. Tim winces as the man directs his head until their lips lightly touch. He even needs to stand on his toes because Ra’s is a special kind of tall bastard.

Ra’s mouth twists into a smirk against beloved’s, the sensation divine. “This is true. Your actions, your body...has always been so loud.”

And he begins to take.

Their kisses always start soft.

Like a trap, each movement is gentle bait. Easing into the rhythm of hunger, as their lips slide against each other. Ra’s wants his lover frantic, desperate but it takes patience. Patience to wait, to seduce, to build the desire until they can’t stand any option other than being absolutely consumed.

It is the patience 800 years has rewarded him with.

Though with Timothy it is a cycle that feeds into each other, as the Detective’s demeanor finally melts, his own cravings become more ravenous.

Tim tilts his face up to gasp, yet Ra’s chases that mouth, chases that opening to use his tongue and taste. Tim’s legs buckle a little and Ra’s grips one hip tight to compensate. Soon he will need to wrap those coltish legs around his waist. It is where they belong.

A sharp pain, Ra’s rears back an inch to groan. He tongues the small cut on his lower lip and purrs. “Beloved, there are other ways to paint your lips red.”

Tim’s eyes are half-lidded, bored. One of Ra’s fingers, his pinky, rests on a pulse that tells Ra’s the truth. That the detective’s heart has started to race. “But you like it when I do it this way the most.”

Ra’s burns. He does not know whose breath it is that rings so harshly in his ears. Who crashes their lips together harder first. Yet the iron from his blood is an excellent spice to this meal. He could get addicted in how one of Timothy’s arms comes over his shoulder to claw at his pressed suit. Could get lost in the quiet mewl that invokes Ra’s’ darkest determination to make into a scream—

Could get lost...Oh his clever, clever beloved.

“Are you are a distraction, my precious?” Ra’s snarls angrily, he jerks Timothy’s face to the side for a deeper, more exposed angle, as if he could devour this alluring creature whole. “A horrible.” suck. “wonderful.” kiss. “distraction?”

Meanwhile Tim is just trying to hold on, thanks.

“B-Bitch, I might be. But what are you going to do, oh great Demon Head? Are you going to let yourself be distracted, is it going to be worth it?” Tim’s breath comes fast with the challenge. So he never does anything for one reason. So what? The longer he can give Babs time to decode or Bruce to wring out intel with Talia...the better. The longer he can keep Ra’s focus on him and not his ‘plan,’ the better. The longer he can feel this...with him, the better. His thumb comes up to pop open the top button of his shirt, teasing his lover with a flash of collarbone through the gap. Ra’s cannot resist. The proof that Timothy is his has faded there and it’s unacceptable.

“Do not tempt me,” he cautions as he buries his face into that throat. His teeth already coming out to play.

“I t-think ah, I can handle it, thanks.”

Tim gives a little hop and naturally Ra’s drops his hands to help him. He clutches Tim under his thighs, which should be bare not loathsomely covered, to hoist him up, half reclining against the wall, half wrapped up around the assassin. It puts Tim’s head above his and frees up his hands to roam while Ra’s’ are occupied.

Ah, well he supposes the detective enjoys the chance of being tall. “I wonder what exactly I have let into my bed?”

“You mean the bed you practically blackmailed me into?”

“Only at first, my love. After all, I did not use any means to lure you there the second time, nor every time after that.”

Tim huffs stiffly, decides to do some marking of his own. He nudges Ra’s face out of the way and worries at the tendons of his neck, sucking hard, intending to bruise with the slight.

Timothy is so precious when he’s spiteful.

“It is as if we are Aesop’s frog and scorpion.”

“You and your stupid stories, ” Tim grits out, but it turns into a moan when Ra’s squeezes his hands on his ass.

“Now, now, you enjoy my stories. One day the scorpion begged the frog to cross river. The frog attempted to refuse out of fear, of that stinger gleaming wet in the sun. Yet the scorpion only rationalized that if he did sting the frog during the swim then both would die. Convinced, the frog began to cross the river, scorpion upon its back—”

“Let me guess, this fable doesn’t have a happy ending?” He’s helpless to the hands on his ass, the mouth moving against his collarbone, all of it makes his hips jerk against Ra's.

“—Yet once halfway across, the scorpion stung the frog mercilessly. As the two drown, the stunned, poisoned frog cries ‘Why?’ to the scorpion.”

“Called it.” Tim pulls back to blow on the hickey in the making, rolls with Ra’s’ shiver and attempts to not react when Ra’s returns the favor. He fails. Especially when Ra’s starts to open up the rest of his shirt with his teeth, revealing more sensitive pale skin that Ra’s loves, needs to play with. Tim squirms when the warm mouth finds his nipple and flicks it with tongue. “A-And what did the—ah—scorpion’s say, Ra’s?”

“He replied, ‘Because I cannot resist my nature,’ and attacked the frog again and again until both were well under the waves. He was a scorpion and that is what scorpions do...they sting. So tell me, beloved...which of us is the frog? And which the scorpion?”

And Tim manages to muffle the plea in the demon’s throat. The one crawling, scraping to escape with mangled, ‘Please. P-please don’t do this. Stop. Don’t hurt my city. Don’t hurt my people.’ But the fable has a point, and it’s not fair of him to ask. Not when Ra’s won’t deliver and neither have convictions that bend or bow.

So while his mind turns with plans and next moves, with contingencies to try countering his insane significant other's maniacal plot-in-progress, Tim just drags Ra’s back to his lips and makes his kisses hurt, makes them sting and sting and sting . Because if this is the last time he can have any part of the man he took as his lover, then it’s best to make their mouths swollen and ruined.

Tim will remember him better that way.

“Oh Ra’s...you know the answer to that. We’re both of them.”

Some heroes are not needed.

Like Dick Grayson riding in out of nowhere to drag him out of Ra's arms. How he takes no time to get one hand on the back of Tim’s suit and pull. Dick half-drags, half-carries him down the stairwell, and Tim is this close to punching him in the face. Those perfect teeth are begging to be ruined. The man’s hand around his wrist is like iron but it doesn’t stop Tim from mentally going over every technique he knows of how to break bones. Half of the buttons on his shirt are undone, the open fabric flapping as they race down to the car. Tim doesn’t bother fixing it, he’ll change out of his civilian day-wear soon enough. Luckily for him, he’d carried and stored the suit nearby, always. Better to thwart your evil plots with, my dear.

“This way!”

“I had it, Dick. No ‘rescue’ necessary.”

“No rescue necessary?” Dick stops for a moment to wildly gesture at him. Pointing at the red marks littering Tim’s skin, he even lets go of the arm to fuss over clothes until Tim smacks his fingers. “Tim, you look like you were mauled by a lion.”

“It was a sexy lion. Did B send you? I told him I was going to be fine.” He glances backwards, wondering if Ra’s is with the rest of the crowd pretending to be impressed with the last event, or if he’s at the top of the emergency stairwell, eyes hungry and dark.

“Wait, are you mad that I stopped you on the roof?”

“No.” Yes. It’s complicated. Even though the Bats have a long history, almost a long freaking tradition of trysts on top of buildings. Even though Tim is a perfectly legal, consenting adult with a tie, a tie that Tim had plans for and didn’t get to use, dammit. Maybe he could have used it to gag the man after he promised, ‘If tonight is our last, I shall not rest until pleasure overwhelms you. Until all you can do is sob and keen my name.’ Though, it does puts Tim in the very awkward position of trying to have sex with someone that’s doing his best to kill his family...It’s complicated. It’s always been.

He’s a pot surrounded by kettles. Just taste the ash and call it good. Really what Tim has done, is still doing, is mild on the bat spectrum.

He’s never killed anyone.

He’s never slept around, making notches on his belt with vigilante and enemy alike.

It’s just the one. This one relationship that’s ironically healthier compared to what their little family’s been through. It’s consistent. Adoring, smothering, and respectful. The man is a liar, but he’s never lied to Tim about the way he feels.

It’s more than he can say for rest of the Bats.

But it’s probably better this way. Better that the person with the dick joke in his name stopped them, cockblocked the two before the rest of the guests wandered outside for the fireworks display.

‘Why should that matter, Mr...Grayson? The shadows hide us well and the fireworks would cover up your brother’s delicious cries.’

Dick lunged at Ra’s for those words.

It’s fine.

“Timmy…”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Tim grits his teeth. “Let’s just focus on the here and now.”

Dick grabs a shoulder before they hit the street. “You know I care, right? I just don’t want you to get hurt. I–”

“I know.” He knows the others think him compromised. He knows they care, they just don’t trust that he can get things done anyway. “Now get out there and take care of some ninja scum for us. I’ll see you back in the cave.”

Dick squeezes tightly, his mouth a thin line but nods. “See you there, little brother.” He hands Tim what he needs and turns to the police car parked on the street.

The vigilante sighs. A car door shuts in the background, but his head tilts up to the sky blooming in color. It’s a shame. It’s sort of romantic. The kind you find in movies, books, and songs. It might have been nice...to watch them together with his lover. His bangs swing to shake the sentiment out of his head and then he gets to work.

“Talk to me, O,” as the Ducati vibrates between his thighs.

Leaving the presentation with his body throbbing and unsatisfied was really not how he’d hoped to end the night, but still, he’s got a nefarious plot to stop.

“It’s mechanical engineering only,” is the reply through his comm while he hangs a sharp right and the spot on his collar bone aches for more touch. “The machine is going to work pretty well considering we don’t know exactly what’s going to be powering it.”

Well, fuck.

“So how he plans to use to the Pit on Gotham and to what ends,” is his grim summation.

