#not a expert on Tim but I think he did something similar or at least did the basic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ereawrites · 4 years

Text

Dick Grayson x Reader - Mania

this was requested by: anon

word count: 10.5k / rating explicit

a/n: sex pollen so auto dubcon (?), but both reader and dick are affected so idk

taglist: @daddyissuesmademe @idkmanicantenglish

It's your fault, really. You should never have got involved in the first place, but the temptation was just too great to resist. How could you pass up the opportunity to investigate Poison Ivy's pollen? This was the first decent sample any of you had ever managed to get - even Bruce, though you suspect there have been a few times he's managed to get up close and personal with the pollen - and normally Tim would handle it, but he's away on business with Bruce, and Damian's too young to deal with intensive research, and Jason just can't bring himself to care. So, that left Dick, and you could've left it at that. You should have. Then again, Tim did text you to recommend that you helped Dick: actually, you would never have left your room if it hadn't been for his intervention. It's Tim's fault.

The thing is, everything was fine at first; you've, perhaps, been harbouring the slightest crush on Dick for a while now, and it's always nice to spend time with him. He's fun to be around, even if his classic charm sometimes borders on teasing flirtation, and he's got such an incredible mind. You forget that, at times - he has a bad habit of putting himself down as the 'kind one' of the family, the emotional support or the comic relief, and he forgets to let himself be brilliant, too. He doesn't realise you've noticed that. Or maybe he does, but he doesn't say anything, and you've happily spent the past two hours studying Ivy's pollen together.

"It's definitely pheromonal, but I've never seen a chemical composition like this before-", you say, eyes glued to the computer screen. Dick is leaning over the back of your chair, one hand on your shoulder and one hand on the desk beside you, and you shouldn't feel as tense as you do. "-look, this section doesn't occur naturally in any species we've seen. She's synthesising these pheromones somehow, it's not like she's injecting them, but I just - I don't get how."

He pushes off from the desk, grabs the back of your chair, and spins you to face him with a half-smile. "I hate to break your train of thought, but I think we need a biochem specialist.", he says, and you suddenly notice how tired he looks: his eyes are still vibrant, warm, but exhausted. "We've done as much as we can on this, right? No shame in calling in the big guns."

"Tim?", you reply, knowingly, relishing in the way Dick's smile grows into a full grin. He's still gripping the edges of your chair, effectively caging you in: you are not looking at his arms, and you can be certain of this because you are looking very, very intently at his face.

"Having a genius brother has its perks, I know. I'll call him now. It's late in Tokyo - he won't be in a meeting, he'll probably just be awake in his hotel room, tapping away at his laptop.", Dick says, finally moving away to fetch his phone, and his voice trails off into a mumble that he clearly doesn't mean for you to hear. "God, he worries me. He really does."

It's much too warm in here: you sigh, and shrug off your jacket, slinging it over the back of the computer chair before calling out,"You're such a mother hen sometimes, Dick."

"I care. Sue me.", he replies with a faux scowl. "You don't complain when you're ill and I bring you hot soup."

"You're a good cook, what can I say?"

"Husband material!", he chirps. You feel your stomach leap and your cheeks heat up at his words. He's only teasing, but the truth of it is, it has more effect on you than you would like to admit. Thankfully, he's quickly distracted by the crackle of Tim picking up the phone. "Timmy! How's things?"

Tim's voice is dry, as always, but with a noticeable undercurrent of frustration. "Shit. I hate it here."

"Hey, Tim. Bad day?", you say with sympathy. You feel a little bad for bothering him, now; as hard as everyone in the family works, Tim definitely pushes himself the hardest.

"I'm the youngest person here by at least twenty years, and my stomach can't handle sushi. Plus, Bruce gets separation anxiety from the rest of you. The one upside is that I've been able to practice my Japanese.", Tim replies. You feel bad for him, of course, but the image of him having to comfort a homesick Bruce has you suppressing a snicker.

Dick shoots an amused smile at you - he's too beautiful when he smiles, it isn't fair - that starkly contrasts the comforting tone he uses to respond to Tim. "Don't worry, darling brother - I've got something exciting for you! Check your emails - wait, only the most recent one, though, I sent you a link to a Red Hood fanpage-"

You interject with an accusatory wave of your finger. "Why the fuck didn't you send me that? Red Hood is sexy." If Jason were here, he would probably threaten to shoot you, but as it is, Dick's amusement only grows. His smile is so infectious, like it spirals out into the air and right into your chest, and you can't help but smile back at him. You don't know if it's the warmth of the room or simply from Dick himself, but you feel as though you're going to need to step outside for some fresh air soon.

"Because of your raging crush on Nightwing, probably." Tim cuts in, and you could fucking kill him. Dick gives you a pleased wink. "I'm looking at a pheromonal compound, right? Ivy's special formula?"

You muster as much venom into your voice as you can, without pissing Tim off so much that he leaves you to deal with this on your own. "Fuck you, Tim - and yeah. It's a newer version, though - I think she's evolving, if that makes sense? Her physiology is definitely changing." Tim gives a thoughtful hum in response to your words: you imagine it's in agreement.

Dick continues your train of thought. "We think she's working with someone else, or she's been experimenting on herself, maybe. Do you have any ideas about how she's making the new chemicals?"

"I'll need a few hours. Send me all the data over. You're right about it evolving, though - it's definitely airborne. Shit, this is actually really interesting - the molecules are more compact, smaller, so she doesn't need to rely on physical touch through her plants anymore-"

The rest of Tim's words are lost to a wave of horror. Airborne, he said - you'd doubt it if it wasn't for the similar shock that's written over Dick's face - and you have not been treating this sample as airborne. Ivy has always relied on physical, tangible contact to use her chemicals: you couldn't have known, there was no way you could've known, neither of you are experts on this kind of thing - you've fucked up.

"Airborne? How... airborne are we talking? Like, don't-sniff-the-test-tube?", Dick asks, cautiously, maintaining eye contact with you all the while. *Please, God, let it be don't-sniff-the-test-tube and nothing more than that. Please.*

"Shit, you haven't been wearing respirators - have you?". Tim sounds positively horrified. It does nothing to allay your fears, the worries that you've both been infected with Ivy's pollen; in fact, he all but confirms it. Everything is beginning to fall into place now. The tension around Dick - more so than usual, at least -, how warm you're feeling, the mental sluggishness that had you calling Tim in the first place.

You're angry at yourself, for your own stupidity - not Tim, but you're panicked, you're so unbelievably freaked out, and so you can't help but snap at the phone. "How were we meant to know, man? Ivy's never even hinted at having something of this level before!"

"You're working with chemicals, unknown chemicals, I hate-"

Dick cuts in before this can turn into a full-on confrontation. You've got no idea how he's managing to keep a level head. Perhaps the pheromones are already taking a more severe effect, or maybe it's a placebo effect, and you pray that it is, but you can already feel your heart beginning to pound against the confines of your chest. "It's just pheromones, right? We know it's not toxic, at least - Ivy's victims only take a few days to come around, at most. They're just kinda fucked up for a few days."

You admire Dick so, so much. He's right, he's always right, he always manages to keep you calm and make you feel safe: you'll just have to stay with him, and you'll be okay. If you stay here, he can comfort you, and maybe the impacts of the pollen won't even be that bad. And, if they are, well, there's no one else in the manor tonight, and Dick's so handsome and kind and strong, and maybe he'll - fuck.

Tim snickers. "Fucked, indeed. Only when Ivy's in a good mood, though. You guys better get ready for a tough night. I've heard it can get really bad, especially if you're deprived of - oh, fuck, I can't talk about this, this is too funny but it's so weird, oh my god-", and he dissolves into a fit of awkward, stunted laughter. Dick fixes you with an apologetic look, but you swear his golden cheeks are tinged with red.

"How long until it kicks in?", he asks. It's a stupid, stupid question, because you feel like you're close to dying already. You know what he means, though: when will it get bad? You've seen Ivy's victims before. They're entirely without dignity, practically begging to be touched, sobbing from the pain of it all - and you've only heard rumours about the depraved things they let Ivy do to them. What they ask her to do to them.

The huff of Tim's breath crackles through the phone. "Uh - I don't know, maybe an hour? A little less, since Bruce never opens the windows in there. Just seal the sample up, drink plenty of water, and try not to freak out. It'll pass. You won't die."

///

You thought you could do it - stay in your room, deal with this alone, avoid any potential awkwardness with Dick -but you can't. It's barely been an hour. Sixty-seven minutes since you left the cave, to be exact. Sixty-seven minutes since Dick grabbed you by the waist to halt your speedy departure, touch light but insistent, and said if you need anything, come to me. His eyes were dark when he said it. Deep, dark blue, an ocean that you could get lost swimming in; but pupils already dilating, breath already speeding up. He meant it as nothing more than a kindness. Still, though, that hasn't been enough to stop you from coming onto your fingers with the image of those eyes burned onto the backs of your eyelids.

Ivy's pollen is designed to induce lust, yes, but only for the first person you see after you're infected with it. This means two things: firstly, that you need Dick more than anything right now. Your head is pounding, your lungs feel like they're on fire - the sensation between your legs isn't aching, it's agony, and you've spent fifty-two of the past sixty-seven minutes trying, and failing, to fool your body into believing that your fingers are his. The first thing you know, is that you need him, because you saw him right after you were infected. The second thing you know - there was no one else in that room. You were the only person Dick could have seen.

So, stupidly, you seek him out. You go back down to the cave, without even taking the time to wash your hands, because that's what your body is telling you to do, and you're acting more and more on instinct. Potential awkwardness be damned. He'll fix this.

Dick's facing away from you, reclined in the computer chair: his posture seems almost relaxed, just almost, legs sprawled out and left elbow visibly sticking out from around the back of the chair, like he's got one hand close to his head. You'd assume he was still looking at the computer, if you weren't so hyperaware of everything right now, but you are, and you notice more. From what you can see of his body - it's low-blue-lit from the computer screen, enough that you can make out the muscle of his legs through his sweatpants if you squint, but it's not enough, you need to see more - he seems tense. Too tense. Normally, you'd sneak closer, but your head is practically spinning now and Dick will help you. He'll make this better. Your voice is hoarse and dry when you manage to call his name.

He immediately jolts in his seat, spinning to face you, and now that he's backlit by the computer, you can barely see more than the outline of his body. God, he looks so lean, so tall - "Are you okay?", he asks, and he sounds almost as bad as you feel. You swallow thickly before responding - and, through the fog in your head, you realise that your jacket is clutched in his left hand.

You, miraculously, manage a weak smile. "I just - I thought maybe it would, you know, be better to... be together, during this. In case - if one of us needs help, or something. I don't know.". You sound stupid. Dumb. You feel it, too, and you can't even bring yourself to care. The mere sight of him is helping: it doesn't remove the pain, or any of the physical sensations, really, but at least the panic of not being near him is being soothed.

"That's - yeah, okay. How are you feeling?", Dick replies. His voice is barely more than a whisper, but you hear it as clear as if he were right up against you. Chest pressed to your back, lips on the curve of your jaw, that voice going right through you and into the pits of your stomach.

It's wrong, to think of him like this, when all he's doing is trying to check that you're alright. He knows you aren't, but he's trying.

The best thing you can think to do is make a weak attempt at a joke. "I've got a newfound fear of Ivy." Dick even huffs out a laugh, but it's just as half-hearted as your words. "I didn't think it was going to be this bad at first, Jesus - but it keeps getting worse, and, it just-"

"-it hurts. I know.". Dick nods. As you take a step closer to him, you realise that your eyes have finally adjusted to the relative darkness of the cave, and you realise that you can see his cock straining against his sweatpants. He's hard. What's more, there's a distinct wet patch leaking through the material.

When you entered the cave, you couldn't see one of his hands; the chair wasn't moving enough for him to be stroking himself, and you're not sure whether you're glad he wasn't, but now that you think of it, there was definite movement. Like he was palming himself through his sweatpants, maybe. And the hand that was close to his head, it's clutching your jacket, he was holding your jacket close to his face while he-

"Dick - were you...?"

He sighs, halfway between embarrassed and resigned, and sinks back down into the computer chair. He keeps your jacket clenched in a white-knuckle grip. "I had to take the edge off somehow, right? I'm sorry, I didn't think you would be coming back down here, I never meant to make you uncomfortable or anything-"

"I'm not uncomfortable.", you blurt out before you know what you're saying. Dick's expression visibly shifts - you don't have the mental clarity to figure out into what, exactly - but you can feel your own eyes widen as you process the implications of what you just said. "Oh, fuck - I didn't mean it like that, I - sorry."

Dick just shakes his head. He must mean for you not to worry. You stand in silence for a while, not exactly awkward but certainly thick with tension, before he pats a hand onto the desk beside him. "God, this is worse than I thought. Do you wanna come sit down?"

Do you? Although being closer to Dick sounds like the only thing you want in the world right now - god, you can't help but think about how good he would look, if you were close enough to really study him, now that you're beyond giving a fuck about etiquette - you're also acutely aware of how difficult it'll be to control yourself. Undeniably, you want him. You've wanted him for months, really - but the pollen has taken that desire and multiplied it tenfold, made it so that it's all-consuming and painful. In your room, nothing more than imagining him, it was bad enough. Now, now that you can see his fucking cock, now that the image of him rubbing himself with a blissed-out look on his face, it's almost impossible to control.

You move to sit next to him. You can't help yourself. Once you start moving, you feel like it's all in slow-motion: Dick's watching you, dark eyes trained so closely on your form, and you're wearing nothing more than a tight-fitting pair of leggings and a thin t-shirt. After what feels like an age - too long to be apart from him - you reach the desk, and upon clumsily perching yourself on it, you see Dick looking as though he's about to pass out.

"Fuck, did I - did I do something wrong? I'm sorry-", you say hastily, but he instantly shakes his head and trains his eyes on yours. The blue is nearly gone. It's all blown-out pupils now, so much that his eyes are nearly black.

He licks his lips as if to wet them. "-no, no, but - when you were in your room - when you were alone - did you do anything to take the edge off? Did you touch yourself?"

You could say no, if you wanted to. You could lie. He would know, but he wouldn't press it, and you could save yourself the shame. For all that Dick must be struggling just as much as you are, he's exceedingly kind, so much that no amount of fucked-up drugs could change that: he's still your Dick, underneath all of this.

"Yeah.", you admit after a heartbeat, and your stomach lurches when you see his cock twitch through the sweatpants. Still, you're embarrassed, and you feel the need to explain yourself just a little. "It felt like my skin was on fire unless I did. It still feels like that, though - like it just wasn't enough, I guess."

"I can smell it on you.", Dick says lowly. Oh, God. That's hot. That's so, unbelievably hot - especially when you see his cock twitch again - but absolutely mortifying. You're torn between wanting to jump on him, right here and now, and retreating back to your room. You compromise by burying your face in your hands, and letting out a pathetic whine to signal how fucked-up you are right now. Maybe you can calm down, now that you don't feel on the verge of a panic attack from being away from him, if you take a few deep breaths.

Naturally, Dick hardly gives you the chance. You feel his hand come to rest on your knee out of nowhere; it's a gentle touch, but you can feel him trembling, and the touch sends a bolt of electricity through you that's strong enough to make you jolt. "I want to help you. The whole point of these pheromones is to make it so that you need touch - it only hurts because we're not getting that. So, I can-", he says raspily, punctuating the pause with a reassuring squeeze to your lower thigh, "-touch you, just... platonically, if that's what you want. What you need."

His voice drops down an octave with the last sentence - you whine again, involuntarily, but you just about manage to turn the sound into words.

"Dick, you don't have to - we can just push through this, I know it'll be uncomfortable for you - I mean, I know it's not like we haven't hugged and stuff before, but this is different, I don't want you to feel forced because you feel bad for me."

Dick must lean forward, closer to you, because his palm slides further up your thigh. The pain that prickles insistently under your skin is beginning to turn into fiery heat: not unpleasant, but desperate, hot, and you're starting to feel like you're not going to be able to stop if he asks you to touch him. "I don't feel bad for you.", he insists, reaching up with his free hand to peel your hands away from your eyes. He curls his fingers around yours as he continues. "I just want to make you feel better - both of us feel better. See, it's already helping, right? Just relax. This is bad enough as it is."

His thumb starts to trace circles on the inside of your thigh. It's nowhere near high enough to be considered sexual, but the movement has your legs almost trembling. You wonder if he can feel the tension of your muscles. "It's... it doesn't hurt anymore. Thank you.". And, technically, you're not lying: it doesn't hurt, in fact it feels fucking incredible. You spent fifty-two minutes trying to replicate this sensation. He's only touching your thigh, it has no business feeling this good, but each little beat of his thumb has waves of pleasure crashing through you. God, how good would it feel to fuck him like this? You're shaking, and you know it, and it only makes him tug you by the hand to stand up.

Even the loss of his touch on your thigh feels devastating, but Dick's next words are more comfort than you could have imagined possible. "Here. Come sit, if you want.", he says - whispering again, voice so low and so deep, but it's just the effects of the pollen, you tell yourself - and gestures to his thigh. "You can lean back into me, don't worry, it'll be better for your back."

This has to feel as good for him as it does for you. Logically, it has to. You've both breathed in the same pollen, his skin has the same sheen of sweat that you can feel on your own skin, you're both trembling in every part of your body, and he's still rock hard. You can feel yourself leaking, god, enough that it might have dampened your leggings and left a wet spot on the desk. What would Dick do, if he saw that? He's clearly turned on, but maybe he still has the good sense to avoid fucking: maybe his view of you as 'just platonic' is so deeply ingrained, he would never touch you down there to feel how wet he's made you. Or, maybe he wants you like you want him.

"Are - are you sure?", you stammer. You can't stop looking at his lap. His cock, painfully obvious (and he mustn't care, because he blatantly drew your attention to it), and the corded muscle of his thighs, spread out straight to form you a perch.

"Mhmm...", he hums from somewhere deep in his chest, and suddenly you're grateful that he's still holding your hand, because the sound almost makes your knees buckle. He tugs gently. "Only if you want to be close to me, though."

He says that like an afterthought - like he knows exactly what you want, and like he's hungry for your touch and doesn't want to consider the idea that you don't want to give him it. You can't bring yourself to look at him before you move to sit in his lap, because you know he'll see the desire, and for now, you're still pretending that you don't want to push him down in that chair and ride him for hours. He'd like that, you think. He'd like it if you pulled his hair while you did it.

Dick lets go of your hand so he can take your waist in both hands, guiding you down onto his lap and gripping harder when your ass inadvertently brushes over his cock. You don't mean to do it, of course, and you jump like you've been shocked: you shuffle further down his thigh to avoid another mishap, but the movement causes your pussy to just barely drag against the hard muscle - you hardly manage to control your moan, forced to sink your teeth into your lip. Thankfully, Dick doesn't seem to notice, and he helps you lean back so his chest is pressed to your back, before lifting his arms to rest on the armrests. From here, he begins to rub soothing lines up and down your arms, and he tips his cheek down to rest against your shoulder with a relieved sigh.

"Fuck, that... yeah, that feels better.", you practically gasp. Feeling him pressed up against the entire length of your body, as torturous as it is, is the most relief you've gained all evening; his legs are shaking just enough that you can feel it in your core, though, and you're forced to tilt your head back to rest on his shoulder. You'll lose your fucking mind if you don't start to relax, he's right.

With your neck exposed, though, you can feel Dick's hot breath tickling your skin when he speaks. "Good, right? It feels good?". For the first time, you really hear the tension in his voice. So much so that you can't pass it off as your own projections, or a trick of his tone - he's just as desperate as you are, holy shit, he sounds halfway to begging, he sounds like he's dying to know that his touch is making you feel good. Your hips twitch of their own accord.

"Yeah... Dick?", you whisper after a few moments. He nods in response against your shoulder, a slow, dragging movement that feels like honey dripping through your veins from the point of contact. "Are you really warm, too, or like - is that just me? I - I feel like I'm burning up... Do you mind if I..." - you trail off, instead opting to tug cautiously at the hem of your shirt.

He sucks in a deep, rapid breath that you feel press against your back. For a moment, you worry that you've gone too far - it feels so good, but it's too weird, too strange for him even now - but then he slowly curls his fingers around the hem, replacing your own hands, and starts to pull upwards at a torturous pace. His knuckles drag over your lower abdomen for just a second and your hips twitch again, and he definitely felt it this time but he says nothing, and his breathing is warm and fast against the skin of your neck; with the shirt discarded, you're left in nothing more than a thin bra. Although the room feels warm, furnace-hot, you're all too aware of the blatant hardness of your nipples, and you tell yourself it's okay, he won't notice, because you're facing away and he won't - his palm drags against your breast on the way back down and it feels so good, too good, and you can't help but whimper, "Fuck, yes-"

Three things happen in quick succession. Dick freezes, you realise what you've done and move to jump up and run for the hills, and then Dick grabs your hips and pulls you back into him, right over his cock, this time. The friction makes both of you let out a breathy sigh, but where you clap a hand over your mouth, Dick follows it up with a hoarse proposition. "I can touch you properly, if you want. It'll make all this go away, I promise - do you want me to?", he rasps, pressing one, quick kiss to the skin where your neck meets your shoulder. "Do you want me to touch you?"

His grasp on your hips is tight, wanting, but gentle enough that you know he wouldn't stop you if you tried to leave again. When you make no move to do so - you're frozen, you can't believe he's just offered to do what your body is screaming for - Dick pulls at your hips, slowly, dragging your ass over his cock and then pushing you back down. He repeats the motion a few times, rolling his own hips up into you a little more with each motion, and soon your muscles start to work so you can grind down onto him. Dick rewards you with a quiet moan - oh, you want him to do that again, you're going to make him do that again, louder and louder - and then, with a touch so light you could cry, he traces one hand over your hipbones and down to your pussy.

One finger traces your slit through your leggings, and you hear yourself moan, but you're hardly aware of making the noise - just this simple touch feels almost as good as the orgasm you had earlier, even just this feather-light pressure through two layers of fabric, and every nerve ending in your body sets alight at once. This is what you needed, more than anything, for Dick to touch you and drag you down onto his cock, and you're so overwhelmed that every muscle in your body goes lax, leaving you to collapse into his chest.

Dick rubs gently at your pussy a few more times, like he's exploring you, and then suddenly he taps right where your clit is. You cry out, and he sighs against your neck. "God, I can feel how wet you are already. You should have told me, I would've done something sooner, you know that - fuck, you're so wet, let me - let me finger you, huh? Please?"

"Yeah - please, Dick.", you whine, and when you say his name, he moans and shoves his cock up against you again. He mumbles something into your skin that you don't quite make out, and then his hand is fumbling with your waistband, clumsily slipping into your underwear and then he's there, his fingers are brushing right against your clit, you sob out a broken cry - you're so wet that his fingers brush right through your folds, gliding like silk, and by the time he reaches your hole, two fingers easily sink in right to the knuckle.

Your pussy instantly clenches down, hard, and you feel more full than you thought could be possible. Dick moans into the skin of your neck and gives you a moment to calm down, to soothe the desperate jolting of your hips, before he starts to pump his fingers; slowly, at first, but soon picking up into a faster and more urgent pace. With each movement, he scissors his fingers a little, spreading you wider every time, and he starts to mouth at your neck with hot, wet kisses. "Do you like that, yeah? Am I making you feel good? Is this what you need?"

You fling an arm behind you to grasp at his hair, and when you tug after a particularly delicious curl of his fingers, he bites down hard onto your shoulder. "Fuck, yes, yes - please don't stop, please, Dick, don't stop-"

"I'm not going to stop, don't worry, I've got you - I'm here, I'm not gonna stop, you sound too pretty for me to stop, fuck - I knew you would sound pretty, keep making those noises for me."

Your body feels like it's going through the most intense orgasm of your life, especially now that he's given up on pumping his fingers in favour of curling them in rapid beats against your g-spot, but you know that you're not even coming yet: you're close, though, judging by the way the room is spinning around you, and the pressure building in the pit of your stomach - "I think I'm close, Dick, - oh, oh, oh my god, I don't - it's never felt like this before, I don't - fuck-"

"I know, I know, baby-", he croons, and the pet name has you tugging at his hair again, the other hand white-knuckled on the armrest, "-it's okay, it's gonna feel different - it's gonna feel better, I promise, it's going to be so good, I'm going to get you there, baby, come on."

"Fuck - fucking - Jesus, Dick, keep going, just like that-!", you all but shout, and Dick continues the massaging movement right up on your g-spot: the positioning of his hand means the heel of his palm is dragging over your clit, and your hips are frantically grinding up into his hand - god, you're gonna come, the world feels like it's crashing down around you, you feel the contractions start a few seconds before it actually hits you and it's going to be earth-shattering, you know it, every muscle in your body tenses up and through it all you hear Dick whispering, come on, that's it, I've got you, come on, come on, and then you're coming-

Distantly, you can feel his fingers continue their movements inside of you, unrelenting - and the other hand keeps a firm grip on your hips, grounding you onto his lap - but other than that, all you know is the white-flash across your vision and the pleasure slamming into each nerve in your body, one by one and then all at once: this is better than anything you've ever felt, better than every orgasm put together, and it feels feels for a moment like you're actually going to black out from the sheer intensity of the pleasure.

Then, suddenly, you're back in reality. Dick is heaving for breath against your shoulder, but it's nothing compared to the way your own lungs are screaming for air - god, you think you were screaming, given the scratching sensation in your throat - and his fingers are back to a slow, steady pumping, in and out of your swollen pussy. It hurts, a little, but this one orgasm has done nothing to sate your desperate hunger: in fact, it's only made it worse, only increased your desire for him, and you swear his cock is impossibly harder against your ass now.

"You - you're dripping onto my hand, baby, oh my god...", Dick pants, and there's a heartbeat where neither of you move - then, you feel his breath hitch, and suddenly his other hand is shoving unceremoniously under your waistband and going straight for your clit. He picks up the pace with the two fingers still inside you, matching each curl with a flick over your clit, and the motions are all so frenzied, those of a man possessed with some ravenous desire, like his one purpose is to have you writhing in his lap, and you give a wordless cry - too overcome with blinding pleasure to actually make a sound - that allows you to hear his ragged words. "Please, give me another one, one more - I want to make you squirt this time, it's going to be so good, I promise, just give me one more, pretty girl-"

This time, it's not just one wave of pleasure, spreading from your core and emanating outwards; no, it's wave after wave after wave, violently crashing over you and completely overcoming every part of your body, unrelenting and constant - this one lasts at least twice as long as the last, but you're hardly in the right state of mind to keep track of time, and every wave of pleasure that rushes through you is tenfold stronger than the last. You hear yourself shriek his name in the most pathetic, broken tone, and Dick cages you in against his body as best as he can as he keeps both hands working at your pussy, and you realise you're sobbing when he finally, finally stops.

When his fingers slip out of your pussy and exit your leggings, they're dripping wet. Dick audibly gasps, and then he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks, moaning around the digits, and through hazy eyes you can see the most fucked-out look on his face just at the taste of your cum. He licks his fingers clean - you feel your pussy clench down again at the sight - before opening his eyes, fixing you with an intense stare, and panting, "You taste so fucking good - baby, I'm not going to be able to stop, I'm sorry, I need this, I need to fuck you - please."

He's asking permission, you realise. Neither of you are in control of what you're doing anymore, and he's still asking, as best as he can, if he's allowed to fuck you. There's a terrified look in his eyes, behind the frenzy and the lust - you clumsily crash your lips against his. He tastes of your juices, but it's one of the hottest things you've ever experienced, and he moans openly into your mouth, eagerly meeting your tongue with his own. You're exhausted, but kissing him renews your energy tenfold. You're suddenly overcome with the urge to feel his cock - inside you, yes, but you want to see it first, you want to make him cry out and moan and gasp for you - so you manoeuvre in his lap, keeping your mouth against his, to straddle his narrow hips and face him.

"Ah - ah, god, that feels amazing.", Dick moans, broken up between sloppy kisses, saliva starting to drip down both of your chins - but it's hot, so hot - as you frantically reach down to palm at him. The instant you finally touch his cock, you're gone: there's no stopping now that you can feel how achingly hard he is, now that you feel how he twitches under your hand each time you kiss him, and it takes much longer than you would like to undo the drawstring of his sweatpants, pull them down, and wrap your hand around the exposed length of him. He hisses as his whole body jerks.

Instantly, you set a frenzied pace of stroking him, relishing in each ragged moan that you rip from his throat; he's leaking into your palm, you realise, dripping over your fingers as you pull him back by the hair and attach your lips to his neck. When you suck a bruise into the softest part of his skin - the salty-sweat-tangy hollow beneath his Adam's apple - he shouts out your name, loud, followed by, "-fuck, fu- let me fuck you, baby, please, I - I'm close, you have to stop-"

"Come on my hand, Dickie.", you plead, and you're granted a thick spurt of precum when you lick a stripe up the column of his throat: he tastes so good, his skin so hot under your mouth, you can't stop, and you croon right into his ear, "It's - it's gonna last for hours, still, you're still gonna be hard - I'm still so needy for you, Dickie, look - come on my hand, let me see it, please. You can fuck me after, just come for me where I can watch it, oh - oh, please." His moans start to pick up in volume and frequency, coming from a place deeper in his throat. He's close, you know.

You've started to grind onto his thigh somewhere along the way. It feels amazing, it feels even better because you know he's twitching and aching for you just inches away - once you finally drag yourself out of the crook of his neck, you see that you've left a damp streak on his sweatpants in the wake of your hips, and the steady stream of precum leaking from his cock has soaked the material higher up. "Come on, Dickie, come on, let me see you come, I wanna see it, I - I'll, fuck, I'll lick it clean after, Jesus-", you blurt out, too far gone to be horrified at the ease with which the words spill from your lips.

"Oh, baby, shit-” he cries, and then his voice dissolves into a broken jumble of incoherent mumbles and whines. His cock twitches hard in your palm, once, twice, three times against the rapid pace you maintain on him, and then Dick bucks his hips up into your hand, back arched, perfectly still and tense; he comes hard, almost whimpering, head thrown back and eyes tightly shut, looking so, so perfect as you stroke him through it and grind feverishly onto his thigh. It's the image of his cock that has the breath snatched from your chest, though. Several thick ropes of cum spurt from him as you work him through it, some hitting the skin of your abdomen and some dripping down the length, and it just keeps going, no sign of stopping until Dick completely collapses, after almost a minute of moaning and coming - your hand is drenched with him.

The sight of his cum dripping from your palm makes something in your stomach clench hard, painfully, and suddenly you need to taste him, you have to, it hurts so much and it'll go away as soon as you get your mouth on him. You scramble off the chair, almost falling to your knees in front of him - he rushes to steady you, even with weak and shaky arms - but you don't care about how graceful you look right now. As soon as you manage to nestle yourself between thighs, you lick flat up the underside of his cock. The taste of it makes your eyes roll back in your head. Dick spits, "Holy shit!", and it trails off into a deep gasp as you wrap your lips around him and sink down as far as you can go. You'd take your time, usually, but everything in your body is screaming for you to taste him, let him fill you, and you're in no position for argument.

With each dip of your head - punctuated with a moan from the man above you, each one becoming closer to a growl, animalistic, and you think the pollen is beginning to send your bodies into total overdrive now - you take him as deeply as you can. You're nearly gagging, but that's what you need. His hands tangle into your hair; at first, you can tell he's trying to be as gentle as he can, but that's soon overcome with a tight, guiding grip that pushes you further down onto his cock with each bob of your mouth. The burning heat under your skin is killing you now, too much to ignore, so you manage to shuffle out of your leggings and underwear and kick them away: Dick groans roughly, maybe because he can smell you more clearly now-

"Come here, pretty girl-", Dick says, sliding his hands from your hair to lift you up by the jaw. You mean to whine, perhaps beg him to let you back down, because he feels so good in your mouth - then you see the look on his face. He looks totally gone. Nothing like the Dick you know, warm and gentle and relaxed: his eyes are completely clouded over, lips parted and slick with saliva, brow furrowed with something between pain and carnal desire. You imagine you look much the same, with spit dripping from your chin, the heat you can feel burning your cheeks, and the wetness you feel running down the insides of your thighs. He meets your eyes, and there's a moment of stillness. One thumb slips from your cheek to trace over your lower lip.

