#“how do I tell if Desmond likes me likes me?”

[teecupangel]

I regret to inform you that AC2 ends around 1499. If Desmond was born the year the Auditores was executed (1476), he’s around 23 years old by the time he joins Ezio in infiltrating the Vatican to assassinate Rodrigoe Borgia.

So yeah, Ezio spent most of his time being away while Desmond was raised in a household where he had to pretend to be someone else most of the time.

Based on my tags in the op:

#desmond just wants to talk to minerva and prepare for the siege, honestly, he’d probably kill rodrigo, he’s still thinking about it,

Tags from @crispybureau

#oh the way i am CHEWING on this one #desmond's ''zen'' ramped up to a detrimental character flaw is FASCINATING and tragic #and just ahhhhhhhhh him pretending to be petruccio mirroring the bleeding effect?? #like him hitting the past and growing up and understanding his situation even before his (new) siblings explain it to him #and he just sits there like ''of course i have to live as someone else. of course i have to fight to be me.'' #i am now also GNAWING on the idea of him killing rodrigo and ezio being HORRIFIED #(just of des still killing someone ezio decided to spare? or also because it hadnt REALLY occured to him that des had or could kill people?) #maybe he thinks des does it out of anger and impulse but then he looks at des after and des is just #zen #like he always is #and ezio has to contend with the sudden realisation that des has ALWAYS looked like this whenever attention wasnt directly on him #ezio and claudia had tried so hard to give him a childhood (one that wasnt petruccio's) but ezio looks at des standing over rodrigo #all iced out and calm #and ezio will realise hed failed doing that too #desmond #ezio #claudia #other people's writing #teecupcangel #fish rambles #oh now im thinking about desmond being so so reserved as a person his whole life like hes so so rarely angry even as a child #and then ezio sees him R I P into minerva

I think what Ezio would find more painful than anything is hearing people say something like “he’s just as talented as you.” or “you trained him well, Ezio.” and knowing that he was absent for most of Desmond’s life. Mario would even tell Ezio that he was a prodigy, a one in a million talent that they would be lucky to see.

Ezio hated the fact that he was even compared to Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad because of how good he was.

Desmond just ignores it and Ezio mistakes Desmond’s actions as something that Desmond naturally does because he was raised to pretend to be someone else. He’s worried that Desmond is pretending to be Altaïr because he believes people expect him to be.

Desmond just ignores it because a lot of his skills did come from Altaïr’s Bleed so they’re not exactly wrong.

Desmond is so used to being ‘someone else’ that he doesn’t see how it looks on the outside.

Claudia herself is worried but can’t say anything about it because she felt guilty. She was grieving herself and she drowned her grief by taking care of Monteriggioni instead of taking care of her younger brother.

Also, also, check the comments for @thedragonqueen1998 for a very angst idea where Desmond is born after the execution as a product of guards taking advantage of Maria as she protected Claudia. It’s such sweet angst, I love it.

What if desmond was reborn as the 5th auditore child? Like he was just a baby/toddler when the auditore were executed

Hey, nonny.

We can make Desmond be born on March 13, 1476 so he would only be months old when the Auditores are executed.

Wanna fuck with Desmond and the Auditores some more?

What if we keep Maria’s mental state after the execution and make her believe that the baby in her arms is Petruccio.

The only person who could remind her that she was holding and caring for her fifth child was Claudia and it was becoming harder and harder for her to keep trying to stay strong when her mother treating Desmond as Petruccio makes her think that she’s in the past and asking when her husband would be back or if Federico and Ezio be back from playing outside.

The final nail in the coffin is that Maria mistook Claudia as someone else, maybe an older sister that was already dead or even her old nanny who died when Petruccio was just born.

Ezio saw what was happening and pushed Claudia to managing Monteriggioni to keep her from spiraling.

It becomes apparent that Maria sees Giovanni in Ezio and Mario tells him that it might be better if they slowly separate Maria from Desmond.

It’s not doing either of them any good and making Desmond replace Petruccio was a fate that no child should ever shoulder.

So Ezio pretends to be Giovanni taking Petruccio for walks and tries to be there for his younger brother.

But being an Assassin made it hard for him to return home frequently.

He tries his best and he knows Claudia also tries to make their younger brother understand that they don’t see him as a replacement and that their mother is simply… confused at the moment.

That’s how Desmond grew up, pretending to be Petruccio when he’s with Maria Auditore.

Mario trained him while Ezio was running around but he couldn’t leave Monteriggioni because Maria starts to ask where Petruccio is whenever she doesn’t see Desmond for a few hours.

Ezio went to Firenze after journeying to Spain (and got entangled with Bonfire of the Vanities) when Maria finally realized that Desmond isn’t Petruccio. To be more exact, Desmond had turned 21 and Maria cried as she remembered that Petruccio would have never grown as old as Desmond.