“Right on the money. To his credit, it is a filtration system, but without more details on his ‘mystery element,’ we have no idea what chemical could be pumped out. It could be a form of the Lazarus Pit, but I really doubt Ra’s al Ghul is trying to make half of Gotham pretty much immortal.”

Numbly, Red is already planning on where he needed to break-in to get the missing component, how he’d need to get into the warehouse on Dixon Dock to check out Ra’s little chemical lab.

“Can’t you send the digital copy to my wrist computer? I’ve got some leads to check out, but I can give them a look-see while N is kicking in some faces.”

She hums over comm, “You got it, Baby Bird. Try not to let your boyfriend kill off our city.”

Tim guns the bike, revving it to go faster, harder. “What? You afraid I’ll steal the title of worst break-up in the family? Bruce has to lose his place eventually Babs, Red out.”

Ra’s chemical lab by the water is unlocked. Which by all means should be a sign with showgirls and feathers that it’s a big trap...only there’s nothing there. Sure there’s examples of pit water and an assortment of goodies that would make any of Gotham’s rouge gallery squeal with fiendish delight, but nothing Tim can use. Or anyone to beat up. Tim is a bit miffed about that. Okay, cross that out, he’s pissed as hell because there’s not even a single guard, not even a scrap of black fluttering in the corners for a ninja to say ‘hi.’

How rude.

Meeting his eye, there’s only neat rows of tables, beakers, and the same designs that Ra’s presented to the Gala. Oh and a note. Folded neatly in an open envelope with Tim’s full name on it in gorgeous calligraphy.

Because Ra’s is a magnificent bastard.

Tim snatches it up and his fingers crinkle the page as he unfolds it in hurried movements. The green ink, because everything’s in green (honestly he should introduce Ra’s to Ivy, they have so much in common), is glossy to the touch and there’s a hint of spice that Tim’s recognizes as Ra’s scent immediately. Chai and cloves. Madder than ever, he tells himself not to rip the possible evidence just because he’s memorized the way Ra’s smells.

My Dear Beloved,

Why would you need break into a kingdom that is already yours? When have I denied you access to my labs and systems? You possess all the keys yet that shall not save your city.

There is a boat at the dock with my insignia.

Forget your mission, it is futile. Leave this place before it is too late. I will be...displeased if the next time I hold you, it is your corpse I must cradle.

Respecting your stance on using the pit is infuriating. See reason and abandon your mentor, my Love.

Leave.

What do you know? He does end up ripping the paper in fascinating, tiny pieces. It’s like snow. It’s barely satisfying.

They’re on the clock. He races to his bike, blares through the night to check every other hidey-holes Tim knows Ra’s has. One hour becomes two, three, and a dejected Tim returns to the cave to see Bruce pacing the floor. The filter’s plans are blown up on every screen they have.

They don’t crack the mystery that night.

And it takes too long for them to figure it out.

The first ones to get sick are animals.

Despite the lack of support from WE, filters pop up everywhere like some crazy rich fad. Like magic or IKEA, the machines are put together in under an hour and there’s fifty of them. B dots them on the map, but there’s no pattern, it really is randomly spread out as some are placed in the slums as acts of charity, others are set up on the top of wealthy estates like solar panels. Of course, the first Bat response is to monitor the heck out of them. Within minutes, Tim creates a detector that inspects the filters output every twenty minutes like clockwork and Tim pumps them out so N, Robin, and B can slap every filter with one.

“I just don’t understand.” Weary but his nerves keep him upright to stare at the screen, Tim forces sleep deprivation to work for him like the bitch it is. His hand absentmindedly pats the table for the coffee cup just in case. Is it caffeine or frustration that’s making him twitchy? “I’m getting nothing. Nothing but oxygen. What is the pit water even being used for?”

B leans over his shoulder and taps on the central mechanism of the design. “Perhaps to power the whole thing?”

“Maybe, but it’s not doing anything. What if it’s all just a distraction? What if our attention is being completely wasted while somewhere else Ra’s is—”

There’s a loud buzz overhead and Bruce flips the call to broadcast the call into the cave, “B here, report.”

“Father. There is a terrifying decrease in the animal population in Block 4.” Damian’s voice has a small tremor and for the young boy...that’s practically a scream of distress. “I have already contacted vets and animal hospitals in every vector of Gotham and yet I keep finding…this.”

B connects to Damian’s video feed, it appears that Robin’s in an alley of some kind. It’s a long one, and from Damian’s feet all the way to the back are cats and dogs, no strays all curled up on their side as if in sleep.

But their eyes are open and plastic-looking. Their mouths wide, tongues and contents of their stomach spewed out on the gravel. It’s a nightmare perfectly designed for the kid.

“Robin, return to headquarters immediately. You don’t have to—”

“All pet owners I have questioned also report that the health of their animals have declined. It does not matter where in the city, yet creatures that are kept deep inside of their residences appear to be affected the least.” From the camera, they watch green gloves carefully, gently pick up one of the carcasses. “It must be from those vile contraptions. They must be destroyed.”

“D...Robin,” Tim tries, “There’s nothing new being pumped in the air. I’ve tried, analyzed everything we have on file, and no chemical components have been released into the atmosphere.”

“Tch. No matter. I must check to see if any of these animals can be hospitalized. Red will you relay to the public to keep their pets indoor?”

Tim hacks away at phone lines, creating an automatic text response that will appear on every electronic device in Gotham. “Of course, Robin.”

“...Thank you. Father, keep me updated, I shall return shortly.”

And he does.

In Red Hood’s arms far too pale, far too clammy and rasping.

“Special delivery.” Jason hauls the figure onto a medibed. “Wish it was a better one.”

All the air is punched out Tim’s lungs at the sight of the limp Robin. He can’t breathe and his body jerks towards B and Dick. The two appear to be in the same boat.

“What, Dami—” Dick starts.

“Get him hooked up immediately,” B growled, “I want to know his vitals now!”

Everyone rushes to obey.

Tim snatches the IVs, while Dick and Bruce hover over the bed like vultures, silent to hear the shallow breathing of the boy better. The monitor pops up with symptoms; varying levels of lung damage, nausea, retina damage, and—

Damian heaves of the bed, his limbs violently spasming as Dick goes into complete panic mode.

Seizures.

“Where did you find him?” Tim asks Jason, walking back at the map of filter locations again. Scanning at the interior design of the machines again. Doing everything he’d already done over again, because he’s missing something. What is he missing? Yes, he can definitely tell that Bruce’s hunch was right, the pit water is running the filter, but not only that. It’s amplifying it. But amplifying what?

“Alfred, we need you down here.”

Gruffly Jason answers, “Found ‘im at Main and Cobbler. Found ‘im like that too, lying on the street like roadkill.” He stuffs his hands in his pocket all cool, but Tim catches the tell.

“He might not be the only one either,” O solemnly says over the coms, on Tim’s wrist computer, the reports she sends fill him with shocked horror. Security cams of kids being rushed to the emergency room, their parents with tear-streaked faces as doctors frantically rush to and fro.

“Alfred, I need you now!”

“I’ll get ‘im.” Jason yells, his boots ringing loudly on the stairs up to the manor.

“O,” Tim’s voice is quiet, disconnected. “How many cases...No, how many victims are there so far?”

A pause, two. “Currently? There is a hundred and sixty-four reported cases that have been admitted to the hospital. Most are in critical condition, but doctors are doing everything they can and, unlike the animals, it seems like there’s been no fatalities yet.”

“Good.” Tim takes a deep breath through his nose. “That’s good.”

“We have a fucking problem here!” Jason screeches, he’s back with Alfred.

Actually let Tim rephrase that, on Jason’s back is Alfred. Fuck. That is less good. Tim is not the praying type, but when Jason drags over another gurney to strap Alfred in? The pallor in the older gentleman highlighted by his blurry unfocused eyes? Tim prays. His knees buckling but his grip on the computer table keeps him from crashing to the floor.

‘Ra’s. Please Ra’s, no. Don’t take them away from him. Don’t do this.’

But he knows somewhere Ra’s is watching, the Demon Head drinking in the destruction of the city he hates. Somewhere a ninja is disclosing exactly how much his attack stings. How effective his poison is as the Bat leans over two of the most important people in his life, the oldest and youngest and breaks.

Tim wishes and prays for things he can’t have.

“Get up, we’re gonna wreck these trash cans, right? Right, Babybird?” Jason says, roughly yanking Tim away from the computer to the motorcycles in the back. The Red Hood’s trembling becomes more pronounced at finding another family member at death’s door. “Look, it’s Occam's razor. Simplest way to take outta bitch. Who cares what they’re doing to the air? We smash the things and poof they’re outta the picture n’ we’re back ta normal.”

“It would stop whatever process they’re doing,” Tim rationalizes, “But, Jason, whatever is in the air affecting people is still there.”

“I don’t care. N. N! Dammit, Dick, get your bubble ass over here.” Jason takes control and Nightwing slowly turns to the two, his face wet and gone. “Let’s go huntin’. Let’s fuck these things up. You’d like that, huh?”

Nightwing expression transforms into a feral snarl. “ Yes I would. Let’s.”

“B, you stay here and keep treating those two.” Tim grabs his helmet and straddles the bike. “Keep looking at the files, keeping looking for what we’re missing. It’s got to be there somewhere.”

“Somewhere...right. We need a new approach. This is not like Ra’s. He’s switching it up. Switching from his usual elaborate style with bits of clues bleeding all over the place.” B replies tersely, losing that haunted look momentarily. His heads steady as he makes Alfred and Damian as comfortable as possible. “The only thing we’re finding is just oxygen.”

It’s at that second it crashes into Tim. It’s just oxygen.