Then, both of you move at once - you surge forward to kiss him again, those perfect, pink lips - you fumble with the hem of his shirt, ripping it up and over his head while barely leaving his mouth for a second - Dick's hands slide down your body to your waist. He pulls you into him as he leans forward, half-supporting your weight, and suddenly your back is against the floor and he's on top of you, kissing you hard and bruising, the chair long since kicked away and forgotten about. Every inch of freshly exposed skin feels like molten silk under your touch: you slide greedy hands over his torso as he licks into your mouth, feeling the network of ridged scars and each ridge of muscle. Thankfully, Dick grants you a few precious, savoured moments to feel his skin, while he alternates between rolling his hips against your bare pussy and kicking off his sweatpants.

It's all ungraceful and clumsy - wet kisses stolen between your movements, each of you moaning against the other's lips - and it takes much, much too long for both of you to finally shed yourself of all your clothes. Dick's hands grab greedily at your breasts as he ruts his hips against you a few times, and you can feel how your wetness spreads over his cock. Then, his hands fly down to find your knees, and he drags them to fit around his waist, pulling up until your hips are fully tilted, the stretch of your muscles verging on uncomfortable. "Oh, fuck, that's it, baby. Keep your legs there for me, won't you? Come on, wrap your legs around me - I want to get as deep as I can, it's gonna feel amazing, I promise.", Dick says, bordering on a growl now that his voice is so deep and strained, and you do as he says immediately. You need him inside of you, now; you hook your ankles behind his back, kiss him, and desperately grind your hips into his.

And then, with one deep roll of his hips, he's inside of you. One quick thrust and he's buried to the hilt, and, God, he fits inside you so perfectly: your body all but melts at the feeling of finally being filled, and you keen as you instinctively use your ankles to press his hips further into you. Dick's just large enough to stretch you out, even with how wet and ready you are, without becoming painful, and the pollen means it only takes you a short moment to adjust to his size before your body is pleading to be fucked. He's shaking and panting with restraint above you whimper, "Ho-holy fuck, Dickie, please... please move, oh my god."

"I know, baby, I know.", he says, breathlessly, voice tight with pleasure but still sympathetic. Even with him motionless inside you, it already feels so good, better than anyone you've ever fucked, and you can hardly stop yourself from grabbing him by the shoulders, pushing him down, and riding him. "It just feels so good, you feel so good - I don't want to rush it, I want to make it last. Jesus, my body feels like it's on fire while I'm touching you, I - oh, fuck, I want to take it slow, make you feel so good you cry-"

"-We have all night to be slow, Dick, you can do whatever you want to me, just fuck me-"

Dick's hips roll into yours and a drawled curse falls from his parted lips. He pulls out, almost completely, enough that you panic and squeeze him tighter with your thighs, but then he pushes back into you, slowly, letting you savour the way each nerve ending inside your pussy is set ablaze; he repeats the motion, faster, his curses morphing into sweet mumbles of your name each time he bottoms out. You can hardly breathe - it feels so good, and each thrust of his hips is met with a pollen-driven roll of your own, so it's half-grinding, half-fucking - the slight curve of his cock has him dragging deliciously against your g-spot every time. His movements are picking up in intensity now, and you can tell the pollen is taking him over completely. The same is happening to you: fuck it, you don't want to think about the pollen anymore, you just want him.

"Ah, yes! Yes, right there-right- keep going-", you cry out after a particularly hard slam of his hips. Dick is propped up on one elbow, hair clinging to his forehead with sweat, and the other hand slips down to grab at your ass and pull you up into him. He's deep enough that it hurts, but it's the best pain you've ever experienced. "Fuck, faster, please!"

He obeys, mercifully, and you think you can see sweat starting to bead on his temples. "Is this what you need, pretty girl? Come on, tell me what you want - tell me I'm making you feel good, because you're making me feel so fucking good, I swear, better than I ever even imagined - fuck, you're so wet, are you going to come again? Please, please let me make you come on my cock."

The combination of his cock inside you, and his pelvis bumping against your clit, and the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body: it's all too much to bear, your body is going into total overdrive, and it's so embarrassing that he's got you like this. You never normally beg, you never normally come so fast, but this is different and addictive and incredible - you cry out an affirmation to his words, and suddenly his hand is gripping your chin. He's fully collapsed onto you now, and his movements are more frantic rutting than anything else.

"Look at me-", he pleads, using his hand to guide your face so you're staring right into those glassy eyes. "-look at me while you come, and it'll make me come."

You can feel your muscles beginning to tense up as your orgasm starts to grow. Already, your world is spinning, and you feel halfway to blacking out from the sheer intensity, so you tangle your hands into his hair as a way to ground yourself. "Please come inside me!", you whine - the idea of being filled with his cum, letting it drip out while he fucks another load into you, it's fucking mind-blowing and you can't imagine anything better than feeling him shoot into you while you come on his cock.

Dick's jaw clenches tightly. "Are - are you sure, baby? Is that what you want?"

The next thrust hits you perfectly, and you can't help but pull him tighter into you, so his head drops to the crook of your neck. "I need it, Dickie, you know - you know that - you need me too, right? Fuck, fuck - it's gonna feel so good, I'm so close-". He spends a few moments sucking a bruise into the most tender skin of your neck before moving to press his forehead to yours. Each rough movement of his hips has you jostling against the floor; your nipples are dragging against his chest every time, making you keen, and your swollen clit is being hit so perfectly by his hips, and he's making the most perfect and breathy noises against you - he looks so fucked-out, so gone, so completely absorbed in the feeling of his cock inside you, and your vision is starting to blur at the edges as the spark in your stomach finally bursts into flames-

"That's it, baby, come for me just like that.", Dick gasps, just as your orgasm rips through you. You've got no choice but to clutch at him desperately and ride out each devastating wave as a scream tears itself from your lungs: it feels like your body is tearing itself apart with each ripple of pleasure emanating from your core. Like your body is folding in on itself like a black hole does, when everything becomes too much to bear. You actually feel like you've died, you must have, this is too good and too much and too overwhelming - you hang on to Dick through it all, and your pussy clenches down so hard he can barely move inside you, and he chokes out your name before his own orgasm hits him.

You've come down just enough to process the way he looks and sounds as he comes. Your eyes are still hazy - you kept them on him, you must have - but you nearly come again at the mere sight of him. He's too far gone to even make sounds, and instead he stutters out broken breaths through wet lips, cheeks flushed and eyebrows furrowed hard, and his eyes stay fixed on you the whole time. Even as the rest of his body spasms and rocks into you uncontrollably, even as the hand on your chin slips down to your neck and squeezes, he keeps staring at you with all the lust in the world. The best part of it all, though, is how you feel his cum spilling out into you; even more than he shot onto your hand, somehow, and you realise you're crying from how relieved your body is. Fully, fully, crying, and Dick kisses away your tears as he collapses against you.

Despite how both of you are wincing at the overstimulation, neither of you ever stop moving through it all, and you keep grinding gingerly, carefully but sloppily, against each other even while you gasp for breath against each others' lips. It can't be more than ten seconds from when you come down, before you can't control the urge to whisper, "Give me another one, Dick, please. Keep fucking me." It hurts - it hurts because he's not fucking you, he's not moving enough - you need more.

Dick keeps rolling his hips against yours in shallow movements for a few seconds. His mouth is occupied with sucking more bruises into your neck, up your throat and across your jaw: he's mumbling something incoherent, slurring his words. Each fresh bruise has you gasping his name. You're going to be covered in marks after this - not just your neck, his grip on your ass and hips has been tight enough to leave bruises there, too - and you're entirely certain you've left scratch marks down his back. You nearly come again just at the thought of that; Dick, walking around for days with your marks left on him. Scratch marks under his dress shirts when he's on business, or under the tight material of his Nightwing suit, or blatantly visible through the obscenely sheer shirts he wears out clubbing. He's going to be marked as yours.

"You look so pretty like this, holy shit-", he says, pulling his head from your neck to admire his work. "You're so gorgeous - you always are, you always fucking are - but you look even better when you're mine, fuck-"

“-make me yours, then, please-"

You gasp in shock and disappointment as Dick suddenly pulls out, and his own face crumples at the loss of touch, but his palms are firm and insistent on your waist - he kisses you once, firmly, before he's manoeuvring your body like putty in his hands. You're flipped onto your stomach with another whisper of how pretty you are, and then Dick runs calloused palms down the soaked flesh of your thighs, up over your ass, over the curve of your spine and all the way up to gently, gently, press your cheek flat against the floor. He follows his hand with hot tongue, and when he reaches your ear, he murmurs, "You taste so good, pretty girl. Stay there for me. It's okay, let go. I've got you."

Uncontrollably, your ass jerks up and backwards against where his cock is pressing into you. He chuckles. He fucking laughs with his lips pressed to your cheek - maybe having came inside you has cleared his head enough that he can think straight enough to find your desperation funny - and one of his hands slides back down your body, spreading your pussy open for him to look at. You sense his body tense as he gazes at you. "...My cum is dripping out of you, oh my god."

Fuck it back into me, you think, but you're too far gone to string together a coherent sentence anymore. Your body can do the talking. You keep your cheek pressed to the floor, maybe because your muscles are too exhausted to lift your head, or maybe because it was so fucking hot how Dick pressed your head down, but you manage to meet his eyes. You plead with him as well as you can.

Dick's piercing blue eyes roll right back into his skull when he pushes into you again. From this angle, he feels even deeper than before: with one of his hands running lines up your spine, and his lips wet against the backs of your shoulders, and the steady, strong pace he sets fucking you, you're brought to the verge of tears again within minutes. You can hardly move your body to work with him in this position: he uses the weight of his body to press you into the floor, and each thrust of his hips has you moaning loud against the floor.

He brings a string of kisses and nips up your nape, so he can kiss your cheek again. It's sweet, a gentle gesture, only amplifying the pleasure that each deep snap of his hips brings. "I - I'm not hurting you, am I? I know it must be sensitive, baby, I understand if it's too much, I know - you can tell me if it's too much-"

"-no, please-", you whimper, terrified he's going to stop, "-it's so good, please, Dickie, you're exactly what I need-", and then your voice cuts out into a broken sob as one of his hand snakes between your body and the floor to find your clit. The rough pad of his finger brushes over it a few times, eliciting whimpers from you, before he settles for simply resting his finger on your clit. With each thrust, your hips are jostled against his finger just enough to send sparks of electricity shooting through your veins - every time, it feels like flames licking through each limb, and he's fucking into you so perfectly, claiming you with teeth at your neck, rasping your name against your skin - there's wetness against your cheek, like you're drooling, and you're almost certain you can feel the wetness of your pussy dripping onto his hand.

You're so swollen with desire, you can feel how tightly you're clenching down onto his cock. The mind-blowing pressure Dick's applying to your clit is only making it stronger. "You feel so good, baby. So, so, fucking good - holy shit, you're taking me so well." Then, there's a savage thrust of his hips, one that has both of you crying out in surprise and pleasure: he freezes buried to the hilt inside you. "You're going to make me come again soon, sweetie."

That means more of his cum inside you, more of his delicious moans and groans as he comes, and you say, "God, please-"

"-not yet, I want to make you come for me again. You feel so tight and hot when you do - I need it again, I want nothing more than that, please - you think you can give me another one, huh? One more for me?"

"I - I - yeah.", you stammer. You can, you know you can - your body is practically vibrating from how hard you're trembling on the edge of another orgasm - but you don't know when it's going to stop, you don't know it ever will - maybe this will go on all night, maybe he'll fuck you for hours on end and make you cry and let you lick your mess of his cock. But maybe it won't. Maybe your body will give out, or the pollen will leave his system: this will end and nothing will ever compare. You don't want to come again if it means the end of this pleasure. "...Promise you'll keep going after, Dickie."

Dick starts rubbing rapid circles on your clit with his ring and index finger, and kisses your hairline to soothe you as you sob again. "I'm only going to stop if you ask me to, baby, I promise. You feel too good to stop, I swear - I never thought you would be so fucking perfect, but now I know, I can't stop - I'm right here, I've got you, I'm going to make you come so many times you forget your name if that's what you want."

God, you're going to come again, holy shit-

He hardly gives you the chance to come back around before he's crooning, "-one more, one more for me, right on my cock like that-"

You can't even breathe. Your lungs are on fire, your vision is completely blacked out even once the second orgasm ends, your muscles and bones have turned into mush and you can't feel anything other than the sensation of flying. You're weightless, Dick is the only thing grounding you - he coaxes you down from the aftershocks with soft kisses to your cheek, and his hand tracing circles onto your aching hip, and the muscles of his abdomen are flexing with restraint against your back. "I'm gonna come, baby-", he hisses, and you manage the barest nod and then he sinks his teeth right into your shoulder as he starts pounding into you like a whore, fuck, it's sending you spiralling out of control again-

"Fuck, yes, take my cum like that, that's it, keep coming for me, holy shit-"

You're both boneless and drenched in sweat by the end of it. You're collapsed against the floor, Dick's collapsed against you, and he's still hard inside of you. You can feel his cum - it must have spilled out onto the insides of your thighs, judging by the wetness you feel there. His cock twitches inside of you with every ragged breath he takes. You're so exhausted; this is destroying your body, it's ripping you apart from the inside out, and you're terrified that if you come again it'll split you into pieces. And you want that. You twist your body, wincing against the waves of pleasure that crash over you at even the slightest movement of his cock inside you, and kiss him.

#dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #nightwing #nightwing x reader #dc #dcu #batman #batfam #kinktober #smut #dick grayson smut #sex pollen

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lifewithdavefarts · 3 years

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DaveFarts - Episode 11 “VoiceFarting” [Episode List] Tim and Adam are hanging out on... Liscord, playing some stuff together, waiting for Dave to join them for a game. When Adam unexpectedly has to leave however, Dave decides to do some… microphone testing.

VoiceFarting

“I’m going in as a mage ‘cause you fuckers can’t cast for shit” I heard Adam say right into my ears.

This was one of our usual game nights. We’d voice chat on Liscord on our own server and all that stuff. Adam was being, for the lack of a better term, kind of bitchy, ‘cause he thinks as himself as the most skilled gamer around even though we’re always reviving his ass. In the end it’s all in good fun of course, but we’d all happily mute him during a match if we could.

“Yes, Adam. Have fun with the ‘easy mode’ character.” I said, deliberately baiting him.

“Listen here you little shit” he immediately blurted “I can accept that you’re gay but I’m not going to accept the fact that you’re a scrub.” he said, obviously joking, though he did take skills seriously during a match.

“Yeah yeah but I’m the one using the axe, fighting enemies face-to-face like a man.” I kept teasing him. “How’s going up there? Still casting light arrows from your safe space?” I cackled.

“Excuse me???” his icon lighting up, the audio clipping “Why don’t we check your stats instead? Too afraid of looking like the scrub you are??? I literally made no mistakes last time.”

“Of course you didn’t: the chance of making mistakes is like 0% when you stand still and far from the battle.”

There was a moment of silence, then I heard Adam’s breath into the mic “You know I know where you live, right?”

I laughed but before I could continue this very deep and mature battle of wits, we both heard the sound notifying us that our bud Dave joined the voice chat. Now, whenever Dave joins, we usually hear every sound except for his voice, so we were ready to have our ears busted because of the noi-

“Hey noobs!” Dave greeted us, with a voice that was instead crystal clear.

“What the hell” both me and Adam said, our avatars lighting up at the same time.

“I see you noticed that you can now hear my beautiful voice perfectly.” he bragged, and rightfully so.

Normally we could hear his PC’s fans, what was going on down the street, cars passing by, atoms crashing into each others… farts. But now it was just Dave with his now-soothing voice calling us names.

“Are you finished?” Adam said.

But there was no response from Dave.

“Did he finally die?” Adam continued.

I heard a faint sigh of relief from Dave and then he went “Yeah, now I’m finished.”

I kind of suspected what happened but I didn’t say a word.

“Wait. You didn’t hear a thing?” Dave asked, puzzled.

Both me and Adam shrugged as if he could see us, but then said that no, we didn’t.

My detective skills told me that my gassy straight bud ripped one of his classic loud farts, but the new microphone had that “background noise reduction” feature (which my friend seriously needed) so it didn’t register his ass-blast as the old one usually did, so much so that Dave’s frequent farts would eventually turn into white noise for the rest of us. But now, his new headset was actually worth the price and all we could hear was indeed his voice.

“Can we just get into the game befo-“ Adam blurted, but was cut off mid-sentence by a loud, ear-piercing sound coming from Dave, though that wasn’t him speaking or screaming.

My fartbro really didn’t want us to miss what his ass is capable of, so we were both startled by a powerful, audio-clipping fart that completely overwhelmed our voice begging him to stop. And he did stop, but only after like 12 seconds. The rip was followed by the sound of Dave re-adjusting his microphone and laughing. “Hopefully you heard that now.” he chuckled.

I did hear it. I was very familiar with it. Truth is that Dave farting during our game sessions wasn’t anything new however. Even I was used to it, though that did pitch a tent in my shorts. I started wondering whether Dave was in jeans, shorts or boxers. Probably the latter, and shirtless, given that it was a warm evening. I tried to not to let my usual simp-ness over my bro take over me but apparently it was already too late, as I didn’t even notice Adam begin pissed off about an unwanted phone call.

“I’m sorry guys, I gotta take this one.” he said, annoyed. “Do not wait for me. Cya tomorrow I guess.”

And logged off, another sound notifying us that he went into the terrible real world realm.

“Alone at last, bro.” Dave said, in a flirty tone, just as Adam left.

I laughed and mindlessly switched to a different, this time single-player game as we needed at least 3 guys to play, one of those brutal action games that I suck at but I have to beat.

Dave did the same, with a similar game, and we both started gaming on our own but keeping each other company, like we usually do, occasionally exchanging opinions on what we were playing and so on.

“It’s probably his ex-girlfriend” Dave said.

“Yeah. I figured.” I simply answered.

Adam wasn’t really talkative about his personal stuff like me or even Dave, so neither us really knew what was going on. But if our bud didn’t want us to know, not fully know at least, then we respect this decision.

After a couple of more minutes of silence, I heard some sounds coming from Dave. Not a fart, this time though.

“Did you say something?” I asked.

I heard some muffled noises and then Dave’s voice, lower than usual though “I’m just messing with the settings here. I feel like sometimes the volume gets messed up.” and he was right.

“Yeah the audio is kind of low now.” I warned him.

I heard some more noises (keyboard tapping, mouse clicking, etc.) and then I heard him speak again.

Or, to be more precise, he did make a sound with his mouth, though those weren’t words; a loud belch, actually, right into my ears. Dave was more of a farter, but he wasn’t new to wild, incredible burps. I honestly prefer the more disgusting butt explosion, but I still tip my hat at my bro being a masterful air-bender from both ends.

“Yes, I did hear that.” I said, anticipating his question.

He laughed. “Thank you.” he answered, belching both word with care.

A couples of minutes of silence followed, with just me and Dave occasionally chatting but overall trying to be focused on our respective games. My straight bro was however not done with the “testing”.

“Are you hearing this bro?” he suddenly asked, trying not to laugh.

“No…?” I was puzzled.

“Wait. Let me just…”

I heard Dave removing his headset and as it got farther away from his head, a familiar sound got louder and louder instead, until it became unbearable.

“Are you hearing this now?” he shouted, though I could heard him over that sound.

The sound of yet another loud blast of gas, so loud it was glitching the audio. It was long and proud, dry as some of his best rips, and it just wouldn’t stop. The boss I was fighting somehow felt how distracted I was and one-shotted me with a swipe of his flaming sword but I couldn’t even hear any in-game sound ‘cause my straight gassy bro was basically farting right into my ears, albeit indirectly.

I instinctively reached for the pitched tent between my legs as the fart kept going strong and loud, so loud in fact that I had to lower the volume ‘cause my hears were starting to hurt.

After a grand total of 18 seconds, I once again heard Dave putting his headphones back on his head, wondering whether they were radioactive or melting at this point, due to all that poisonous gas.

“I gotta say… the sound quality is pretty spot-on. What headset are you using?” I joked.

Dave chuckled. “The same as yours actually. Thanks for the advice.”

We kept chatting a bit more as if he wasn’t a gassy teasing bastard but since he *is* a gassy teasing bastard I once again heard him, with no warning nor request from me, removing his headphones again and putting them (I assume) closer to the source of his underwear-clad ass.

Unsurprisingly, yet another manly, loud rip blasted through my own headphones right into my eardrums, renewing the hard-on I had only moments before. It sounded like a motorcycle passing by and I could only imagine how badly the stench was in Dave’s room. Lasting around 11 seconds, this time it got dangerously wet-ish towards the end, which I found hilarious but also made me rightfully worried about my bro maybe going a bit too far even for both of our standards.

“Dude.” I said, laughing a bit “You might want to go easy. That sounded risky.”

Dave, being the chill guy he is, just laughed about it. “Don’t worry, dude. I’m an expert.” and he ripped a short toot that was so loud I could even hear it without the microphone going straight into his butt this time.

We then kept gaming a bit more on our own. Dying over and over to that same boss made me think about how chill Dave was being -as usual- about my kink. I mean don’t get me wrong he always farted a lot while voice chatting but this time it was different, as he was now aware of my fetish. And, as always, I really appreciated that, just as I appreciated yet another thunderous blast, one that actually startled me, making me lose YET AGAIN.

“FUCK!” I blurted.

As the fart kept going, Dave moved the microphone closer to his face (but I still could hear the fart going) just to laugh at my gaming skills, completely aware however that his farts were a huge distraction on its own. He then planted the microphone once again in front of his butt and the blast went loud and proud.

“It’s just too easy.” he then chuckled, after finishing ripping that monstrous fart.

It was. I had to pause the game for a couple of minutes to calm down, the tent between my legs going harder and harder. Was Dave aware of this part as well? Of course he was, but he didn’t care. It was just a game for him, and he was constantly proving me how much of a pro gamer he was.

I hope he never gets nerfed.

End of Episode 11

#fart story #eproctophilia #fartkink #davefarts2 #gayfart #malefarts

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gtschnickschnack · 3 years

Text

This writing’s been around for a bit. I liked the idea of writing a fic in transcript format

Plot: While sorting things Tim brings back something neat he found to show the others (it’s borrower Jon)

length: its pretty short, like 1k maybe?

cw: gt typical manhandling, borrower called by it/its for one half

The role of archivist goes to Sasha and ofc Jon is the borrower :) I feel like this is fine to read if you don’t know the podcast since it takes place in s1, but at some points a bit confusing maybe. I dont think its a nice format to read in general but it was a fun exercise I wanted to share

————

[CLICK]

[DOOR OPENING]

TIM: Guys, I found something.

MARTIN: Hm?

ARCHIVIST: What is wh- (surprised) woah, what is that!

[TWO PAIRS OF FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING TIM]

MARTIN: Wh- Is, is that alive?

TIM: Very sure, it’s moving a lot.

MARTIN: Bloody hell, where did you even find that?

TIM: Under a shelf. It was carrying a paperclip.

MARTIN: Why?

TIM: Don’t ask me! I mean.. What are we gonna do with this thing?

ARCHIVIST: I'm still stuck on what that even is.

MARTIN: It's so small…It looks pretty scared though, should we set it down?

TIM: I don't know, it’s squirming a lot. I’m scared it will just hurt itself.

MARTIN: You think it has wings? Like would it get out of a box?

ARCHIVIST: No, I don't think so.

MARTIN: I'll get a box. [FADING FOOTSTEPS AND SHUFFLING SOUNDS]

TIM: It looks just like a person, but… really little.

ARCHIVIST: It does…. Very expressive face. (to Tim) You got a clue on what that is?

TIM: Not one.

MARTIN: Here, I emptied one out. Careful.

[SOMETHING IS DROPPED INTO THE BOX, MORE SHUFFLING CAN BE HEARD]

TIM: There.

[BOX IS PLACED DOWN]

TIM: What should we do to calm it down?

MARTIN: Are you asking me?

TIM: I don’t know, you’re the bug expert here.

MARTIN: I know about spiders, Tim. Spiders. Whatever this is, it’s not a spider.

TIM: Okay okay, but maybe there’s something-

ARCHIVIST: Hey guys. Is it…

TIM: Oh..

MARTIN: It… It’s crying.

[SHORT SILENCE]

TIM: Should I pick it up again?

[QUIET GASP IN THE BACKGROUND]

Martin: No, don’t. I think that’s just gonna make it worse.

ARCHIVIST: Do you think it can understand us? MARTIN: I don’t know.

ARCHIVIST: Hey, little one… it’s okay. We don’t want to hurt you.

TIM: Sorry if I scared you.

ARCHIVIST: Can you understand us?

TIM: I don’t think so, it’s just curled into a ball now.

MARTIN: What do we do with this? I mean.. should we tell Elias?

ARCHIVIST: No… Let’s keep this to ourselves for now.

[AGREEING SOUNDS]

ARCHIVIST: Oh, shoot the time! I wanted to record another one of our glitchy statements!

TIM: What? You can’t do it later?

ARCHIVIST: I mean I, I wanted to get that done before today's shift ends. Elias wasn't pleased the last time i postponed making a tape recording.

TIM: Weird.

ARCHIVIST: Yep. But… don't want to loose the new job just yet. (sigh) I'll just try and be quick about it and later we can talk this through together. In the meantime… I don't know, try and figure out what that is? I won't be long.

MARTIN: Alright.

[FADING FOOTSTEPS AND CLOSING DOOR]

TIM: Well?

MARTIN: I don’t know, it’s still crying, though. Maybe we should give it a tissue?

TIM: Hm.

[RUSTLING SOUNDS]

TIM: Don’t drop it on top of it! Now you just startled it.

MARTIN: Well I’m sorry I can’t warn it, I don’t think it can understand us.

TIM: I don’t know…it's staring between us.

[AGREEING MARTIN SOUNDS]

TIM: (slowly) Do you understand us?

[TIM AND MARTIN GASPING]

Martin: It nodded. It- You didn’t just- that was a nod, right?

TIM: Woah. Can you talk?

MARTIN: Oh my god.

TIM: Okay, that was a nod, but can you like actually talk?

MARTIN: Maybe it- uhm, they, have like stage fright? Oh hey no, it’s okay, you don’t have to talk. Please don’t cry again.

TIM: Yea, it’s alright. We’re not going to make you do anything. (to Martin) Maybe we should put them in a corner or something? Let them calm down?

MARTIN: Probably a good idea.

[FOOTSTEPS AS THE BOX IS MOVED]

TIM: On the shelf should be good.

[MORE SHUFFLING, FOOTSTEPS BACK TO MARTIN]

MARTIN: (whispering) Christ, Tim, thats like a person, a proper person.

TIM: (whispering back) I know.

MARTIN: What do we do?

TIM: I don’t know. (sign) Maybe we have statements on similar things? We could check those, or check the library.

MARTIN: I don’t remember seeing any book on tiny people working there, but I guess I could check anyway?

TIM: I check statements, you check the library?

MARTIN: What, like now?

TIM: I mean our boss gave us the task to figure this out, best to follow her orders.

MARTIN: Guess so. (sigh) Yeah, okay. I’ll see what I can find.

TIM: Alright, I’ll do the same. And keep an eye on our guest.

[FOOTSTEPS, DOOR CLOSING]

TIM: Who turned this on?

[CLICK]

—————

[CLICK]

[SOUNDS OF RUSTLING PAPER, A LONG SIGH FROM TIM AND FOOTSTEPS]

TIM: Hey uh.. don’t get startled, I’m just picking the box up again, okay?

[SHUFFLING, BOX IS PICKED UP THEN SET DOWN ELSEWHERE]

TIM: So uh.. You seem calmer? A bit maybe. Sorry for spooking you like that, little uh.. guy? one? I’ll just go with one, don’t wanna assume anything, you know.

BORROWER: Wh-what are you going to do to me?

TIM: … What? Nothing, we- just talk, we just want to talk.

BORROWER: Are you going to let me go then?

TIM: I mean of course, we’re not going to to just keep you captive. But I think we have some questions first.

BORROWER: …okay. Can you… let me out of the box at least?

TIM: Sure, I can put you on the desk I guess..

BORROWER: (alarmed) No! D-don’t touch me!

TIM: Okay, woah it’s okay! Hands are up here, see? Not gonna touch you. How am I going to get you out then..

BORROWER: I uh.. don’t suppose you could tilt the box?

TIM: Oh, that’s smart. [SHUFFLING] Just be careful sliding out.

[SOMETHING LANDS ON THE DESK]

TIM: There we go.

[DOOR OPENING]

ARCHIVIST: All done n- what are you doing, Tim?

TIM: I’m just helping our little guest out, per their request.

ARCHIVIST: Request?

[BOX BEING SET DOWN]

TIM: Oh yeah, they can talk.

ARCHIVIST: Wait what! You can talk?

BORROWER: Y-yes.

[FOOTSTEPS]

ARCHIVIST: Oh wow… I, I’m Sasha. Do you have a name?

TIM: Oh, I’m Tim by the way.

BORROWER: … Jon.

ARCHIVIST: Well... nice to meet you, Jon. Can you tell us what you are? Unless you already told Tim...

TIM: No, I haven’t asked.

BORROWER: I… H-how many questions do I need to answer before you let me go?

ARCHIVIST: Wait what? Tim, what did you tell them?

TIM: What? I di-

[DOOR OPENING AND FOOTSTEPS]

MARTIN: Sorry it took me so long I got held up by Rosie and- why are they on the desk now?

TIM: They asked for it.

Martin: Oh?

BORROWER: Y-you said you would let me go a-after some questions.

ARCHIVIST: Tim?! TIM: Not like that! I said we have some questions and that we would let them go, of course.

ARCHIVIST: Tim you-

MARTIN: Wait guys, let’s back off before they back off the desk.

TIM: Right.

ARCHIVIST: Yeah.

[FOOTSTEPS AND CHAIR SLIDING]

#gtma #schnickwriting

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axe-armed-gnome-jon · 3 years

Text

day two: relationship

I noticed kind of now being a day late with the prompts for @tmanostalgiaweek but I’m having fun so...yes?

-You know what? We should spend the breaks together more often- Tim passed an hand between his purplish, the brand new dye that had aroused the compliments of Sasha and Martin, and then lay your hands on the break room table.

There was tea in front of them, and Martin seemed to have just come out of a hot night of sex, drugs and lo-fi remixes from how exhausted he was.

His light eyes were stirred with a confusion similar to that of a puppy dog during a storm, while the cheek was held up only by his fist closed.

-Tim. I have a problem-.

It’s about time he spilled the beans.

-Take it out, Mimmo. I’m all ears-

-I hate when you call me Mimmo-

-I didn’t know that-

-Now you do-

Tim froze for a moment, seeing the other looking away with shame.

-How sour, what’s the problem?- he tried to be as apprehensive as possible, activating the “big brother” switch.

Martin seemed reluctant, almost like there was a cap in his throat ready to burst at any moment.

He was blushing, how cute.

-Ihaveacrush- muttered, lowering the eyes again.

Tim looked at him for a single instant, one step from spitting the tea.

-I didn’t understand- lied.

Ah, crushes.

The good old crushes.

He was a great expert on the topic.

Unfortunately for him.

-I have a crush. It’s awkward- said the other louder, nervously scratching the back of his head.

-Well, it depends on the object. It’s not embarrassing to have a crush per se, it’s embarrassing to have a crush on... -

-Jon. I have a crush on Jon- before he could finish the sentence, Martin had preceded him, the tone similar to that of a sinner who confesses with the priest.

And Tim’s world collapsed.

-Are you stupid?- after a few seconds of deep meditation (read as: after having mentally discarded all the life choices that had led him to that situation and after having bitterly repented of all) he sighed out that short but coincided statement, Putting his hands on the table so he could get a closer look at his partner.