At that point, Maria’s relationship with her youngest child was strained by her own guilt and grief while Desmond just accepted it because he loved Maria and a part of him believed that he should have done something more (even if he was still a baby, guilt does not care about one’s age)

Desmond starts doing Assassin work as well but goes rogue for a few months, returning with the remaining seals for Altaïr’s statue.

Desmond takes the armor for himself and just shrugged it off as Ezio’s birthday present or something equally unimportant and Ezio returned to Monteriggioni with… well…

A very awkward family reunion, that’s for sure.

So many things have happened at that point and, as much as he is happy to see his mother healing, he feels guilty for not being there for Desmond who just shrugs it off and tells him “I understand.”

“I understand.”

That was the worst phrase Ezio heard.

He kept hearing it from his younger brother.

At first he was relieved that his brother understood.

Then he realized that the phrase meant more than that to Desmond.

It was a resignation to his current situation.

And Ezio wasn’t really in the best place himself.

He was still grieving the death of Cristina who died while Ezio was in Firenze for Savonarola and his men so there was also a bit of guilt there.

So Mario suggested Ezio takes Desmond to the Vatican with him as a ‘trainee’ and Ezio agreed.

He tells Desmond that he never wanted him to be an Assassin, that he hoped he was the only one who had to carry the blood that drenched the Auditores’ blade.

Desmond just stares at him and goes…

“I understand.”

And Ezio knew that he failed being a brother to his youngest in this bloody path of vengeance he had taken.

[sneaky-eel]

This is a slight continuation of this post.

Leonardo: Ezio my friend! Hello! I see congratulations are in order.

Ezio: What? For what?

Leonard: For you and Desmond finally getting together. I had to admit I was being to think it would never happen.

Ezio: Desmond and I are just friends. Like you and I.

Leonardo: Ezio, I just saw you two kissing goodbye.

Ezio: Desmond is just a friendly guy, Leo. I'm sure he does that to all his friends.

Leonardo: He... kisses his friends on the mouth?

Ezio: Probably.

Leonardo: With tongue?

Ezio: *shrugs*

Leonardo:...

Leonardo: He and I need to become better friends.

------

Or

------

Leonardo: Oh! Hello, Desmond. I didn't expect you to be here so late is everything alri-

Desmond: I kissed Ezio!!!

Leonardo: Really?! That's wonderful! What happened next?

Desmond: I ran away.

Leonardo: What.

Desmond with his head in his hands as he groans: I ran away.

Leonardo sighing: I'll get the wine.

[theconfusedartist]

Des and Alex would be soooo domestic. Alex comes back after beating the shit outta infected and Balckwatch troops and just. Collapses on Dana's couch.

They argue over who's allowed to use the controller first and end up watching horror movies for about half an hour before the power and signal cuts out bc all over the island bc they're making sure nothing gets in or out.

They banter over how the movie should or will end, when Des knocks on the door and Alex is all over him when he opens it up, like a massive koala bear. Des is so used to Dr. Mercer doing this, then trying to pretend like it was Des that jumped him like he was losing his mind that it's actually refreshing how Alex is unabashedly cuddling him.

They go over to the apartment that Des took over since most people left the vicinity of Penn Station days after Balckwatch was shooting people in broad daylight and Alex asks "wanna see something I just learned? It's cool as hell". Ofc Des agrees and it's just a montage of them play fighting as Alex shows off ALL of his abilities bc he knows Des won't be scared off or scream, with crashing and ungodly noises of destruction.

Dana peeks in hours later when things are finally silent and sees the two of them snuggled up on a completely destroyed couch (that was destroyed last time they did this, is the damn thing respawning?) and assumes they just got done doing some of the most disturbing sex stuff ever. She doesn't wanna know, doesn't ask, but can't get away without them seeing her and saying hello. It feels like the worst experience every time this happens to her bc she assumes that they're having ungodly weird virus on human sex, and they do, just never the time she peeks into the apartment. They're just playing.

[sc4llywag]

Since I got Tumblr and have free range to rant however I want, its time for the Assassin's Creed main characters and how they walk post!!!

With each of the games, they change the main characters walking animation to fit their vibe and I need to be able to study them beheehe

Desmond

I don't have too much to say about Desmond's other than his is simple and similar to Ezio's and Altaïr's and I like to think that this is due to the bleeding effect(it happened to me too I walk like the assassin's all the time) his is a little more confined and he keeps his arms closer to himself so he's very typical in the way he walks

Altaïr

In his walk he has a sway to his hips and steady hands(probably to keep himself ready for any assassination), but goddamn the SWAY I never noticed it.

His shoulders also sway with his walk and I love how fluid he is in general, this ties back to his robes for me and how flowy they are to show the grace of an assassin in high profile but when low profile they stay to his sides and he's all in the shadows and I REALLY love that about him.