‘The filtration units perform their designed function, nothing more. They will filter this wretched air your disgusting city has polluted and leave only oxygen in its place.’

It’s just oxygen.

“Oh. my. god. It’s exactly what it says on the label,” Tim whispers stunned. “It was right there in front of us, of course it was, that inhumane, diabolical, waste of—”

“Tim? Come on, we’ve some things to trash, no time to get lost in yer head.”

For the first time in fourteen hours, Tim grins wildly at the Bat’s around him, “Then let me share with the class.”

Tim has a plan.

And damn it feels good.

At the climax, Red Robin ends up with a dislocated knee and three cracked ribs. The blood dripping from his nose streams down his chin as Ra’s shakes him repeatedly. The villain holding him high off the ground as each word is punctuated by the grip on the uniform collar.

“You. Infuriating. Insufferable. Pest.”

“You fucking—“ cough “—love me.”

“You ruined everything!”

“Yes. Yes I did.”

Alfred and Damian are safe. Gotham is safe. Nightwing and Jason took out filters like moms at a 75% off sale and fun fact, did you know that pure oxygen is bad for you? Sure, we need it to breathe, but too much high pressure oxygen can give the same side effects sick scuba divers have.

Plus, it can kill you.

Solution: pump some sweet carbon dioxide at the same rate Ra’s super filters pump oxygen to balance it out and voila no more oxygen poisoning for you. Who handled that? Brucie. Not the Bat, but Bruce freaking Wayne, who contacted WE with a little help from O, and all factories were a go. Just in time, since exposure to pure oxygen for over sixteen hours can cause permanent lung damage and death and guess who confronted Ra’s juuuuuuust to stop him from turning up the filtration levels so the carbon dioxide couldn’t work? Guess who took out Ra’s’ remote control system that synced up the machines? Guess who stopped the oxygen plague at fifteen hours and forty-two minutes?

“How dare you!”

You’re looking at him, baby.

Around them, the building is in shambles, the extra filtration unit was cheating, Ra’s, but hey they’re on the ground floor with no windows for the man to kick Tim through so score. True, his body is a limp, useless lump, but spite keeps him smug and victorious. He hopes the muscles in his face are working enough to convey that. It must have since Ra’s expression twists in absolute fury. “How dare you deny my vengeance! How dare you continue to get in my way over and over again—”

“—Then end it, you bastard.” Tim forces his eyes crack open to meet Ra’s burning glare. “You g-got me right where you want me, don’t you?”

“I wanted you far from here!” he hisses at him. “I wanted you miles away in my keep, safe and sound and mine.”

“Tough fucking luck, you want to stop me? Then kill me, Darling.” Tim moves his arms to scratch hard at Ra’s wrists, drawing blood before grab them tightly. Anything to take a little of the weight so he can breathe a little more, speak a little more, because he’s not done yet. He’s actually impressed that Ra’s can hold him up, he’s sure he broke at least two of those fingers. The demon’s trap is such a pain to evade after all. “You want to win your stupid games? Then stop playing and break my neck. You’ve said it yourself, I’m a detective. I figure out all your plans and foil them because newsflash that’s what detectives do. So here you go, the perfect opportunity to end me, end me like the annoying, persistent bug you know I am. You have the skill, so what are you doing to do?”

“You—”

“I love you.”

Ra’s freezes, the man almost a statue and Tim would laugh and laugh if he had the energy for it. His toes scrape on the pavement, he feels like a ghost already.

“I am never going to stop.” Tim tries to crack his lips into a smile. They’re too dry and it hurts. “You are never going to stop. I’ve accepted it. I hate it. I hate you, and I hate how much I still want to be with you, but I’ve accepted it. So are you going to do the same or finally break us?”

Tim’s feet crash to the ground, he doesn’t bother supporting his own weight, just sags into Ra’s’ grip still around his neck. A few yards away their two forms would appear as lovers and not enemies about to kill each other. “It is not that simple, my brilliant scorpion.”

“We’ve already drowned R-Ra’s.” He wheezes. “Now make up your damn mind.”

The fingers begin to constrict and Tim winces but is not surprised. This was always a possible outcome. He just wishes he could see Ra’s’ face when his last contingency kicks in. The one that connects his heart rate to the bombs attached to not only the last of Ra’s’ Lazarus pits but even the ones tucked deep into the earth on the vein that springs them up in the first place.

It doesn’t matter.

He’ll just have to wait until they meet again in Hell.

Tim doubts his lover would make him wait too long.

“What have you done to me?”

The air gradually cut off from Tim’s throat. His broken gasps becoming fainter, weaker. But he doesn’t look away, only lifts his hand to brush Ra’s cheek with the back of his knuckles. He’s angry at the black creeping into his vision so quickly, Ra’s’ wretched sight may be the last thing he sees...but he doesn’t regret it. He’d do it again if he could.

“I should...no, I must be rid of you—”

There’s voices in the background, shouting his name, but Tim can’t pay them any mind. Not when his heartbeat is the loudest thing he hears in his ears, the way it rushes trying so hard, so frantically to still beat. He doesn’t want to miss a thing, not even as the darkness finally overtakes him and he. is. out.

“—Yet I cannot stand the thought of mourning you.”

“T–!”

“Tim, please you have to get up.”

Tim gasps, his eyes shooting open to stalactites and faces above his own.

“Timmy, you’re finally awake!”

“I-I’m alive?” he croaks. His voice grating and sore. Huh. Well Tim didn’t plan for this. He reaches to his neck and wonders if there’s bruises in the shape of Ra’s’ fingerprints. It definitely hurts like it would.

“Yeah, the sec we got in a hundred feet, Ra’s lobbed ya at us like a football and ran off like the filthy coward he is.” Jason sits at the end of the bed.

But he didn’t snap his neck like vigilante expected either. The assassin could have, would have had enough time to do that before the others could get to him. He could have had a consolation prize: revenge nice and neat by throwing another dead son at the Bat’s feet.

But he didn’t.

Red takes in his surroundings, the bats echoing somewhere in the cave, how he must be on the good stuff because he can’t feel anything. Not that it stops Dick from placing a hand on his shoulder to pin him down to the cot when he tries to sit up.

“Whoa, what do you think you’re doing, little brother?”

“Where’s Alfred and Damian? Are they alright? Are they—”

An indignant sniff to his left, “What? Did you suppose you could be rid of my existence so easily? Despite your predisposition for it, do not be a fool, Drake.” Damian leans over with a show of crossing his arms. But there’s a lack of bite in those words.

“Are your animals, Batcow and all, okay?”

Damian glowers and looks away, “They are fine, of course. Just like you shall also be in no time, I suppose.”

Tim smiles. Watches as Dick coos and attacks the youngest in a big hug of death. Even Jason’s lips twitch.

Alfred steps into his scope of vision. Tim’s breathing relaxes more, it’s great to see the grace and poise back in the butler. Alfred is...special to him, to the whole family, for a reason after all. “I am here as well. Master Damian and I should recover rather quickly without much assistance. It seems, however, the recovery for your injuries will require much more.”

Tim manages not to shrug, to be fair it really could have been much worse. It was almost as if Ra’s had been playing nice. He might actually recover in one or two months! He looks around, his head dropping back to the pillows at the lack of one more..person he would like to see. His heart betraying him with disappointment.

“Where’s Bruce?” His tone betrays him too, dang it.

“He is out on the veranda. There is something urgent that he must see to,” Alfred says steadily, the man thinks of how Master Bruce has been guarding the entrance to the medbay for quite some time. His ward being armed with things that hurt, for the Bat has lost his charitable mood as of late. Then the butler arches an eyebrow, “In fact, Master Timothy, could you please enlighten us as to why over twenty ninjas are camped on the lawn?”

Huh. The gesture is sweet. Almost as sweet as the time Ra’s gave him the files for nineteen sex traffickers for his birthday.

“I probably got them in the divorce.” At Dick’s strangled noises, Tim adds, “Nah, most likely they’re just here to make sure I stabilize.”

The collective sigh of relief around him is annoying. Okay, Tim can’t help it.

“I mean, we’d have to break up or something for that to happen first and I don’t remember the two of us doing that.”

Cries of outrage, “Tim, he almost killed you!”

“But he didn’t.”

“He almost killed off half of Gotham’s population!”

“But we stopped him in time.” Tim wiggles minutely to get comfortable. “The fight is over, no harm, no foul.”

“Tim, you’re harmed all over!”

Tim continues like he wasn’t interrupted, “It’s like a normal Tuesday for us at this rate. Alfred, could you tell B I’m fine and awake? It should be enough for the ninjas to get the memo that I’m okay and go the fuck away.”

“If that is what you wish for, Master Timothy.” The butler bows and walks away, knowing the small crowd around the bed will keep the teenager secure. Before he heads upstairs, he picks up the AK-47 resting to the side. Some people need...persuasion it seems to leave his family in peace, though he supposes that the weapon is unbecoming for not being ‘a bat.’ To be frank, as Alfred’s shadow darkens the halls one step at a time, a line of children’s poetry continues to echo in his mind.

‘But I’ve brought a big bat. I’m ready, you see. Now my troubles are going to have troubles with me.’

Alfred will give Ra’s one concession. His men are quite annoyingly...persistent to get rid of. The challenge of it all is almost admirable.

Almost.

It takes a month for Tim to beg, banter, and threaten in order return to his perch where he can finally be alone.

He’s overwhelmed by bliss at the thought.

Okay, so it may take longer than usual to dismantle the current array of bugs spread throughout the place. He may have had to sell his soul and swear to rest for a few more weeks that he swears he doesn’t need.

But, still, it’s nice to be home.