-Hey, it’s not my fault! It’s not my fault if he’s pretty, and smart, and brilliant, with his white strands and his hazel eyes and his small hands and his perfect aquiline nose and-

-He treats you like shit, Martin- Tim threw himself on the back of the chair, putting an hand on his face in an act of sheer exasperation. -He really treats you like a foot rag. It’s a miracle he hasn’t fired you yet, and you get a crush on him? Have you become a moron?-

Martin started to mindlessly tapping his finger on the cup’s edge.

-In fact, I wanted to ask you how to do this. I’ve never had a crush and now I’m...? Confused is the right word- he smiled mechanically, finally drinking sips of tea now cold. -I don’t know what to do. Every time I think about him, I feel my heart melting like a candle in the room of two lovers, and every time he looks at me I blush like-

-Slow down, Catullus- Tim had let himself go in a nervous chuckle, hearing Martin’s mouth fill with poetry. -If you want some advice, here it is: don’t think about it. Try to live this life as peacefully as possible, and try not to get into trouble with Jon. It’s normal, I can’t help you much. Try to...try to get into his favours. Do something for him- he looked at the tea -Try to bring him tea from now on-.

Martin remained silent, meditating himself for a few moments (to be read as: thinking intensely of the whole universe world), then smiling as if he had finally found the ultimate meaning of life.. -Thanks Tim, you’re a genius! - Taking the cup and trotting towards the sink, Martin gave him a pat.

-Let’s not overreact-.

Soon after, Tim was washing his hands in the bathroom.. He had spent three hours researching a single task, because he was a perfectionist and the devil is always in the details, and going to the bathroom was a kind of salvation.

In every sense of the word.

The water slipped on his hands, his reflection smiled sly in the mirror, when Jon materialized at his side with his usual severe expression.

Tim had never been a jumpscare lover.

-Good morning, boss- found himself muttering, wetting all the sleeves of the sweatshirt. -How are you? -.

-This is not the time to say bullshit Tim, I have a problem- said the other with the voice of those who did not want to be there, fixing his reading glasses on the nose. Another one.

Tim swallowed saliva..

-Speak, I listen to you- threw out in a sigh, closing the faucet and leaning against the sink.

-Martin- Jon wasn’t exactly used to talking about his problems, so he didn’t know how to behave. -Martin was in short sleeves today. Did you see his shoulders? He has nice shoulders. I think he swam, because he has swimmer’s shoulders. Sure, I used to swim too but as you can see my shoulders are really-

-You’re rambling, Jon- Tim had to go and finish the job, he wasn’t there to hear the rants of the oldest young man he had ever known. -Be coincident. What is the problem?-

Big brother instinct: on.

Jon sighed deeply, opening the tap with a movement of the elbow.

-Martin is cute. He brought me the tea- he managed to make a tiny smile. -He was kind-.

Tim’s arms were one step away from falling.

He wanted to beat them both.

-So what? - He had to repress his instinct to start screaming, continuing to lean on the sink nonchalantly.

-”So what”. I think Martin is cute! It’s not a good thing!- snapped nervously.

-How dramatic-

-I have every right to be dramatic!-

-But why? -

-Because I don’t know what to do! -

-Don’t think about it- exasperated, he recycled his old advice. -Just try not to think about it. It’s simple-.

Jon stayed a moment to think, he had never been good at not thinking, but deduced that maybe he could try.

-Thanks, Tim-murmured, wiping his hands with a piece of paper. -I owe you my life-

-Let’s not overreact-.

He sat down again at the desk and after attending not one but two idiots with love problems, he was able to take a deep breath.

Okay, now he could finally get back to work.

He got comfortable in his chair, opened the computer again, ready to continue his job.

At least until he heard Sasha’s voice call him.

-Hey, Tim. I have a problem- Sasha was at the printer’s side, arms crossed and hair tied in a high ponytail.

-You too a love problem? Uh? You too have a love problem and you need your Tim to fix it? Huh? Huh?- He clapped his hands on the desk, feeling the cheeks and the brain boiling. -I’m tired, too many problems to solve. Too much damage to repair and too many morons to mate. If you have a love problem, the solution of old Tim is "don’t think about it". Just don’t think about it. Just don’t think about it- he burst into an embarrassing rash, taking his head in his hands.

Sasha wasn’t getting it. He observed him as if he had just turned into a cockroach, holding his arms to his chest and taking on the expression of a sleepy student trying to understand the algebra lesson.

-Tim. The printer stopped working-.

#tmanostalgiaweek #inspired by a true story #the magnus archives #tim stoker #martin blackwood #sasha james #jonathan sims #tma fic #tma

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askaceattorney · 3 years

Text

Dear Alex Cornejo,

My guess is that she at least visited Phoenix every now and then. The Mod once made a picture of her looking sadly at the spot on his suit where his badge used to be, but I was unable to find it. And I think it should be obvious why she returned in the newest game: fan service because she’s awesome!

Dear springtime562 and Springtrap,

Thanks! We’ll have a fight over which one of us you were referring to now.

(Previous Letters)

Dear bluedragoncody,

They were made by The Mod, and he hasn’t been around for a long time now, so...I believe we can apply the doctrine of laches here. In other words, go right ahead!

Dear mungeondaster,

Hey, there are no dumb ideas when it comes to new Ace Attorney content, as far as I’m concerned. The visual novel with Pearl and spinoff with Franziska von Karma stuck out the most to me as things the fanbase would enjoy the most. You could even give players the option to use her whip on whomever they please for fun (much like Link does with his weapons). The other ideas sound like Flash games you’d find on an Ace Attorney website, but I'd still love to see them fleshed out. Rhythm action games are my jam.

(Previous Letter)

Dear jnv11,

You know, I never realized the similarity between those two organizations before now. I imagine NASA still exists as a separate entity, though, so I’m leaving the letter as it is.

Dear Anonymous,

I wasn’t aware that Holmsie’s name had been changed to something else in the (supposedly) upcoming American release, but I’ll probably keep his and every other character’s name the same. For one thing, changing their names would cause confusion for anyone searching for them by their hashtags, plus, like you said, we’re all familiar with the fan translation names by now. It’s your own fault, Capcom.

Dear Fortune Cookie,

(Previous Post)

Dear Modthorne,

Thank youuuuuu!!!

I’d love to have you back, especially now that I’m taking a leave of absence. It just hasn’t been the same here without...

...

Um... Can you all give us a moment?

Dear Anonymous,

Our Christmas idea’s already in motion (*wink, wink*), but that sounds like a fun idea. If Matthew Taranto made it work with Mario, then why not Edgeworth? Gumshoe could easily play Bob Cratchit, and Manfred von Karma would make a good ghost of Jacob Marley, but who would the three spirits be? I’ll leave that up to you.

Say, would it be going too far to include Professor Layton characters? I can’t think of anyone who could pull off Tiny Tim better than Luke Triton.

Dear skibot99,

We don’t usually start working on holiday ideas until a month in advance (at most), but I’m always open to suggestions, so thank you for those ones. If I’m still around next April Fools’ Day, I might just try one of them out.

Dear Palbert (Sorry, I couldn’t resist),

You’ve got that right, Palbert. I’m amazed we’ve been able to keep it going this long as well. I repeat myself, but it’s thanks to submitters like you that we’re able to!

Whether we end up getting another installment in the series or not, I’m just glad we have the current games to enjoy and re-enjoy. I played through the first case again with my parents recently, and it was a fun time for all of us.

Dear mungeondaster again,

I imagine Franziska’s older sibling being a sister who competes with her to be their Papa’s favorite child, as well as the most perfect prosecutor in the von Karma family (similar to her rivalry with Edgeworth). In terms of personality, I see her behaving somewhat more refined than Franziska, while insisting that she grow up in her own subtle way (which is also a lot like Edgeworth).

Franziska’s niece has actually been a subject on this blog for a while now. I love the idea of her being a “perfect little niece” to whom Franziska talks sweetly, and for whom she attempts to provide better coaching than her sister does. Her being called “Aunt Franzy” and getting thoroughly irritated by it is also too much fun to imagine.

Dear Matt,

I’m honestly not sure what to say to that, except thanks! I majored in computer science, but all the research I’ve done for Ema’s responses has come from the internet, not any scientific studying on my part. I don’t know how I pulled off sounding so smart, but I’m glad it worked out that way.

With that in mind, thank you for trusting us, but don’t be afraid to check another source for anything we (or the characters) say. That’s what the experts do, after all. ...I think.

Dear snowthefirst,

Co-Mod: Unfortunately, I checked the inbox and my stash of deleted letters and didn’t see that letter among them, which either means it was deleted by accident or Tumblr ate it. Feel free to resubmit it, and I’ll answer it and stick it in the queue.

(Edit: Looks like you already did. Sorry for the wait!)

-The Co-Mod

#Alex Cornejo #springtime562 #bluedragoncody #mungeondaster #jnv11 #Anonymous #Modthorne #skibot99 #An Old Friend #snowthefirst #Mod Post #Co Mod

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damianwaynerocks · 4 years

Text

Ghosts in Gotham

Danny Phantom / DC Comics

Dedicated To: @lexosaurus

Summary: The Batfamily has been through their fair share of the supernatural. That’s why they originally weren’t worried whenever ghosts started showing up in Gotham City. Until one day, something happens; Batman is captured and taken into the Ghost Zone. With no way to go in there themselves, with no way to fight the ghosts inside, the bats decide to call the person who can; Danny Phantom. Together, Danny takes Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown and Damian Wayne into the Ghost Zone before the Batman is lost forever.

Word Count: 2744

A/N: Yes, I did put a Ben 10 villain in here. Sue me.

Masterlist

Chapter 4

"Fenton, do you have any twos?"

"Go fish."

Damian grumbled something in Arabic as he picked up a card from the pile.

"I feel like that was a bad word."

"You would be correct."

Danny turned to Stephanie. "Steph, you got any fours?" he asked. Stephanie huffed as she handed him a four of hearts, and Danny grinned victoriously as he took two fours and laid them on the ground.

Seeing as they had a two-hour trip to get to the prison, the four had set the Speeder on autopilot and decided to play a card game. Usually, the Infi-map would have their trip being two seconds, but something was wrong with it, so it was much slower than usual.

"Yo Timbers, you have any kings?" Danny asked the oldest boy. Tim smirked and shook his head.

"Go fish, Ghost Child," he replied. Tim had found it hilarious that Skulker referred to Danny as 'Ghost Child,' and had taken up calling him that as well. He turned to Damian. "You got any twos, Demon Spawn?"

If looks could kill, Tim would be six feet under. Damian threw the card at his older brother, whose eyes gleamed as he laid the twos down by his side. "Danny, you have any... sixes?"

"Yes, sir, I do," Danny chirped as he handed over the card. Tim turned back to Damian.

"You have any threes?"

"No, Drake, I do not," Damian said with a proud smile, "Suck on that." Danny and Stephanie clapped.

"You're learning slang!" they said simultaneously. Damian rolled his eyes, before looking at Stephanie.

"Brown, hand me your sevens," he ordered and smiled proudly as she gave him the cards. "Uno!" he shouted.

"Wrong game, dude," Danny said, "But good effort!"

"So, Danny," Stephanie said, "Why do you call Future-You 'Dark Danny' when you could call him something that isn't cringey like 'Dan?'

"'Dan?'" Danny echoed, "That sounds so... normal. Like can you imagine newscast being like, 'the world is ending, and soon we will all be slaves to Dan.'"

"It sounds much better than Dark Danny," Damian piped up as he took a card from Tim. "That sounds like a roller coaster ride at Six Flags."

"The gremlin's right," Tim agreed. Danny glared at them.

"I'm feeling so attacked right now, guys, and I'll have you know that my girlfriend came up with that name."

"You," Damian said derisively, "Have a girlfriend?" Tim rolled his eyes.

"Damian, yes, you knew that. Samantha Manson, you've literally met her parents at a gala one time," he paused, "Did you not pay attention at all when we were reading Danny's file?"

"I only cared about his abilities as Phantom," Damian replied as Danny exclaimed, "I have a file!?" simultaneously.

"Uh, duh," Stephanie answered, "You think we'd tell you the greatest secret ever if we didn't run a background check first?"

"So you guys know I died, then?" Danny asked nervously, scared of what they'd think. Yeah, sure they knew he was half ghost, but would they think it was weird that he was technically dead? That he wasn't technically fully human?

"Yeah," Stephanie answered as though it was obvious. Danny blinked.

"And... you don't care?"

"You believe you are the only one who has died before?" Damian rolled his eyes, "You are not as special as you think, Fenton. Get over yourself.”

Danny's jaw dropped. "Wait, you've died before?"

"Damian and I both have!" Stephanie said before Damian could reply. "We call ourselves the Dead Robins Club. Jason's in it too. Dick wants to be in it, but we won't let him because he only faked his death, he didn't actually die."

Danny's eyes lit up. "Can I join!?"

"You are not a Robin," Damian pointed out, "So no, you cannot." At Danny's frown, he sighed, and added, "But if you are going to be a child about it, perhaps we could speak to Todd and see if you could be an honorary member."

"Hey, we have like, thirty minutes left till we get there," Tim spoke up, "So let's go over the plan again."

Danny cleared his throat. "Right. So I'll be the distraction. I'll fly in there and cause a ruckus, and distract Walker so you three can get in and find Wulf."

"And because we're humans, we can just walk through things," Tim added, "And I get the collar off of Wulf, and we rescue you."

"There are so many holes in this place," Damian pointed out, "What if Wulf does not trust us? What if Drake cannot get the collar off?"

"Well, that'd suck," Danny replied, "But I trust him, don't worry. The only part that should be difficult is getting me out. Totally do-able, just difficult. But I've done it twice, so we should be fine."

"Yeah, we got this!" Stephanie cracked her knuckles with a grin. "We've succeeded on missions that had way lower odds than this," she paused, "Hey Danny, this Walker guy wants to keep order in the Ghost Zone, right? What are the chances he'd help us?"

"Like two percent," Danny answered, running a hand through his hair, "And even if he does believe us, he'd lock us up here and go after Dark Dan- I'm sorry, Dan," he rolled his eyes at his friends' pointed looks, "by himself, and he doesn't know how he works. This is our best bet."

"Don't worry, we've got this!" Tim promised, "I've broken Jason out of jail before, I'm basically an expert at this."

Thirty minutes later, they had arrived. The four jumped out of the Speeder, Danny pushing a button inside that turned it intangible before he got out. He turned to his friends. "So," he said, "You guys ready?" At their nod, they began.

Danny flew into the air, over the barbed fence. "Hey Walker!" he yelled, "Look at me! I'm a distraction!" He shot a barrage of ecto-blasts into the sky, lighting up the prison in lazarus-green flashes in a similar fashion to fireworks on the Fourth of July.

He grinned as he saw ghosts in police-like uniforms swarming out of the entrance and heading towards him. He rushed towards them, his eyes lighting up as he shot a beam of ecto-energy at the guards, blasting them aside.

A few guards lifted their blasters to their shoulders and fired. Danny did a backflip in the air, contorting his body around the shots before sending back some of his own. This continued for a while, Danny darted in and out of their ranks. He was smiling widely as he lifted both of his hands above his head, a large ball of ecto-energy crackling in them. "You ready for this!?" he shouted as he prepared to throw the massive fireball. "Yippee ki yay, moth-" he was cut off as a net was shot at him, enveloping Danny and sending him crashing to the ground. He groaned as he looked up, and wasn't the least bit surprised to see who had caught him.

A large ghost in a snow-white trench coat with a face of the same color was sneering at him. "Well well well, if it isn't Danny Phantom," Walker smirked, "Causing a ruckus outside my prison? That's against the rules."

"This way," Tim said quietly as he led Damian and Stephanie into the compound. Well, Tim wasn't truly the one leading. Cujo was in front of them, nose to the ground, intent on sniffing out Wulf.

Damian and Stephanie had their backs to one another, the former using the latter to guide him as he was facing the rear, watching for anything trying to sneak up on them. "The Ghost Zone reminds me of the Lazarus Pit," he muttered to himself, "And Phantom's hair is white from it, just like Todd's streak. I wonder..." he stopped talking as Stephanie came to a sudden halt.

They pressed themselves against the wall as six guards marched past, hauling a chained Danny behind them. He was glaring defiantly at Walker, seemingly mocking his stern words, showing no fear.

"I think we're good," Tim whispered as they passed, "Now let's-" he was cut off as he leaned harder against the wall and fell right through it, dragging Stephanie and Damian with him.

"Crap," Stephanie huffed, rubbing her head. "Did you forget that we're like the ghosts here? We can phase through everything here." She frowned as Cujo jumped into her lap, licking her face. He seemed to have phased through with them. "And I guess Cujo can too."

"Red Robin, if only your memory was as strong as your grip," Damian snapped, using Tim's hero name, "Then perhaps we would have found Wulf by now."

"Hey, I'm following the same dog as you," Tim retorted, "Now come on, let's go. The sooner we get out of here, the better."

Cujo yapped as he turned to the right. He dashed in that direction, seemingly having picked up Wulf's scent again. The Gothamites followed him through the prison. They reached a pair of sliding doors below a sign that read 'Dangerous Prisoners' above it.

"Sounds like our guy," Stephanie said. Tim nodded in agreement as they stepped through the doors, phasing through them.

All three of them shivered, a chill running up their spine as terror possessed them. None of them voiced it to the others, but they all got the sense that they were near something that was positively evil.

Cujo, however, didn't seem to mind. Or, if he did, he didn't show it either. He pranced down the hallway, looking over his shoulder and barking at the heroes to follow him. They did so, walking slowly and looking both ways.

They were all more terrified than they had ever been in their lives.

Cujo stopped, wagging his tail with his tongue lolling, in front of a cell. He barked again as he waited for Damian, Tim, and Stephanie to catch up to him.

Wulf was massive. He appeared to be a humanoid-wolf hybrid with a green undertone and a silver collar. He snarled, his hackles rising as the three stood in front of him.

"My name is Red Robin," Tim began, "And this is Robin and Batgirl. We're friends of Danny Phantom."

"Friends of... Dan-knee?" Wulf asked gruffly, his teeth bared. Tim nodded.

"Yeah. He sent us here to break you out," Tim took a hesitant step forward, "But first I have to get that collar off of you. Can I do that?"

Wulf slowly nodded and watched Tim phase through the bars of his cell with narrowed eyes. He flinched as Tim pulled out a small device from his utility belt and set it on the collar. A holographic screen and keyboard appeared above his gauntlet. Tim typing something on the keyboard, and with a blink of the device, the collar fell off.

Wulf rose to his full height, towering over Tim. The latter stood up straight. "Danny has been captured," he said, "Will you help us free him?"

Wulf looked at him and grunted. He turned intangible and phased out of his cell with Tim close behind.

"Fantastic," Damian said with a nod, "Now, let us go find Phantom." The five began to leave but stopped dead in their tracks as a terrifying voice spoke.

"Humans!" the voice hissed.

The Bats turned around to see a terrifying ghost. It had a purple cloak with a spindly tan and black striped body and one glowing purple eye and the same collar that was on Wulf around his neck. The ghost narrowed his single eye as he spoke.

"You are freeing this oaf but not me?" the ghost snarled, "You are leaving me to rot? Me? Zs'Skayr? The High Ecto-Lord of Anur Transyl?"

Wulf snarled as the others were frozen in fear. Something was wrong about this Zs'Skayr. Batgirl, Robin, and Red Robin were heroes. They'd fought with the Justice Leauge. They'd gone toe to toe with Joker.

But Zs'Skayr?

They couldn't explain it, but this being was absolutely horrifying.

"Who are you?" Damian was the first to speak up, shaking like a scared dog being brought outside for the first time. Zs'Skayr's eye flashed.

"I am Zs'Skayr!" he roared, "The most terrifying being in the universe! Arch enemy to the Omnitrix!" he met Damian's eyes. "I am the one who can break you free. I can save your friend and destroy this cursed prison."

"We can't let you that," Tim croaked, "Absolutely not."

Zs'Skayr's eye did not leave Damian's. He cocked his head. "There is a darkness in you, child," he hissed, "One you are trying to overcome. Do not fight it! I can give you all the power you could ever desire!"

Damian gulped, clenching his fists and staring Zs'Skayr right back. "I do not need your power," he said stiffly, "And I do not need your help."

"Let us go," Wulf interrupted, putting a paw on Damian's shoulder. "Need help Danny."

Damian nodded, and with another glance at the Hellish being, they left.

Danny closed his eyes in pain at Walker's punch, but refused to fall. He looked up with a gleam in his eyes.

"That's really the best you got?" Danny scoffed, "You're losing your touch! You've known me for two years and that's all you can do?"

"Just tell me why you're here, kid," Walker replied. Danny groaned.

"I already did!"

"You think I'm stupid enough to believe some lie about time travel?"

"I mean, yeah, I think you're pretty stupid," Danny replied, "But I'm not lying!"

"Sure you aren't, kid."

Danny gave the ghost a blank stare. "You know, Walker, you seem to have trust issues. That sometimes stems from trauma. Do you want to talk about it?"

Walker narrowed his eyes before punching Danny in the face. The boy turned back to him and laughed.

"I've fought Pariah Dark, Fright Knight, and you multiple times and you think a measly punch is gonna shut me up?"

He was stalling. Danny just had to keep it up until his friends could get the cuffs off of him, and he could freeze Walker.

Speaking of freezing, Danny froze as he slowly shut his eyes and sighed, "I've gotta say, though, you might not be the only one who can be stupid," In a ring of light, Danny transformed back into a human, and phased out of the cuffs with ease.

"Ha!" he yelled, "In your face!" He shifted back into his ghost form and grinned as his hands lit up in blue light. "You know, I hate to just run out on you like this, but I gotta go." With a flash of light, Danny thrust his hands in front of him, and a bolt of ice shot from his palms. Walker screamed as his body was encased in ice.

Danny shook his head as he floated to the ground. "Now, where oh where are my friends?"

"Right here, my guy!" At the sound of Stephanie's voice, Danny turned around to see his friends, with Wulf close behind. Danny's face lit up.

"Wulf!" he shouted with glee, "I've missed you, buddy!"

"Miss you too," Wulf replied.

"Let's get out of here," Tim said, "Before they realize you and Wulf have escaped."

A red flashing light lit up above them. Damian sucked in his teeth. "Too late."

Danny waved his hand. "Come on, let's go!" With that, the group dashed forward, phasing through the wall.

They skidded to a halt as they were faced with ten guards. They swung their batons. "Freeze!" one of them yelled.

Danny shrugged. "If you say so," he blasted them with a wave of ice, freezing the guards. Tim grinned.

"Nice one, Phantom," he praised as they continued forward, tucking a rolling above the frozen ghosts with ease.

They phased through another wall, Wulf leading them forward. Two guards appeared in front of them, but Wulf swatted them aside with ease. Phasing through another wall, they were outside.

They were almost to the Speeder. Danny looked behind him and saw an army of guards swarming out of the doors of the prison. Danny skidded to a halt in the air and turned around. He blasted the group with ice, freezing half of them. The other half, though, they kept coming.

Danny turned back around, phasing into the Speeder where the others were already seated. "Come on, Tim, let's go!" he urged, looking outside the window as he spoke. Tim pushed a button on the control panel, and the vessel rose into the air and, with sonic boom behind them, shot into the air and away from the prison.

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bigskydreaming · 4 years

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What do you think of dick hability to read the body language in new 52 People act as it doesn't exist and it really bugs me because thats one of the few things i really liked from new 52

I actually really like it, and it fits with some longtime headcanons of mine, but it hasn’t been touched on enough that I can understand it rubbing some people the wrong way, due to Cass.

But its like I said in that post earlier this week, about how I think its pointless to be ‘possessive’ of character traits…..I think Dick is an expert hacker himself, but I don’t think he’s on Babs’ level. Nobody is on Barbara’s level. But his own expertise isn’t diminished because he’s not on the level of the pretty much undisputed best hacker in the DC Universe. Neither is Barbara’s expertise lessened by virtue of Dick, as well as Tim, Bruce and most of the rest of the Batclan, all being damn good at it in their own right.

I see it as being the same thing here. I like the idea that Dick is intuitive and highly capable when it comes to reading body language, for a number of reasons, but I don’t think it suddenly makes him Cass, means he’s as good at it as Cass, or that Cass being on a whole other level with that, being like…lessened or threatened because Dick’s own capabilities in that regard are touched on every now and again.

I’ve actually said this many times before, but I think this insistence so many fans have about their faves being the only ones associated with certain traits, stories or characteristics actually does them a disservice, because when you stop viewing things as a competition and instead look at it as a chance for common ground, you unveil SO many possibilities.

For instance, I’ve always felt, long before the New 52, that it makes sense for Dick to have a strong, unconscious understanding of body language….as in, he’s at the upper levels of what humans are naturally capable of having in that regard, which of course still puts him at an entirely different level than Cass, whose mastery of it is deliberately BEYOND peak human levels because of her own backstory.

But if you think about it, Dick having skills in that direction makes sense for him AND opens up a lot of areas for Dick and Cass to bond more AND have occasional conflict.

Dick is one of the only other Batkids aside from Cass AND Damian, who knows what its like to be raised literally from the time he can walk, to be a proficient athlete with complete control of his body as like…a lifestyle. The kind of demands that makes of someone, the way that instills certain work ethics and instincts in someone practically from birth, to such a degree that it probably NEVER becomes something he can wrap his mind around, that for some people, these kinds of habits AREN’T second nature, practically built into him….that’s something that I don’t think even some of the other most highly capable athletes in the DC universe are fully capable of grasping…like Bruce, Tim, Jason, Dinah, etc. Obviously this doesn’t lessen any of their skills or proficiency as athletes, just as professional athletes who don’t start training in their chosen fields until later in childhood can be just as capable as ones who started in early childhood. But it makes I think, for a slightly different mindset.

I think this is part of why Dick understands Damian so much better or more easily than a lot of others do. Because Damian was raised this way too, just with different end goals than Dick. Dick can’t relate to being raised to kill, to stamp down on his urge to show affection, the specific training methods of the League with someone as young as Damian, no. But that unconscious, built in awareness of his own body in ways that even a lot of other athletes or fighters never develop just because they approach their bodies and training so differently…that I think Dick gets, and because of that he gets Damian and his own work ethic, and the way that telling him to not push himself so hard or take it easy at times….like is going to be totally wasted on Damian, FOR THE SAME REASONS those things have so often been wasted on Dick.

Telling someone to be careful not to strain or overwork their body is not going to carry a whole lot of weight with a twelve year old kid who has spent ten of those twelve years being instilled with a greater awareness of his own body and capabilities than anyone else will EVER grasp….let alone someone who only met them a year or two ago (notice how this applies to both Damian AND Dick).

Similarly, causing people to worry when they go throw themselves into an extremely rigorous workout routine in the name of ‘relaxing or de-stressing’ is always going to be a thing, when other people just fundamentally don’t get that for someone raised from birth to eat, sleep and breathe their own physicality….this IS relaxing.

So IMO Dick and Damian have at least that much in common, which has given Dick particular insight into Damian that others don’t have, and helped him get further in reaching Damian and developing a bond with him. And extend this to Cass and her own backstory, and I think they all three have this in common, and thus could share this understanding between all three of them….thus giving Cass more opportunities and ways to bond with Dick and Damian in particular.

Continue on for ten thousand more words (lol, I wish I was exaggerating. Oh, me) of Dick Meta, Cass Meta, and Dick and Cass Meta, below the cut:

Now, add in the fact that Dick wasn’t just raised from birth to be a world-class athlete, like Cass was…..but as I often stress, just as important….he was raised from birth to be a PERFORMER. This is where I think his instinctive awareness of body language would have come from. Because he was raised to do all of his athletics with apparent ease, to show none of the strain it takes, to make it look like art, like the performance that it so usually was. And he was also raised to not just perform for a crowd, but to command their attention, to draw eyes, to feed off their energy and use that to tailor his own performances, his every action, to achieve maximum impact.

Don’t forget Dick was a world-class acrobat as a CHILD. He was quite literally a child prodigy….and people LOVE meeting a child prodigy. Something like the encounter with the Drakes’ that’s part of Tim’s own backstory would have been an every day occurrence to Dick. Which means it was every bit as likely a part of his early training to be able to glean from the rich strangers that wanted a photo op with the young, exhausted child performer that probably just wanted to go to bed now….exactly what would go over best with those strangers, expedite this encounter, and enable Dick to move on to the next one or better yet, out of the tent ASAP.

I’ve talked about the classism Dick endures just by virtue of being a circus performer…its never been about how much money he and his parents did or didn’t have, its about the fact that most people look down on circus performers as like…an amusement to enjoy, not athletes to respect. You can’t deny that people summoning to mind an Olympic level gymnast would view that gymnast in an entirely different way than they would a Cirque de Soleil acrobat they called to mind, even if they had similar levels of athletic skill….because as a society, we regard something like the Olympics as a WORTHY pursuit for an athlete of that caliber….whereas one might sit in the audience of a circus and enjoy the performance, but that doesn’t mean most people walk out of that tent thinking of what they just saw in terms of the SKILL rather than their entertainment, because there’s this unconscious bias that like….if one wanted to actually be respected for their athletics, they’d aim for the Olympics, not to wear gaudy costumes and face paint and travel around in a caravan and never put up roots in any one place, etc.

Our view of the circus goes well back before Dick’s creation, even, but its very much there. You simply can’t argue that most people give circus performers the respect their skillsets deserve and would merit in other situations…..and you bet your ass, someone like Dick who was raised as one, would have been instilled from a very young age with an awareness of how to glean when someone was treating him with disdain…and respond without offending them, but still not necessarily letting them impact him with their disdain.

Because one of the things I don’t think I’ve ever talked much about is how for as much as we talk about Dick’s self esteem issues and insecurities in regards to Bruce…..the boy Bruce first took in as an orphan was NOT overly insecure. If anything, Dick was the complete opposite. He knew EXACTLY what he was capable of, and was not shy about insisting upon it. I would say by all accounts and reading between the lines, the Graysons did a tremendous job in instilling in Dick from a young age an amazing degree of self-confidence….WHICH probably accounts for a LOT of the later conflict between Dick and Bruce, because it was never just a matter of Dick not getting the vocal or visible respect or appreciation from Bruce that he wanted….it was that Bruce wasn’t giving him it in the forms he’d been raised with, and grown accustomed to.

Its that disconnect that I think Dick has always struggled with…where he KNOWS, on some level, that Bruce loves and respects him, and holds enormous appreciation for Dick’s own skills….but Dick only knows this because of….well, what he gleans from Bruce’s body language and his own awareness of Bruce and his nature. He has to read between the lines, and still be left guessing (since Bruce is himself pretty much a master of obscuring his own emotions and body language, in as much as anyone is, to the extent that only someone like Cass can willfully pierce that shroud).

But my point is, there’s every reason in the world to think that Dick’s parents were very good at preparing their world-class prodigy son for the pressures of the spotlight he grew up in, and heavily prioritized making sure he wasn’t going to be diminished by the disdain of whatever snobs he encountered during the meet and greet portion of that lifestyle. And to be good at that, to know how to manage people who make you want to put your fist in their face while giving away nothing but a nod and smile, and still manage to seize enough control over the encounter to walk away with your head held high rather than feeling like you were just thrown to the wolves….that takes a high mastery of body language and an instinctive grasp of how to read people and put them at ease, to seize control of a conversation from someone who is used to having control at all times in all places. You have to know how to PERFORM, at all times. And in this regard, Dick was every bit as much a prodigy as he was in his acrobatics.