Ezio

This gif is all I could find so i can't really remember if Ezio's walk is different in Ac2 from Altaïr's because ubisoft is the king of recycling things but whatever. He still has the outward stance but I do notice his head is pointed low to try and keep himself hidden(shadows shit be like) but ofc hes holding the apple here so it's hard to tell if he's trying to swing his arm a lot lol, anyway body language is important to Ezio so hes very good at looking broody as well as fluid in his movements

Connor

(Walk Cycle Research | PKlover4078)

My man my man my man my man😍‼️‼️

The way Connor walks with his hands stretched out and then clenching his fists every moment because he's always ready for a fight goddamn this MF could take me in an alleyway and I'd be happy. I'd like to note with this gif, it doesn't show his slow slow walk and I remember it pretty well, he has a slight cautious aura in his walk, he's really careful in his foot placement(I think) and he's super awesome and I love him a lot. Since we have him running I'd like to talk about that too. He has such an efficient sprint it's so mesmerizing, he keeps his head low and just fuckin vrooms across the colonies<3

Aveline

You can barely see her here bc the damn community doesn't care for Aveline much but I like her even tho I haven't played Liberation, I enjoy the way she walks in a proper manner and she's got that strut the runway strut is everything. I also like how she has a wider swing in her arms, more carefree and comfortable.

Edward

This is such a great quality gif thanks so much Ac fandom!!

Anyway, I really love the difference in Edwards walk compared to the rest of the assassins because he's a pirate, he hasn't had the teaching of grace and secrecy. Therefore his walk is staggering in his footwork but still proper bc he's a sword fighter and very good at it. In a longer gif you'd be able to tell but his footing is a little messy, showing that drunken sailor pirate personality shows in his walk. He has a close arm swing due to him always needing to be close to his weapons, ready for a fight(like his grandson<3)

Haytham

I can barely see how he's walking but I'm pretty sure he had his hand on his sword hilt which says so much abt his character, again always being ready for a fight. He has a very straight posture due to his pompous nature, quick in his form to be efficient because why walk if you don't look proper and efficient?

Shay

Ok he's a Templar and so is Haytham but fuck you I love them.

His walk is so GOOD his walk has a heavy step and he's very prominent, got that straight posture again, not much to say about his arm sway other than the added shoulder sway, love that for him bc he's just so intimidating.

(For reasons I'm not doing Arno, Evie, Jacob, Kassandra, and Eivor since I haven't played their games)

Bayek

Bayek's walk is very different from every other assassin and that makes me love him so much more. He feels very carefree and relaxed but when in combat good lord does he go off!! He puts more sway in his arms than his hips and that's probably why he has a combat centered walk, like Edward.

If you've reached the end thank you for reading my rambling ass get over excited over walk cycle animations :) follow for more rambling!!

[yumeka-sxf]

Even though today's new chapter was pretty funny, it also reinforces how Damian's need to act indifferent and even hostile towards Anya stems from emotional baggage from his family - whether it's brainwashing, strict discipline, or something else, we see how he's so afraid to show even a minute trace of feelings towards a "commoner" that he has to go through hoops just to ensure no one else sees him give Anya a gift.

What could the Desmond family have instilled in him that gives him such aversion to anyone of a lower social standing? I hope we find out someday. But at the same time, this chapter also gave me the impression that Damian doesn't like having to put on this jerk act in front of everyone. He seemed annoyed and exhausted that he had to do all this just to repay a debt, a debt which no one was demanding of him. Despite all the insults he hurls, the kid has morals and dignity. So it's a shame he feels such a strong need to supress that (he and Twilight have a lot in common in that regard. Twilight is simply better at hiding his real feelings since he's an adult and has been doing it much longer).

However, Damian seems okay with showing only Anya his softer side (when no one else is looking of course). Probably because, unlike all the other Eden kids, she's not from a high-class family with whom the Desmonds have to put on airs with.

While I'm not nearly as into Damianya as Twiyor, I can appreciate them as a cute future couple when they're older, with the seeds of that future relationship slowly sprouting in the series (though nothing romantic now of course as they are only 1st graders). Endo brought back Damian's "shojo filter" in this chapter, which was at maximum strength! (Is Damian secretly a CLAMP fan? 😂)

It's only at the end of the chapter, when the debt is repaid and Damian can finally relax, that he's able to see Anya's natural cuteness, without the shojo filter (his expression here looks like one of Twilight's...they really do have a lot in common!)

What's also interesting is that, compared to some of their early confrontations, Anya never returned Damian's insults until recently, maybe around the end of the bus hijacking arc. In the beginning of the series, she seemed to not know how to act when faced with bullying and was just focused on getting Damian to be friends with her. Now she openly returns his jabs with her own.

This could be because she's confident that they're friends now, so she doesn't have to hold back and can match his insults without worry. Or maybe she's just learning how to better deal with hostility her own way? Or she's just copying his bad manners...hard to say 😅

I like how Endo brought back Damian's promise to repay Anya for the handkerchief incident. From what I've gathered reading the manga fanbook, he tries hard not to leave plot points unaddressed. Which brings me to another highlight of this chapter - mention of Melinda again!