Where he’s not smothered every half in hour, he means you, you Dick. It’s lovely to be able to limp around his apartment freely, his prop-crutches being useful for a change. There’s no one to judge, assess, or psychoanalyze him on his views and how they haven’t changed concerning a certain person. He can finally relax and sink into his own bed and Tim almost wants to cry.

He loves his room. Where Tim doesn’t bother to lock his bedroom window. It’s annoying to fix the locks if they’re going to be broken repeatedly. So, at midnight, when he hears it crack open, the sliding of it so soft, Tim doesn’t turn around in bed to face it. He just waits for the cold of his back to turn to warmth, for something heavy to sink beside him and make the old mattress squeak. He’s patient for the arms to wind hesitantly around his waist, mindful of his injuries with a delicate touch.

“I wish you would cease needlessly provoking me.”

“I wish you’d close the window, you’re letting the cold in.”

“Have I ever failed to keep you warm, detective?”

Tim hums and settles deeper in the mattress, the ache of his injuries easing under good pain killers and the chest moving against his spine. The night eases around them, shadows moving, reminding him of roof tops and flying free, never so free as this.

“So, do you hate me yet?”

Ra’s huffs quietly into Tim’s ear, “Not nearly enough it seems.” He presses a lingering kiss in the hollow behind it.

“I won, you know. Now you must honorably, because you have honor, leave them alone for at least a few months. I’ve earned it.”

“You are not a gracious winner, my love.”

“Oh, does that mean you’re a sore loser? I promise not to rub it in your face too much.” He covers the hand resting on his stomach with one of his own.

“Failure provides opportunities for improvement, dearest. Next time, I will forgo giving you the option to choose. I am ashamed that I forgot how your self-preservation instincts are nonexistent.” He sucks lightly on the nape of Tim’s neck. “I know better now that next time I must drug you, next time I must have my men isolate you in a place far away so any plan of mine can proceed without your delightful interference.”

“Can we not talk about next time?” Right now he doesn’t want to think of all the things that could and very well would be on the horizon. Doesn’t want to think of backup plans to the whole spirited away scenario. Not right now.

“If that what you wish, my beloved.”

A snort, “Besides a closed window?”

“Besides a closed window,” Ra’s agrees, starting to entangle their legs together. “I have no desire to leave your side tonight.”

“...Good.” Slowly, Tim is lulled by the presence of the demon giving him what he needs to fall asleep. It’s horrible how dependent his body has become on Ra’s. That might be Ra’s’ most successful diabolical plan yet.

Just before he’s done for, Ra’s whispers,

“One day, Timothy...I will not stop. I will follow through and wring your neck. Do you understand me correctly?”

“I do...I wouldn’t have it any other way. You know that. Now go to sleep.”

“Goodnight, my fair one.”

“Night, Ra’s.”

Tim dreams of frogs and scorpions. Of them at the bottom of the pond, the two floating motionless in the current...but floating together.

It is a good dream.

#Ra'sTim #caught au #my writing #fic rec #bittersweet #tim drake #ra's al ghul #putting this in more than one place

268 notes · View notes

sladewilsonisanantihero · 6 years

Text

I don’t know if I’m the one to state this and I don’t want to pay attention to Priest’s works so please ignore me if you will, but I can’t help but point out that we all know Damian won’t be Slade’s son, but if he was, he’s the child of tragic parents done wrong by shitty but unfortunately popular writers of the 2000s (Grant Morrison and Geoff Johns).

Both Slade Wilson and Talia Al Ghul are grey characters who tilt between heroism and villainy due to their circumstances with their family.

I’ve posted enough about Slade so here’s the links sorted by first to last post:

What I really mean when I say I’m fine but Deathstroke is on my mind: (x)

Why Slade should be considered an anti-hero: (x)

Why his villainy would never include abusing his family and a deeper look into his character: (x)

Why Slade is actually a good father: (x)

I don’t know Talia Al Ghul that well, but looking into those who are actual fans of hers and her history, she is the daughter of the Demon Head, Ra’s Al Ghul, and a love interest of Batman. These two men basically being the angel and devil on her shoulder due to love and loyalty. She is in every sense a tragic character who is practically a servant to her father’s wishes because that’s how she was raised (Like a lot of other oppressed children are). But through meeting Bruce, she finds ways to do good such as helping Superman take down Lex Luthor and helping Batman through his rough patches. There was that time Nyssa appeared and brainwashed Talia into evilly insane which led to her leaving Batman, running the League of Assassins after murdering her father, and then joining the secret society, and all of that was done under a different writer. But Morrison’s get more recognition and anger because at least for the brainwashed Talia, she can be saved and be recognized as a good complex character that may actually reform the League of Assassins in a way her father couldn’t because she has the actual compassion, love and loyalty that he lacked for the dreams he sought for. But Morrison turned her character into a rapist, child abuser and genocidal maniac that mirrors her own father, a person she was loyal to but honestly wanted to be free of. This being someone that people wouldn’t want redeemed or saved (And a horrid depiction of abused children becoming their parents).

In a way, Damian is getting the quality development from manipulated child assassin to hero that Talia also deserved before Morrison screwed her up.

The point I’m making to all this is that Talia and Slade share a similarity where they do bad things for messed up reasons because of family and need help being steered in the right direction (That being Bruce for Talia, and Wintergreen for Slade), but despite that, they are both truly very much family oriented and would want the best for their children (Talia giving up Damian for adoption in the original and Slade leaving his children in order to protect them), and would absolutely hate themselves if they did hurt them.

Yet that’s lost in the insensitive ideas of these dumb grown men writers.

Honestly, Damian would still have parents who aren’t the best, but would do their best to make sure he is safe and happy. He would be given to a safe family and he would have meta-human abilities. And at some point when he discovers them, Slade and Talia (who are off-and-on lovers) would discuss about whether he should be put with the Teen Titans or trained under Talia who reformed the League of Assassins. Having deep discussions about how to avoid turning their son into them, but not so much denying that he might kill at some point. Then Bruce comes in and adopts him because that’s what he does and Damian becomes a Robin, and he’s pushed to the idea of killing by the villains because fuck them. And Slade or Talia may drop in to help him with his issues or be his issues and his adopted parents are still around to also be a safe place for him. Yeeeaaaahhh, I thought too much on this.

#Talia Al Ghul #Deathstroke #Slade Wilson #Damian Wayne #Robin

45 notes · View notes

shahedam · 6 years

Text

Queen of the South episode 8 & my “Godfather” feels

Ok so I rewatched it today....Some interesting things. I have watched a lot of gangster movies/tv shows and one of my favorite gangster movies of all time is Francis Ford Coppola’s The Godfather. In no particular order.

1. James is always prepared. He had a fire extinguisher y’all. He is a very intelligent man. But James the next time you are trying to put out a fire you aim at the base of the fire. I loved that he is a mature guy. He showed us that a man can be a gangster and a gentle man. My heart almost burst when he had the finger on the trigger and she said no, we will kill them all when the time is right. Who the hell does the sound track the music just has me in a mood. Like yes. For James he gives me Young Vito Corleone (DeNiro) feels.

2. Sherriff Mayo is a sad man. Remember his conversation with Teresa. He was beaten and bullied so much that it changed him into a sadist psycho.

3. Pecas is not a bad guy. He is a boss. He is the biggest narco in La Comision. He is trying to protect his spot. He sided with Boaz who disappeared so that connection to the Colombians went to Camilla so now he is working with Camilla who is supplying him with coke. He never wanted Teresa in Arizona and he tells her that at the meeting. Teresa wants the throne so she is going to have to get on some murder mami shit so it is what it is.

4. Taza. I like Taza. He seems like a good dude. He wants to build schools and hospitals. Too bad they can’t get the casino up and running. Vegas is like 4/5 hours away from Phoenix so I don’t know why they can’t get it poppin but whatever. Those cars were awesome. I liked that him and Pote led them down Death Highway.

5. Pote. Pote. Pote, if that is not a ride or die I don’t know what he is. He is a soldado. He is loyalty at its finest. I love Pote. Teresa and Pote have both been through a lot together. The bond that they have is awesome. At first when I watched the episode I was like wait a second Pote you done gave the green light and then the red light but as I watched it again and from feedback from other QOTS Jeresa fans, I realize that Pote was giving her his blessing. I see now that he needed to know what was up because it is important. I also realized that he has never witnessed how the two of them get down for real. I think in Chicago he saw it a little but he was kinda giving them the side eye but Guero was there...Pote was at the crib in the kitchen in Dallas mostly when they was on their day to day Bonnie and Clyde thing and when they bounced to Malta James wasn’t with them. He doesn’t know that before the sex these two were always risking their lives for each other?*%! He would die for you was what Teresa needed to hear just like James needed to hear that she didn’t regret sleeping with him. He gives me Clemenza feels...

6. Teresa. I am a little torn about how I felt about Teresa. She showed her grown ass woman side, sweetly checking both Pote and James for locking her in the cellar. But, I didn’t like that she laid out the plan at the reservation after so many of them were against her plans which ultimately led to one of the tribe losing their life because he snitched the whole damn plan, she could have just left it at the I just want to let y’all know that we just gonna get this money and that’s all this is, we appreciate y’all help. Ok Taza, back to what you were saying. Feel me. She up there talking about transporting coke, just doing too much. Then ok just 48 hours prior Pecas sent a sicario to your place of business, said sicario killed your delivery driver on your property, you carve his tattoo from his arm and Fed Ex the skin tag to Pecas with a dove (I peeped you jumping Pecas when that bird flew out the box), that wasn’t a peace offering that was a message, you didn’t stop there you even put a little note up in there. So fast forward to 48 hours from that delivery time stamp you actually sent your people over to negotiate some El Santo coke, I wasn’t surprised that he killed Tonto (RIP Tonto fly with the other silent sicarios, I don’t think I ever heard him talk except for when he busted Teresa in the mouth with the gun or was that The Charger. My bad I digress) Anyway. Teresa you shouldn’t have sent them to do that. Lil T need to be in the ICU right now, no offense Taza. I feel for that young girl. When James said she knew the risk I felt like I felt when he asked Teresa did you see what Batman hit you with I need to get me one of those. Too soon babe. Teresa was dead ass wrong for doing that I could see if it had been a couple of weeks ok maybe after Pecas got him some sweets (he love to eat) but nope that young girl might die and if she doesnt she has a Return to Sender tattoo on her back and that sucks. Uh duh. Michael Corleone feels. Everything from the tragic death of her first love to her rise to become the Queen.