IMO Dick Grayson on his A-game could make Brucie weep in envy. I think this training, this ability to read people with just a look and adapt himself accordingly, to make the most of the encounter while giving up the least along the way….I think its absolutely nothing that Bruce himself taught him, that Dick already came to Gotham with, and its what ACTUALLY enabled Dick to survive the lifestyle and spotlight that Bruce’s lifestyle and spotlight made Dick grow up in. Its what enables Dick to handle the pressures of leadership and get along so well with his various teammates, coordinate dissenting personalities well enough to create teams that are famous for how well they gel and work together in battle no matter what they’re like when interacting in civilian arenas. Bruce, for all his skills, is notoriously not a people person. He knows how to manage people. He struggles with understanding them. And this has always been where in comparison to Bruce, Dick soars.

He didn’t learn any of what he knows about being a people person from Bruce. But he sure as hell learned it SOMEWHERE.

And I think that somewhere is in the circus, with his parents and whatever other various babysitters he picked up things along the way from. A kid as friendly and outgoing as Dick would have been soaking things up from all the circus performers like a sponge, I bet. Little tips and tricks of the trade from not just the knife-throwers, as is occasionally referenced….but also the fortune teller and ringmaster and clowns and magicians and escape artists. A couple dozen varieties of different masters of their own crafts, with one thing in common of all of them….all their crafts rely on performing. On reading an audience, even audiences of one. And selling that audience exactly what they’re looking for from that performance.

Let’s not forget that for all Dick’s insecurities and self-esteem issues as an adult….those almost unilaterally exist in regards to his family and closest friends. For the same reasons as he struggles with these things with Bruce….because they’re not great at showing Dick the respect and appreciation he needs from THEM, SPECIFICALLY….in the forms he would recognize, the forms he was raised since birth to receive and recognize as such, when his parents and circus family gave him these things.

Outside matters pertaining to just his family and closest friends, however, Dick is not remotely insecure. There’s a huge chasm between the former and the latter, in terms of how Dick acts and conducts himself. And its probably a large part of why Dick is so adept at not giving away to his family that he’s more in need of their acknowledgment and support than they realize….because Dick spends so MUCH of his life genuinely not giving a shit what most people think about him or say about him….he’s that much more proficient at wearing that as a mask when interacting even with his family of detectives, who are pretty good at reading even him in a lot of other aspects.

Because I maintain that Dick absolutely endured a hell of a lot of classism and racism growing up, and still does….which is not okay no matter how well he endures it….but he for the most part clearly doesn’t let this constant barrage effect his general self-esteem, and that is fairly important to note. Just as is the fact that like….he calls himself Dick, by his own choice, because its more important to him that he hold on to what he can of his parents, every last physical reminder he has available to him….and thus I think its especially shitty to write his second family using his parents’ fond nickname for him as a joke or insult, and probably hurts Dick when they do it….but the rest of the time? The general public making him a punchline for it? Dick could give a fuck. Same with general opinions of his costumes and what he looked like as Robin or early Nightwing, etc, etc.

Dick Grayson is not an insecure person overall….and that I credit entirely to his first parents, the Graysons.

All of this feeds into that overall awareness of body language, reading people for emotional cues and ways to survive a lifetime in the spotlight without being consumed by it…and without alienating people in the process, because a performer needs an audience, and growing up in a circus taught Dick early on that he had to find a way to end these encounters with asshole patrons in a way that kept his head held high but DIDN’T cost the circus - his family - their patronage in the future.

(Another reason I maintain Dick’s oh so infamous temper has been vastly more inflated than fits either canon evidence of it OR his overall characterization…..a man who has been raised from birth in the spotlight and constantly exposed to people who look down on him….like, KNOWS how to control his temper. I’m sorry, he just does, lol. This is basic understanding of human awareness. If your entire life is in one spotlight or another, be it the circus then Wayne Manor and Page Six, as well as being one of the most focused on superheroes in the entire cape community….and you’re somehow overall regarded in all public perceptions as charming….you do NOT have an infamous temper. You just don’t. People love to shove public figures off their pedestals whenever possible….and in both his civilian and superhero personas, Dick Grayson is on very high pedestals. There is no way in hell his general reputation in any of his communities would be anything close to what it is if he actually has as short and nasty of a temper as people love to spin him as having, because of a dozen scenes taken mostly out of context, over the course of 80 years as a high profile character. I’ll stop harping on this one when it stops being the first thing to come to mind when people cite a ‘flaw’ of his.)

Going back to reasons for him to have such a mastery of body language in his own right….Dick was also raised from birth to do his routines as part of a TROUPE, a group of athletes, not just singular by himself. Thus, a TON of what he was raised practicing every day….would have included reading his family’s body language for cues on what to do next. Watching for signs that something might be wrong or off even just by a second and requiring that he adjust his own movements to compensate for that, when they’re all fifty feet in the air and with the crowd cheering so loudly they couldn’t possibly communicate with words….this could literally be a matter of life and death for a troupe of performers whose reputation hinged on them being death-defying in their stunts.

Yes, in most continuities its stressed that his parents didn’t let Dick perform the most dangerous routines with them yet, due to his age…..but that doesn’t mean they weren’t preparing him for them as early as humanly possible, given that its never too early to start working on various skills that are integral to these kinds of things.

And with one of the most fundamental and essential skills needed to be part of a group of performers who excel at dangerous routines being communication, this is all the more reason to think they were probably teaching Dick from a very young age to pick up on body language and watch for even the slightest hints of different indicators of stress, fatigue, anxiety, fear, etc.

Because compensating for something going wrong with a partner’s part of a routine can be essential in matters of teamwork. (Again, just gotta give a shout out to the Flying Graysons here, because its not stated enough that everything Dick knows about being a solo vigilante, he learned from Bruce, but everything he knows about teamwork is either instinctive or built in, OR learned from his parents, part of a team). And most of the time, when we’re talking about shifting position just enough while fifty feet above a crowd in order to make a catch of a partner that launched with not quite enough momentum or is overshooting their mark….compensating or cheating one’s own routine just enough to be there for your partner is the kind of thing that needs to happen in a SPLIT-SECOND…..like, with you making the adjustment the micro-second you realize its necessary….which means you have to be picking up the slightest hint of it the second it shows up in their body language, like a….what’s the word…oh yeah. A pro.

And given that these acrobats were all performers as much as athletes, with it being a given that their performances needed to appear as light and carefree at possible at all times, for the sake of the crowd….they couldn’t afford to give away obvious tells of anxiety, stress or exhaustion, had to keep a performer’s mask of total poise and control at all times throughout their routines….which makes it all the more likely Dick’s own ability to read body language and instinctive or hidden cues is exceptional….as he had to be trained from early on to be able to see behind those masks and read his parents and family for tells even while they were doing their professional best to keep those very tells hidden so that nobody would pick up on them…unless they were a master of reading such things.

So all in all, I believe that among however many languages Dick Grayson was taught from a very early age as part of a globe-trotting circus….one of those was body language itself, even if it was never actually couched in those terms, as though it were an actual language being taught the way it was regarded as such for Cass….as for Dick and his family, it was probably just regarded as tools of the trade, a necessary component of the performer and acrobat toolbox Dick was raised familiarizing himself with from as early as he began walking and talking.

Which brings us back to Cassandra…..as stated, I think Dick is exceptional at reading body language, with as much mastery of that as is possible at peak human potential…..but, that doesn’t make him the equal of Cass, whose own skills in that regard are beyond even that, due to the precise and comic book nature of her own origin. And how her father did something similar but for totally different reasons and no regard whatsoever for Cassandra’s well-being.

So I don’t think there’s any reason that Dick being the next best at reading and reacting to body language takes anything away from Cass being the undisputed master of that, and interpreter of the Batfamily’s hidden emotional cues.

In fact, allowing Dick to be acknowledged as adept at reading body language benefits her character….as she’s so often solely used as the interpreter of the emotionally stunted Batfamily’s attempted repression of their emotional cues. Basically just being treated as a plot device rather than a character in her own right.

As much as I project onto Dick and thus talk about fandom’s neglect of various facets of his character, it can’t be denied that the same is true of Cass….times ten.

Fanfics spend WAY more time using Cass to establish or well, tattle on various Batfamily members’ emotions than they spend on giving Cass emotions of her own in regards to whatever situation is going on in a given scene.

And since Dick is so often used as the family mediator or peacemaker anyway, this doesn’t actually change anything about his own role in things….it merely supplies a concrete reason for why he so often is defaulted into that position, and so good at it, despite his family’s overall emotional constipation. He has to be amazing not just at teamwork, but reading hidden emotions as well, in order to manage his family and their various arguments even just as well as he does already.

(Just a quick clarification…earlier when I noted that Dick’s own insecurities largely stem from the Batfamily and not always knowing or trusting where he stands with them….its not that he has no ability to read them despite their own very well crafted performer masks. Its just that as good as he is, he’s still never going to be as good at this as Cassandra is, and there’s still going to be things he misses, or things he misinterprets. And additionally, the problem remains, that he shouldn’t HAVE to glean any hints of familial love, respect and appreciation from his family’s body language. When he’s constantly relying on subtext and body language to reassure himself that they really do love and appreciate him, its inevitable that sooner or later self-doubts and second guessing are going to start to creep in. So its not that Dick doesn’t ever see these things in his family’s body language. Its that over time, I believe this has progressed to the point where even when he sees these cues, he second guesses himself as to whether he’s actually seeing things that are there, or just seeing what he wants to see. And since none of them are exactly making a point to validate what he sees or thinks he sees with actual validation in indisputable forms, like verbal confirmation of this…eventually, Dick’s own skills reading body language become irrelevant here, since he himself is aware he’s an unreliable narrator when trying to narrate what his family’s body language is saying. He wants it to be saying all the things he uses to assuage whatever hurt he feels for not hearing them tell him these things…thus he’s too aware of his own bias when reading them for cues to actually trust any of the cues he reads, that could otherwise confirm this.)

Anyway. So acknowledging or even emphasizing Dick’s own exceptional abilities with body language would actually be to Cassandra’s benefit, I maintain. Because without expecting anything of Dick that isn’t already expected of him and his role in canon and fandom, it merely provides additional support for the idea he’s good at playing family mediator even with as emotionally repressed most of their family is. Thus freeing up Cass from constantly being looked to as the interpreter for all the things most of their family have trouble saying….and allowing for more focus to be paid to her own emotions. And letting her HAVE them, in the first place.

Because we have to talk about the elephant in the room here: racism in regards to Cass. The quiet, stoic, normally serene and beatific Asian martial arts master is a racist as hell trope, and its one that makes all too frequent an appearance when Cass is used at all in fics. AND canon.

Its not that Cass can’t be all those things at various times. Its that they can’t be ALL that she is. At ALL times. (And that, for the record, she’s not usually ANY of those things in canon that actually tries to develop her rather than use her as a one-note trope in its own right. Cassandra Cain…serene? LOLOL. Please, I don’t know who you’re talking about, but it ain’t the Cass I know and love).

First of all, give her a sense of humor, because she has one, and its amazing. You’ll note I make a point whenever I write her to emphasize her having a kind of dry, sardonic wit that is not at all opposed at being at her siblings’ expense, lol. I mean, its not like that’s the only take possible on her, or even just her sense of humor, I just mean…have one. Humor is one of the most telling representatives of a person’s characterization. By that I mean, a person’s sense of humor is one of the things we most initially associate with them in our mind, and a character having a distinct sense of humor is one of the easiest and best ways to develop them as having their own character voice, something that marks them as distinct in your awareness from other characters. Where if you close your eyes and picture them in a scene, what comes out when they talk, like, to make a joke….isn’t interchangeable with just any other character. It sounds or feels like them, specifically.

And just FYI, you might have an easier time writing Cass making jokes if you allow her to form full sentences. She can speak English, has been written speaking English quite well in the past, and the insistence on broken English when writing her that way in canon is shitty and racist in and of itself anyway, so those particular takes on her don’t need to be respected let alone emulated in fanfiction. Let Cass Speak English In Complete Sentences 2KForever. She’ll still be Cass, I promise you. But the changes made to her brain in canon that allowed her to finally learn spoken languages years after her brain had finished developing, like, that happened early enough after Cass’ debut that there’s really no excuse for writing fic where she’s been part of the family for years and still hasn’t picked up a strong grasp of English.

Y’know how I’m always saying the entire Batfamily are ALL Mary Sues, they are a family of Mary Sues, that is pretty much their high concept as a group, that they’re a composite of the most otherwise competent people in the world and completely emotionally incompetent at the same time? Like, it applies here, because as I also harp on a lot about, I think all of the Batfamily are actual literal geniuses, and I do mean all. Cassandra included. She’s a master of her own many areas of expertise and thus IMO more than capable of picking up languages fairly quickly once the canon barrier to her doing that earlier in life is removed. It just looks and sounds weird and suspect, to insist on writing her as never moving past broken English, IMO.

And also, like, she doesn’t need to ever be as talkative as Steph, nor do I think would it fit her to be written that way either, but there’s a very wide range of options between that and hardly ever talking at all. I do think she defaults to being one of the more quiet ones in a room, as in one of the last to speak….but give her reasons to be that way, instead of just more imitation of our media’s racist insistence on treating Asian characters as the quiet, all-knowing keepers of sage wisdom who only share their truths once you’ve made the trek up to their mountain top.

So again just in terms of my own personal take, I tend to write Cass as being one of the last to speak up when around people she’s not as familiar with, because its her version of keeping her back to the wall of a room so no one can sneak up behind and surprise her. She’s only quiet at first in my stuff because focusing on using conversations to glean as much information as she can about the people in them before jumping in is just like, a form of intel-gathering for her and her past left her with a tendency to be as overly cautious in her own way as the rest of her family, and this is what her way looks like.

(Dick puts on his performer’s mask, Jason blusters and leads with bravado, Damian adopts a position of superiority and will only climb down once you sufficiently peak his interest, Tim recites facts and trivia and likes to bore people he dislikes into submission so you give up and go away, Duke is the family member who really makes friends so easily that any time he makes enemies, his friends have already plotted to destroy you before Duke even gets around to trying to do that himself, Babs has already hacked your bank account and credit rating by the time you open your mouth and thus feels no social anxiety whatsoever as worst comes to worst, she can always just tank your credit score to make herself feel better, and upon meeting you for the first time, Steph either adopts you or punches you in the throat, depending on which way her gut is leaning. As for Bruce, well. He’s terrified of pretty much all social settings, but he’d have to actually admit to that for the first time in recorded human history before anyone could actually cite what ‘his way’ of dealing with social interactions he’s wary of might be. I mean, its basically just ‘Brucie’, but you get what I mean.)

So I mean, its not inherently bad to write Cass as being quieter than the rest of her siblings, and you don’t need her quoting Shakespeare back and forth with Jason in order to prove you’re not writing her speaking broken English. Its just. Do some digging in her head before settling in and writing what you’ve found there. Actually TRY getting in her head in the first place. Spruce it up a bit, redecorate your surroundings, make it feel lived in and homey. Give it CHARACTER. Whenever you write a character choice, in my personal opinion, you should, if asked, be able to back up that character choice by having a reason you feel the character would choose that.

For me, I write Cass being the quietest of her siblings in social settings simply because she’s doing recon first, and of her various skillsets, spoken language is the one she’s mastered most recently and thus she has the least familiarity with….and thus is the last thing she turns to in any given situation, because she’d rather go down the list and run through every other skill she has to see if it could apply here, before resigning herself to having to converse with the person in front of her because she doesn’t think Bruce would accept “I didn’t know how else to change the subject” as a justification for stabbing someone in a non-vital and easily healed location that had the fringe benefit of rapid bloodloss leading to them passing out fairly quickly.

And of course, none of this applies with Batfamily, because she is comfortable with her family for the most part, and thus when I write her being the most quiet in those group scenes, its because she prefers listening their just purely because she finds her siblings’ antics entertaining. And also because I view her as being as batshit competitive as the rest of them, so IMO she’s always plotting the perfect conversational one-hit KO to have at the ready before she wades in. Because in the Batfamily, even ordinary conversations are something you can and should win. Otherwise, what’s even the point? LOL.

Also in terms of my own stuff, I tend to write Cass and Tim as having very similar forms of wit, and my personal take on them is that they both have just slightly different degrees of that same dry, sardonic kind of commentary, as their primary display of humor. This doesn’t necessarily always match their canon characterizations and how they display humor there - but its due to the fact that they’re two of the characters canon most rarely allows to show a sense of humor in recent years, and it tends to be all over the place more often than not. This is a major departure from how they both were portrayed in the 90s, where Tim’s humor was much more consistently in line with what I’m describing…and thus, so was Cassandra’s, when she debuted and developed her own primary characterization.

So basically, I consider Tim to be a major influence on Cass’ humor….or more accurately, in the shape her own sense of humor more commonly takes. Because it was with and around Tim that Cass first started to pick up a lot of social cues and explore her own sense of self for pretty much the first time in her life.

Stephanie’s humor, by contrast is a lot more loud and gregarious and in your face….which when you put the three of them in scene together as a trio, like they once spent a lot of time as, positions her as an extremely different version of the ‘straight man’ to their comedic duo. Because Steph doesn’t need anyone to back up or appreciate her own humor, she’s already landing the punchlines way before anyone else has even had time to think of any, and she doesn’t care what the reception is, the lovable loudmouth goof that she is. Which allows for Cass and Tim to sigh behind her and exchange sidelong glances and kinda….narrate her theatrics in that ‘faces the camera like they’re on The Office’ sort of way, which I mean, I personally find hilarious when they do it, and she’s not remotely bothered by, because like, she’s fucking hilarious and anyone who doesn’t get that is simply wrong and needs to be pitied, if you ask her.

Anyway, that’s just why my own depictions of Cass and Tim share a lot of their humor in common and some of their other characteristics….they’re the ones Cass either consciously or unconsciously picked up from Tim, as he was one of the first people for her to genuinely feel comfortable around and thus someone she trusted to both have knowledge of and mastery over the various social cues she was now finding she needed to learn because of her new environments.

(Of course, this is one of the times where Cass was dead wrong about something, IMO, as she might have overestimated Tim’s mastery of certain specific social cues and her body-language reads have her aware people aren’t responding her own attempts at mimicking them in the way she’s fairly confident they should be, and she’s not sure what she’s doing wrong there. Oh well. She’s still better off than if she’d picked Bruce to emulate there. When she asked him, he’d stiffened and radiated such intense discomfort, even Steph froze in mid-ramble as she sensed it on even the complete opposite side of the Cave.)

ANYWAY. Wrapping up THAT particular tangent and cycling back around to Dick and Cass having skill with reading body language in common….I think this could also be a huge opportunity to write Dick having a dynamic with Cass that’s unique to just the two of them and distinct from the dynamics they have with the rest of their family. Not to give them a super special bond but just because I mean, all the sibling dynamics between the various individual Batkids should ideally have their own flavor, because nobody interacts with two different siblings in the same way. Each sibling is their own unique individual, and thus should have their own unique dynamic when interacting with them.

So I like to headcanon Dick and Cass in private being the family gossips. They love dishing on the rest of the family with just each other….and being the two most skilled at seeing behind their family’s masks (and thus what their family most wants to keep hidden, to varying degrees), they have more dirt on everyone else than most intelligence agencies have on their nations’ enemies. Of course, they’re both staunchly moral, so they would never ever use their powers here for evil, or to hurt or embarrass their family.

They would, however, occasionally indulge in snickers and giggles about it behind closed doors. Look, shut up, they’re BONDING, they have childhood trauma, its fine.

And if Cassandra’s superior skills with body language means she inevitably has more gossip to share with Dick than vice versa, that’s okay, she’s still more than happy to share. He’s the one who introduced her to the joys of gossip, after all, so if anyone’s entitled to it, its him.

I also headcanon that because they’re both the best at reading body language, there are occasions when in group environments or just at the dinner table with the whole family, they both happen to pick up on certain cues or be aware that a sibling is lying through their teeth about something or being full of shit, and then catch each other’s eye and give the faintest of eye rolls or ‘can you believe they’re falling for this.’ Which sometimes other siblings catch, because Cass and Dick have forgotten to be subtle about it. Or did they not forget anything, and are just being trolls and instigating shit for the giggles? Who can say. Probably just them, which they find quite fun.

In fact, its slightly possible that the rest of the family, ever since Cass joined them, have developed a slightly inflated estimation of Dick’s own skills with reading body language, and now credit him with more of a mastery of it than even he actually possesses.

See, I have this one headcanon that every now and then, just to mess with their family, Dick and Cass make a point to hold a silent conversation in front of them. You know that thing people who know each other really well do with just their eyes, like managing to convey certain impressions to each other just by being expressive enough in ways and about things they’re pretty sure the other person will get and be on the same wavelength about?

Yeah, that, but Cass and Dick do it without exaggerated facial expressions. And for like. Ten whole minutes. Meanwhile, Tim’s like: “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I’m not buying any of this” and then determinedly ignoring them. Jason’s annoyed because he can’t actually ever seem to ignore them, and then this builds into something like: “You guys better not be talking about me behind my back. Or I mean, right in front of my face. Whatever. And you definitely better not be talking about Tim right in front of his face and not including me!” Steph just keeps continuing on with whatever she’s doing, entirely unbothered, because she knows if they’re actually communicating anything important (or even slightly of interest to her), she’s sure she can get Cass to tell her later. And she’s not wrong, of course. Duke just shakes his head and feels better about being slightly jealous due to how funny it is watching it get under everyone else’s skin, but in the name of not feeling left out, he joins in on shit-talking Dick and Cass in order to have Vengeance. “B, didn’t you ever teach them its rude to exclude people from your conversation? You know, some people would say its never to late to ground your children.”

Damian, by stark contrast to the rest, completely abandons whatever else he’s doing to watch them both as intently as he can for as long as they persist. As he’s probably third in line behind the two of them when it comes to instinctive grasp of body language, due to the whole ‘being raised to read/scan others for as much information as possible just from their movements. Y’know. In case you have to kill them.’ In his case, his full grasp of it was hindered by seemingly being taught to dismiss certain specific emotions as irrelevant or a weakness, and though Dick and the rest of the family have by now done a pretty good job at getting him slowly but surely past all of that, its like retraining himself, trying to consciously now pick up on cues that he spent a decade discarding and moving past the second he saw them.

But he’s determined to become as adept at reading body language now as even Grayson is, at least, even if his implicit acceptness that he’ll never have the same mastery their sister does is fully internalized and something he’ll never admit to, even on pain of death. Both Dick and Cass have at various times offered to help him with it, but he refuses as a point of pride….he wants to do it himself. So every time they have one of these ‘conversations’ in front of the family, he drops everything else he does and scrutinizes them for the whole thing like he’s a codebreaker sure that in time, he’ll crack the code and all its secrets will be revealed. (Mostly, its more like he dreams of the day he’s become good enough at it that he and Dick can hold silent conversations like this and he can rub it in Drake’s face. Hah! It will be glorious, Internal Damian insists).

Even Bruce himself isn’t entirely sure whether or not Dick and Cass are fully communicating the whole time they converse like this, or just faking it for funsies. It frustrates him to no end that he’s yet to figure out a way to just…ask them, without giving away that he doesn’t actually already know the answer, and that’s BUGGING THE CRAP OUT OF HIM, C’MON!!

(Of course, both Dick and Cass have fully picked up on his frustration and thus realized he’s as clueless as the rest of the family, and its this precise thing that they spend most of these ‘conversations’ silently giggling about to each other).

And in terms of fleshing Cass out…..part of what frustrates me so much about the excuse people give for focusing on certain negative fanon takes on Dick, that its done to make him more interesting, because no one’s perfect….

Its never been that this claim, in and of itself, is untrue. The problem I’ve always had with it is they add in ‘flaws’ in the name of making Dick more realistic, while at the same time ignoring plenty of material that’s already present in Dick’s character…but which focusing on, would require people spend more time and insight on him than they want to. Just making Dick angry and ‘remind people he has a temper’ is quick and easy, in comparison.

However, the other part of why this claim bugs me so much is because it IS valid and applies to fanon’s two dimensional takes of two other characters….who are never written with any kind of flaws which is part of why they come across as fairly superficial in a lot of works. And that’s Duke and Cass. When they show up at all, their usage is VERY superficial, and like….I don’t think I’ve ever read something with either of them, where they were written having a conflict with another member of the family, other than just sometimes Cass not liking Jason because of his stance on killing. (And usually this is in Jason-centric fics, so its not really in the name of fleshing out Cass so much as making Jason more misunderstood and Cass the bad guy for not respecting that okay he kills people, but only because he’s very sad, she should be able to see that, ugh have a heart).

So, I also headcanon there is a slightly negative dynamic between Dick and Cass specifically, albeit one Dick himself is not aware of.

(And also complicated by the fact that as much as I gripe about Dick being perceived as having negative dynamics with the rest of his siblings that are all his fault, Cass is the ONE sibling this is ACTUALLY true of, even if it was only really in one story, Redemption Road. I go into that in more depth in another meta, but long story short it was after she was brainwashed by Deathstroke and killed because he made her, and Dick was written as wary and untrusting of her return, not because he didn’t like her - they’d already spent a lot of time in years before this bonding - but rather because he didn’t trust that they could be totally sure the brainwashing was gone yet, and thought Bruce was being too relaxed about that. I maintain this is a callback to his own issues with that time he was brainwashed by Brother Blood and people were a lot less great at understanding in the aftermath that a lot of his choices hadn’t been his to actually make, and that there was bitterness here on his part for Cass getting the understanding and support from Bruce that we never saw Dick get when it was him in a similar position. Kinda a Prodigal Son type vibe. But point being, this was a brief period and it didn’t last, but it is there so there’s interesting potential to have Dick and Cass not DISLIKE each other by any means, but just at times be slightly uncomfortable around each other and trying their best to hide it...from the one other person in the family most capable of/likely to pick up on it).

So what I think it is on Cass’ part, the discomfort/slight ‘not quite sure how I feel about this’ aspect of things.... Like, its just a headcanon, and one where in my head she’s put a lot of effort into making sure he never ever picks up on this particular thing from her. Because she’s not proud of it. At all.

Even if pride is really the problem.

See, I’ve long believed that out of the entire Batclan, Dick is the only person who can ever beat Cass in a fight. Even compared to Bruce.

And to be clear, its not like Dick can always beat Cass. Or even often. At most, its still maybe like, two fights out of ten. And its not deliberate, like something he can do or capitalize on consciously.

But for someone like Cass, who otherwise is pretty much undefeated unless she’s going up against her own mother, Lady Shiva….even two fights out of ten is a lot.

And it bugs her, more than she cares to admit.

Because she is as competitive in her own ways as the rest of her family. She does have her own ego about certain things, like everyone else does. And David Cain, monster that he was, raised her to be the best there is, at one thing and one thing only: fighting. As much as she hates him, as much as she hates her childhood and what was done to her, how much she missed out on and the things she still feels left out for not understanding or grasping the way she thinks she should…..alongside all that has always been at least an awareness that at least there is one thing that came out of it: she is the best. Absent her mother, who one day she will fully and consistently surpass, everyone including Lady Shiva believes…as much as Cass hates her father and everything he did to her and why, she’s still at times taken a certain sort of pride in her skills in fighting. At least in that one slight respect, even if its not something she would have chosen, had she ever been given a choice….at least it had worked, had done what it’d been intended to.

Except for when it comes to Dick. Who will probably always be able to beat her, maybe two times out of ten. No matter how much more she grows in her skills. There’s that one or two times every now and then, where it will always be a toss-up, as likely to go to him as to her.

And its not something that Dick’s even aware of giving him a specific edge when it comes to fighting her, and its not something he could capitalize on even if he were aware of it.

See, as much as fighting is second nature to Cass, as instinctive as breathing…it goes hand in hand with her ability to read body language. That’s her edge, the one variable that no one else can compete with or match her on, the thing that will always put her in a class of her own…..the one result of specific training that was crafted specifically to create this one result.

You can’t separate Cassandra’s fighting prowess from her ability to read body language. They are one and the same, even if she can use the latter for other things too, and even if her fighting prowess isn’t JUST due to her ability to read body language. Which its not, by any means. BUT, regardless, she can’t train herself out of a reliance on body language while fighting….especially not to fight one person in specific, her own brother, and even there pretty much just out of pride.

Because the slight advantage Dick has over everyone else when facing her, is that like her, he’s one of the only fighters out there who was trained from birth to have an almost inhuman mastery of his own body, to be at the peak of human capability in specific regards. Even though his training wasn’t at all in the arena of fighting, at least not before he was taken in by Bruce. For Dick as well as Cass, there are certain things that are so fundamental to him, so ingrained into his movements because they were taught to him at the same time as he was taught to walk, the one being every bit as natural as the other.

And acrobatics was only one of these things. Performing was the other.

Y’see, the one variable Cass can’t totally account for every single time she spars with Dick….is that Dick’s body lies.

Like I said earlier on….its not just reading body language that Dick was likely raised to do, albeit in different, less rigorous ways than Cass. He was also taught from an equally early age how to DISPLAY body language. Or rather, a specific kind of body language.

My headcanon is that because as early as he began learning acrobatics, Dick was taught acrobatics with an eye towards performing, specifically. Since that was what his family did. And the one thing performers like the Flying Graysons always, always have to do…is perform with a smile.

So it was probably drilled into Dick from an early age, even if it wasn’t couched in these terms or even consciously thought of in this specific way…..but while taught the fundamental components of a flip, breaking it down into each individual micro-movement expected of his body in order to achieve the optimal flip for performing in front of a crowd…..one of those micro-movements, for Dick…was a smile.

Its as fundamental to his acrobatics as every other command his conscious AND subconscious mind sends to the various muscle groups he uses in his routines and now in his fighting even. I think its a large part of why quips and banter and grins are so intrinsic to his fighting as well. He doesn’t KNOW how to be anything else. Bruce probably tried to train it out of him before realizing or accepting that focusing on just making Dick not smile while backflipping over an opponent was detrimental, if not merely just unnecessary. Its just second nature to Dick, as much as reading body language is to Cass.

His own training from the time he could walk, put just as much emphasis on ensuring that no matter how he felt during a performance, no matter how exhausted he was or how stressed, whether he was having a bad day or was just cranky or mad at his parents or mad about something someone in the crowd said or just didn’t feel like practicing his routines today….he did it all with a smile, an easy, effortless grin, as though he was lighter than air and nothing he did was taking a toll on his body, it was all equally effortless.

Combine that with the fact that for Dick, because of what his training was FOR….because it was all done in the name of being with his family, being like his family, it was so he could do what nobody else could do, so he could fly….unlike Cass, Dick’s early training instilled in him an intrinsic pairing of movement and joy. To him, movement IS joy. Its essential to his core, to who he is.

Where other people see him throwing in unnecessary flips to his fighting to show off, Dick’s always just grinned and shrugged his shoulders at this, unable to explain what’s not even a matter of conscious thought….to him, saying he added an unnecessary flip is like saying to someone else they took an unnecessary breath. He can understand what they’re saying….just like you can take note of taking an extra breath that you don’t really need…but he can’t link that to the ‘show off’ part of things anymore than you could understand someone accusing you of showing off for taking shorter, quicker breaths than you need to.

Because Dick doesn’t throw in unnecessary acrobatics while fighting because he wants to show off, IMO. Who is he showing off for? The people he’s fighting? Why on earth would they be more impressed by him doing an extra fancy flip than they would just by virtue of knowing his reputation as a fighter and seeing it proven true as he kicked their ass? No, I think he does it because he’s not even thinking about it, and he certainly can’t think of a reason not to. Its just what he does. Flipping out of the way of an incoming punch in such a way as to make that flip as aesthetically appealing as it is functional, is every bit as instinctive to Dick as every other part of the flip.

Because that’s WHY he was trained to do all this. That’s what its for. Not fighting and superheroics. Those are what he adapted it to do. First and foremost, it was done, taught to him, perfected by him…..so he could fly. And show everybody just how much he loved doing that, when you get right down to it. Because he loves being able to do that. For Dick, the heights he can reach are his higher power, and every single movement he makes is like an individual prayer given in thanks of the gift given to him, that enables him to do that in ways nobody else can match.