I knew Endo wouldn't forget about her, but I've also been wondering when she would return as a prominent figure in the plot. This chapter raises the question of why she's so intent on Damian and Anya becoming friends...is it simply because Yor would like that, and she wants to be good friends with Yor? Or is there some ulterior motive behind the scenes?

Even though stories focused on the Eden kids aren't typically my favorites, I actually really enjoyed this chapter! It had the great SxF comedy I love of misunderstandings between the characters leading to hilarious moments - Emile and Ewen think Damian wants to duel Anya, Becky thinks Anya wants to spend alone time with him because she's in love, Damian just wants to give Anya the gift to clear his conscience, and Anya just wants to eat the cakes!

(I love how Endo made Anya's mouth slightly watering throughout the chapter whenever she's thinking of the cakes!)

It's hard to tell if this was just a stand-alone chapter or if it will lead to a continuation of the "plan C" thing brought up a while back. I hope it does if it means we get to learn more about Melinda and the Desmond family overall!

[shiro-s2e2-erukinzu]

Anime only watchers and people who aren't caught up with the Manga, BEWARE... Cuz I'm about to discuss Spy X Family Mission 93... You have been warned...! 👌

[SPOILERS AHEAD FROM THIS POINT ON]

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!

IT HAPPENED...! IT FINALLY HAPPENED!! THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!! AHHHHHHHHHHH!! 😵

Honestly, words cannot describe how crazy this chapter was, but we're gonna talk about it anyway...!! 👀 LET'S GO!!! 😆

The chapter begins with everyone checking how well they did on finals, and Anya did a whole lot better than last time...!! 😆

I AM SO PROUD OF HER!!! 👏😄

Anya went from 213th to 168th place!! 🎉 Let's hope that Anya continues to improve in the future...!! 😊👍

Then, we finally got to see how well she did in Classical Language and...:

She got second place...!

But, she will still receive a Stella for it!! 👏😆Then, we find out that she got 24 points in math, which is just below the cut off point... Which means...:

So, not only did Anya get a Stella, she ALSO received A TONITRUS BOLT!!? 😵😂🤣😌

GODDAMNIT ANYA!! 😂 That means the score is still tied, but now it's 5 and 5 until she either becomes an Imperial Scholar or gets expelled...!! 😌

Then, we got probably my new favorite Loid expression...:

🤣😂🤣😂🤣😂🤣😂 I'M SO SORRY LOID!!🤣

This poor man can't catch a break, but at he's quite proud of Anya for doing well on the test...!! 😊

After that, we cut to Authens praising Anya as well, but Sigmund says something that intrigues me...:

"...One day you'll experience the frustration of realizing that hard work is not always rewarded..."

Hmm... What could this mean...? Personally, if Sigmund does have something to do with the experiments that were conducted on Anya, then this could be his way of saying that not many know of his scientific experiments... But, that's just a guess at this point and I could very well just be reading too much into this single sentence... 🤔

Moving on, before Anya goes to bed that night Loid asks her a question...:

I was surprised that Twilight asked this!! 😲 But his question turned out to be for naught because Anya doesn't really remember... 😔 So, Twilight just tells her to forget about what he asked and now I'm wondering if this will lead Twilight finding out the truth about Anya's past and that she's a telepath... 🤔

Well anyway, we cut to Anya and Damian receiving Stellas for doing well on the test, and then it's the middle school students turn... AND GUESS WHO SHOWS UP...?! 👀

DEMETRIUS MOTHER F---ING DESMOND!!!😵

AFTER ALL THIS TIME, HE HAS FINALLY APPEARED...!! 👀

I can't believe that I was ACTUALLY RIGHT that he was gonna look more like his dad...! (Check out this post where I drew what I thought he might look like!! 👍)

But to continue, Demetrius is also as strange as his mother and father... ESPECIALLY BECAUSE OF THIS...!!:

After finally getting to meet him and seeing that Anya can't read his mind, my original theory that he might be working with his father, just got thrown out the window...!! Because now, I think that Demetrius has been experimented on... 😥 I hope that I'm wrong, but I just don't know this point...

AND THINK THAT'S ENOUGH ABOUT THIS CHAPTER FOR TODAY!

Today's chapter was excellent, but now that Demetrius has finally shown up, my mind is going crazy about what this ALL MEANS!😫

Anyway, I think I'll stop for today and possibly regroup with myself to figure out WHAT IS WRONG WITH THE DESMONDS!! (Except for Damain, who is the only normal one there..! 🥲) So until the next Mission or if I try attempt to figure out what is up with the Desmonds; take care, be safe out there and be kind to one another...!! Later!! 👍

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Odd question but - I'm looking to study in the UK this fall, and I'm trying to get to grips with the grading system. Could you explain the grading boundaries to me please? It's different from the US, as far as I can see!