7. Camilla. I just have to give a hand clap to who ever dresses Camilla because I love her style. Classy and always on point. Loved that black kimono. But forget all that jumping right into it, Camilla knows who the General is, but allowing him to record her that was sloppy. Also the whole conversation with Pecas had me nodding my head because she wants her money. She basically told him bitch better have my money. Isabella was lying then coming and trying to ask for help but I thought you said that you ain’t seen Kique, he wasn’t taking your calls (meanwhile you in dusty ass garages running up on Kique talking about mi amour, go sit yo fast ass down somewhere don’t you got some homework to do. Damn Isabella gets on my nerves). I think that they should have just killed both the young lovers and put us out of our misery that is Isabella. Kique was sad but, damn it, you sitting in a car in a dark ass garage and you didn’t have enough sense to have the doors locked I mean to me you was asking for it. So stupid. Then if General Cortez wasn’t going to kill you hell you gave him the idea telling him that he could kill you but that will not take your love away from Isabella, you out here giving the killer ideas...and then what took the entire cake was you bringing up Camilla playing him out. Cortez is a horrible person and a straight pedophile. I don’t like him. He was always checking Isabella out. Remember when Epifanio had to tell him to chill talking about her at her party. While I might not like Camilla’s ways she is still a boss. She still runs the south and she is about to be dealing with her crazy ass daughter who I wish Manuel son had killed but then Teresa wouldn’t have gotten the 10 million from Camilla and she wouldn’t have been able to pay El Santo and the little angel would have came back with Thanos to kill Teresa ass, that’s not his name but he was scary. I’m excited to see how she gets out of this thing with Cortez and Isabella because he has definitely played his hands since he didn’t kill Isabella when he showed her Kique’s body. Camilla gives me Don Vito Corleone (Brando) feels, the end is near for her but she is still running everything.

8. King George. Ok I love James. I love Pote. I like Teresa (see above). But like I really ride for George, he is like all your day 1s he just has your back. Again, Teresa is being extra sloppy. You start a war and you got dough. You need to tighten up on security for your whole squad that’s what a boss does. Nobody ran up on none of them when they was with Camilla because like Camilla said it’s her job (The boss) to keep them safe. Teresa killed the governor of Sinaloa and knew it was gonna be retaliation, stole Rocco’s girls, put a hit on someone Sherriff Mayo who survived said hit and all I see is that same little ass squad (no offense James and Pote) but there has to be some number that you can call and get you some killers, like the Continental Hotel or something for the cartels...George and Bilal should have had a squad with them not no whack ass phone call talking about be safe. Now I know George got his own thing going on but I’m just saying they snatched him. I guess that’s the friend in the cage. He’s my Santino “Sonny” Corleone feels. That is not a parallel or foreshadow of how I believe that King George’s character will play out on the series. Because I loved Sonny’s character like I love George. He is a mess but a beautiful mess. Remember when George shot his shot at Teresa...You can be my Pocahontas or I can be your Pocahontas...I would make you my queen if Rico Suave didn’t already have dibs. He called James Ken Kardashian. I can’t. I am hoping George AND Bilal survive...Until next time kiddos. Bless

#spoilers #james valdez #team james #teresa mendoza #james and teresa #queen of the south #qots season 3 #qotsedit

12 notes · View notes

rason-rodd · 6 years

Text

Red Hood And The Outlaws: Loyalty (Chapter 12)

[Read on AO3] [Previous Chapter]

Chapter 12: Who’s the Wolf?

“ So let me sum up. You think that Black Mask has somehow put his hand on a biotechnological virus capable of controlling the mind of anyone infected and that he used it on the mayor so that he would be able to redefine Gotham the way he wants.” “ It’s a techno-organic virus actually but basically yeah” [Y/N] remained silent for a while, sitting on the desk of Jason’s personal hideout as he was working on his blocking capacities using an old wooden dummy. “You don’t think that’s possible?” “ Honestly Jay, I believe anything can happen in Gotham. Black Mask always had his filthy hands on everything as far as I remember so it is highly probable that he’s behind this … It’s just … Why does he need Bizarro? … And why does he need you?” “ I’m wondering the same thing” “ But do you believe in his ‘I need an heir’ crap?” “ I don’t know, babe. Every time I think I’ve finally figured the guy out, he is proving he is way ahead of me” He stopped punching, a bit out of breath and took a towel to sponge down the sweat on his face and on his bare chest. “What?” He asked her with a chuckle as she was smiling at him. “Babe?” She repeated with a questioning amused look. “ I didn’t say that.” “ Yeah you did” “ So even if I did, I often call Artemis princess.” “ Liar! You would be dead by now if you were doing that.” “ It’s just a way to …” He marked a pause to look for the right word that could get him out of this awkward situation, a bit too humiliating to his taste. “ show affection?” She suggested with a mocking smile “ No … Enhance my male side.” He stuck out his chest in an attempt to make her smile which was an eventual success. “ Seriously stop it. It’s funny but you’re embarrassing yourself … babe”

She winked and he threw his towel at her with a fake angry look. She threw it back shortly after she caught it, the reek of his sweat being rather displeasing and aggressive to her wolf smell. “I think you’ve enhanced your male side enough for today. You stink.” “ Look at that fastidious young lady repelled by this wonderful essence of virility” Jason said with an exaggerated distinguished tone. “ The hormone of virility, which would be the testosterone, doesn’t come from sweat but from gonads in case you didn’t know” He crossed his arms above his bare chest, nodding at her with a weird pout. “Sexual glands” she clarified as she believed he didn’t know what they were “The only thing that can be associated to virility in sweat is the presence of a low percentage of pheromones” Jason was listening to her carefully but there was this sparkle of mischief in his eyes “But you already knew all that, didn’t you?” He laughed. Of course he knew, he had studied the human body from every conceivable angle. After all he had to as Batman’s perfect little soldier. “ Is your meta-side able to smell all these things?” “ Smelling is a capability among so many though it used to drive me nuts at the beginning. It is the wolf’s most developed sense. It permits to identify and locate things or persons and even tell about their mood or health.”

When he felt like she was ready to tell her more about herself, about her life, her history, Jason went to sit by her side in silence. “When I was a “wolf-cub” I used to have no control over all this. I could smell everything: all my surroundings, every people’s emotions. It felt as if my mind was invaded. I didn’t know who I was anymore, I couldn’t tell my feelings apart from all the others I could sense. It was awful.” “ How did you learn to control it?” “ I tried to isolate myself from as many people as possible. I thought that I should learn to channel few things first before trying to face a crowd of emotions. But that wasn’t what my mentor thought I should do. One morning, he woke me up, put spitting cobra venom in my eyes to render me temporarily blind and left me in the middle of a giant crowded market place and asked me to come back home. The first day I spent hours sobbing, looking for my way back, terrified. The second I cried. I was lost. The third I fell on my knees and screamed like crazy hoping he would come back to bring me back home. After four days I understood I could only count on myself so I got up and I pulled myself out of this mess. But of course I wasn’t welcomed back with a loving embrace ”

‘Eth Alth’Eban – Few years ago

Even though she could perceive some shades of blue and gold everything around her was still blurry. But she knew she was back. She knew it the moment she felt the humid air getting fresher as she was walking up the mosaic stairs, so cold under her wounded bare feet grazed by the days of walking. She knew it the second she smelled his distinct powerful animalistic odour. “ Four days” He just said with that disappointment in his voice “It took you four days.” She looked down with tears in her reddened blind eyes. But there weren’t tears of sadness. She had shed enough tears of sadness. Those were tears of anger. “I don’t know what I saw in you. You’re not that exceptional after all. Just another fragile little child from Gotham City who has lost mama and papa.” She tried to remain calm but she could feel her nails piercing her palms as she clenched her fists. “You’re not fit to be one of us and surely you don’t deserve your gift” A gift? What gift? To her it was more of a curse, a permanent affliction, an incurable disease, something she will carry like a burden for the rest of her life. “What? Did the trauma render you deaf? Mute?” She didn’t answer. She only gritted her teeth. She sensed him getting closer. His odour was more and more distinguishable as it was slowly invading her nostrils like a thick smoke. But there was something else, another smell, acrid and sour. She had smelled it before. She knew what it was. And she knew where it came from “Whatever. As long as you’re still capable of spreading your legs when I want, you may still have some use to me.”