But in terms of fighting, and in terms of body language that Cass reads on an equally unconscious level….this has the unexpected and accidental side effect where every so often…Dick’s body lies. At least, I imagine that’s how Cass would describe it, if she ever put it into words for someone. Because he links his joy, his happiness and pleasure at being able to do the acrobatics he does with the movements themselves, because its so ingrained in him to do it all with a smile, to sell for the crowd that its all done with the greatest of ease, and because its inevitable that on some basic level, there are some flips or techniques that the mere act of doing brings to mind - even just his subconscious - memories he associates with that movement, that are largely, more often than not, pleasurable memories….Dick’s body language every so often doesn’t quite read the way everyone else’s does. The way Cass expects it to, knows how to interpret.

And this is nothing deliberate on his part. Nothing he could capitalize on, even if Cass did ever tell him what it reads like from her perspective. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t train himself to use this to his advantage in fights against Cass, any more than Bruce for all his mastery of his body, can effectively train himself to not broadcast certain body language tells when sparring with Cass. Because Bruce’s training, as extensive and intense as it was, and as he commits himself to it, still only started later in life. When his movements and how they pair with each other and his emotional states, they were already set in stone. Because those things go deeper than conscious control….even if Bruce made an effort to hide his next punch from Cass, she’d see the indicators of him preparing to deceive and adapt just as instinctively.

But Dick, because his training began as early and was so 24/7 in its own way as Cassandra’s, when they were both just learning their basic fundamentals and their body was building connections between their muscle movements and emotions they felt when using each precise combination of each specific muscles to achieve each specific end result….with Dick, the times his body language misleads Cass is as unconscious as breathing to him, as instinctive as every other of these movements, and the urge to smile while doing it. He’s not aware of doing it, couldn’t consciously command himself to do it more without giving that away in micro-expressions in his face….but its there, nonetheless. Because its not like it was done or trained into him in order to lie to Cass or someone like her….that’s just an unanticipated side-effect. It was done for one reason only: to make even the most rigorous of efforts look as effortless as skipping.

And it being that instinctive is WHY Cass occasionally falls for it, every now and again. Even when she tries to prepare for it sometimes. Because its like a lie spoken in her own first language. Every so often, she misreads how exhausted or worn out he is while in the middle of a spar, because Dick’s body language while flipping around so often reads as easy, light-hearted, happy. None of the things associated with being on the verge of his legs giving out, even if they are. And every now and again, a punch catches her off guard, because its not telegraphed in any of the normal ways, his body language is too focused on what’s coming after the punch, the preparation to make a leap or a vault that its particularly excited for, that always paired with anticipation, from as early as he could attempt it. Every once in awhile she fails to capitalize on a moment of weakness he has or an injury he’s nursing…because she’s missed the signs for it, its so buried deep beneath the performance mask he was trained to wear specifically while continuing through a routine even while feeling an ache or pain in that particular muscle group.

Even if no one else entirely knows why, Dick can beat Cass every once in awhile, even more often than Bruce can. Because the LESS Dick focuses his conscious thoughts, the MORE instinctive he makes his movements, basically when he MOST relies on just muscle memory and lets his body take over on autopilot, trusting it to get him safely through a fight while his conscious mind and troubles might be otherwise distracting him…..that’s when Cass has the hardest time reading him reliably. Because when he gets like that, everything else vanishes. Its like no other emotions exist for him. Even while being otherwise miserable or unhappy or grieving or tired….when he just lets go and trusts his body to do what its been trained to do so often and extensively its just pure instinct at this point….all of her brother’s movements at that point just sing. The brutality of a fight gets lost in the beauty of his acrobatics, even on the very same level and in the very language she most relies on…because they were meant to be ‘spoken’ even that bone-deep, they were meant to look like and indicate pure joy of movement in even the most primal of languages.

On a certain level, Cassandra has always been the least surprised of any of their family, why people like Deathstroke and the Court of Owls and countless other villains have always been so intent, so focused on making Dick specifically turn to their side, become one of them…become a killer. She understands the draw they feel towards him perfectly, probably even better than they do. Because the language these villains speak most naturally is violence. And her eldest brother takes violence and makes it art.

And even villains are drawn to art that speaks to them in a language they can understand.

So, even though she doesn’t want it to, even though it shouldn’t bother her, even though it ultimately doesn’t even matter that much….it bothers Cass, a little bit. That Dick has just enough of an x-factor in sparrings specific to just the two of them, that no matter how much Cass tries to adjust for it, she can still be thrown or fooled as easily as anyone else can fall for a lie spoken in a shared language. Its actually probably for the best that her own unique form of Kryptonite belongs to none other than her very own big brother, protective to a fault. Someone who would never hurt her.

Except…

Even with all that, she can’t help herself. Every once in awhile, she looks at Dick and can’t help but be wary. She doesn’t like having a potential blindspot she knows full well is there and can’t do a damn thing about. She doesn’t like that it bugs her so much either, but it does. She doesn’t like that the fighting and body-language reading that are the end results of her father’s abuse have become in different ways just enough of points of pride that she finds her pride pricked at the reminder she’s still fallible. Still human. Can still be fooled, even if unintentionally, even if not that often.

Because given the price she paid - that she never asked to pay, never was asked if she WANTED to pay it - to be so foolproof, at least where everyone else is concerned, she at least wished the damn training had worked as intended, instead of one specific monkey wrench her father hadn’t accounted for. All because who was prepared for an acrobatic vigilante who’s happy and gleeful on a primal level even when fighting for his life, because his body can’t help but be glad it can fly?

So she fights that feeling down any time it arises, becomes all the more determined for it not to create a wedge between her and the big brother she honestly adores and she knows honestly adores her too.

But sometimes when he smiles at her, Cass hates the way she is. What it makes her. Because all of them by now are used to people like the Court constantly trying to repurpose Dick, turn him against everything he holds dear. And each time everyone else is reminded of that, they turn to cast glances at Cass, without even thinking about it. They’re all just as aware of Dick’s own fighting prowess, after all. And how deadly he could be if he ever put his mind to it and set aside his morality.

She knows full well that if that ever happened, if any villain ever did manage to get their hooks in deep, she’s the one it would ultimately fall to. The Break Glass in Case of Emergency, Plan Z, final failsafe. She was who they would sic on the big brother that’s always drawn the darkness like moths to his flickering flame.

And she alone nurses the knowledge that if it ever came to that….she’s not quite as certain as the rest of their family, that she could infallibly win.

It bothers her more than she can say, more than she will ever dare say….that one of her greatest fears wears her doting eldest brother’s face.

Because if the Court of Owls ever did make a Talon of him for real, there’s no one who could sink a fatal blade past her guard more easily than he. She might never see it coming, too busy looking at him and seeing nothing but poetry instead.

Dick held her once while she came down from a lungful of Fear Toxin. Even as she shook the last of it from her system and looked at him with fresh, clear eyes again, she couldn’t help but flinch. He asked her what she’d seen while under its influence. She didn’t answer, and hated how sad he looked while covering up. No doubt thinking that it was because even now she didn’t trust him, her own family, wouldn’t let herself be completely vulnerable with them.

Still, she’s certain he would have looked far sadder if she’d told him the truth.

So each and every time her big brother’s body tells her a lie, she tells him one right back.

After all, the flip side of being the two best truthseers in the family, is there’s nobody better at being lie-tellers at the same time.

Who else is ever going to know?

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luciddeparture · 3 years

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Is Meditation for Morons?

I’m can’t exactly recall the first time I decided to meditate. I just know what happened when I finally bothered to learn how to. It has since had a profound effect on my life.

Now I know what you are probably thinking… “Meditation? I don’t need any of that woo woo crap in my life.” That’s at least how I used to feel about it, but who knows? Maybe you are a little bit less cynical than I was.

It is somewhat ironic that I am now the one who is writing a blog on meditation and its benefits.

When I first heard about meditation I immediately dismissed it, until I rediscovered it about two years ago whilst listening to a podcast called The Tim Ferris Show. The podcast is a series of interviews where Tim Ferris interviews top performers in a variety of fields from all around the world. Surprisingly, over “80% of the people [he] interviews have some form of meditation practice”. That’s a significant percentage! I’m by no means insinuating that we all need to be world-class performers, but I feel that it could not hurt to learn from those who are achieving high levels of success. Especially when there is an easily identifiable common trait, which in this case is meditation.

It slowly became clearer and clearer to me that meditation might be less bullshit than I had originally anticipated.

Before we get into things, it is important to acknowledge that although meditation is now becoming increasingly commercialised and “trendy” in Western Cultures, meditation has been a huge component of many spiritual practices for many hundreds of years. In the East, meditation played a huge role in particular in both Hinduism and Buddhism. The earliest records of Meditation can be found in the Vedas, a religious text written in Sanskrit in 500bc. After reading the Vedas the Buddha added his own spin too, developing his own technique called Satipatthana, which is now most commonly known as Mindfulness. The direct translation is Sati (Attention) or (Remember) + Upa (Inside) + Thana (to keep) So Satipatthana means: To keep your attention inside.

Transcendental Meditation was introduced to the West in part by the popular culture of the 1960’s. A notable contribution was The Beatles sharing their experiences after visiting India. Although Mindfulness meditation was introduced much later to Western Cultures. Throughout this article I will primarily be discussing the effects of Mindfulness Meditation.

Over the last few years, the process of meditation, as well as its effects, has become a rapidly expanding subfield of neurological research. One of the most interesting experiments involved scientists conducting tests on a Monk, finding that although he was 41 he had the brain of a 33 year old. They gave him an FMRI scan while asking him to cultivate a sense of compassion by meditating, and the neural activity in his empathy circuits grew by 700-800%! One of the researches later wrote “Such an extreme increase befuddles science.”

When most of us anticipate getting burned our pain receptors act as though we are already suffering. So much so that when the pain actually comes nothing really changes. Once the physical stimulus stops the mental pain slowly subsides. Expert meditators act much less in anticipation of the pain and feel the pain more intensely while the stimulus is present. Their awareness of the pain ceases immediately as soon as the stimulus is removed.

Interestingly enough, the emotional centre for the brain, the Amygdala, acts in a similar fashion to the pain response. Meditators are often much better at responding in anticipation to emotional stress.

I’m someone who has always lived predominately inside their thoughts, probably leaning on the more erratic side. The thought of being able to sit in silence sorta freaked me out, not to mention seeming borderline impossible.

To understand what my mind looks like, you need to look no further than The Simpsons. Remember that scene where Homer is listening to Marge and inside his brain a monkey is clanging symbols? That’s the relationship I had with my brain almost all of the time. I believe this is the same for most of us.

Let’s put this to the test. You, my lucky reader, can be the test subject of a little experiment on your own psyche. For the next minute, I want you to close your eyes and just do your best to focus solely on your breath. 3…2..1. GO!

How did you go? Did you get lost in your thoughts? Did you forget entirely that you were even trying to focus at all? Where did your mind take you? Your relationship (or lack of)? Work? Or maybe even what you might have for dinner?

I found that when I first began meditating my mind would sometimes find itself distracted on the most obscure things. The reason why I am illustrating this point is because often when I speak to others who have tried meditation for the first time, I hear “I tried meditation, and it’s not for me - I just think too much”. I hate to say it, but these are the people who probably should be learning to meditate most of all.

The way I see meditation, is similar to closing background apps on your phone. It saves battery, and it just makes your phone faster. No brainer. I believe the same is true with meditation and giving your brain a break from constantly thinking.

A lot of the people who are reading this article will have grown up with internet access. Therefore, you have been bombarded with external stimuli in each and every moment. Bzzz, Bzzzz, Bzzzzzzzz. I’m sure that most of you will have received a messages even whilst reading this article.

Our brains have been over stimulated and are in a constant state of overdrive. Even when we are asleep our brains are constantly thinking, even if it is in the form of dreams! Obviously that isn’t a negative on it’s own, in fact sleep is crucial for the brain. But when you add everything up it’s a lot for a brain that has only been subject to this much stimuli for around 15 years - the first iPhone only came out 13 years ago.

As you discovered just before, learning to “not think” doesn’t happen instantly. Like you, when I first attempted to sit in silence and tried to focus on my breath it did not work. My monkey mind remained supreme. Once again I was convinced that it wasn’t for me. But like all skills, meditation takes time and discipline to both learn, and improve.

I’m not saying this to deter you, it’s just the truth. An easy comparison might be to say that you wanted to learn how to play a musical instrument. It would be ridiculous to expect that you would be able to play your favourite song after your first time attempting to pick up the instrument. The same logic can be applied to meditation. It takes time, practice and discipline - however unlike musical instruments, you bring your mind to all situations in life. In my opinion, sharpening your ability to think is well worth the investment. According to scientific studies Mindfulness meditation induces big changes in the minds of experts, but when beginners first meditate not much happens.

At its core, the aim of meditation is to become more present in each moment by focusing and training attention and awareness. This is to achieve a mentally clear and emotionally calm and stable state. This in turn gives you the ability to have significantly more control of how you react to external and internal stimuli when they arise in your life.

In Mindfulness meditation, the goal is to act as an observer whilst focusing on your breath, watching your conscious experience as thoughts and sensations arise and disappear.

As mentioned earlier we are often multi tasking, with tech and external stimuli, but even whilst we are not, we remain deep in thought. We are often living in the past or in the future through memory rather than in each and every moment.

Meditation helps you learn how to not be constantly reactive to stimuli on the inside or outside. When I meditate, I find that it simply quiets my mind. It’s a simple reset of the brain allowing me to slow down and focus solely on the present.

Another way of looking at it is that meditation is like going to the gym. You can see it as a way of working out your mind. To begin with your mind will wander, time traveling from the past to the future. But with practice you can slowly train your mind to become more present.

Being present throughout the day allows me to consciously make better decisions, rather than just remaining on autopilot.

As hedge fund billionaire Ray Dalio puts it “When you're centred, your emotions are not hijacking you”. “Meditation is 'the single most important reason for my success.”

If you are looking to start meditation, Mindfulness meditation apps are a great way to initially learn how to meditate. I still find myself using one most days. Having tried all of them, I would recommend Sam Harris’ Waking Up app. Its thirty day training course is clear and concise and an awesome starting point to learn how to meditate. After that, new daily meditations appear on the app. Harris is a Neuroscientist and an Atheist and breaks meditation down in a way that is less spiritual which might make more sense to a western audience.

Worried it’s going to cost too much? If you can’t afford a subscription, you can email the help section and receive a one year free subscription. No questions asked. You have no excuse not to try it!

Other Mindfulness app alternatives are:

- Headspace - Andy Puddicombe

- Smiling Mind (An Australian non-profit alternative)

For further learning check out these guys:

Sam Harris, Mooji, Ram Dass and Andy Puddicombe

I am by no means an expert in this field, I just wanted to share something which has improved the quality of my life by at least 10%. I hope that it works for you too!

#meditation #mindfullness #wakeup #samharris #mooji #ramdass #headspace

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haberdashing · 4 years

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And Freedom’s A Fairy Tale Lie (2/?)

When Michael is transformed just before killing Jon, the face the Distortion next wears is one much more familiar to Jon than that of Helen Richardson.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

on AO3

Jon had never actually been in Michael’s corridors, not really. He’d gone through the door once before, when his options were down to that or facing the thing that was not Sasha head-on, but that time it had just spat him out directly into the tunnels below the Archives, no corridors necessary. Tim had been inside the corridors, from what he’d heard, but he hadn’t exactly been keen to give a statement about it after the fact.

The only actual description Jon had of the corridors was from Helen Richardson, who hadn’t been in the best state of mind when she’d given it, though her statement at least had been lucid enough. According to Helen, the wallpaper was covered with a swirling pattern and had been green at first, the carpet was faded and initially yellow, the rug was thick and black. Those colors had all changed over time, though, and Jon doubted that the exact combination made much of a difference; what mattered, more likely, was the sudden and unexpected change when Helen hadn’t been looking, rather than any actual pattern.

Even with that vague and shifting description as all he had to work with, though, Jon could tell at a glance that the corridors must have changed.

The most obvious difference between Helen’s description and what Jon saw as he stumbled into the corridors was the walls. Helen had described swirling, colorful wallpaper accompanying her every step of the way. These corridors had no wallpaper at all, just walls made of unvarnished wood--Jon couldn’t identify the exact wood in question, but that might just be because he wasn’t especially knowledgeable when it came to wood. There were no tiles, no panels, no dividing lines to separate one patch of wood from the next, just a continuous stretch of the stuff as far as the eye could see from floor to ceiling, all covered in natural-looking knots and whorls.

The carpet was still yellow, but it didn’t look faded in the slightest; it was a bright, vibrant yellow similar enough to the goldenrod of the door he’d just passed through that Jon couldn’t tell at a glance if they were actually the same shade or not. Jon personally thought it looked rather horrid next to the wooden walls, but then, he wasn’t exactly an interior design expert, and besides, maybe the colors clashing horribly was in fact the point. It wouldn’t surprise him, at least, but not much would anymore.

The rug Helen had mentioned was nowhere to be seen.

At least the electric lamps were the same... presumably. Helen hadn’t given them much of a description, but that was probably because they were pretty nondescript to begin with. Just plain white lampshades covering ordinary enough light bulbs, breaking up the scenery ever so slightly and ensuring that the endless corridors remained fairly well-lit, though how the electricity got there to keep them all running was anyone’s guess.

Jon didn’t see Martin enter the corridors, didn’t see the door shut behind him and disappear, didn’t see Martin go from being in back of him to in front. One moment Jon was entering the corridors seemingly alone, and the next Martin, or the thing that looked like Martin, was some ways ahead of him, beckoning.

“Come with me.”

Jon nodded solemnly and did as he was told.

Jon was used to being the fastest walker in a group, but even so it was hard to keep pace with Martin as he strode through the corridors. (Admittedly, Martin had something of an advantage when it came to leg length, especially now, and Jon was somewhat out of practice at the moment, but that didn’t stop Jon from being irked by it.) Martin didn’t slow down as Jon half-ran half-stumbled trying to keep up with him, though he did look back periodically, checking that Jon was still following behind him.

Jon made a point of keeping track every time they did or didn’t make a right-hand turn, though he knew even if he made it out of this in one piece, such information was unlikely to lead to the same result a second time here.

Four turns passed before turning at the fifth. Two paths ignored before taking the third.

The carpet was a soft olive green now.

First turn available taken.

Jon was still far from an expert in identifying types of wood at a glance, but he knew the walls hadn’t been quite so dark before.

Eighth turn taken...

Martin stopped abruptly, and Jon was already slowing to a halt following Martin’s lead before he noticed the reason behind it, saw the door unobtrusively nestled within the endless wall of wood.

“There you are.”

Jon approached the door, but didn’t reach for the handle just yet. “And where does this lead?”

“Out.” Martin smiled at that, his smile impossibly wide, though his eyes shone with an emotion Jon couldn’t quite place. “You- you get to leave here. Not everybody is so lucky. Don’t look a gift door in the mouth, now.”

“Right. Of course.”

As Jon mentally weighed the pros and cons of trying to get Martin to be more specific about where the door left--perhaps it led right back to the circus, or opened at the top of a cliff, or in the middle of the Sahara Desert, or...--Martin spoke up again.

“Unless you’d like to stay and chat for a bit. I certainly wouldn’t object to a bit of company. Present company very much included.”

Jon considered for a moment whether Martin was being serious or not (was the monster seriously expecting him to hang around for some unspecified length of time in its impossible nightmare corridors just for fun?) before deciding that it didn’t really matter, because his answer was going to be the same either way.

“I think I’ll pass on that offer, thanks.”

“I figured as much.” Martin’s too-wide smile faded a little, though it still made Jon’s mouth ache just looking at it. “Better get going, then. Before I have the chance to change my mind.”

Jon shuddered at the thought as he reached for the doorknob and flung the door open; he couldn’t see much in the darkness beyond, but now as before, uncertainty still seemed preferable to certain death.

As Jon stepped forward, ready to enter the dark space before him, he heard Martin’s voice call out once more.

“One last thing.”

Jon turned his head to look back at Martin, at the distorted, warped, wrong being that insisted on mimicking the form of one of his closest friends.

“What?”

The word came out sharper than intended, but Martin didn’t seem to mind, that impossible smile widening once more.

“Don’t forget to write.”

Jon scrunched his nose as he tried to figure out what the hell that meant, and why it sounded vaguely familiar, before deciding that that was one mystery that could wait for another day.

Instead of asking for clarification, Jon just took a deep breath, straightened his shoulders, and strode as confidently as he could manage into the dark space before him, shutting the door behind him as his eyes slowly but surely began to adjust to the lack of light.

#martin blackwood #the distortion #tma the distortion #tma #tma au #tma fic #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #the magnus archives fic #the magnus archives fanfic #the magnus archives au #personal #my writing

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arcticdementor · 5 years

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Yes, we need to talk about climate change again, and it’s probably necessary to start with a point I’ve made on this blog several times already: anthropogenic climate change is real and serious, and it’s being exploited by political and corporate interests to push a dubious agenda on the public. Many people these days don’t seem to be able to keep both these ideas in their heads at the same time. If you find it hard to do that, dear reader, I’m going to encourage you to make the effort, because a great deal of rhetoric is being deployed these days to make you forget that real problems can have fake solutions.

Imagine, to use the inevitable metaphor, that you’re on the proverbial ocean liner, which has just hit the proverbial iceberg. As you stand there on deck, someone grabs a bullhorn and announces that the real problem is that all the money in your pockets is weighing you down. He insists that if you’ll only hand all your money and other valuables to him, and let him row away from the doomed ship in one of the lifeboats, the people left on board just have to flap their arms vigorously and they’ll be able to fly away to safety in Newfoundland.

The problem you face is unquestionably real; go belowdecks and you can see the water rising. Does that mean that the solution being offered by the fellow with the bullhorn is the best option you have, or indeed that it will work at all? Of course not. The fellow with the bullhorn is betting that you’ll be sufficiently panicked at the thought of imminent drowning that you’ll accept a claim that, under other circumstances, you’d recognize as utter nonsense. It’s a common theme of history that people can be convinced to accept claims almost as silly as the one in my metaphor if they’ve been whipped up into a sufficient state of panic. Yes, I’m suggesting that that’s one of the things shaping the contemporary debate on climate change.

…

So the problem is real; the people who are worried about anthropogenic climate change have that much right. It’s the next steps that get complex. Those steps involve what’s coming, and what can and should be done about it—and in both these cases, we very quickly get into territory that’s rather reminiscent of the fellow with the bullhorn in my metaphor.

Listen to climate change activists talk about what will happen if something isn’t done right away and you’ll get to hear apocalyptic claims that rival anything Tim LaHaye and Jerry Jenkins put into their schlocky Left Behind series—if you’re not familiar with this, it’s more or less the Fifty Shades of Grey of Protestant apocalypse porn. Mark Lynas’ lavishly marketed 2008 climate-change opus Six Degrees, though a bit dated at this point, is typical of the genre in its gaudy portrayal of a world tucked under the broiler, as well as its proselytizing tone—again, the parallels with Left Behind are hard to miss. There’s plenty more of this sort of thing being splashed around by the corporate mass media these days.

…

The difficulty, here as so often, lies in the complex relationship between scientific knowledge and the collective discourse of our time. In those disciplines that haven’t been wholly corrupted by money and fame, scientists tend to be highly cautious when talking to other scientists; they hedge every statement with caveats, because they know perfectly well that the people who are reading those statements have the necessary background to pick them apart, find the flaws, and send a letter to this or that scientific journal exposing your mistakes for all your colleagues to see. That’s a key part of the scientific method, and when it stops happening—when criticism within a discipline is no longer permitted and a rigidly defined consensus governs what you can and cannot disagree with—you know the discipline has sold out.

On the other hand, if you approach a discussion outside of the scientific community with all those caveats, and the subject is anything even remotely controversial, you can expect to have the caveats shoved down your throat by your opponents, who are used to a different mode of discourse. Scientists who find their feet in the public sphere thus quickly stop offering the caveats, and start using the same rhetorical tricks as their opponents. Unfortunately one of the most common of those tricks involves taking your argument further than the evidence will go, and making whatever claims you think you can get away with.

The late Carl Sagan was a notable example of this latter habit. Those of my readers who recall his career will remember that he coauthored the paper that introduced the concept of “nuclear winter” to public discussion. (For those who don’t recall this, it’s the theory that nuclear war would cause sudden global cooling along the same lines, and for the same reasons, as the Tambora eruption in 1816.) That original paper—the TTAPS paper, as it was called after the initials of its authors—was a solid scientific study that showed that there was a serious risk of global cooling lasting for many weeks, and gave facts and figures to support that argument.

Sagan wrote two more pieces on nuclear winter, though, which were not intended for his fellow scientists. He contributed to a 1984 volume, The Cold and the Dark, which was aimed at an audience of scientifically literate laypeople. He also wrote a 1983 article for Parade Magazine—a weekly that at the time was inserted into Sunday newspapers around the country—which was thus aimed at the scientifically illiterate public. Compare those with the original study and a curious trend emerges. Where the TTAPS study predicted a period of cooling lasting for weeks, his piece in The Cold and the Dark replaced that with months, and the Parade article stretched it out to years. Sagan was involved in antinuclear activism, and apparently couldn’t resist the temptation to play fast and loose with facts to prop up the case he was trying to make.

…

If you want to see just how far climate scientists have gotten into what we might as well call the Sagan syndrome, by the way, ask them about the global cooling scare of the 1970s. Odds are the immediate response you’ll get is an insistence that it never happened. If you present them with the titles and authors of books written during that period that treated global cooling as a reality—those aren’t hard to find—they’ll typically backpedal and insist that well, maybe so, but scientists didn’t support the global cooling scare. If you demonstrate that respected scientists did in fact do so—and again, this isn’t hard to do—they’ll either get angry and start shouting or insist that, well, maybe so, but it wasn’t the consensus among climate experts.

Don’t tell them about the 1972 climate conference at Brown University here in Rhode Island, which brought together 42 of the world’s top climate scientists, and ended up sending a letter to President Nixon and putting papers in Science and Quaternary Studies warning of imminent global cooling and a possible new ice age. If you do that, I promise that they’ll get angry and start shouting, because you’ve caught them behaving like politicians rather than scientists, and they’ll know it. You can get the same effect by asking dieticians why we should believe what they say about cholesterol now, when we all know perfectly well that in another ten years they’ll have changed their minds again. Laypeople aren’t supposed to question scientists like that—at least that’s what scientists like to tell themselves.

…

So the shrill insistence that we’re facing a climate emergency and we have to take drastic action right now is a political claim, not a scientific one. The drastic action—well, that’s another matter. The open secret of climate change activism is that the solutions being offered by activists have uncomfortable similarities to the claims of the fellow with the bullhorn in my metaphor. Decades of heavily subsidized growth in solar and wind power haven’t dented the steady increase in carbon dioxide emissions, for example—not least because solar and wind power technologies depend on vast fossil fuel inputs for their manufacture, installation, maintenance, and disposal—so it’s disingenuous to claim that putting even more money into solar and wind power will do the job. As for vegan diets, bans on plastic straws, and the like, those are virtue signaling covering up an unwillingness to accept meaningful change.

For two decades now, in fact, the people who are loudest in their insistence that something has to be done about climate change have been the same people whose lifestyles disproportionately cause climate change. If you commute all alone in an SUV, fly to Mazatlan or Spain every year for a vacation, and keep up the other habits of absurd extravagance that go with an upper middle class lifestyle in the industrial world these days, even if you eat a vegan diet and never touch a plastic straw, your carbon footprint exceeds that of ten deplorables in West Virginia or a hundred ordinary people in Indonesia or Uruguay. If you’re one of the rich and famous at the forefront of climate change activism, your carbon footprint exceeds that of a Third World town.

…

Au contraire, the behavior of climate change activists, and of the corporate media and multinational business interests that fund and promote them so lavishly, makes sense only if you assume that they want everyone else to stop using fossil fuels so that they don’t have to. The shrill claims of impending doom, the insistence that we’re in a climate emergency and everyone has to accept drastic restrictions that climate change activists show no trace of willingness to embrace in their own lives, make perfect sense if the game plan is to buffalo most of the people in the world’s industrial countries into accepting a sharply lower standard of living “for the planet,” so that the upper twenty per cent or so can maintain their current lifestyles unchanged.

If that’s what’s going on, though, it’s a losing game. The project of splitting industrial societies into an affluent minority and an impoverished majority by offshoring jobs and flooding the labor market with immigrants has already generated a furious populist backlash so forceful that in the US and Great Britain alike, globalist parties are desperately scrambling to avoid giving voters the chance to choose between their policies and those of the populist insurgency. From science through politics to the corporate media, the spokescritters of the status quo have been caught shoveling smoke so often that the prestige they once had is a thing of the past—and no, it won’t work to do as some privileged pundits are doing these days and insist, plaintively or angrily as the case may be, that the rabble ought to stop asking unwelcome questions and believe blindly in whatever their supposed betters tell them. Those days are over.

…

I’m thinking here among many other things about a recent discovery at an Australian university. Did you know that cows like to eat seaweed? Ranchers who raise cows near the sea routinely find their herds on the beach or even belly deep in the surf, munching seaweed. It so happens that one variety of seaweed has the effect of nearly eliminating the production of methane in cows’ digestive tracts. Methane is a far more powerful greenhouse gas than carbon dioxide, and has been coming out of the bellies of ruminants in vast quantities since long before humans arrived—think of the herds of buffalo that used to roam the North American plains, or the herds of aurochs (the wild ancestors of cattle) that once thronged the steppes of western Eurasia.

Could we fine-tune emissions by giving cows seaweed to eat, so that excess carbon dioxide (which benefits plant growth, by the way) is balanced out by decreased methane? It’s worth trying—and the Australian scientists are working on methods to raise the seaweed in question so it can become a common additive to cattle feed. That would have to be phased in gradually so the results didn’t swing the climate the other way, but that could easily be managed, given a less hysterical approach to climate change than the one being pushed by activists these days.

That’s only one example of the kind of appropriate technology that we could use to cushion our species’ impact on the biosphere. Replacing wood with hemp as a feedstock for paper and other uses could be another—the faster a plant grows, the more carbon dioxide it sucks out of the air, and hemp grows much faster than commercial softwoods. For that matter, large-scale tree planting is a viable strategy, deliberately copying the events that led to the Little Ice Age to cool things off a bit, especially if the trees are left to mature rather than being cut down early in their life cycle—again, we’ve got hemp as a replacement. Combine these and other bits of appropriate tech with the phasing out of a few absurd extravagances like private jets, and we can bring climate change to a halt, or at least slow it down to a pace that we and other species can handle.

#john michael greer #ecosophia.net #science #climate change

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soveryanon · 5 years

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Reviewing time for MAG133 /o/

- As far as I can tell, this was the first time that someone had stayed in the room while Jon read a statement? We know that Basira was revealed to have been there all along after Martin had finished MAG095’s statement, but I’m pretty sure that no similar case happened with Jon? Sssso… if something Spooky happens when Jon does his readings, Daisy will probably tell us about it in a few episodes. (Extra eyes? Feeling of being watched increasing to a suffocating level? Jon forgetting to blink? Jon not even reading the pages?) Maybe nothing weird is happening… but maybe there is something, and in which case, we’d learn about it through Daisy.

- Jon got to discuss a statement with someone!! He wanted to do this a few episodes ago!

(MAG123) ARCHIVIST: […] I have no theories on it, no… no sudden insights. [SIGHS] I wish I could talk it through with Martin. … Or Tim. [SHORT SAD CHUCKLE] Or Sasha. But we never really did that, did we…?

And it’s with DAISY, of all people!! … Though she had some trouble answering or understanding why he wanted her contributions on the matter and, towards the end, she tended to breathe quite heavily before answering – panicking a bit due to discomfort…?

(MAG133) ARCHIVIST: I–I understand. Ho–honestly, er, I’d actually appreciate your insights, er, for this one, just… You know, keep quiet during the statement and that. […] What do you make of that, then? DAISY: … Dunno. Why? ARCHIVIST: Oh! Well. You’re, er… You’re a Hunter, right? Well– DAISY: [GROAN] ARCHIVIST: I… just wondered. I’ve been looking for evidence of, er… a Hunt ritual. Er, to see if it was one of the ones Gertrude stopped. And this is the closest thing I’ve been able to find. DAISY: Could have been one. I think.