I found this handy table which you might find useful - I don't really understand the US system either lol.

Here's what I will say though - I have many times before seen Americans online seeing the percentages for the UK grade boundaries and immediately wax lyrical about how EASY and SIMPLE it must be to do well in the UK because OH MY GOD I could tooootally get 70%!!! In the US that's barely a C!!! Wow education must be soooo simple in the UK -

And uh. I have seen very few Americans in those discussions stop and ask themselves how much harder it might be to hit 70% in the UK. Which, as the international academic office in every university will tell you, is the crucial question you absolutely should be asking. Does an American 70% look the same as a UK 70%?

(It Does Not.)

So don't be fooled by that! Over here, at undergrad the pass mark is 40%. 40-49% gets you a third; 50-59% gets you what's varyingly known as a lower second (formally), a 2:2 (most commonly), or a Desmond (by sad people. It's a reference to Desmond Tutu - two two). A 2:2 is also the most commonly awarded degree classification over here.

60-69% is a 2:1, or upper second class honours. And then the top level is the first - 70% and up. The vast majority of firsts are earned by students who got 70-79%. Exceptional work pushes into the 80s. It is incredibly rare that you ever see a mark in the 90s, and when you do, it's almost always on maths papers where there are right or wrong answers and that's it.

I can't remember how the US's summa cum laude etc stuff maps onto that, though you could probably find that on Google as well. But as a rule of thumb, think first = excellent, 2:1 = good, 2:2 = fair, and third = you need to be careful and see what you can do to improve (although that is still a pass at university and that is not to be sniffed at).

Ooh, as a final point, though, there's also how assessment works, which again, I know is very different over here (again I don't really understand it in the US). Your lecturer cannot set random work here and there to count as summative assessment. Every module is different in how it's set up, but let's give an example:

Module: Coastal and Marine Conservation Two assessments, each worth 50% of the final grade. Assessment 1: A report on the biodiversity of Ramsey Island in the Pembrokeshire Coast National Park. Explore the cause of the lower biodiversity there than nearby Skomer/Skokholm; how was this challenged/rectified? How have species recovered since? What should be done into the future? Assessment 2: A two-hour closed book exam. Half of this exam (50 marks) will be a mix of short and medium length questions; things like "Define these five terms (two marks each)", or "Describe the process of longshore drift and its impact on sedimentation patterns (15 marks)" or what have you. The second half is a 50 mark essay - pick one of three essay questions offered, and off you go. (Essay questions are a staple feature of exams over here, and multiple choice questions are extremely rare and generally frowned on as being Not Sufficiently Academic.)

Now, in the case of this module, these are the only two assessment points. Both the report brief and the exam paper are registered with the academic office in the summer before the academic year even starts, and both are triple verified - by the lecturer who writes/sets them, by an internal verifier in the department, and an external verifier from another university. This is part of quality control.

If, for some reason, you fail one of these, or cannot submit them by their due date, or what have you, you still have to do them. If you claim for Extenuating Circumstances (e.g. "I was made homeless and my cat blew up, so I couldn't do it in time") then you get an extension on it; as long as you submit by the end of the academic period, you're fine. If you don't, you need to resit it. This normally means over the summer after the main term ends.

But, in the UK system what we can't do is go "Okay never mind, how about you submit a write-up of the volunteering you're currently doing with SeaLife instead and we'll count that?" The reason being, under the UK system that is not a quality-controlled solution. That has not been checked and verified as an equivalent assessment to what the rest of the class has done; so if you do that and get a 2:1, there is no assurance that you are actually of the same academic quality as one of your peers who got a 2:1 for that research report on Ramsey's biodiversity.

Which... don't let it scare you! As I say, there are a LOT of systems that can help you if things start going wrong (always, always, always keep Student Support and your lecturers in the loop). But that is a different system from what I understand you might be used to, so heads up on that.

(I am not arguing that one is better than the other, by the way. Last time I explained a difference in the UK university system I got a very hostile and aggressive American in the notes throwing a right strop over how terrible the UK system clearly is because XYZ, right up until I had to actually say "I am literally just describing how it's different, not claiming superiority," and then they went mysteriously quiet and stopped replying. So to forestall that, I am only describing the differences. There are advantages and disadvantages to each.

The UK system is certainly more inflexible. But it does, incidentally, at least free you from the tyranny I see reported so often by US students of the dreaded Tenured Professor who deliberately as a matter of pride sets impossible exams that everyone fails. Over here, that shit Does Not Fly. So there's that.)

Anyway - hopefully that answers your question! Any others, hit me up. Good luck, and enjoy your studies!

[cantareincminor]

For the Sake of Appearances

It's obvious that Eden Academy is a superficial place, despite the efforts of Henderson and other teachers to uphold its educational mission. Like any elite institution, most of its students hail from rich families and don't actually need a degree from Eden to be more than comfortable in life. Most of them are there acting as proxies for their parents, to accumulate even more wealth and power, often by schmoozing with people higher up on the chain like the Desmonds.