Her hand slapped his face, scratching his cheek deep in the process. The force of the slap almost sent him flying. He tumbled, astonished, and caught hold of the table to cushion his fall. “You sick bastard. Have you any idea what you put me through? Can’t you even imagine for a second the pain I felt?” “ Am I supposed to feel guilty?” He tried to stand up she kicked him violently in the chest to keep him down on the floor. “ No because to feel guilty you must have a heart and we both know you don’t have one. You don’t care about anyone but yourself.” Her voice was a real growl, powerful and full of rage. It was coming from her entire body, making it shiver. However, he remained calm and emotionless as if her anger was leaving him indifferent. “ Affection makes one weak. It only ties your hands and feet. If you hadn’t waited for me you would have come back here on day one. You know I’m right. After all, isn’t the moment you realised I wouldn’t come what finally got you back on your feet and made you think rationally and not like a sad lost puppy?” With a simple yet powerful move she pushed the table away from him and right against a pillar. The impact broke it in pieces, reducing it to mere firewood. “Of course I was sad and lost. You abandoned me, blind and with nothing to defend myself!” She didn’t want him to get up. She sat on him and grabbed him by his clothes. “Perhaps I should do the same to you”

She smelled it again, so close from her. She could hear it even, this murky poisonous liquid swaying in his phial, the very same he used on her to deprive her of her eyesight. Though she could not truly see it, she grabbed it without any difficulty and uncorked it. Those days lost in the crime-infested and filthy market had taught her how to rely on her other senses. She then approached the liquid from her mentor’s face, ready to pour it down right in his eyes, as he had done to her. “ Put the phial down, [Y/N]. That’s a good girl.” He was not begging. It sounded as he was trying to control her and she hated it. “ Why? Do you want me to pity you? Spare you? Sorry but I’m a fast learner. Affection makes one weak. It only ties your hands and feet. And right now I don’t feel anything for you except a devouring hatred” “You won’t do it.” But she did, without any hesitation. She poured it entirely. He didn’t scream. He wasn’t that kind of man. Instead he just gritted his teeth to muffle the pain. And she enjoyed it, so much she let herself smile of satisfaction. But the satisfaction was brief as he suddenly started laughing. “ Finally. I knew you had it still in you, that awful beast, that monster lying in you” No he couldn’t appreciate this. He couldn’t be proud of this. She was hurting him. He was supposed to feel only pain. “Shut up!!!” She yelled as she threw him through the room only to rush towards him again. She pounced on him and started hit him hard again and again, screaming and shouting at him like a wild animal, until another smell, this time rather metallic and salted, came to her nose. He was bleeding and she had his blood on her hands. But she didn’t stopped. She continued. And he tried to defend himself but the rage was making her too strong “ Okay, [Y/N]. That’s enough. Calm down now.” He managed to say between two punches and he actually begged this time for that he knew what she was capable of when her eyes were starting to glow yellow. “ Calm down? No I won’t calm down. You brought this upon yourself. If you want to blame someone for it, blame yourself.” “ Stop it. You know what anger does to you.” Flashes of a terrible night came back to her. So much blood. Those screams. Those growls. “ Yes, I do. But I don’t care. Because right now all I want to do is kill you.” “ If you do it, we both know you’ll regret it.” Those voices … The poor girl is orphan now… I think trauma turned her mad… Perhaps we should send her to Arkham. Arkham. Arkham. Arkham. That word was echoing in her head. “Don’t let your anger control you. You control the demon inside of you not the other way around.” And she released him. Slowly. And she started crying as she cried that night, the night when it all began, the night when it all changed. “That’s it” He whispered to her ear, caressing her messy white hair.

“ So it wasn’t without any surprise that the next step of my training was to work on my anger issues.” She said to conclude her story though she had omitted to talk about her weird flashbacks and the voices in her head. Jason remained quiet even after that, with pity and sadness in his eyes. Who would have thought that a girl as young as her could have been through such a terrible ordeal. And how could a man torture a fifteen years old girl? Or abuse her like that? He was no mentor. He was a tyrant as well as a paedophile. The thought of his filthy hands on her body sickened him and made him want to find the bastard and fill his body with bullets. “ Why didn’t you kill him?” He asked as his eyes were suddenly darkened by anger “ Because, as crazy as it sounds, I have respect for the man. He was harsh but he pulled me out of the gutter when I needed help and he made me tougher. He taught me how to fight and to survive.”

The outlaw cooled down as he remembered the night he met Batman when he was just a street rat named Jason Todd, how he moved from Ma Gunn’s school for wayward boys to Wayne Manor, how he swapped an old red sweater for a green, red and yellow uniform, how he went from being a wheels thief to the sidekick of the world greatest detective, a man he respected and dared considered like a father even though his life with him wasn’t always easy. Strange how his story wasn’t so different from hers. “ It’s surprising how much we are alike you and I.” He confessed as he stared at her right in her greyish green eyes. “ I told you, Jason. We have more than one thing in common.” Without looking away from her, Jason slowly cupped her soft cheek. She let go under his caress, enjoying his tenderness as she closed briefly her eyes. He slightly smiled at her sudden docility and welcomed her in his arms before planting a kiss in her silky hair with a delicacy that agreeably surprised her. But she couldn’t allow herself to feel that good nor could she let herself grow fond of him. She had a mission. A mission she could not fail if she aimed to survive.

“You still smell, you know?” She said to voluntarily ruin the moment even though she didn’t want it to. By chance it only made him laugh. “I’m going to take a shower then” He slowly let go of her before kissing her again, this time close to the corner of her lips. She stood still for a brief moment, a bit confused by his gesture. He noticed it but he decided to use this moment to go. “You know, [Y/N].” He stopped on his way to the bathroom “You mentor was wrong. You are exceptional.” He declared with another sweet and sincere smile. Damn you, Jason Todd. Why do you have to make things so difficult? She thought as she dreamily touched the bit of skin next to her mouth where he had kissed her.

#red hood and the outlaws: loyalty

7 notes · View notes

itsybitsylemonsqueezy · 7 years

Text

Gotham 4x04: A Liveblog

Once again, friends, I come to you with review and summary of the latest Gotham events. And Ed’s back this time. ...god help us all.

TL;DR - I wonder what’s happening in the REAL Gotham where character motivation still makes sense

Ben, whatever happens, I’m holding you personally responsible

Side Note: what exactly IS an embalming knife? Like... where does a knife come into the embalming process? Is this the knife you use to carve out the mushy bits, is that it? Because like... to my knowledge, embalming is a primary function of embalming liquid. Like... mostly it’s preserving and shit. And I don’t know how a knife preserves fuck all. But maybe someone who knows anthropology or mortician practices can explain this to me.

“That cuneiform is definitely pre-Venetian” ...did... did I just hear that right? Oh, PHOEnician... that makes way more sense. I was just... had a heart attack for a second. Carry on.

Look Bruce, you could have a friend your own age! Or... you know, continue to live alone with your butler like... all normal kids do. I suppose you have Cat but... mmm. mm.

...Ed’s fine. He’s fine. Upside down in his... obsession pit. He’s fine.

It’s a TOTALLY NORMAL and HEALTHY thing to paste thousands of pictures of your ex all over the walls while you contemplate revenge, yeah that... this is fine. It’s all Fine.

You’re uh... looking a little ramshackle and disheveled there Ed, OH HEY KNIFE. HI, uh... Okay. Did you fucking... DRAW sketches of Oswald yourself? Oh my god Ed... oh my god. See you haven’t changed at all really.

Yeah, he seems fine

Meanwhile, stuffed birds all over the place. I’m sure that’s... fine

You know, it’s pretty great how ancient cultures are always keen to write their hellish prophecies on their murder weapons, always appreciate that

UHHHHHH SABER SKELETON. UHHHHHH. UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. *Randall Tier flashbacks* UMMM UMMM UMMM UMMM. I JUST UH. I FEEL LIKE YOU GUYS MIGHT WANT TO BE CAREFUL WITH THE ALLUSIONS YOU’RE MAKING GUYS. YOU DON’T HAVE A WILL GRAHAM TO SAVE YOU.

Just... just all of the safe. All of the safe.

Maybe uh... maybe don’t talk about the Demon’s Head being a person and then cut to a saber skeleton. Maybe we don’t encourage brutal fledgling serial killers hahahahaha.

That uh... sure is some hair, there, Alexander Siddig. God this show’s aesthetic is fucking weird.

...this whole sequence has been nothing but Hannibal allusions.

They are REALLY pushing for the Hannibal aesthetics. Got a real crush on that show.

Look Bruce! Your new friend has ALSO been traumatized by witnessing the death of his guardian! You have so much in common!

*frowns* Harvey left and didn’t tell Jim??? Like, given what happened this summer, I can totally understand Donal not being around for filming but... write it better than “Harvey left and didn’t tell Jim” Because that’s bullshit.

I also DO NOT WANT TO PARTICIPATE in a love triangle where 2 women fight over Jim’s soul NO NO NO NO NO. So if that’s where this is going FUCK OFF, FUCK EVERYTHING, AND FUCK YOU.

Welp, seeing another dead guardian should stir some shit up for Bruce

At least this sends Jim back to Barbara... I mean, that’s not really a positive, but at least I don’t hate Jim and Barbara, mainly because they have the stamp of canon on them

I don’t know how I feel about Babs hair this season, it’s... different

Okay, HARD NO on Ra’s-al-Ghul’s underlings, HARD NO. I just came from American Gods and THAT IS NOT ANUBIS. For one thing he’s white. What.

Intense staring contest with bowler hat. Oswald’s So Over It.

What’re you expecting Ed to jump out of it? Holy shit Oswald, calm down

I... you didn’t want to be disturbed... during your staring contest with the hat??? I... okay. Also, maybe close your fucking door then, it was wide open. Just saying.

Huh... Oswald and Sofia are meeting. Okay. Better put the masturbation hat away then Oswald, it’s a little too revealing

Hmmm... be careful Oswald. You’re right to be wary of her, don’t let her fool you. Also, Maybe Talk To Jim About This.

...White Rabbit. Really. *long, put upon sigh*

AAAAAAAAAAND the worst rap of all time! Well DONE Ed!