Joooon, I think you used the wrong tense here: “you WERE” a Hunter would probably have put her in better dispositions. Well! Daisy wasn’t cross at him, she didn’t leave the room, she didn’t threaten, but… quite clearly, the reminder that she’s affiliated with The Hunt wasn’t pleasant. And on the other hand:

(MAG133) ARCHIVIST: But it didn’t work. … I don’t even know how it was meant to work? DAISY: No. ARCHIVIST: … But why…? There was no outside interference, no other Powers; even indigenous tribes who could theoretically have derailed it seemed to stay away. So why didn’t it work…? DAISY: I don’t think it was about that. ARCHIVIST: I’m not sure I understand? […] Hm. You don’t think The Hunt would let its ritual end? [PAUSE] You don’t think it would let them find the… culmination? […] Hum, one of the bits I managed to decode from Gertrude’s notes, it references something she calls the, er, “The Everchase”. You think that might be it – the, the ritual that never ends because The Hunt is all in the pursuit?

Jon’s inquiries, his questions, his soft voice when a bit lost in thoughts, trying to understand the logic hidden behind the statement… felt awfully Beholding from him, even more than usual? I get the frustration of not having been able to discuss things out with people who were experts in fields he wasn’t, and it’s indeed a strategical thing for the Archives team to check which rituals Gertrude had stopped and how, in order to potentially neutralise the ones that could still be running (… Jon still hasn’t mentioned anything about The Watcher’s Crown but. He knows it was coming, Basira confirmed it was still a possibility, it’s still a hanging sword); but the way Jon is pushing to understand and to dissect is also… a demonstration that yeah, he’s truly from The Eye, uh.

- And at the same time, I love that Jon kept trying to make it a discussion even though Daisy had trouble essentialising her experience to help him understand the broad picture (she kept referring to very concrete examples), and Jon sometimes gave the feeling that he was talking to himself more than to her – at the very least, he was… the only one who was invested and interested in that talk. But he did hear what she had to say in answer! He pursued her ideas! He tried to reassure her when she felt she wasn’t contributing!

(MAG133) DAISY: [BREATHING HEAVILY] I–I don’t know. You’re the expert. ARCHIVIST: No, no, I–I like it, it–it’s a good theory!

I’m just? Would season1!Jon have reacted like this, awkwardly insisting that it was Daisy’s own ideas, when it’s technically Jon who managed to reach the conclusion? SWEET BEAN??? He would have it in him to be a good pedagogue??

Daisy wasn’t at ease at all, but I felt that it was probably a good idea from Jon to push her to talk about her past experiences? Yes, it wasn’t something she wanted to think about, clearly, but at the same time… Picking apart how she used to function under The Hunt, identifying what were the parts of her which were maybe influenced, might help her to be more conscious of her choices in her future actions? Jon explicitly told Basira that he was aware of Daisy’s current line of action (“She is trying to keep a clear head. Stay away from The Hunt as much as possible.”); it might… help, to talk about it, even if it’s hard? And she indeed managed to explain why she used to act like she did, the mechanism behind her actions and decisions? … And yes, they all need therapy (as long as it’s not financed by Peter fucking Lukas), and Jon is not a professional, but it’s the closest thing to therapy-talk that a character has ever been given in this series, technically?

(And Jon demonstrated that a bit with Basira afterwards, too, by trying to clear up Basira’s feelings regarding Daisy’s return and why she seemed so… unsatisfied by the whole situation. Not shaming, not diminishing what they were feeling, and trying to expose to Basira how her stance could become a danger for herself?)

- I’m overall so, so, so fond of Jon&Daisy interacting… they had funny bits in season 3 and it’s been two episodes in a row that they’re just… delightful? Yes, Daisy was clearly awkward and uncomfortable, but even then, Jon could throw a joke and Daisy would laugh! And Daisy would reference something that should be a trauma for Jon and yet feels like an inside joke between them nowadays!

(MAG133) DAISY: […] You know what my least favourite part of a case was? ARCHIVIST: Police brutality lawsuit? DAISY: [LAUGH] Arresting them. […] Sometimes I lost purpose because I let myself get too into it. Gave an opening just because I wanted to keep chasing. Like with you. ARCHIVIST: [HUMOURED HUFF]

They’re just fantastic and Jon is such an adorable idiot for laughing at these horrible things he experienced himself but, at the same time, I’m so glad that he is in the mood to laugh about it with her! =D ~You tried to kill me; well, it happened; no offense taken.~ FRIENDSHIP!! Someone getting Jon’s shitty sense of humour!!

- I… do like, although it makes me very sad, how after the worry-then-euphoria of managing to save Daisy, we’re also back to down-to-earth concerns about that return. No, the fact that Daisy is back and alive is not the end of her story; and yes, there are consequences around it. Same as with Melanie, Daisy needs to recover right now, and… it might take time physically, since Basira mentioned muscle atrophy and Daisy admitted that her legs weren’t quite fine at the moment; and it’s something that Jon experienced, too? (MAG050, Tim: “You were at physical therapy.” -> after-effects of the worms.)

On the mental side, it was also made clear that Daisy… didn’t want to be on her own or alone anymore, since she hanged around Jon for that reason:

(MAG133) [CLICK–] DAISY: You sure? ARCHIVIST: No, uh, it’s, hum. It’s fine. DAISY: It’s just… Basira’s busy. […] I, I can do quiet. ARCHIVIST: Right. Er, oh, do you want a chair? DAISY: No. ARCHIVIST: Oh. Okay. DAISY: I’m trying to get my legs right again. ARCHIVIST: Oh – of course. DAISY: Just ignore me, I… I’ll stand in the corner. […] BASIRA: [FAR, WITH SOME ECHO] Hey, there you are. You’re meant to be doing your exercises. DAISY: … You were out. BASIRA: [IN THE ROOM] You could have done them alone. DAISY: … Sure.

I wonder if it’s only due to The Lonely hitting her hard, or simply… Daisy’s personality. We know that she actually had trouble operating alone:

(MAG082) ELIAS: And then they don’t ask any questions, as long as you keep it far away from official police channels. Except your partner leaving has made you sloppy. No notes, no proper interrogations, no back-up of any sort.

(MAG112) DAISY: Elias is keeping me busy. Hunting. Takes a while. [FALTERS] I’m used to working with a partner. … It’s fine. BASIRA: Daisy… DAISY: It’s fine. BASIRA: Right. But it’s not, though, is it? DAISY: […] Maybe you could ask Elias if you can join me on a case?

(And once again: how do I HATE that once again, Elias had been spot-on about someone :< He had immediately pointed out that Daisy had been deeply affected by Basira leaving the police – it was still a fresh wound, Basira had quit just one week prior.)

Even putting aside the lack of emotional care from Basira… Daisy’s situation is legally a mess? Officially, she could have died in the explosion; we know that Section 31 were searching for her and would want to make her disappear if given the opportunity (since Elias demonstrated that he had ~ample proof~ of her activities). Daisy can’t really risk being identified publicly anymore. She isn’t even an assistant: she isn’t under Beholding’s “protection” (she still had the dreams with Jon) and… doesn’t have an official status in the Institute, won’t get a salary nor anything? … I don’t even know if Elias “We really don’t have the budget for that” Bouchard was giving her a salary when he had coerced her into working for him. In summary: she had no existence whatsoever and would be best kept hidden. Still recovering and indeed… needing protection, from the exterior world and from The Hunt’s call?

(And I’m extra-worried that if Elias is Watching, then he knows she is back; and although he rarely blackmails… we know that he isn’t above it, ~nor above threat~. Basira could potentially become VERY vulnerable if Elias were to highlight that he could just tip the Section 31’d officers that Daisy is hiding in the Institute… ;;)

- Though, actually, Elias didn’t get a Perfect Score on profiling Daisy, since:

(MAG082) ELIAS: If you’re smart, you’ll go back to the police station and put forward some half-baked cover-up for what happened to your mystery corpse, and leave it at that. But I don’t think you are smart, so in many ways I’m excited to find out what you do next.

(That was still SO AMAZINGLY RUDE, EFF OFF ELIAS W O W.) (Watching over Jon during season 2 must have been a hell of a ride, uh.)

A bit like with Martin, I feel like Elias might have completely underestimated her…? I still wonder if the “idea” he had about a new Defender for the Archives in MAG127 was Daisy (assuming they would manage to get her out) and, in this case, whether he had any idea of the state she would be in. On the one hand, The Eye couldn’t access the coffin (as Breekon mentioned), so he shouldn’t have been able to know; but did he connect the dots and guess that, deprived of The Hunt, Daisy would probably choose to turn her back on it? In the case that it was all a scheme to get Daisy out of the coffin, was he expecting her to indeed be usable as a defender, and will we get to witness a battle of hissing rants between Basira and Elias next time she visits him (pLEASE); or did he have truly have someone/something else in mind, and it’s just that this plan hasn’t come to fruition yet?

(- On a happier note: Daisy wants company, is quietly staying in a corner while Jon read a statement, is told to go do her exercises… Archives!dog is achieved??? And Jon even has a bone (a rib) to throw at her if they want to play.)

- Historical statement! Percy Fawcett and The Lost City of “Z” weren’t part of my general pop culture package, so I learned a few things here and there, and laughed a lot because his statement:

(MAG133, Percy Fawcett) “Perhaps you’ll have read reports of my disappearance or death, constructing wild theories of violence at the hands of Kalapalos tribesmen, or a lack of adequate supplies or preparation. I can only wish my hubris had been so mundane. […] I awoke back in Dead Horse Camp. Some of the Kalapalos had found me collapsed in the forest and had taken pity on me.”

… sometimes sounded like a direct answer to the Wiki page retracing his life and speculation about his death, with major theories feeling rooted in colonialism. I think it was during the season 3 Q&A that Jonny described very enthusiastically the Mechanical Turk and how spooky the whole thing already was to start with? And in Percy Fawcett’s case, once again: I love how Jonny only needed to add some extra bits to an already very spooky story and how the final statement is almost (LET’S HOPE.) reality-compliant /o/

- Percy’s story highlighted similar patterns in Hunt-related statements: first, obviously, the vampires, but also… the idea that even if Hunter start out by going after bloodsuckers, the line grows thinner and they quickly begin to target “monsters”, predators, humans indiscriminately.

(MAG010, Trevor Herbert) “I have killed five people that I know for sure as vampires, and there are two more that may or may not have been. There is one man I have killed, unfortunately, who I am now sure was human, but I also know he was a violent criminal so I try not to feel too badly about that. […] I always kept my eyes open for them, although sometimes I was too eager, as was the case of Alard Dupont who I killed in 1982 and later discovered was a human.” (MAG056, Trevor Herbert) “There’s a sharpness to them. They’re hunters. But over the years… I’ve become a hunter as well, and maybe predators recognize each other. All I know is, these days, I can almost smell the blood coming off them. That’s not to say I can’t be wrong though. I can be very wrong indeed. […] In retrospect, I should have realised that this didn’t exactly match the vampires I’d met before, who’d never displayed any sort of mind-reading, but I was aching for a kill. […] I will never forget the moment I heard Alard Dupont scream. It was such a piercing sound, and something I’d never expected. In a moment, everything I’d built up in my head over the past couple of days shattered, and I felt a sudden panic at what I’d done. […] And then he was quiet. And everything was horribly still. He just lay there. I’ve never felt anything like the shame and disgust I felt at that moment.” (MAG109) ARCHIVIST: I read your statement, you know, you… you– you don’t kill people. Only monsters. TREVOR: The lines get blurrier every day.

(MAG061) ARCHIVIST: Ah, oh, yes, er, it’s just– Do you know anything about vampires? DAISY: … Yeah. […] I take care of it in a dozen or so precincts. I cuff the suspect’s hands and legs, drive them out into the middle of Epping Forest, and burnt it to ashes. There’s never enough left to be a problem. I don’t know if they’re vampires exactly, but that’s what we call them. ARCHIVIST: Good lord… H–how many have you… taken care of? DAISY: Hm… Five? In the last nine years. (MAG082) ELIAS: “Six years ago, Calvin Benchley became the first human being I murdered. […] He was harder to get rid off than the vampires, but I managed it. And nobody asked any questions at all. He was a scumbag, and nobody wants to risk getting a Section 31. He was the first human I dealt with like that, but he certainly wasn’t the last.” (MAG132) DAISY: […] The, The Hunt was me, b–but I don’t, I don’t think I liked it. I think it just made me… need… it… I hurt… a l–lot of people… and some who… who I shouldn’t have. Did you ever hear the, the story Elias told me? About what I did. How I am… He, he didn’t get a detail wrong. The Hunt… Hunger was in me all my life.

(MAG133, Percy Fawcett) “[Raleigh Rimmell] simply told me he had inside him a strong and enduring hatred of bloodsuckers. Jack nodded, as though the statement were in some way profound […]. Now [Eduard von Toll] and his crew were pinning the things that looked like men to trees, with long iron spikes. They thrashed, and struggled, and a long bulbous tongue hung from their throats, pinned by the iron of von Toll’s men. “I cannot stand bloodsuckers,” Raleigh said approvingly, as he conversed quietly with Baron von Toll in French. Two of the figures pinned to the trees screamed in pain. They had no tongue, no distended belly filled with stolen blood, but no one seemed to notice – or if they did notice, no one cared. In the joy of The Hunt, they had been seized, and that was that.”

………………………. I’m still so glad that Daisy was able to take a step back and was allowed to look over what had happened during her life (Trevor had mentioned that “there is always an urgency to the hunt that has, for the most part, stopped me from doing much investigation”, in MAG056 – The Hunt doesn’t want you to think about what you’re doing or pursuing, uh.), but I’m also so worried that she’ll fall back into it ;; Though now… she is aware that she has options, that following The Hunt is not her only solution.

- Another new question to the list: did Maxwell Rayner’s interest in John Franklin’s expedition in MAG098 have to do with the fact that polar territories might be Dark-affiliated, given that we know that Ny-Ålesund is a Special Place for them (MAG025: “That far north… during the winter… nights can last for a very long time.” + Basira confirming it in MAG108), or was it because Rayner was trying to meddle with The Hunt? Algernon Moss, the statement-giver from MAG098 (May 14th 1864), had mentioned that Rayner hadn’t been too pleased about failing to get his hands on some documents related to John Franklin, hence Rayner sending The Sandman after him:

(MAG098, Algernon Moss) “His passion appears to be polar expeditions, and it’s rare to attend any social gathering with him where the subject does not eventually come up. In particular he seems to share that peculiarly specific mania regarding the fate of John Franklin and his lost expedition. I would assume he was intending to accompany such a party himself, were it not for the fact of his own blindness. […] I outbid him at an auction. It was nothing of note, so I assumed, though perhaps I should have considered his particular obsession. It was an oilskin packet of documents, supposedly from the log-books of Franklin’s lost ship, the HMS Terror.”

It really sounds like a coincidence and two interests converging (John Franklin got seized by The Hunt, while Rayner was more about the… place that Franklin was searching, ironically, but for Dark-related purposes), but then, it’s The Magnus Archives and coincidences are so very rare :|

- The fact introduced by MAG133 that Hunters could encompass explorers and people pursuing a place felt wonderfully logical, and even more with the idea that The Hunt wouldn’t want a culmination since it’s all about the chase… because there is something to be said about expectations grounded in fantasies, imagination and projection rather than tangible things? The more progress Percy’s expedition made, the more engrossed Jack sounded in an ideal that could never be fulfilled by reality and… indeed, it helped to conceptualize a bit more what The Hunt was about (and what it wasn’t about), as Daisy explained afterwards:

(MAG133, Percy Fawcett) “The ancient ruins, the statues and hieroglyphics, the sheer unrivalled beauty of it all. […] The world was changing with every day we marched forward, feverishly hunting for a destination I was no longer sure of. Raleigh hadn’t mentioned the city of “Z” for days, and Franklin at no point indicated any destination other than the Northwest Passage […]. And so the expedition began again, with no sign of progress or clear destination, only the pure focus and wild excitement to find… “it”. Whatever “it” was, wherever “it” might be, they would not stop, would never stop until “it” was found and taken. […] The most painful part was Jack, who would spend hours walking beside me, telling me of all the wonders we would see, all the delights we would be part of when we’d finally found “it” – or caught it, or killed it. Whatever it might have been. […] DAISY: I don’t think it was about that. ARCHIVIST: I’m not sure I understand? DAISY: Just a feeling. When I was– … You know what my least favourite part of a case was? […] Arresting them. I hated the handcuffs. The, the click. It meant the chase was done, the Hunt was over. Satisfying on a good day, sure, but… boorish. I never really wanted it to be over. ARCHIVIST: Hm. You don’t think The Hunt would let its ritual end? [PAUSE] You don’t think it would let them find the… culmination? DAISY: [BREATHLESS] I don’t know. … Maybe…? Sometimes I lost purpose because I let myself get too into it. Gave an opening just because I wanted to keep chasing. Like with you.

I wonder what prevented Percy from being seized by The Hunt, though? Was it his concerns/love for his son, acting as an anchor? In his case as with Lucia Wright, they both hid the fact that they weren’t actually willing participants of… whatever was happening around them, and made the conscious choice of deceiving the people surrounding them in the hope of making it out (MAG130: “I made the decision that… whatever was happening, my best chance to make it out was just to keep doing as I was asked.” / MAG133: “I sometimes thought I might burst out laughing, though I knew that would quickly change to sobbing and I would be exposed. I had felt my safest option was to feign that same obsession that gripped Raleigh, that had taken my son.”). Both Lucia and Percy shared some common interests with the other spook-fuelled people doing their ritual (the sense of religion, the obsession with finding the Lost City) but they managed to stay conscious and to not feel like they were part of the Grander Things happening, though they were direct actors: I wonder if there is something behind this? If they had something in them (anchoring thoughts maybe?) that prevented them from getting pulled into it? Or is it simply, once again, “the bias of survivorship” and… technically, a lot more people happened to be unwilling spectators and faked it so well that the statements we got failed to recognize that the others were in the same situation as them? Or is this a hidden commentary on passiveness leading to reluctant condoning and participating in witnessed wrongdoings, crime and injustice, instead of fighting them? I don’t know! (In Lucia and Percy’s cases, though: they were indeed at risk of getting killed; thrown into the meat pit or staked through.)

- On the 2nd of September 2007, Gertrude had mentioned that there were suspicions of The Hunt’s ritual taking place in North America. That might have been why Jon paid attention to this one, to clear up the question of Gertrude had gotten involved against it or not?

(MAG099) GERTRUDE: These additional researches have further cemented my belief that North America is going to be the focal point for the Buried. Now it’s just a matter of narrowing down the specifics of geography, and that may just come down to monitoring the right movement of supplies and people. I’m still not completely sold on the US for the Hunt, but that’s unlikely to be quite as urgent.

There was the infamous Hunter-creature from Lawrence Mortimer’s statement, prompting Jon to explicitly deny any interest in the matter (MAG031: “‘Wolfmen in America’ is too far-fetched and too far away for me to care about.” I doubt that comment was part of his Sceptic Act.); the events described happened in late November-early December 2010. We also know that Julia and Trevor (well. Mostly Trevor.) decided to go to America in the pursuit of a wolfman and had been stuck there for two years when they gave their statement in June 2017, so they arrived there around 2015. Both were posterior to Gertrude’s comment so… she got her suspicions from other sources or stories. It sounds like a lot of Hunters end up in America, indeed, though they might have “officially” disappeared from other places? Or was Percy’s jungle… a non-space at all, not more in the Amazon than in any other place?

- With the mention of Eduard von Toll’s expedition, which had disappeared in the pursuit of Zemlya Sannikova, at the beginning of the XXth century, I thought at first that… The Spiral had managed to derail The Hunt’s ritual by hiding the location point and/or by messing up with the explorers’ mind to ensure that they wouldn’t find their final destination? Since both Eduard von Toll and John Franklin were from a different timeframe as Percy, and Percy himself started losing track of time of space despite his attempts at putting some bits on paper (“This is where things started to turn, and my memory begins to fragment. I kept a journal, but the entries were… sporadic, and shaky, the dates no longer make sense: at some point I realized that there were no animals around us anymore, that the Amazon had become… strangely quiet. But I don’t know whether this was before or after I found the pile of dead birds in Raleigh’s tent. It must have been before; but my journal is not clear on the matter.”).

It’s really not a Spiral-only thing, though, indeed; we have had cases of… multiple entities twisting statement-givers’ sense of reality – or at least, examples in which what the person experienced didn’t seem to match the world as they knew it and as it should have been objectively. The Mysterious Tree at Hill Top Road had been uprooted by Ivo Lensik in November 2006 (MAG008), but Anya Villette reported seeing it in April 2009 (MAG114) while cleaning up the new house built on the property (+ Raymond Fielding, although officially dead by 1974, had been seen by Ivo in 2006, together with the glimpse of pigtails in the house, which matched young Agnes’s description + Anya found a basement in the new house, although there wasn’t supposed to be any, and it had cobwebs, like Raymond’s old house + Anya gave her statement on April 22nd despite asserting that she had cleaned the house on the 23rd and that it had been two weeks after the events). The Spiral attempted its ritual in Sannikov Land, which doesn’t exist, and Gertrude and Michael found it and temporarily walked on it despite that. Andrea Nunis got gradually “lost” in Genoa before she managed to come back to the normal town (MAG048). Vincent Yang’s watch “no longer matched the lock in the break room” after he was freed from the wooden crate, and he remembered spending four days inside of it by tracking time and light, despite coming out from it the day after he had gone to bed normally (MAG066). Craig Goodall got three fingers cut, and he saw them severed from him, but he came out of the experience with his hand whole (MAG072). I wonder if these cases are a fore-taste of what the world would feel like if one Fear managed to pull its ritual through, bending reality enough?

- There is something bittersweet but also comforting in the fact that Jon finally agreed to accept that they’re all changing? Comforting because he sounds less tortured about it and gives the impression that he has learned and has been listening to others, from being told the message to repeating it himself:

(MAG122) ARCHIVIST: […] I’m… I’m trying to focus. Trying to make sure I’m the same me as before, but… how can anyone really remember that? How do you know… you’re the same person that went to sleep…? […] I want to say I’m the same. But I don’t… really know if that’s true. I know I’m different. I feel… more real, somehow.

(MAG123) ARCHIVIST: […] Everything’s changed. … [SIGH] Two days out of a coma, and I’m already tired.

(MAG131) HELEN: Not this again. I’m not “wearing” anything, Archivist. I am at least as much “Helen Richardson” as you are the “Jonathan Sims” that first joined this institute. Things change. People change. It happens. ARCHIVIST: … We’re not “people”, though, are we? Not anymore. HELEN: Names, categories… it’s all so important to you, isn’t it? You do know none of it is actually real. It’s all just… meaningless boxes.

(MAG132) ARCHIVIST: Daisy… you should know I’m… If I wasn’t human before, I’m, uh… I’m even less now.

(MAG133) ARCHIVIST: [EXHALES] She is trying to keep a clear head. Stay away from The Hunt as much as possible. You valued her purpose. Her resolve. The sort of things– BASIRA: I get it. It’s her. ARCHIVIST: … We’ve all changed, Basira. BASIRA: Yeah, I just… I didn’t realize she’d change into someone who… can’t look after herself.

It could be worrisome (if you just accept that people “change” and that’s it, then what about them becoming worse, terrible, actively hurtful to others and fine with it?) but I don’t think that Jon meant it that way? More like… people change, and you can decide to stay by their side, because you feel that they’re still the person you liked or because they still bring you something, or you can leave it and go your own way and there is no point in dwelling on how they’re not the person you thought they were or liked to have by your side – and all of this is also valid for your own stance about yourself? The thing with Basira sounds like she’s been projecting her expectations of Daisy onto the Daisy who came back, and they were mostly revolving around Daisy’s potential “usefulness”. But the question should be more: does Basira like the Daisy who came back for herself, is she still the person Basira valued?

And indeed, they all have changed? Melanie has been reconsidering her anger and how it has fuelled her, but also harmed her. Helen became The Distortion. Jon “made his choice” and became The Archivist (whatever that… encompasses: we know about the added powers, we don’t yet know the downside of it except for going higher in Spook territory). Basira, who was so prone to calling people out, to gathering and sharing information, to gossiping and to devising plans with others, became the protector with the side-consequences we know. Daisy decided to become “better” and wants to stop being a Hunter. Martin has made a decision and is sticking to it (for now), going into self-sacrifice territory.

……………… I’m not sure that Martin will accept that people from Team Archive have “changed”, though, although he himself has. Because according to Tim:

(MAG086) MELANIE: […] I… I just feel like you two don’t want me here. TIM: We don’t. Martin’s not big on change. I don’t want anyone to be here.

So I’m really not sure that Martin will take well the fact that… The Distortion is now an ally, or that Daisy is back and will stick around and is someone that they need to protect a bit, or that… Jon woke up and got deeper into Beholding, got more powers, and is more ready than ever to take risks and injure himself if it means saving the people he cares about. (Well, it isn’t that different from before; just with added communication about it.)

- Despite what Jon told Daisy about his Insights:

(MAG133) DAISY: [BREATHING HEAVILY] Basira said you could just… “know” all this now anyway. ARCHIVIST: Yeah, it’s… I–I can’t really… control it.

… if feels like he’s been better in that regard, lately? He hasn’t mentioned Martin for a few episodes (since he came to talk to him again in MAG129) and, officially, he has managed to stay out of Basira’s activities:

(MAG133) BASIRA: I told you not to look in my head. ARCHIVIST: I didn’t. This one is just me.

Though I’m a bit suspicious about the fact that Jon used the word “defender” specifically, since:

(MAG133) ARCHVIST: You were hoping for a defender.

(MAG127) ELIAS: I believe you’ve recently lost Melanie. BASIRA: … We saved Melanie. ELIAS: As a person, yes, but as a defender… […] it would seem you’re in rather dire need of another option.

… Elias had been the one to use the term before. Not “(body)guard”, not “protector”, not “shield” or anything: defender. So either Basira had specifically worded it that way to Jon at least at some point, either Jon might not be exhaustively honest about what he knows (… either Elias is slipping into his mind, and that would be another source of dread), but I don’t feel like it was a coincidence.

- AOUCH did the Basira+Daisy heartbreak hurt, right away, as soon as Daisy mentioned that Basira currently wasn’t there, and… even more when Basira found Daisy, only to make her understand she wanted to talk to Jon alone (thus sending Daisy to do her exercises… alone, when she had precisely come to Jon for company). I feel like there might have been something of an echo, between the impossibility for Percy Fawcett and the other explorers to find a destination that could ever be as high as their expectations and the thrill of the chase, and Basira’s… own expectations regarding Daisy’s return? The atmosphere just grew colder when Basira came in, so much that even JON, OF ALL PEOPLE, picked up on it:

(MAG133) BASIRA: [IN THE ROOM] You could have done them alone. DAISY: … Sure. [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: Everything alright? BASIRA: Yeah… Daisy, could you… give us a minute? DAISY: Oh. Should I… BASIRA: Yeah, please. DAISY: … Sure. [DOOR CLOSES] ARCHIVIST: A–are you–

If Jon is able to tell that there is Drama Between Two Women, you know that the situation is very serious.

I’m trying to joke about it but: I’m heartbroken, it hurts, it hurts to see Daisy… clearly subdued and saddened that her current relationship with Basira is the way it is? They barely exchanged a few words and yet, you could definitely understand that Daisy is perfectly aware that Basira is not looking at her with joy or reassurance. I wonder if Daisy will try to endure it or will quickly reassert herself? Second option would probably be best but… given that Daisy is now aware and upset that she has done wrong things in the past, I fear that she could try to perceive Basira’s coldness as… something she deserved, or at least can’t complain about. As a form of retribution.

;; And I’m so glad that Jon took her defence and highlighted that Daisy had suffered hell, because she did, too? And aouch aouch at the obvious parallel between… the way Jon was expecting Martin when he woke up, and the way that Daisy was clearly expecting more warmth from Basira too.

(MAG123) ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] Fine… Fine. Haven’t seen Martin about yet? BASIRA: Yeah, he comes and goes. He’s busy. Well, he seems it. ARCHIVIST: Working for Peter Lukas.

(MAG124) ARCHIVIST: Wh–where have you been, I–I mean, I–I–I thought– MARTIN: N–no, no, I’ve… I’ve been here, I just, er… Y’know. Been busy. ARCHIVIST: Busy. MARTIN: Yeah. ARCHIVIST: … Right. Working for Lukas.

(MAG133) DAISY: It’s just… Basira’s busy. ARCHIVIST: I–I understand.

Basira and Martin are both “busy” and… working for/with terrible people on the side (well, it’s still not totally clear if Basira has indeed been following Elias’s leads, but that’s the logical assumption right now.)

As usual in this series: I just love (even when it breaks my heart) how you quickly understand where the characters stand and why they’re acting the way they are, and how they could feel like the whole situation is unfair to them. Daisy got stuck in the coffin for eight months, unable to die and with no hope of getting out (“… I thought, thought I’d… I’d ne–never see the s-sky again, never… never s–see Basira…”) before Jon managed to find her; she’s physically and psychologically affected; she has to remain careful and to try not to fall back into The Hunt, despite the fact that her “last connection to humanity” (MA092) would have rather liked to get a Hunter back; and Daisy confessed to Jon that she wanted “to be better”… but has yet to find a way to achieve this except by being the most passive and neutral she can. On the other hand, Basira spent six months keeping the Archives afloat while Jon was in a coma, barely managing to convince herself that Daisy was dead (MAG122: “They still haven’t found her body. Probably never will. I thought for a while she might’ve… but. It’s been months. She’s gone.”); she witnessed Martin’s fall, she more or less contained Melanie; she suffered Jared’s attack; and she kept doing her work alone, to the extent of listening to Elias, without getting stellar results (at least officially). Nobody had a great time and nobody was there for anyone else – although Jon is pushing more and more in that direction nowadays.

- ;; It’s especially sad, regarding Basira, considering that… Trevor had described The Hunt as an addiction, something you couldn’t easily escape, something that would always pull you back to it:

(MAG056, Trevor Herbert) “In the early 80s, I was deep in the grip of my twin addictions. As I mentioned, after a while, the hunt became an addiction of its own. Of the two, I’ve always found heroin the easier one to quit. […] But the hunt… the hunt is a purpose. It’s not just a way to get through the day, it’s a reason for there to be a day at all. […] Ah, it’s a shame I’m on the way out. I will miss the hunt.”

And it should be a good thing that Daisy has decided to call it quits, to try to free herself from it! And she would need support for this! And it’s something that Jon heard and kept in mind, although he’s awkward about it (making her talk and telling her she is a Hunter when she would like to keep it in the past)! But the way Basira reacts, I can’t help but fear that Daisy is at risk of falling back into The Hunt and losing herself, out of a desire to be useful and valuable to Basira once again… I wonder if this is why Jon quickly took the reins of the discussion with Basira and insisted on Daisy’s situation and on the way Basira was coming close to extreme (and harmful or self-destructive) past examples, namely Gertrude and Tim? Because he fears that Daisy, too, could take a wrong turn in that context?

At the same time, given how… Daisy had accepted her Fate when she awoke in the coffin (MAG132: “Y–you know what I thought wh–when I woke up here? I thought this was hell; I wa–, I was dead, and within hell. And I… eh, I–I knew I deserved it…”), and how she accepted to leave when Basira told her to, although clearly distraught… Daisy is beginning to skyrocket in my list of people who could die soon (YES, ALTHOUGH WE JUST GOT HER BACK): by sacrificing herself to protect people – not even Basira specifically – while stopping another ritual, or another threat, out of her own free will. She’s lacking a drive right now, and that could really well serve as a new goal to… make up for her previous hurtful actions, in her mind. I don’t want anyone in Team Archive to die (I’M STILL MOURNING SASHA AND TIM, ALRIGHT???), but that could feel narratively satisfying? ;;

- Random screaming because:

1°) Basira, if your “good intelligence” was what Elias told you in MAG127: put that in the trash where it belongs, p l e a s e, you’re better than this ;; 2°) … I can’t even tell “who that reminds me of”, Jon. Are you talking about yourself and how you handled things until the second half of second 3 (and with the coffin recently)? Are you talking about Tim stalking the circus? Are you talking about Martin’s current Mysterious Activities? I have no idea. There are too many options about that one.