Twilight of course is aware of the dynamics and rules of the game at Eden and is playing to win. He crafts an upper middle class cover that will fit in decently without being rich or powerful himself. He looks for a smart child. He looks for a wife. Because apparently only children with two parents can get into the school.

Throughout the whole story so far he has been concerned about his family's image, both so his cover won't be blown, and so that Anya will advance Plan A or Plan B. He is sensitive to Anya acting out of turn, like punching Damian, or falling behind academically and having no talents with which to gain extracurricular Stellas.

Back when the Imperial Scholars Mixer chapters came out (before I joined the fandom), I'm sure there was a lot of discussion about the moment Anya made her speech to Damian and said this:

The sadness around Anya not knowing whether her adoptive father even likes her dominates this chapter, at least for me. But on a second read I thought about Twilight's perspective here.

For someone who has been so worried about appearances -- making sure his family can at least pretend at cultured tastes and manners, somehow pushing Anya to get good grades or preventing her from failing (by breaking into the records room), and ensuring his own image is immaculate -- one might expect that Twilight would also worry about appearances here. His daughter just admitted to his chief target's son that she doesn't know if her father loves her. Is that not breaking the facade of a loving nuclear family, which he needed to project at the Eden admissions interview?

But, sadly, having a loving family isn't actually a requirement among the many appearances people have to keep up in the Eden crowd. Damian himself is exhibit A on that front. Both his parents hardly ever bother to visit him or talk to him, and as we see in Chapter 104, it's made him avoid going home except when none of his family members are there. From a utilitarian perspective, it may be good that Anya said this to Damian, so she could appear empathetic to his situation.

What is really interesting is that we don't get any of Twilight's inner thoughts about Anya's speech, probably because he's so focused on Donovan's arrival. All we see is an "Anya..." which could be Endo hiding any further insights on Twilight from the audience, or Twilight genuinely not knowing what to think, or Twilight turning off his over-analyzing tendencies for once and even forgetting to worry about appearances, because his daughter really got to him with that speech. If the latter is true, it might explain his behavior during the cruise arc where he tries so hard to please Anya, with the whole "I'm a normal father. A good father," piece. Bit by bit, he starts to care about more than just appearances or outcomes, and shows through his actions that he wants Anya to be happy. He doesn't tell himself that her happiness is for the cover or for the mission as often as before.

I really do hope that in some future chapter we get a callback to this scene in Chapter 37 where Anya was uncertain whether her father likes her. After 103, where we even got a brief flashback to their first day out as a family overlooking the shopping street, I feel a bit more hope that at some point Twilight will give Anya the reassurance she needs directly or indirectly.

Or maybe, Anya has already figured it out, from all the things he's done for her and how his behavior has changed gradually since that day in the courtyard.

[whateversawesome]

Chapter 93: Stellas, Tonitrus and Another Desmond

First of all, congratulations to our girl for getting another stella (her first academic achievement stella too!) Good for you, Anya!!

Anya also got a tonitrus bolt, but who cares about that 😆 Oh yeah, I know who does...

Congratulations also to Twilight for not losing it. Good for you, Twilight...you're learning how to be a good dad. Hey, did you notice he didn't even try to look at the results before time?

Look at that baby's face 💕 Positive reinforcement and encouragement work wonders! Still, I hope one day, Anya realizes her papa loves her no matter what.

It was one hell of a chapter, don't you think?

Let me get this out of the way: the more I know the people around Donovan Desmond, the less I like him. Even though we know very little about this man, it looks like his relationship with his family has destabilized his wife and son's mental health and general wellbeing.

So, here are my thoughts:

Demetrius

He looks like a kid who was pushed too hard to study and was taught nothing else. Yeah, he may be a stella-earning machine, but he lacks a balance, like the ability to communicate and understand other people. If anything, he seemed overwhelmed by a simple interaction with a some kids.

I'm guessing his classmates see him like an unapproachable person and he is probably a loner. He doesn't seem close to his brother either and I'm going to guess he's not close to Melinda. I suspect his dad "took him under his wing" since he was very young and made him that way.

Why couldn't Anya read his thoughts?

At the moment, I don't think he was experimented on. In my opinion, this boy's only thoughts are about studying, earning stellas, and not being able to understand people. All courtesy of...

Donovan Desmond

It looks like Donovan did spend a lot of time with Demetrius when he was young. The purpose is still not very clear to me, but this looks fishy. Either he sincerely wanted his son to do well in school or there was a reason Donovan Desmond wanted to be inside those imperial scholar social gatherings.

My gut tells me it's the second option. Why?...

I believe Donovan was Prime Minister or close to being Prime Minister back then. Why would a busy politician like him spend his time making sure his son did well in school? Something doesn't add up.