Oswald’s reactions to this are everything. Bless you Oswald. I love you. 100% everything I feel too.

Belated Side Note: Zsasz used to work for Falcone, and Falcone has taken control of him back from Oswald on occasion. Why then does Zsasz offer to stab Sofia? Is he truly loyal to Oswald now? Or was his relationship exclusively with Carmine? OR is it a bluff and Sofia’s already tapped him? Or will she tap him later? Lots of questions... lots of questions.

Yeah because WHY would you murder the guy??? It’s WAY more healthy for your psychological state to just... keep him on ice forever. That’s progress.

“I want Ed Nygma” we... we know Oswald. we know.

Always, ALWAYS the fucking docks. Goddddd. PLEASE GET A NEW SPOT YOU TWO.

Also, Oswald, DID YOU NOT LISTEN TO THAT??? That WASN’T a riddle, that was... statements. His brain is SHOT. God knows what a second spell in the ice will do.

Also also, I can guarantee that Ed won’t even be at the docks because he’s a dumbass now. And somehow the obvious answer will be wrong.

Um, frankly, I wouldn’t trust Bruce if I was Alex, Bruce is 100% the person who got Alex’s granddad killed. I’d be super pissed at Bruce. But... y’know, okay, whatever. Moving the plot forward.

Ahhh, Alex is giving Bruce the benefit of the doubt, I see. Nice kid. Very generous in his grief.

Also, why the shit would he come after you? He wanted the KNIFE, that’s it. I mean... I guess you’re a witness, but he didn’t see you so he doesn’t know about you. You’re not in danger kid. At least, not so much danger the police can’t take care of it, for once. You’re very much safe as houses until the plot inevitably fucks this up.

It would be a good idea to give up the knife tho, then you’re really in the clear

How the FUCK is Ra’s-al-Ghul at the library! How does he know to come here? Presumably he knew to come to the antiquities room because he was tracking Bruce because Babs told him to... I guess he could have tracked Bruce here then. Meh.

Ah yes. The creatures. Fuck that.

White people speaking ancient Middle Eastern languages. Mmmm nothing like it.

Ah, the old collapsing book case technique! Because no one thinks to GET OUT OF THE WAY of that shit. Nah, just gotta stand here and be crushed by the 3 ton weight of literature. It was my destiny to die this way.

Oh, I see, you’re just going to make like a harmless academic and this knife has been in your family for generations, of course...

You’re awfully paranoid kid. I mean... I suppose you were attacked now, so... I guess that’s justified

Uhhhh, kid, Bruce is not a Good Example of literally anything. He’s been training to become the world’s most popular vigilante for a few years now and that was born out of this very trauma so... y’know, don’t compare yourself to him. Please don’t. We don’t need more Batmans.

“No, you’re cool” I think you mean wealthy. Wealthy and cool CAN intersect but I feel like this is a classism thing. Let me provide you with a book on Marxism, kid.

If this doesn’t turn into another exploration of sexuality subplot, I’m gonna be disappointed

Uh, if he’s here on international business, like... check his visa Jim, he should have legal paperwork and shit to take that knife back to Nepal

JIM. WHY ARE YOU TELLING A MURDER SUSPECT THAT THERE IS A LIVING WITNESS. YOU’RE ACTIVELY PUTTING THE KID IN DANGER HOLY SHIT. HOLY SHIT NOT GOOD PROTOCOL JIM. Unless you were planning to trip him up on a lie, THIS IS NOT GOOD PROCEDURE JIM. THIS IS A HANNIBAL LEVEL FUCK UP. AS PEOPLE CONTINUE TO TELL HANNIBAL, THE ACTUAL CHESAPEAKE REAPER, SENSITIVE CASE DETAILS ALL THE FUCKING TIME. HOLY SHIT NO.

This... this whole interrogation is a shit show, oh my god, not great work, very bad work, the both of you. Awful lying, Get Good.

Welp. I guess Ra’s-al-Ghul can teleport. Or turn fucking invisible. Glad that’s very justified. Everyone know if you get resurrected you get Special Powers. The divine amniotic sack gives to all.

Yeah because Sofia Totally Won’t Challenge Penguin For Power. That Defs Won’t Happen. And It Especially Won’t Involve Jim.

Oswald You Good. You Good Good Good Villain. How I Love Thee.

Brilliant babe who is rightfully suspicious after 3 seasons of this bullshit. Y’all fucking forget that Oswald is a sewer rat, you cannot trick him.

Oh boo hoo Sofia, I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you

Her criticism may be valid, BUT, on the other hand, as I said, Oswald’s lived through 3 seasons of this bullshit, while you lived the high life in Cuba. You might have your father’s perspective, but you don’t have any of Oswald’s hands-on experience. I still stand by Oswald’s decision to just murder them, he’s played the politics here long enough to know there is no loyalty amongst thieves. Not for him.

You know, it’s very considerate of Ra’s-al-Ghul to break shit every time he enters a scene so we know he’s here. Very thoughtful of him.

Oh it’s his fucking creatures again... ugggghhhhhhh...

More quality rapping! Good job Ed! Continuing to be the Best!

HAHAHAHAHA *more Randall Tier flashbacks* HAHAHAHAHAHA! ALL of the Hannibal allusions! Phew!

...no. no to the bone gag. just no.

Yeah, kid’s dead. Good job Ra’s-al-Ghul, at least you come through on your weird ass threats.

I mean... Ra’s totally made you make that call tho Bruce, this is his sick game, it’s on him. No one should have to decide between the death of one innocent or the deaths of millions of innocents. That’s a bullshit moral quandary that doesn’t actually exist. He wants you to think like he thinks, that’s all, this is psychological warfare, that’s the whole point. Remind yourself he did this, not just for the active murder, but more so because he thinks there is something to be gained by making you do this. He’s the asshole responsible.

Ed, I’m just... sweetie, pumpkin, if your point is to prove Oswald is a coward or an idiot, then... you proved it. Running after him sorta... disproves your point. If you want to meet him and murder him then... make that the point. Just... show up and murder him in the first place. *siiiigh* Or invite him to a cordial murder, whatever, but don’t make it a contest of wits if what you rally want is a confrontation. Get your shit together.

*nods* He’s right, they do suck, they were AWFUL

This... that... was bizarre. This was bizarre. What... exactly does Oswald want? I don’t understand. I know Ed isn’t himself anymore, but... you could help him. You could help him become himself again. And you both hate and are afraid of the Riddler. Why... would you want him back? As you just said, you want him only to freeze him. And just... that personality wasn’t even WHOLE, it was a fractured disaster. That wasn’t even a person. Just like this isn’t even a person. Why would you taunt Ed with saying “you’re not him”? I know you want Ed as an equal, but... do you think he can only be your equal as the Riddler? Who you hate and fear? You’ve got some weird ideas floating around in your head, Oswald. I would make the argument that you don’t hate or fear the Riddler nearly as much as you claim to and you want to bang the living daylights out of him, but like... *siiiigh* I dunno. You didn’t always want that. You wanted Ed to be whole and your equal. Nothing you’ve seen of him since he was your chief of staff has been real. None of it, all of it was a mistake, aborted attempts at personalities. And I just don’t know what you want anymore if you won’t take this broken, defunct Ed and help him.

You’re pushing him towards becoming the Riddler again, so I guess that’s what you want. And maybe you’re tired of being his mentor, after all, you tried that, reluctantly, and that went SO well. Maybe you hope/expect him to work it out for himself, and come back to you when he’s ready. That would put your relationship in a WAY different paradigm than it has been... but... okay??? I guess??? I’m having another time of not knowing what the hell the writers want for them

Why. why why why why. I hate everything.

I hate Jim so much

Ben You Done Fucked Up.

#Gotham spoilers #This season might kill my entire interest in the show #Nothing about this episode was satisfying #Everything felt like lukewarm mush #I am not excited about anything that happened #Ugh

2 notes · View notes

sueboohscorner · 7 years

Text

A 'Villain' is Born! #Gotham S3 Ep15 "How the Riddler Got His Name" Spoilers, Recap, & Review

Great, green garment, Batman! Gotham has returned after a long, long hiatus, much to the delight of fans of the show. Even the title alone is sure to catch anyone’s attention: ‘How the Riddler Got His Name’. Along with the title of the spring premiere of season 3, you might catch something else: The original tagline for the first part of season 3 was Mad City, aptly named after the Mad Hatter himself, Jervis Tetch, played with a somewhat perverted view of childlike innocence that the villain is mostly known for by the Australian actor Benedict Samuel. However, the tagline has changed into Heroes Rise. Now, it’s no secret that I myself tend to lean towards the villains, but we have seen many badass bad guys grow and thrive in the city of Gotham, but now it’s time to see just what our heroes will do to combat said villainy. Remember: a good villain inspires change. A villain acts. Heroes react.

Well, to use a cheesy line, the episode started out (literally) with a BANG! We first see a professor in his laboratory. Now, why should we care about this guy? Because Edward Nygma does, that’s why! (Played by Corey Michael Smith) He manages to tie up the professor and what does Ed do? Ask the poor egghead riddle after riddle. Unfortunately, the professor was not smart enough to match I.Q.’s with Edward. Nygma becomes enraged and almost saddened by each wrong answer to his riddles, until Edward basically smart shames the professor and then, well…… BOOM! You may be asking “Why would he do that? What’s his plan?” Calm down, and I’m going to get to that; I’m just giving you a spoiler recap for starters.