- … Shockingly, it’s also, technically, the most… actual “boss” that Jon has felt since the beginning of the series? Making sure that people under his authority wouldn’t make each other miserable?

(MAG133) ARCHIVIST: And give Daisy a break. She was there eight months. [EXHALES] I was only in there for three days, and I– BASIRA: Yeah, I know. I just… ARCHIVIST: What? BASIRA: Nothing. I’ve got work to do.

(AND GUUUUH… I FEEL LIKE EVEN THOUGH BASIRA MANAGED TO KEEP HER MASK ON ALL THROUGH THE EXCHANGE, she… began to slip with that “I just…”: suddenly, there was something underneath, with that aposiopesis, something Basira is not telling, refusing to tell, feeling like she can’t allow herself to tell. I wonder why: if it’s because she doesn’t want to be heard by Jon, by Beholding/Elias, or if she simply doesn’t want to exteriorise a few feelings because then, she would have to act on them when she… feels like there should be other priorities.

I wonder if Basira is not driven, overall, by a fear of… feeling powerless? She quit the police after witnessing something she deemed unfair, in a situation she wasn’t able to do anything against (MAG075: “They’re covering it up. Altman’s death. Saying he was dirty. That he got stabbed in a botched drug deal. […] I mean, I didn’t know Leo well, but… it’s not right. And they seemed happy enough to get me out the door.”), and Elias had recently played on her sense of vulnerability (MAG127: “I would have thought you would want all the help you could get, or… have you forgotten what happened last time you lay your guard down? […] Then again: you are beset by enemies on all sides, Basira.”).

At the very least: it hurts, Basira hurts, the fact that Daisy is hurt by Basira hurts… but Basira clearly isn’t an emotionless robot. She cares (“No, she still sounds like her. Says things Daisy would say, laughs like her. […] I would never abandon Daisy and, having her back is… [SIGH]”). And despite the similitudes with Gertrude (YOU REALLY DON’T WANT TO BE COMPARED TO HER, Jan and Michael and the people in Alexandria say hi), I’m really not sure that she would be ready to sacrifice people other than herself if necessary? She has been trying things out alone, it hasn’t succeeded (at least officially: she came back from her three weeks-trip without anything to show for it), I could easily picture that her frustration would make her even more adamant about going solo… but Jon might have struck a chord with this episode. We’ll see ;;

- Looks like the episode definitely confirmed, although implicitly, that Jon had listened to the assistants’ testaments from MAG117, since:

(MAG133) ARCHIVIST: […] You valued her purpose. Her resolve. The sort of things– BASIRA: I get it. It’s her.

=> sounded like a nod to Basira’s perception of Daisy:

(MAG117) BASIRA: […] But at least Daisy’s coming along. I mean… I know she’s… difficult. Everything they say about her, it’s true, it’s fair. But… she’s solid. She’s a fixed point. And if she’s there, I know exactly where I stand, exactly what I’m doing relative to her. She has no doubts. We go in, we plant bombs, we leave, we blow it all to hell. Or we die. I don’t think I’ll ever have clarity like that.

And the comparison to Tim:

(MAG133) BASIRA: […] But right now, she’s dead weight. And I need to be able to travel light. ARCHIVIST: … You’re starting to sound like Gertrude. BASIRA: Good. As far as I can see, Gertrude Robinson was the most effective person in this place. ARCHIVIST: … That’s what Tim said as well.

=> sounded like a direct reference to:

(MAG117) TIM: […] From what I can tell, there’s only one person who’s ever managed to hurt them, to reaaally hurt them. And that’s Gertrude Robinson. She was cold, ruthless, and she hit them when they were vulnerable, and she sacrificed a lot of people to do it. Honestly? I hope that Jon learned something from her, because… because I don’t expect I’m going to be coming back from this. I don’t know if I want to. And if he needs to pull the trigger, to use me to stop it, well, he better have the guts to do it.

(And the nod about Gertrude was from Gerard’s description in MAG111: “She travelled light. Left things behind.”)

I… am glad that Jon quickly saw the pattern repeating and called Basira out on it? Bad experiences from the past are not forgotten, and could help to… avoid another disaster? And yes, maybe something even worse will strike, but at least, it’s giving me the feeling that… Tim’s spiralling downfall wasn’t exactly for nothing, if it can serve as a counter-example and a demonstration of how things could go wrong?

(MAG133) ARCHIVIST: […] Look, I’ve… been where you are. BASIRA: Have you? ARCHIVIST: Yes, I have. Like you’re the only one responsible for everyone, the weight of all their lives on your shoulders: it leads to bad decisions. BASIRA: Yeah, well. When I get myself kidnapped three times in a row, maybe I’ll look to you for advice. ARCHIVIST: Bad decisions, like wasting three weeks chasing dead ends and false leads, rather than talking to us about the plan. BASIRA: I told you not to look in my head. ARCHIVIST: I didn’t. This one is just me. You’ve not mentioned anything about where you were, avoided talking about what you might have learned, and that file that you were studying clippings from? Empty.

(Jon said “us”!! There is still a “us”, it’s not only about him!! ;_;) (Also, COLD, BASIRA, COLD.)

Jon told Basira she was reminding him of Gertrude and Tim, while Jon himself has been studying and following Gertrude’s notes and actions. I feel like there was really something about Jon… learning from the past: from what objectively happened, but also from the mistakes and the tragedies he witnessed or committed – being now ready to weaponise them? He honestly was… very very good, when talking with Basira: pausing and summarising Basira’s own feelings, and Daisy’s, and… pointing out that there were actually other options when Basira acted as if there were none?

(MAG133) ARCHIVIST: You were hoping for a defender. BASIRA: I was hoping for someone I can trust to share the load. Because right now, it’s all on me. ARCHIVIST: [EXHALES, SLOW] It doesn’t have to be. BASIRA: Hm. ARCHIVIST: You’re not happy she is back.

Calling for teamwork and joined contributions! Jon really upgraded himself this season, overall? He gained in patience, he seems to understand that his words have effects and that situations can get out of control if he says the wrong thing; he’s able to apologise, to step back, but also to be a tiny bit provocative and to dig where it could hurt but… not to destroy people, but to point out the threat and risks in their train of thoughts? He told Martin that he was worried about him working with Peter; he told Basira that she was becoming closer to Gertrude, which is something that we could feel and fear previously, and pointed out that her methods weren’t working so far, putting her… on the defensive. He adapted to her reasoning, and yes, it feels sad that he didn’t manage to get her to trust him, and that he seems to exclude the idea that she could, but I do like that he’s not giving up on the possibility of them collaborating.

(MAG133) BASIRA: Maybe I found something and I’m not sharing. ARCHIVIST: You didn’t, though, did you? BASIRA: I had good intelligence. ARCHIVIST: Which you charged off to investigate without telling anyone. You know who that reminds me of? BASIRA: Drop it. ARCHIVIST: … Fine. I don’t care if you trust me, but I think I’ve proven at the very least that I’m useful. So use me. Because if you go it alone, you are going to die. Even Gertrude worked with people. We make bad decisions when we don’t communicate… BASIRA: [HUFF] You literally just jumped into a spooky coffin without telling anybody! ARCHIVIST: … Case in point. BASIRA: [EXHALES] Okay.

He managed to get a few points across? They can still be on the same wavelength even if Basira chooses to not trust him? It feels like a lot of what Jon tries to offer is with the intent of… keeping people alive, whatever their relationships might be. And compared to the beginning of season 3, it’s not by pushing people away; it’s through a mix of allowing people to follow their own path, preventing them from repeating his own mistakes, and insisting that they factor him in and what he can offer, on their own terms. Jon has been very good at communication? And he’s giving me… hope that things could get a bit better, since he’s gradually managing to get on better ground with people around him, and saving them in some ways – Melanie’s bullet was removed, although she isn’t fine at the moment; he told Martin that he missed him and was worried for him (and Martin hasn’t stopped, sure: but at the same time, words of concern and care might help, on the long run, to repel The Lonely’s influence a bit?); he managed to get out of the coffin with Daisy; he got a few points across with Basira. It’s not ideal, but it feels hopeful, in a way, because characters are aware of the past mistakes and are ready to fight to prevent a repeat. Though I don’t know if it’s meant to lead to something (Jon is managing stuff! Jon is a bit more in control and aware of what is happening around him! There could be a non-heartbreaking ending to this situation!), or is currently giving us a false sense of security before something strikes and makes Jon realizes that, no, the situation has always been out of his control because there are other people with more experience and knowledge on the chessboard.

- What a treat, lately, that we’re getting answers fast about Jon’s new injuries or traumatic experiences! Same as with Melanie stabbing him (happening at the end of MAG125, location explained during MAG127), I wasn’t expecting to learn so quickly how long Jon had stayed inside of the coffin:

(MAG133) ARCHIVIST: And give Daisy a break. She was there eight months. [EXHALES] I was only in there for three days, and I–

(I always remember how it had taken us from MAG047 to MAG053 to get the confirmation that Michael had indeed cut Jon quite deeply since it required ~five stitches~. It’s like Jonny has understood our Priorities and chosen to indulge us a bit.) Also, always a good time to remember Peter’s words:

(MAG126) MARTIN: … When all this is over, I’m telling him everything, with or without your permission. PETER: Martin… when it’s over, you won’t want to. MARTIN: … Mm. PETER: But he will be safe. They all will.

Jon: *gets visited by an agent of The End in his hospital room, stabbed in the shoulder in the tunnels by a Slaughter-affected person, aggressively visited in his office by the remaining half of a Stranger monster, followed and led around (and likely manipulated) by Spiders, enters The Distortion’s door again, gets two ribs taken out from him by a Flesh avatar, spends three days stuck in The Buried’s coffin* Peter “if ‘Elias is very protective of his people’ then lol what does it say about me regarding employees who are not even My People” Lukas: This is fine Martin. When you put this into perspective, Jon is going to be daijobou :)

- Daisy went to Jon because she didn’t want to stay on her own; Basira keeps investigating secret things without opening up to anyone about them; Jon felt “alone” and “lonely” when he went back to the Institute… y e a h, sounds more and more likely that The Lonely is messing with them a bit. … Are Melanie and Helen more-or-less safe because they seem to be mostly staying in the tunnels?

- I still wonder what the deal was with the tape recorders at the end of MAG132: it doesn’t sound like Basira did something? Was it only in Jon’s office, or did it happen over the entire Institute? Do Peter and Martin know about it?

- Jon’s main line of study seems to still follow Gertrude’s notes and to investigate how she stopped rituals. He hadn’t sounded especially enthralled at the prospect of learning more about it when he remembered the notebook, when he got a little more information about the preparation leading to The Spiral’s ritual? And then, it was a mix of spooky Beholding powers giving him Knowledge about The Buried’s, and The Web sending him a tape from Gertrude gift-wrapped in cobwebs about The Flesh’s, so not… exactly Jon’s conscious and explicit decision:

(MAG126) ARCHIVIST: […] … I remembered Gertrude’s notebook; we found it alongside the plastic explosives […]. It… it’s borderline incomprehensible, not because of any code or cypher – there’s every chance I could read those; just simply because… most of it is… numbers or fragments of sentences that would no doubt mean something to her, but… well, not to me. I’ve been staring at it for hours, in the hope something from it would just… come to me. And it worked well enough to point me towards this statement, which is… useful background, and perhaps gives some insight into how Gertrude formulated her counter-rituals, but… not much more.

(MAG129) ARCHIVIST: Even as I say it, I can feel the knowledge, pushing in my mind. Eager to find a way in. But I don’t want it. I don’t want to know. … I don’t want to see. … No more than I wanted to see how Gertrude stopped The Buried and their ritual, but that came to me as well.

(MAG130) GERTRUDE: When I heard there’d been survivors of “The Last Feast”, I was rather concerned that one of them might be able to positively identify me […]. At least we know for sure that these “grand rituals” can be disrupted by conventional means, though a more… nuanced approach will be needed for some of them, I’m sure. Also… I can’t rely on having this much lead time. […] ARCHIVIST: Even so, and… leaving aside the matter of Gertrude’s actions for a moment… what is it trying to tell me with this? Is it about… rituals? About getting Daisy back? About… about an anchor.

However, in MAG133, it was absolutely explicit that Jon was indeed conducting his own investigation about The Hunt’s ritual attempt:

(MAG133) ARCHIVIST: I… just wondered. I’ve been looking for evidence of, er… a Hunt ritual. Er, to see if it was one of the ones Gertrude stopped. And this is the closest thing I’ve been able to find.

So he’s indeed investigating the counter-rituals right now, whether it’s the only thing he feels like he can do at the moment (since Martin is out or reach and Daisy is recovering and Basira is not ready to rely on him yet) or he just downplayed his interest before. Jon used to work with middle to long-term goals: re-ordering the Archives (and learning a bit more about Jane Prentiss’s intentions) in season 1; discovering who killed Gertrude, why, and what Gertrude’s activities exactly entailed in season 2; finding out what he was becoming and how to stop The Unknowing in season 3. Currently, there is still no mention of whatever Jon’s plans or intentions are: it seems safe to assume that it involves ensuring that no other ritual succeeds, including The Eye’s, but Jon… technically still hasn’t said anything. He seems almost content just learning more about them, right now, which, oops, looks like a very Beholding behaviour ;;

(At the same time, yeah, uh, it’s prrrrrobably safer to not mention anything about planning to wreck any chance of Beholding’s ritual attempt in Beholding’s own temple? Better to stay absolutely neutral on the subject, like Basira did in MAG123 when she explained to Jon that Beholding was one of the few that hadn’t had a chance at its ritual yet during this round.)

So, amongst the ones that Gertrude was confirmed to have stopped or studied a bit, we now have:

* The Buried: “The Sunken Sky”, 17th June 2008, in Bucoda, Washington (USA). Stopped by Gertrude by throwing pieces of Jan Kilbride’s Vast-touched body into the pit (MAG097, MAG129).

* The Flesh: “The Last Feast”, October 2009, under an old Gnostic temple near Istanbul (Turkey). Stopped by Gertrude and Adelard Dekker thanks to a bunch of explosives (MAG130).

* The Spiral: “The Great Twisting”, somewhere between October 2009 and 2015, in Sannikov Land, which does not exist (somewhere in the Arctic). Stopped by Gertrude by sending Michael Shelley with a map inside of The Distortion, to fuse with it (MAG101, MAG126).

* The Hunt: “The Everchase”, ongoing for at least the past two centuries, aggregating Hunters in America. No culmination (MAG133).

* The Stranger: “The Unknowing”, 7th August 2017, at the House of Wax in Great Yarmouth (UK). Preparations to stop it begun by Gertrude with Adelard’s help; effectively stopped by Basira, Daisy, Tim and Jon thanks to plastic explosive (MAG118, MAG119). Previous attempt was in October 1787, at the Court Theatre of Buda, Hungary, and was stopped by an agent of The Slaughter (MAG116).

Status absolutely unknown at the moment, as far as I can tell (bearing in mind that according to Gerry, some might not have a ritual at all):

* The Lonely (though Peter Lukas transported Gertrude and Michael Shelley to stop The Spiral, so Gertrude probably didn’t meddle with the Lukases, at least before that, or not too obviously?)

* The Web (but somethingsomething what the heck happened at Hill Top Road, what happened on November 23rd 2006 with Agnes’s death and the Tree and Ivo Lensik, what happened to That Table for it to go here and there)

* The Slaughter (but Gertrude went to the Pu Songling Research Centre in Beijing to read a statement about this one, in 2004)

* The Vast * The End

Some that Gertrude referenced, or was cautious about, or was preparing to stop, or might have stopped already:

* The Desolation: apparently stopped not so long before October 2014 (MAG087, Gertrude: “It interests me that Jude Perry would be involved. I was unaware that The Lightless Flame had had any contact with the Stranger’s ilk, but I suppose it makes sense that it would be a possible ally to the Devastation, especially since their own plans have so recently, erm, gone up in flames.”), and the fact that Jude really had no love lost for Gertrude in MAG089 also implied that Gertrude might have indeed actively messed with them. Their ritual attempt might have had to do with the site with the bottles containing Gertrude’s pictures in Scotland, near Loch Glass (MAG037)?

* The Corruption: Gertrude’s laptop revealed that she had bought pesticide (MAG066: “There’s also the matter of the products she was ordering. There were several online orders of petrol, lighter fluid, pesticides, and high-powered torches. They are sporadic, but notable, in that she did not drive, smoke or work in pest control.”) and there might have been something attempted during the Prentiss siege against the Magnus Institute on 29th July, 2016, due to some worms forming a “ring” in the tunnels (MAG041: “Then I found the circle of worms. […] a few were still embedded in the wall providing the clear outline of a circle. The ceiling was higher here, and all told it must have been about… ten feet in diameter. Its size was not the most disconcerting thing though. Inside the circle, the stone was… wrong somehow.”)

* The Dark: Gertrude’s laptop revealed that she had bought many, many torches (MAG066: “The torches would make sense, if it wasn’t for the quantities in which she ordered them.”), which gave Jon the idea of telling Basira to take a lot along when the police went after Maxwell Rayner (MAG072: “Bring torches. […] As many as you can get your hands on.”). Unclear as of now if the People’s Church of the Divine Host attempted their ritual in Hither Green Chapel on May 15th, 2015, the night Gertrude officially died (MAG025) and roughly when a full solar eclipse was happening in Ny-Ålesund (MAG108), or on February 10th, 2017 in the industrial complex up in Harringay, with the kidnapping of Callum Brodie (MAG072, MAG073); Jon thought that someone had tipped the police about that last operation – we still don’t know who (Adelard? Elias?). Jon spotted people sporting the symbol of the cult recently (MAG125: “I’ve seen two different people wearing symbols for the People’s Church of the Divine Host”).

* The Eye: “The Rite of the Watcher’s Crown”. According to Gerry Keay, it was the next one on Gertrude’s list together with “The Unknowing”, and she had already devised a plan to stop it (MAG111: “She didn’t tell me much about that one, just that she knew how to take care of it”), which might have involved reducing the Archives to ashes (MAG080: “I assume [Elias] discovered we were planning to destroy the Archives.”, “Planning a little light arson, are we Jurgen?” / MAG092: “So. For the avoidance of any doubt. I killed Gertrude Robinson because she intended to destroy the Archives.”).

I would say that we’re more likely to learn about The Desolation or The Corruption next? We previously got some info about their activities and we haven’t heard a statement involving them yet in season 4. Aaand those two had a connection through Arthur Nolan, member of the cult of the Lightless Flame, who was Jane Prentiss’s landlord and knew that The Hive was in his property and had “mumbled something about hoping it wouldn’t get this far” (MAG055) when Jordan Kennedy had taken care of it, before putting himself on fire…

The Dark might get cleared up (ha.) when we’ll meet one of its avatars, since we’ve never heard one live yet and we know that some people from the cult are lurking around. … Plus, Jon is missing an Experience (and a scar) from The Dark, as of now. So they might attack soon-ish, I guess ;;

(And/or maybe Jon will get another perspective from Daisy about the Callum Brodie case? Basira stated, when recounting the operation in MAG073, that Daisy had been amongst the sectioned officers sent after Maxwell Rayner.)

Titles of the week are out, I DO NOT LIKE MAG134’s godsdamnit!!! No idea about what it could be about except from regular “Mmm maybe uncovering one of the Mysteries: Adelard’s researches? Peter’s agenda? Jon’s intentions? Elias’s plans? Basira’s investigations? What the heck happened at Hill Top Road? What was the deal with Agnes? Did Gertrude really destroy Eric Delano’s page and is he indeed Gerry’s dad?”, but I can’t help but get reminded of Peter’s “Must be the End Time!” from MAG108, or feel like it could maybe be about… The Dark? For the irony of it? Don’t know, I was totally off the mark for MAG133, but once again: I’m WORRIED :|

#where are you the admiral; you have another target to comfort #long post/#mag133 #tma liveblog #the magnus archives #tma season 4 #tma spoilers/

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wineanddinosaur · 3 years

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Next Round: The Wines of Roussillon Step Into the Spotlight

Nestled in the south of France next to Spain, Roussillon produces a rich diversity of high-quality wines at incredible value. Known for its old vines, the region offers a diverse range of dry wines in all colors and fortified sweet wines known as vins doux naturels, a longstanding regional specialty. Bringing together a small community of winemaker families, the sunniest region of France is ideal for organic vine growing. Unveil the secrets of Roussillon’s incredible wines on its new Instagram page @drinkroussillon.

On this episode of “Next Round,” hosts Adam Teeter and Zach Geballe chat with sommeliers Caleb Ganzer and Tim Geiser about all things Roussillon wines. Roussillon, the southernmost wine region in France, is an exciting, diverse region of dry wines. Not only is this region known for its organic and biodynamic wine-growing, its wines are also becoming recognized for their incredible value.

Historically, Roussillon has made predominantly sweet wines, but consumers will now see dry wines from the Roussillon region entering the U.S. market. Blends made from varieties such as Grenache, Grenache Blanc, and Carignan are what consumers will see from this up-and-coming region. In addition, listeners will also learn which foods pair well with Roussillon wines.

Tune in to become an expert on Roussillon wines.

Listen Online

Listen on Apple Podcasts

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Or Check out the Conversation Here

Adam Teeter: From Brooklyn, New York, I’m Adam Teeter.

Zach Geballe: And in Seattle, Wash., I’m Zach Geballe.

A: And this is the “VinePair Podcast.” All right. What’s going on, Zach?

Z: Doing well. Moved in, feeling pretty comfortable in the new house. My son has already forgotten what the old house looks like, so that’s good. I was worried it was gonna be a lot more traumatic for him to move, but he’s just young enough. At least right now, it’s a big adventure. How about you, man?

A: I’m pretty pumped for spring. Today is a colder day, but it is definitely spring in New York, which is awesome. There’s an energy that you can feel, which is cool. People are making plans and talking about potentially going places this summer. A lot of people I know either had both their vaccines or they’ve got one, or they’ve got their appointments set up. It really feels like things are moving forward, which is awesome.

Z: Do you have travel plans?

A: Not yet. I’m trying to figure that out, actually. I want to go somewhere, just how everybody does, but I don’t really know where. This summer, I am still not 100 percent on traveling to Europe. I believe their rollout has been slower. I don’t want to go to a place where there are still potential lockdowns. I’ve been talking a bunch with Naomi about some places that we enjoyed in the past. I’ve only ever been to Maine once. That seems to be the hot place people are going. I don’t know if that happens in Seattle, but all of a sudden, New Yorkers get this one destination and they all go there. Last summer, everyone went to Maine. I’m seeing that again and VinePair writes a little bit about travel but all the travel journalists I know, that’s all they’re writing about. It’s all about Maine. Everyone’s going to be there, so I might not go. I also enjoy Providence. I enjoy the Finger Lakes a lot. Actually, one of our guests also had a really cool pop-up in the Finger Lakes last summer. I wasn’t traveling anywhere last summer, but I wonder if he’ll tell us if they’re doing that again this summer. Anyways, I love that region. Also, I like to go to Virginia because it’s close enough that I can rent a car and drive pretty quickly. They have an up-and-coming wine region as well. Why am I talking about my travel plans that oddly has something to do with alcohol?

Z: Because this is the “VinePair Podcast.”

A: If I could do it, I would get on a plane and go to the West Coast. I just don’t know how long I want to sit on a plane with a mask on. Obviously, I have no problem wearing a mask. I’m just talking about it for my own comfort. Have you thought about any travel plans?

Z: Yeah, it’s funny. That feeling of things changing, I think, for me and my wife, it was unclear when we would be able to get vaccinated. Then all of a sudden, all these things came together where we were eligible to get vaccinated, we bought the house, and now we’re moving into the house. Now, we can actually turn our attention to something like travel. Obviously, I haven’t been anywhere in the last year, either. There are certainly lots here in Washington that I’d like to do. I don’t know when it’s going to be possible, but I would love to go up to British Columbia. I don’t know when the border is going to open again. That might be later in the year or 2022. California has been calling to me. There’s so much there. For me, I’ve just realized that one of the weak points in my wine knowledge, sadly, is a lot of the California wine country that’s not north of the Bay. Everything from Monterey to Santa Barbara, etc. I’ve tried some of the wines, but I’ve never really visited wineries or spent much time there from a wine perspective. It’s definitely on my list to consider. If you all have suggestions, you know how to get hold of us, I’m sure Adam and I would be happy to consider something off the beaten path. Possibly take a trip to Texas wine country.

A: Yes, please contact [email protected]. I also might want to go somewhere and not do anything. I just want to know that there’s really great food and drink. It’s amazing how hard that is to figure out, to be honest. When you start doing searches online, you just want to find a place that’s nice, comfortable and I know has great food and beverage because I care about that. Those things are hard to find. I’m not that all-inclusive person. I don’t want to go to the Caribbean and go to a buffet. That’s just not my thing, but I wouldn’t mind going to a really great boutique hotel or something in an area that has great restaurants and not really move much. For me, when I go traveling, especially when there is anything to do with alcohol, I will never get behind the wheel of a car even if I had one drink. I like to find places where I can walk or I know that there is transportation because I lived in New York for 15 years, and I don’t have a car. That also is even crazier for me. Anyway, let’s kick off the show. Zach, would you like to introduce our guests?

Z: I would be thrilled to. We have a distinct pleasure of having two really esteemed guests, master sommelier Tim Geiser, who in his extensive career has done everything in the world of wine. Then, Caleb Ganzer, who is sommelier, wine director at Compagnie des Vins Surnaturels in Manhattan. Tim and Caleb, thank you so much for joining us.

Tim Geiser: Thank you.

Caleb Ganzer: A pleasure to be here. Thanks for having us.

A: Thanks, guys. Obviously, we have you on to talk about a really great wine region, Roussillon. Before we jump into that, because we did mention some things, what’s going on for both of you professionally? Caleb, we’ll kick off with you because you were the person I was alluding to and I was talking about the project you did in the Finger Lakes. What else are you up to or have planned for the next few months?

C: Yeah. We had been going up to the Finger Lakes a fair bit, taken bus trips during normal times, and bringing folks up. Leave at 7 a.m., get there, spend a whole day on the ground and then bring a bunch of loaded people back to the city. It was cool to have that foundation. Then, once the pandemic struck and we couldn’t do anything in New York City, literally couldn’t even operate, I noticed that places outside of the city were open. I said, “Well, maybe we should just do something really stupid, like try to open up a pop-up in a month or two and run it up there.” And we did. It was great. This year, everything is so different. We’re focusing on rebuilding the city, getting our team back together here in New York City. We’re always looking around to see if there are some other good real estate opportunities, and maybe we’ll have another wine bar at the end of this, I have no idea. As far as the Finger Lakes is concerned, we won’t be back this year. Hopefully next year. It was amazing to have a wine bar in a wine region. That’s always been a dream of mine. It was just a tease, so hopefully more to come in the future.

A: Very cool. What about you, Tim?

T: Well, last year I was on a laptop because previous to that, 90 percent of what I do is get on a plane and go somewhere and do something. The good news is that I finished a draft for a tasting book, which I’ve been trying to do for about 10 years. I don’t have a name for it guys, you got to help me. Then, I’ve been working on a huge project for the Wine Institute and just doing a lot of writing. Here behind the Adobe curtain, there’s not too many people. The pandemic hasn’t been that bad. Fortunately, we’re in a nice house, and it’s been OK. I miss teaching people and seeing people for sure.

A: Very much so. Let’s get into the topic of Roussillon. I hope we could jump off with the basics. Some people may be very familiar with the region, others not. Can you explain what the region is? If you started from the beginning of the podcast, I’m sure you heard the ad at the top of the show, which has a little bit to do with descriptions of the region. However, can you give us a description of the region? Place us where we are and what we should be thinking about as we have this discussion?

T: Well, Roussillon is the southernmost wine region in France. It’s literally up against the Pyrenees and the Spanish border. Viticulture goes back to, I think, 6th century B.C.E. when the Greeks showed up. It’s about 46,000 acres in size. The stigma about the Roussillon is that people mention it with the Languedoc all the time, which is similar to mentioning Poughkeepsie and Brooklyn in the same breath. Only imagine if Poughkeepsie was the size of New York. Again, it’s a unique place because it’s bordered by the Mediterranean on one side and by mountain ranges on the other three sides. You’ve got a lot of vineyards planted at elevation and also the influence of the Mediterranean through seven different winds. That means there’s a lot of organic and biodynamic growing. There are really low yields. The wine quality is amazing for the value of what you pay for a bottle of wine. There is a lot of incredible potential for such an ancient place for wine in France.

Z: Very cool. Caleb, can you give us some perspective on some of the dominant varieties or styles of wine that we would find in Roussillon?

C: Yeah, absolutely. It’s hard to start talking about Roussillon without delving into, I think, its most famous exports and creation, and frankly, its addition to wine culture at large was the process of mutage. Well before people understood why it was working, they understood that if you added some distilled booze into a fermenting vessel, it killed whatever turned the thing into booze and you kept some of the sweetness. Then, of course, the Portuguese later became more famous for that style of wine, which is creating essentially fortified sweet wines. They’ve been doing it there for hundreds of years. The market for sweet wine dried up, all puns intended, in the ‘60s. Now, it’s almost impossible to sell sweet wine, which there is still a little bit of a market for it. You have those tasting menus, also cocktails. There’s a lot of different ways. Some people like to drink it and there’s obviously nothing wrong with it. However, when taste changes, the market has to change with it. They’ve pivoted a lot to more dry styles. You see a lot of Grenache, Grenache Blanc, and Carignan in the region. You do see some Syrah, Mourvèdre, sometimes some Vermentino, the Mediterranean blend, if you will. The vast majority is Grenache, Grenache Blanc, and Carignan, a lot of the grapes that they would use for the vins doux naturels. I think what’s really cool is the people that are making the sweet wines still very much hone the tradition. However, what is going to pay the bills is going to be the drier styles of wine. Echoing what Tim was mentioning, you do have tons of low yields. You have tons of old-vine material, too, which is, like people, the older you get, the less work you do, but the quality is great. There’s sometimes only a bunch or two on each vine. Those are such coddled grapes, and the purity is insane. Even at all price points, I love going to the Roussillon with $10, $15, $20 a bottle. It goes a long way there for dry whites and reds.

A: For these wines, obviously, we’re consuming them here in the U.S. Are they also widely consumed across France? Are they mostly consumed in the region?

C: The best part about most producing regions is that they do drink a lot of their stuff, and I think they make their way around Spain oddly enough. When you’re in the Roussillon, technically you’re in France, but culturally you’re in Catalonia. They fly the yellow and red flag of Catalonia everywhere. If you’re there, you are Catalonian first before you are French, before you are Spanish, or whatever. They drink a lot in Barcelona. It’s very hip to be drinking Roussillon wines because it’s their distant cousin.

A: Interesting.

C: Also, you do see a lot of export. I spend a little bit of time in Australia. You see a lot of Roussillon wines there. The flavors are great. You get the ripeness that a lot of people ask for in full-bodied reds, so it’s a really well-balanced wine. We have a Cab right now that we’re pouring. It’s a Cab-Merlot blend. It’s from the Roussillon. It’s hyper-delicious. It smells almost like a Château Margaux and Bordeaux. Then, you dive in and it has this fresh acidity, which is the best of both worlds

A: Is that just due to how much sun they get during the day, but then it gets super cool at night?