In the present, Donovan is basically a recluse and the only events he attends are those imperial scholar gatherings. If Desmond was a good dad, it would be understandable for him to support his son, even if he didn't participate in politics anymore. But that's the thing; Donovan Desmond is not a good, supportive dad. Demetrius said it himself: his dad is not in contact with him. Meaning, there must be an ulterior motive for him to attend to those social gatherings.

My guess is that he used his son. And since he already has access to those meetings, he doesn't need to communicate with his eldest son anymore or to have a relationship with his youngest either.

Talking about the youngest Desmond...

Damian

Damian and Anya had a rocky start, but as the story advances, it's obvious Damian is a sweet boy, who seems so...abandoned.

Damian is the kind of kid who thinks he has to earn his parents' love (especially his dad's). That's horrible. That love should be unconditional.

However, after meeting Melinda and now Demetrius, I can confidently say he's better off at school. Because of this, I'm thinking that it was Melinda the one who insisted on Damian staying at Eden.

Damian probably thought that in order for his dad to spend time with him, he needed to be like his brother, meaning a stella-earning machine. That's why those stellas are so important to him. And let me say that it's remarkable that Damian is earning stellas without any help from his parents or anyone else (like Demetrius in the past and Anya in the present.)

Now I see that part of his character arc could be for him to realize he doesn't have to be like his brother and he doesn't need his father's approval either.

Can you see the difference his friends make in Damian's life? His friends, including Anya, are helping become a different person than his brother. They're helping him realize he doesn't have to behave "like a Desmond" only, that it's okay to behave like a kid too.

Maybe that's why his mom wants him to be friends with Anya. She's a good influence on him.

It will be interesting to see if Damian's relationship with Demetrius changes over time. I would like to see that because Damian craves a relationship with his family. In my opinion, Melinda does love his youngest son (we don't know how she feels about Demetrius), but there's a reason why she won't go near him. At some point, we'll find out that reason.

Twilight and Anya

Just like Desmond, Twilight needs to get into those imperial scholar gatherings. That's why Anya needs to get those stellas. We could argue he's also using Anya like Donovan used Demetrius, but there are a few key differences:

1.Anya knows and is helping him willingly, because she knows her papa's purpose: to keep peace (and make a world where children don't have to cry).

2.The way Twilight encourages Anya earn those stellas. Yes, he makes her study (helps her too), like any parent would, but he also lets Anya be herself! Twilight wants Anya to have a balanced life, to have friends, to have fun, to play, to watch TV, to go on outings and even travel as a family.

He's not forcing her to study 24/7 so she turns into a stella-earning machine, because he knows there's more to life than stellas and good grades and because he wants the best for his child, over his mission (even when he's not ready to admit that).

3.This whole thing is transforming him. Unlike Desmond, Twilight is becoming more human. He no longer serves his own purpose (even if that purpose is for peace). Now, he's a father and has to put his daughter's wellbeing first.

Do you need proof?

Here, Twilight asked the question we've all been dying to ask.

As a spy, he would have pushed his daughter to remember her past so she would answer the question. But instead...

He realized those memories could be painful and didn't want his daughter to think about that, so he just tells her to forget about it...Why? Because Anya's past doesn't matter. Even when it could be advantageous for his mission, he chooses to let it go for his daughter's sake and because she already has a family with Yor, Bond, and him.

Donovan and Damian

I wonder if at some point Donovan Desmond will try to use Damian for his own purpose. If that happens, I'm sure Damian won't turn his dad down, he'll be happy his father finally acknowledges him and will be happy to spend time with him.

My gut has been screaming that Damian and Donovan are a foil of [Redacted] and his dad. And not only that...Remember when that awful man made Anya cry during the Eden Interview and Twilight lost it? I suspect the relationship between Damian and Donovan Desmond could be a big trigger for Mr. Spy.

Since most of the characters in SxF are morally gray, I suspect Donovan Desmond will be the same. Maybe he'll turn out to be a good leader who wants the best for his country and wants to prevent the war, but at the same time is an abusive husband and father.

Would Twilight be okay with that now that he is a father and a husband himself?

At some point, Twilight will probably have to choose between his family and his mission and Donovan Desmond is his mission...🤔

[teecupangel]

Imagine Desmond born a twin

Submitted by @the-blue-eyed-fallen-angel

Imagine Desmond growing up as part of a set, never really able to be *him*, only *them*. Desmond and his twin being called interchangeably to the point even they were confused on who was who. Desmond being pitted against his sibling over an over again, and even winning feels like a failure when he sees the deep anger in his other half’s eyes.

Desmond agonizing over his decision to leave.

Desmond terrified of being well and truly alone for the first time in his life, in a dingy New York apartment.

Bonus: Desmond being bittter that for all they were identical, he is the only one stuck with the Isu genes

===============================

Additions by teecup:

I was soooo ready to write about how Desmond would live his entire life being compared to his twin and this ends with him feeling like he will always fail no matter what.