Speaking of villainy, we also see our favorite group that works in the shadows, the Court of Owls. You remember Bruce Wayne’s clone? (Played by David Mazouz) Well, guess what? The Court has been training him to become the perfect imposter of our hero Bruce. We see that Kathryn (played by Leslie Hendrix) declare that the clone’s training is complete. We also see a new character, Frank (played by James Remar), who turns out to be Jim Gordon’s uncle. Yeesh. Talk about a family history; Jim’s father was a decorated veteran and cop, and now we see that Jim’s uncle has been a member of the Court for who knows how long? Apparently, Kathryn wants Frank to reach out to Jim and ask him to join the Court. But if he can’t convince him….. use your imagination.

Back to Edward, still living in Dahl Manor, we see that he has been losing sleep and he has been taking pills. What kind of pills? My best guess is some form of the hallucinogenic drug. Why? The audience has seen, throughout the seasons that Edward does tend to see hallucinations, much to Ed’s chagrin. This time he’s taking pills to see visions whenever he needs to. And who he might be seeing in his head? Why, his ex-best friend, Oswald Cobblepot. (Played by Robin Lord Taylor) Yeah, it turns out that Edward is still in need of guidance to become more of who he is; more of a villain (his words, not mine). In Edward’s mind, Oswald is soaking wet, has a crab or two crawling on him, and is covered in scum. That would make sense, because the last time those two saw each other, Edward shot Oswald point-blank and pushed him into the cold waters by the docks. Literally, most things in Gotham go down at the docks. So Edward imagines his dead partner and summons him whenever he needs someone to talk to or some guidance. It would be more heartfelt if Edward’s mentality weren't deteriorating before our eyes. What Edward wants now in his life is to feel whole, complete, to figure out just who he really is. Nygma’s conclusion to that answer is to find the brightest minds in Gotham and see who can match his own intellect. To each their own, and all that. Mirage Oswald keeps fighting him on every step, saying that the way he’s going about this in a completely stupid way. Then Edward gets an idea for another contestant: Jim Gordon (Played by Ben McKenzie). Now, I like Jim, I really do, but come on. He is intelligent and strong in his own right, but I don’t think he would last a few rounds with Edward Nygma.

Edward sends a singing telegram to the GCPD, where Captain Harvey Bullock (Played by Donal Logue) is still cleaning up from the big hoopla that was left in Jerome Valeska’s wake. Lucius Fox (Played by Chris Chalk) informs Bullock about recent killings that have been going on in the city as of late. He takes note that each victim is either artistic or very intellectual. Fox is interrupted by the singing mentioned above telegram, telling them about the next possible victim. The card, of course, has a puzzle on it. The puzzle turns out to be a location: a chess tournament. Of course, Lucius Fox figures it out in less than a minute, and he, Harvey, and other cops from the precinct are on the move.

If you’re wondering about Jim, don’t worry. He’s just taking some time off to go on a hunting trip with his estranged uncle Frank. What could go wrong?

At the chess tournament, we notice that Edward Hazen overlooking view of the event. Again, he summons Oswald. Edward’s attitude towards his hallucination of Oswald is not necessarily bitter. That may seem strange, give in their last encounter, but we see that Edward does not hold much malice towards Oswald. In fact he still regards him as his best friend. Of course there is tension, but Edward does not really care for that at the moment. However the hallucination of Oswald is still fighting Edward at every step in turn that he makes. Edward even thanks Oswald for coming, to which Oswald replied that he did not have much of a choice. Edward is not too surprised when he sees the GCPD come in, but he is surprised to see Lucius Fox. You could consider it a delightful surprise. Ed activates an electrical device that is rigged to every chessboard in the building. No one is safe for the then move or not. But that does not matter, Edward has found his intellectual match. Lucius Fox. And he is already solved another riddle, a phone number leading to the person responsible. Edward Nygma. The phone call consisted of another riddle. Which leads Lucius to a grim answer: the belly of the beast. Which literally means that he had to cut into the belly of one of Edward’s victims for his next clue…..ew.

We take a minute to focus on Bruce and Alfred (played by Sean Pertwee) as they continue their training. Knife throwing training, which is freaking awesome in my book. But Bruce is clearly distracted in it interferes with his training. Alfred calls him on it, and what is on his mind is Selina Kyle (played by Camren Bicondova). Long story short: Selina’s mom turned out to be a garbage human and Bruce kind of knew about it, but did not tell her. They had kind of a messy breakup. Bruce tells Alfred that he received a note in the mail recently from Selina asking him to meet up with her. Bruce knows that his training is really important, especially after what happened with Jerome, but he can’t get her out of his head. So Alfred suggests that he takes her up on her note.

While Bruce is wandering the city, he comes across Sonny Gilzean and a bunch of his thugs. They start messing with him until Selina arrives. As it turns out, she did not send that note to Bruce. And then she storms away. Sonny and his guys start beating up Bruce at first, but the rejection from Selina seemed to take its toll on him and he fought back, and kicked major ass, I might say. As he turns to go back home, he encounters his clone, who drugs him unconscious as he plans to take his place.

We go back to Bullock, who is speaking at the police officer’s graduation ceremony. Until, uh-oh, Edward shows up and knocks him out. All the while, Mirage Oswald insists that there is no Edward without him. Edward admits some truth about that statement, but he will find something new in something better to replace Oswald with in his heart.

We see Lucius and Lee (played by Morena Baccarin) examining a dead body, cutting open his stomach, to reveal a police badge. That match belongs to Harvey. Lucius knows where Harvey is and he immediately leaves for the ceremony. To the young cadet’s remorse, Edward replaces Harvey as speaker. He throws a grenade into the crowd, but not before giving a riddle.

Lucius finally meets up with Edward who has Harvey tide up in a chair which is suspended over a stairway. Edward gives Lucius three chances, three riddles, to save Harvey. Fox gets the first two riddles wrong, but the last one he got absolutely right. Lucius also finds out that Edward killed Oswald Cobblepot, their mayor. But, we get a thumbs up from Edward while still making Harvey fall to his death. Lucius manages to catch him in time, only to find that the green suited man was gone.

On Jim Gordon’s end, he and his uncle have a long talk. Franks says that he came back to Gotham to patch things up. Then he comes clean about the Court of Owls, and how they are a secret organization that really pull the strings in Gotham. He reveals that he and Jim’s father were members of the Court and that that originally wanted him to join as well. But Jim’s father saw how much of a threat they were to the city and try to fight back. Frank reveals that the Court had set up a car accident that would cause Jim’s father his death. French had to prove his loyalty, so the Court sent in a way for years to an unknown location. Jim is of course, outraged by this and is unsure whether or not to believe his uncle.

After saving Harvey, he, and some GCPD members go out and try to find Edward in the Dahl Manor. The only thing that they find is a portrait of the mayor with a big, bright, green question mark on its face.

After a long day, we see Lucius get into his car. Edward was waiting for him in the back seat with a gun. Instead of completely submitting to the threat, to Lucius psychoanalyzes Edward. He sees that everything that Edward has done is some sort of act and he questions him about it. Nygma states that he feels like there’s someone inside of him, someone that could be feared, and someone that could replace Oswald. Lucius turns to Edward with a concern to look on his face and tells him that if there’s any part of him, that is still sane, he needs to get help. Edward seemed shocked at first. But he shakes it off and says…

“I am the Riddler!”

And he knocks Lucius unconscious.

We cut to inside a house filled with plants. We see a bed with someone in it. Hey, guys too, Oswald is ALIVE!!!!!! To and apparently he was rescued by Ivy Pepper. He wakes up and says one thing:

“I just remembered, there is someone I have to kill.”

The final moment that we see in the episode is Edward at the docks where he shot Oswald. He has one final conversation with his hallucination. To Oswald says that no one will ever be afraid of anyone called the ‘Riddler.' Edwards says that he did a value their friendship, but now he will pull it Oswald behind him. He dumps his pills into the water. He stands up straight placing a bowler hat on his head. The last thing that we see is a green suited man, Edward Nygma, no, the Riddler walk away.

Overall I did love the episode. It was really nice to welcome Gotham to back on Monday nights. It was so great seeing the characters come back and it was so great to see their next step or their journey in a pre-Batman Gotham. It does my heart good to see the actors bring more and more to the characters that we to all know and love to the table.

Things I liked:

Every single scene that Corey Michael Smith was in, he is now the Riddler, to and he loves every single minute of it. The Riddler is someone that a lot of us know even if we don’t read the comics. He is flashy, showy, intelligent, incredibly vain, and absolutely arrogant. Smith has already begun to take on to the Riddler, and already he is showing much potential, and he will certainly make his mark as the third person to ever be a live actor for the Riddler, and I can’t wait.

I always love me some Harvey Bullock. That should go without saying.

The relationship between Edward and Oswald as it continued seemingly after death. The illusion of Oswald said to Edward that he really isn’t talking to the real person. That he just imagined something that is already in his mind, but he just won’t face it. It shows that Edward really did respect Oswald and that he did see him as a teacher for him. Edward knew that he couldn’t just turn away from Oswald after he shot him. He needed to figure out who he was without Oswald. And the conclusions that Edward reached as he trudged through his epiphany was really enjoyable to see.

LUCIUS FOX, BABY!!!!!!!! A lot of people know only about Alfred taking care of Bruce. But Lucius Fox has just an important a role in Bruce’s life. Sometimes I see Alfred as the bright side of Bruce’s brain, and Lucius is definitely the left side. As a singular person, Lucius Fox is absolutely not one to be trifled with, especially when it comes to intelligence.

Poison Ivy saving the Penguin? AWESOME!!!

Bruce Wayne KICKING ASS!!!!

Alfred’s Shepard’s pie

Things I didn’t like:

Lee Thompkins. Don’t like her. Never did from the beginning.

8 out of to10!

Well done, Gotham. Well, freaking done!

Until next time, stay weird, Gotham

#Gotham

1 note · View note