C: That’s very much part of it. Also, there’s the terroir element of sort of what the earth is doing and what the sun is doing. There’s also the terroir element in what the people do. They like well-balanced wines that are fresh and zippy. In a lot of the meals there you’re eating meat and fish so you do need some of those red fruit flavors, but you also still need it to be light on its feet.

Z: Tim, you mentioned before that one of the things with the region is that it gets lumped in with the Languedoc. I think sometimes it gets painted with this brush of the region that isn’t dedicated to “quality production” because there aren’t a bunch of AOC’s and there’s not a lot of famous appellations. I wonder, especially as Caleb was mentioning, the change in the industry that’s happened since those sweet wines became less popular, is it unfair to say there isn’t a long history of great still wine there because we’ve only recently started focusing on it? It seems to me that argument is hollow because sure, they may not have a lot of tradition, but we talk all the time about regions all over the world that are newer than that and talk about them as great wine regions. I think sometimes that argument is a little reductive, I suppose. I’m just wondering where you see the quality level, and is it comparable to other French wine regions?

T: Yes, yes, and yes. The region gets a bad rap because let’s face it, dry table wines have been made for a long, long time there. Historically, they were vin de pays or they were table wines. It’s really only within the last 30 years that you have the Côtes de Roussillon Villages and this move to quality. It’s in the shadow of its history and its neighbor’s history. I think more than anything, people are quickly discovering that newer generations of winemakers have incredible plant material to work with. They certainly have the technology. In many cases, they have the money. They’re producing really distinctive wines that are of incredible value. It’s funny, in Germany, which I pay attention to a lot, Roussillon as a place in France for red wine and rosé is a really popular thing. One thing that really strikes me about the Roussillon and is that for the next 10 or 20 years and beyond, it’s going to be one of the places that are going to continue to surprise us where you’ll get these small producers that are making incredible wines.

Z: Very cool. This is always hard to say, but is that what we’re looking at in the region is a lot of smaller producers, or are we talking about large-scale production? How does that shake out in the Roussillon?

T: Well, I think it’s a mix of all of those things. The co-ops are an important factor. I think if you consider that the average landholding for a family is less than three acres, many people don’t have the wherewithal or the equipment to actually produce wine. Co-ops have been an important factor there for decades. At the same time, some of those co-ops now are owned by the growers and they’re making really good wines. The model’s been turned on its head, and again, newer generations of winemakers have incredible plant material to work with. I expect great things.

A: Obviously, one of the things that have become more important to a lot of wine consumers is the idea of, and we talked about this a bunch in the past few weeks here at VinePair, sustainability, organics, etc. In a region where there is so much sunshine, do you know how many of the producers are practicing organics? Is that something that is a priority in this region?

T: Well, I don’t have an exact number for that. I think, per all the wine regions in France, it has the highest percentage by far overall for people that are certified organic. If you think about it for a second, that makes perfect sense. If you’ve got a really dry climate because of wind, there’s less disease and fungicide-type pest pressure. It just makes farming organically much easier.

A: Very cool. In terms of the quality of the wines we talked about, Caleb, you mentioned this bright, zippy style. Can we talk a little bit about the sweet wines? I know they’re very prized. If someone was to try to get into those wines, what would they be looking for, and what price point are they looking at? Also, what would you eat with those wines?

T: There are three or four major appellations for them. I think Caleb pointed out that there are more of these fortified wines produced by the Roussillon than anywhere else in France. Banyuls is certainly the most well-known one. You have fantastic wines that can be made very fresh and vintage dated. They’re called rimage. Those usually retail anywhere from, $15 to $25. The Banyuls grand crus would see much more aging, which would up the price to $30 or $35. Also, those wines age incredibly well. You also have wines from the communes of Rasiguères and Maury. Those are made in four different styles, some of them very fresh, especially Muscat. The result reminds me of Muscat de Beaumes de Venise. Very fresh and light, and again the low $20s for suggested retail. Then, some of the wines are aged in solera systems like Sherry. As a matter of fact, in the past couple of years, I’ve had amore from the ’83 vintage and that was just spectacular and the suggested retail on that is less than $50. Even though a sommelier — and Caleb would be the first to agree with this — it’s like Sisyphus pushing this huge bottle of dessert wine up an impossible hill. The fact of the matter is the delicious factor and the pairing possibilities. I think these wines are the best possible wines for the cheese course, and there’s really no better value for dessert wines on the planet.

A: Well, now I have a question for Caleb about that. How do you, through the Compagnie, try to explain these wines to consumers? I know the Compagnie has a millennial consumer base, but I’m sure you serve everybody. You’re in SoHo. How do you go about explaining these wines, especially the dessert wines, the Banyuls, to consumers, and try to get them excited about the bottles?

C: Absolutely. It’s definitely a struggle. It’s so funny because people would say, “Oh, no, I don’t want anything sweet. I want something dry.” They just don’t want to pay for anything sweet. If they are finishing the meal and you say, “Hey, I have this on me,” they will gulp that down in two seconds and want more.

A: Right.

C: How do you talk about it? Honestly, we just push the dry wines. It’s so much easier. That being said, I think there’s a place for the sweet wines, especially for the cheese course. It’s lovely to have it open. And the value is insane. You can get an old wine for cheap. A lot of people are liking that these days. People come in and they want to drink the oldest wine we have. Sometimes it’s Bordeaux, sometimes it’s a sweet port. They just want old so that’s definitely a cool thing to check out. You can find, as Tim was mentioning, our ’80s wines on the market for well under $100. You can even find early 1900s stuff on the market for even sometimes less than $300. There’s so much history and flavor evolution in those bottles. They start to take on a Madeira-esque quality for a fraction of the price. I think just talking about the dry wines, we love this region because almost always there are so many producers that are being brought into New York. Almost always they’re organic or biodynamic or just going to the next level. Oftentimes, it’s just so easy. There are fewer pressures that these winemakers have to deal with in this area. No one wants to use pesticides if they don’t have to. No one wants to use fungicides if they don’t have to. They don’t, and the wines are just very fresh, delicious in all different price points. One other thing I want to talk about is all the different soil types. It’s Alsace and Roussillon that are the two most complex regions in all of France with soil types. It makes sense. They’re right on the mountain range. You have millions of years of geological history splayed out all across the region. It’s not the predominant soil type here, but there’s a lot of limestone, which makes even fresher wines. It’s a little geeky to talk about, but there is a village in the region called Calce, which alludes to the calcium root of the word for limestone. It’s literally a village of 220 people and fading. Yet, there are six producers in this region, in this village alone. They are putting out some of the most world-class wines at all price points. The most famous is Domaine Gauby, and he is the godfather in the region. A lot of young people are moving to the area because they can get land for cheap, so they can produce good wines. They also go work with him for a little bit. He shows them the ways. He’s biodynamic and doing all the right things. Then, these young people go on and grow. It’s a region that’s also attracting people, especially younger people right now, and they’re putting out some awesome, awesome stuff. That’s what we love to talk about.

A: That’s very cool.

Z: I have an additional question about the evolution of the region, as you mentioned, that is attracting younger potential winemakers who see the opportunity in Roussillon that might not be in more established wine regions. Is it also the case that you’re seeing more experimentation? I think what’s exciting about these regions is that they don’t have crazy-high price points. People can try stuff, and it’s not the same risk. Is that your read on it as well?

C: In terms of experimentation, you definitely see people vinifying grapes that are already there. I think what I love about the new generation in Spain, too, is these young people making wines out of grapes that normally wouldn’t really be “marketable or sellable.” No one’s seeking out these grapes. They are putting out a very unique wine. It’s their job, as they deem it, to interpret what Mother Earth is giving them and to make it as delicious as possible. In terms of experimentation, I think people are taking the risks with what’s already there, which is of big value-add. Usually, long-term organic farm vineyards have tons of old-vine material that are beautifully ripened and then it’s like, “Don’t mess it up in the cellar.” A lot of them are doing that. I think that’s what I see as experimentation. They’re just having fun with how they’re marketing it. Sometimes they talk about the grape, sometimes they don’t. Sometimes they get a colorful label, sometimes they don’t. What I love is that they’re having fun making wines because they can. That’s very attractive to me.

A: Yes, that’s awesome. Obviously, you talked a lot about how delicious these wines are. And this is a Catalonia region, so they eat a lot of fish and meat. For people who are listening at home, what types of dishes specifically do you think go well with these wines? I am curious to give people an idea of some classic dishes or things that they could think about when they have these wines with the food they might eat.

C: Yeah, and I’ll kick it off. I’m mostly into reds and whites initially. Obviously, they make rosé. They make a little bit of sparkling, but mostly it’s reds and whites in terms of the dry styles. The reds have ripe fruit flavors, and you can pair it with roast lamb, meat, steak, burgers on the grill. Any meat. It’s literally like having a pantry fully stocked is the wine region of Roussillon. I can pair almost any dish with a wine from this region. If you were to tell me to choose one region on earth and to pair it with a 25-course tasting menu, Roussillon is a done deal. That doesn’t help to have a succinct answer. Now, the minerality always comes through in this area. I don’t know what it is, but even in red wines, but especially in the whites. I love really mineral whites with seared scallops. A Grenache Gris or a Carignan Blanc with seared scallops? Give it to me all day. I’ll leave it there, because I could go on forever.

T: Caleb, you made a lot of great points. These wines are really the best of both worlds for people who drink wines. The place has to matter, and these wines nail it. I think several of us have mentioned that the red wines especially are comfort food wines, but they’re chameleons as well. In terms of comfort food, I think a Vitamin P pork in every possible form, because the richness and density of the red wines, the blends, really matches the intensity of practically any way you can prepare pork, even things like a pulled pork sandwich. The acidity, to me, really makes these wines versatile. The white wines, especially the ones done in the modern style, use stainless-steel, slow, cold fermentation, be they cultured or natural. And really vibrant acidity and very pure, pristine fruit. But again, mineral-driven. They’ll keep people like us happy. And I think for someone who just wants a glass of really delicious white wine, they really score there too.

Z: Very cool. I’m wondering if each of you could offer two or three producers. I know, Caleb, you mentioned Domaine Gauby, but there are others that might have some availability? It doesn’t have to be every last corner of the U.S., but we’d love to give our listeners who are excited and interested in trying these wines a few names to look out for. Do you guys have a few suggestions?

T: Yeah, sure. Michel Chapoutier bought a property, I think, in 1999 in one of the villages, Latour-de-France, called Domaine de Bila-Haut, making really good red wines. Also, Domaine de la Rectorie and Mas Amiel. I think all three of those are pretty widely available here in the U.S.

Z: Caleb, did you have any others you would recommend?

C: I would definitely say Domaine de I’Horizon. It’s still a small producer, but the good news is he’s gotten picked up by Rosenthal, which I know has good distribution across the U.S. Tim, unfortunately, took my other suggestions. When I’m traveling, whether it’s going to Texas or whatever, I see really good value on Roussillon wines almost everywhere, which is a very encouraging sign.

A: Very cool. Well, Tim and Caleb, thank you so much for coming on and chatting with us more about Roussillon and giving us a little bit of a not masterclass, but a toe-dip into the region. For those who were familiar with it, but also unfamiliar with it, we really appreciate it. This was a really fun conversation about a wine region that there is a lot to be excited about. Thank you both so much.

C: Thank you.

T: Thanks for having us.

A: Of course. And Zach, see you here next week.

Z: Sounds great.

Thanks so much for listening to the “VinePair Podcast.” If you love this show as much as we love making it, then please leave a rating or review on iTunes, Spotify, Stitcher, or wherever it is you get your podcasts. It really helps everyone else discover the show.

Now for the credits. VinePair is produced and recorded in New York City, and in Seattle, Wash., by myself and Zach Geballe, who does all the editing and loves to get the credit. Also, I would love to give a special shout-out to my VinePair co-founder, Josh Malin, for helping make all this possible and also to Keith Beavers, VinePair’s tasting director, who is additionally a producer on the show. I also want to, of course, thank every other member of the VinePair team who is instrumental in all of the ideas that go into making the show every week. Thanks so much for listening, and we’ll see you again.

Ed note: This episode has been edited for length and clarity.

The article Next Round: The Wines of Roussillon Step Into the Spotlight appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/next-round-rousillon-wines/

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bigskydreaming · 5 years

Text

Batman AU where a pissed off Dick Grayson, after being fired from Robin and kicked out by Bruce, doesn’t go back to the circus when he was off finding himself. Before he became Nightwing. He meant to, even made it all the way to Europe on his way to their latest stop, but in London he got....distracted, when he ran into one John Constantine.

Now, back at this point in canon, Constantine was probably in his mid-twenties at most. I’ve always pictured him mid to late thirties in current comic canon, he’s one of those guys who comes off as older than he is, b/c like, lbr, dude lives ROUGH, lol. But me being me, like, I’m not looking to hook nineteen year old Dick Grayson up with a mid-twenties staggering disaster in whiskey-soaked human form. However, that does not mean that Dick, recently feeling disillusioned about numerous things as well as lost and directionless, two things that define John in a lot of his decades, let alone twenties -

Like, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t THINK about it, and perhaps romanticize the idea of him and John being kindred spirits. As well as maybe a little attracted to Constantine’s patented performative way of living, aka “watch how I windmill through life, giving no fucks whilst taking whatever latest misfortune befalls me in an unaffected and devilishly snarky stride, because of the thing about the no fucks, see, that’s the connection there.”

And okay, if we’re being totally honest here, its not like it just COMPLETELY didn’t occur to Dick that he was coming up with reasons to justify sticking around and hanging out and also crushing on one of the people MOST likely to tick his dad off. I mean, let’s face it, John is like, the combination of three things Bruce has zero patience for and avoids or outright disdains whenever possible:

1) Magic, ugh, unreliable, illogical. (Bruce’s super-objective POV on the subject) - Look. It makes no sense. Follows no logical rules. Every usage of it is a breakdown of the normal universe and the ordered mechanism of The Way Things Are Supposed to Work, the things Batman relies on, needs in order to be him, the Great Detective, the guy who understands how everything works and that’s how he stays one step ahead of everyone else.

In a word, magic and all its works are RUDE and they like....annoy him just on principle.

2) Eternally late and relentlessly slovenly (not everyone has a live-in BUTLER Bruce, jeez)

and

3) ...John Constantine. (Let’s be real. This one just is what it is. There’s not a whole lot of getting around it. Its hard for Dick at age 19 to pretend buddying up with John isn’t guaranteed to make Bruce grind his teeth, given that its hard for anyone at any age to pretend that while Bruce almost certainly respects the things John has accomplished at various times....being in the same zip code as him is something he tries to avoid. Their personalities are not super compatible).

So, its a tiny bit possible the Great Divergence of this AU from canon.... comes down to one accidental team-up with one of Batman’s Top Ten Favorite People, No Seriously....and then Dick kinda leaning into being a bit of a petty shit here. Look, its not his finest hour, but Bruce started it, and also, like whatever. Alexa, play ‘Teenage Wasteland’ but y’know, all...SUPER LOUD and ANGSTILY.

Ahem. Anyway.

So even though Constantine rather famously likes neither people nor drama, and Dick is both those things.....Dick is also always effortlessly charming and makes friends wherever he goes. In the end, it should come as no surprise to anyone but Constantine that he is no more Immune to Dick’s innate Likeability Quotient than most of the rest of humanity.

And for a couple of weeks they kinda just hang out, get into random mishaps with magical gargoyles and ensorcelled ravens around the Tower of London and also one specific clash with a demonically possessed umbrella that turned anyone who held it into like, Mary Poppins, but also, y’know, EVIL - look it was this whole thing, don’t ask, Constantine still doesn’t like to talk about it. He even offered to show Dick how to do a minor cantrip if his mischief minded companion would agree to keep his mouth shut on the subject from now until the end of eternity.

Dick had to hem and haw over that one for a bit, but ultimately his innate curiosity won out over his fondness for telling a rousing but also hilarious tale. It was a very narrow margin, but that was all that was needed to have Dick’s foot take its very first step along a very different road in this universe.

See, Constantine’s not really expecting much to happen even as he walks Dick through the steps of the simple spell. Magic’s as unpredictable about who it’ll roll over and play tricks for as it is in how it operates and functions and like...basically accomplishes all the many varied feats that make Bruce develop spontaneous frustration migraines, because that’s not how reality works, none of this has anything to do with how reality WORKS, what happened to the RULES, dammit!

And sure, there’s all sorts of different kinds of magic, and all kinds of different lines various magic practitioners sort into....some are born into it, like the Zataras, and Constantine himself actually, though in a very different way from the former....others end up developing a knack for it after significant encounters with arcane or occult beings, forces, artifacts or the like, as though their exposure to such a focused concentration of it resulted in a kind of charge rubbing off on them, just enough to make them able to attract and gather and channel magical forces from then on themselves. Others are chosen to it, and some just have no clue why spells will work for them but not ten random pedestrians they stop on the street and use as a rather strange sample group.

But bottom line is magic isn’t just about practice and skill, you tend to either have a knack for it or you don’t, and more people don’t than do, so John’s pretty much expecting to fulfill his end of their little gentleman’s agreement and then watch Dick duplicate everything he did exactly, with zero result.

Except turns out, Dick Grayson DOES have a knack for magic, same as he has a knack for well, everything. The guy was crime fighting and kicking bad guy ass in middle school. Forget James Bond and Captain Kirk, forget even Batman himself, ROBIN is the original and ultimate Gary Stu. Of fucking course Dick would be good at magic if he ever tried it. There’s a fairly large school of thought in this universe that posits that the force they call magic is an almost living entity in its own way, perhaps even sentient. Most of the magicians and wizards and sorcerers in that school of thinking kinda all quietly nurse the opinion that magic just, like....likes Dick Grayson, and he just charmed it with his first attempt at that simple spell and had it wrapped around his finger by the time he said Abra Kadabra.

(Because of fucking COURSE John picked a spell he could end with Abra Kadabra, have you met the man? He’s the most dramatic of them all, why do you think he hates both people and drama so much??? He’s the people and the drama!)

So there we have one lost and directionless Dick Grayson, feeling like he’s lost his footing and all his old plans and projected paths don’t really fit him anymore, or at least not well enough to help him feel like he’s headed somewhere, doing something.

Buuuuuut, then there’s that petty teenage side of him again, the one that goes fuck Batman, and also I’m right to say so.....and at least that IS a direction to focus on, even if not the most noble one....so the same brain cells that linked up and logic’d him around to the conclusion that ‘Bruce will never think to look for me with John Constantine of all people, and LOL how much would he hate that’....like, big fans of the positive reception their prior performance had received, those same brain cells leap back into action with zeal and zest and steer him to the not all that distant conclusion:

“LOL, how much would Bruce hate it if I ended up being this like, super talented magician, with expertise he knows nothing about? Could you imagine?”

Turns out Dick could, and did, and so much like that initial inch in this direction, is the true basis of him following up on that and becoming a renowned sorcerous superhero in this universe the fateful last words “Screw you dad, you’re not the boss of me and I’ll do what I want!”

I mean. Yeah. That’s pretty much exactly how it began. Yup. Oops.

But the thing is, that’s just how it starts. A random string of chance encounters and events that capture Dick’s attention and interest at a time and a place in his life where he was looking for literally anything to do just that....but once it HAD his attention and interest, everything changed. It was no longer about thinking ‘hey this will really tick Bruce off,’ because Dick’s capable of that train of thought and gut/impulsive decision making, sure, but he’s not about to commit his entire LIFE to that just to flip Bruce the proverbial middle finger.

It only continues, he only keeps going and furthering his magical studies because he genuinely comes to love it for the sheer versatility, the unpredictability of it, the way holding reality in one hand and magical forces in the other is like walking a tight rope with no safety net, and sure its not the same thing as flying, but on that note, did you know there are spells that can literally make you fly?

Dick does, now, and he knows like, seventeen different ones.

And so Dick throws himself into studying magic the same way he throws himself into everything. He’s never done anything half-assed in his life. He’s physically allergic to the very idea of it. When he does a thing, he fucking COMMITS, and becomes the best he possibly can at it....which ultimately almost always puts him in the one percentile of that thing.

He learns everything he can from Constantine, or at least as much as Constantine’s willing to teach him. Eventually their paths diverge, not because of any bad blood, but just because Dick isn’t interested in the same specialties as Constantine. So then he moves on. Travels the world, similar to what Bruce did when he was his age, training to become Batman. But Dick trains with magicians, wizards, alchemists. Madame Xanadu. Sebastian Faust. Raven. Even charms freaking Circe into teaching him an enchantment or two, because lbr, a mystically inclined Dick Grayson would inevitably intrigue the more infamous mystics of the DC universe in the same way a combat-focused Dick Grayson intrigues Deathstroke and assorted others.

Everyone except for Zatanna and Jason Blood, the magicians Bruce actually respects and relies on, and who Dick is sure would report back to Bruce about him, and he’s still ticked. Plus, Zatanna’s type of magic is innate, not really something that can be taught, and Blood’s stems from his sharing his body with a demon and Dick’s not really looking for a roommate right now.

Eventually, Dick is satisfied enough with his skills and knowledge to return to the Titans. He adopts the name Nightwing, same as in canon and for the same reasons. He’s still the same man, same leader, same fighter with all the skills he already had....just now with the added repertoire of someone who’s branched off in an unlikely direction.

Hey, Bruce did want him to go to college and learn something new. Not Dick’s fault his particular field of study isn’t Bruce-approved. (Okay, its entirely Dick’s fault, since that was after all the point, but eh. Oh well).

Nightwing’s still an acrobat and hand-to-hand fighter. He’s invested too much time, effort, himself into those skills to just give them up. He’s an adrenaline junkie, thrives on motion, activity, the rush of going head to head with someone who can really push him, challenge him. His magic is incorporated into his fighting. He constructs who he becomes as magician around the foundation already in place due to who he is as an acrobat, detective and hand to hand combatant. His magic is an added skill, not a replacement for his previous skillsets.

So he has alchemical potions on his utility belt, amid his ordinary smoke bombs and gas pellets. Tools and spells of divination and scrying for when a trail goes cold and can’t be tracked further by ordinary means. But now the Titans have another mystical expert to turn to for magical related missions, not just Raven. Their specialties are entirely different, but they’ve worked together since Raven first came to this plane, and they still complement each other well.

Of course, this changes things in other ways too. Dick’s new focus takes him further away from his time with Batman than even in canon. He’s still traveling and training for most of the time Jason is Robin and never even meets him before his death. Of course he kept tabs on Gotham no matter where he was. He absolutely knows about the adoption, about a second Robin. And about Jason’s eventual death. But he’s still somewhere places unknown in the aftermath, not easily tracked down by Tim, who sets out to help Bruce on his own, wearing down Bruce’s resistance to him being Robin between just his and Alfred’s efforts. Dick remains largely estranged from the Batfamily as Cass is adopted, Steph takes her turn as Robin, etc.

And then Jason comes back from the dead.

But again, things play out differently here. This Jason is never found by Talia and the League, never dumped into a Lazarus Pit. Instead, Leslie Thompkins opens up her clinic one day to find a catatonic Jason in a bed inside, not long after he’s resurrected. He recovers as mysteriously as he returned, helped along by being in familiar environs, surrounded by loved ones as he’s of course immediately returned to the Manor and attended on by Bruce, Alfred, Babs, Tim and Cass. So he has less resentment for Tim, for being replaced. Its harder to deny Bruce’s love for him when he has Bruce by his bedside, day after day, watching and waiting throughout his recovery. He never suffers from Pit madness. Is never influenced by League ideology. Never trains with monsters and murderers awful enough he wants to kill them himself after he’s done training with them.

And its hard to resent Bruce for not avenging him and killing the Joker, when no one’s seen the Joker since almost right after Jason’s death. The clown never returns to Gotham from Ethiopia, not as far as anyone can tell. By the time Bruce set out to hunt him down, after Jason’s funeral, the trail had gone entirely cold. Bruce hunted for him, sure, but Jason can’t be too mad about Bruce giving up before finding him. The Joker’s never been one to lay low. When even just a few months had passed without even a hint of the villain or his future plans, it was hard to imagine he was still alive - he never lacked for enemies, after all. Not unreasonable that someone else had gotten to him first.

Plus, of course, its hard to compare yourself to the ‘golden boy’ and find yourself coming up short, viewing yourself as less loved than Dick Grayson, when said golden boy still remains estranged. He’s the prodigal son in this reality, with Bruce’s anger towards his eldest for never coming back to the Manor, not even after Jason’s death - its obvious to everyone, even Jason. Tim doesn’t have the close, brotherly bond with Dick that he does in canon, and with less resentment from Jason for replacing him, its easier for the two middle sons of Batman to bond after Jason’s return.

Jason returns to crime fighting, probably still takes up the name the Red Hood - his sense of humor and irony had nothing to do with his death or the specifics of his return. He and Bruce still clash. They have their ideological differences, Jason’s harsher than Bruce would prefer. But this Jason has reasons not to force an all-out divide between he and his father, sticks to the line (even if reluctantly), not because he believes differently - he still thinks he’s right about Bruce’s way being flawed and will always argue so - but because he has reasons to stay. Things he actually feels he’ll lose if he pushes things too much, actually leaves the family. Because he has a family, he has no doubts about that here. Tim and Cass and Alfred and even Bruce. He’d miss them, if he lost them. So he makes sure he doesn’t.

And then, a couple years after his return, Jason starts feeling hunted by something. Some presence, some force constantly shadowing him, stalking him. Something supernatural. Otherworldly. In time, there’s no denying it. He’s actually attacked by some unseen, invisible presence, like some kind of monstrous beast that’s hunting him and only him.

Its hard to come to any conclusion other than that it has something to do with his resurrection. Nobody knows how that happened after all. Not even Jason. But there was definitely nothing natural about it, so with something unnatural hunting him, almost as if he’s ‘the one that got away’ or some kind of affront to the natural order of things, the Batfamily adds 2 + 2 and gets ugh, fuck, we need to call a magician for help, don’t we?

Bruce calls in Zatanna and Jason Blood first, of course. But this is well outside Zatanna’s area of expertise, she has no insight to offer. Blood’s a little bit more help. He’s at least able to confirm that the force is otherworldly, not native to this plane, and might very well have something to do with Jason’s time....not on this plane. And he is able to affirm that there’s nothing demonic about the presence, no whiff of Hell surrounding either it or Jason.

Finally, reluctantly, Bruce calls in John Constantine, at Blood’s suggestion. His number isn’t so much the last one in Bruce’s old-fashioned rolodex so much as its buried somewhere on the Manor grounds, locked in a puzzle box that affords Bruce countless opportunities to turn back or try something else before he finally gets it open and pulls out the card with his contact info and the header: IF YOU ABSOLUTELY MUST USE IN CASE OF EMERGENCY WITH ALL OTHER CONCEIVABLE OPTIONS HAVING PREVIOUSLY BEEN EXHAUSTED PRIOR TO THIS - HERE I GUESS.

Okay, maaaaaaaaybe I’m embellishing a little bit on that one there. But whatever.

And its not like Constantine is the actual last of the last he contacts here. For instance, even more than he’d like to not have to bring in John, he’d really rather not call Raven either, though he knows of her as well of course.

In this reality, the Titans remain more distant from the Justice League and other heroes. They took Dick’s side when Bruce kicked him out, closing ranks, not to mention Roy’s falling out with Ollie resulting in a similar sentiment from them. And Dick and Roy’s diverged paths here similarly result in them paralleling each other in not reconciling with their fathers - they reaffirm to each other that whatever ‘their part’ in their disputes were, they deserved better than how Bruce and Ollie handled those situations, and they’re not going to let each other settle for being afforded less than the respect and care they deserve.

So to be clear, its not that even after a couple years, Dick is still actively avoiding Bruce - Bruce’s failure to extend the hand first, make the first attempt at reconciliation and conveying that he still wants and needs Dick in his life, his family...that’s still the underlying issue, and the real change in family dynamics comes from Dick not caving and returning to a similar status quo to what he left, without Bruce ever actually addressing his own behavior and mistakes in driving Dick away without making any real attempt to get him to stay, or to follow him, or to ask him to come home.

As for the rest of the Titans, Wally still became the Flash here when Barry died, but he felt no real need to ‘move up’ to the Justice League, and with all of the rest of the original Titans remaining a cohesive family unit here, he chose to stay with them when not patrolling Central City. And when Kyle Rayner became the last Green Lantern and joined the Titans as in canon, the team was closer, more family than the line-up he was briefly a part of in canon, and so he remained with them as well.

So the end result is in this universe, for the end of their teens and the early years of their twenties, the Titans go their own way, and they and the JLA keep to their respective ‘corners’ as it were. Meanwhile Tim’s generation remains known as Young Justice.

So back to the Batfam’s problem and Jason’s unknown pursuer. Constantine’s not much more help than Jason Blood was. After all, demons are his specialty too, just in different ways than they are Jason Blood’s. and the other magic he knows isn’t of a sort they need here either.

He is however, able to offer one bit of advice - what they need, John says, is a magician who specializes in the otherworldly, not just the netherworlds. There are more things in Heaven and Hell than well...just Heaven and Hell. Plenty of other worlds, plenty of other dimensions....the kinds of places something like this creature could have come from. What they need is a planewalker. And luckily for them, Constantine just so happens to know the name of a planewalker who could help them.

Dick Grayson.

And of course the estranged eldest still comes when he’s called, because its never that he didn’t care, its just that he wanted, needed to be called. Even when tragedy struck the family, it wasn’t that he didn’t want to return and be a comfort to them, its just that he wasn’t sure his presence would be a comfort.

(Though it takes numerous arguments while working on the mystery of Jason’s hunter, like, before this gets even brought up, let alone clarified. All parties involved are of course world-class experts at the cold shoulder, not to mention avoidance tactics and evasive maneuvers of all types.)

And as Jason and his other siblings get to know their mysterious oldest brother, the much alluded to but rarely spoken of first son, the Zitka in the room, the shadow they’ve all always been aware of but never known much about - other than that he had a definite Talent with a capital T for getting under their father’s skin, and while they might be closer with Bruce in this reality, Bruce is still Bruce and that’s still a Talent they all can respect and appreciate - well.

It would be a mistake, Jason realizes, to assume that just because Dick left, that meant that he didn’t keep informed on what he left behind. He has many many means at his disposal now, for getting information when he wants it.

And it would be a mistake to assume that just because they didn’t see him care, that actually meant that Dick didn’t care. He didn’t have to actually meet Jason to feel at least a connection to the second son to be raised by the same father, the second person to wear his colors, bear his mantle, fight at Bruce’s side. He didn’t even have to know him, to grieve that now he’d never get the chance, when Jason died. To be outraged at the Joker, on his behalf.

And its not like Dick didn’t have plenty of other reasons to hate the Joker as well - he was the reason he was fired, the reason he and Bruce were estranged, the catalyst of so much of his family’s misfortune.

And no one did ever find a trace of the Joker after Ethiopia.

Almost like he’d dropped off the face of the Earth.

Vanished from it entirely.

Of course, while Dick Grayson might be estranged from his father, he still abides by the code Bruce instilled in him at an early age. He doesn’t kill.

But there are worse things than death, some might say.

Especially for a man like a Joker, because he does have one thing he truly cares about: landing a punchline. Its why everyone assumes he was killed by some other enemy after Ethiopia....the Joker can never go long without making a reappearance. He needs an audience too badly to ever stay hidden for long.

After all, what is a joke, if there’s no one to hear it?

And then as well, the family never did figure out how Jason ended up in Leslie’s clinic, after he crawled out of his grave.

How someone found him so quickly, and knew the best place to take him. However Jason ended up resurrected, it surely had to involve considerable power of some sort, supernatural energies that surely had to attract some attention....

at least from someone attuned to the supernatural, who knew how to see such things....

and had reason to occasionally visit the Wayne family cemetery.

Yes, even in this vastly different universe, there’s still a way, still time to reunite a family even this fractured. When you’re a planewalker like Dick Grayson, there’s no road beyond your reach, its just a matter of finding the right one.

And just because it takes time to find the road that finally leads home....that doesn’t mean its not out there.

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