But then your idea of the two of them being called interchangeably reminded me of a plot point in Higurashi no Naku Koro Ni.

This is absolutely gonna be a spoiler so uuuhhh… ignore this post if you plan to read/watch Higurashi? XD

So a major twist in Higurashi was the fact that the two sisters who were identical swapped names during an event that led to them being stuck forever with having to use their sister’s name.

We’ll add a similar setup in this one.

During a training session, Desmond and his twin changed names (it was easy, all they had to do was change t shirts and voila~) and that’s when Desmond gets the scar on his lips.

While he was pretending to be his brother.

We’ll set when they were younger, maybe not even teenagers, to make it easier for them to swap places and for Desmond to have to live for years hearing people praise ‘Desmond’ while any praises for him were attributed to a different name.

So from there on, Desmond became known as his brother while his brother used the name Desmond.

Desmond still leaves the Farm years later because he couldn’t take it anymore.

He learned of the old tradition of having an heir and a spare and he saw himself as an unneeded spare.

Before 2012, his brother rises in ranks as fast as he could so he would have the freedom to look for Desmond.  

And this becomes a major twist because…

Abstergo knows about ‘Desmond Miles’, Desmond’s name appeared in one of Cross’ mission (The Fall comics) and so they’re focused on finding the Assassin Desmond Miles.

Not the bartender that goes by the name ‘Miles’.

.

A bigger twist is that everyone believes Desmond’s twin is meant to save the world and only his twin realizes that they need to find Desmond. He had tried to tell people before that he isn’t Desmond but they never believed him because he had taken Desmond’s name for far too long.

It all comes to a head when Juno intervenes and tells them that this ��Desmond’ is an imposter and the real Desmond is long gone, having noticed the strange men that was following him (as he was a ‘spare’ in Abstergo’s eyes to be kept under surveillance and used as bait in case any Assassins try to contact him with orders to be kidnapped only if necessary)

#ngl, I did reply to the idea based on umineko’s golden truth, and that’s why i easily remembered higurashi XD,

[sneaky-eel]

Desmond, bartender in 2000s-2010s New York would absolutely binge shitty reality tv and adore eavesdropping on patrons when he can't get his drama fix. He's the RPG tavern owner who you ask if he has heard any rumors and his eyes light up because now he can info dump all the shit he hears. This follows him to the past, where now he has to actively seek out this entertainment.

He abuses his enhanced senses to sit on roofs and listen in with a hand to his mouth like, "oh my god. They were roommates." He is both the best informant and the worst because, while he is a master at getting information, the details he focuses on are useless to the Order.

"Yeah so this guy will be here at this time at this place, whatever. But! More importantly this guy has been having an affair with his wife's sister AND her brother and-"

"Please, Desmond, I am begging you just tell me the information for the mission."

--------

In Altair's time, Malik was originally Desmond's go to but after being chased out one to many times for "loitering and disturbing the peace of the bureau" (i.e. Malik's peace) Desmond switches to the Rafiq in Damascus since he "at least appreciates me." Eventually Malik would begrudgingly miss his presents and send a request for him to come back because Desmond is the only one he can rant at about Altair.

Altair does not know what the hell Desmond is talking about half the time, but now he does know the baker has three sons that his wife never knew of and one of the sons has shown up at the baker's home.

He normally will just let Desmond keep talking cause he likes his voice.

---------

In Ezio's time he is best friends with Claudia and her girls love him. He'll drop in and gossip with them about their patrons or even warn them about some of them. "Be careful I heard that he has some craziness going on between the legs." or the girls will ask questions about Ezio.

"I heard he is a beast in bed, is that true?"

"Well you didn't hear it from me, buuuut~"

He is 100% going off of hazy animus memories, but all the courtesans totally think he has either A.) slept with Ezio or B.) is actively sleeping with Ezio

With Claudia he talks about the goings on in Tiber Island and what Ezio is up to. Ezio doesn't know how the hell his sister knows everything he is doing or why he gets a message from her forbidding him from doing something he hasn't even gotten to do yet and Desmond just stands off to the side sweating.

---------

Connor is gonna go gray early with how often Desmond just disappears from the Homestead because he seems hellbent on not staying still as it gets "to boring there". Desmond will normally pop up in the strangest of places. Either Connor will find him, head tilted like a dog as he listens in on a group or Desmond will just hunt Connor down himself. "Heard you were in the area."

At time he loves it because Desmond always has a ready flow of information and he is very good at sowing discontent with it, making for good distractions. On the other hand he can do without the open commentary or rampant attention he gives any interaction Connor has with his father.

"It's so much more interesting when it's not me"

*Connor and Haytham both glare at him*

[piracytheorist]

Oh BOI when I tell you this transition gave me shivers

This is a prime example of why spies like Twilight cannot afford emotional attachment, why their entire survival depends on them ignoring their own internal struggles.

Donovan Desmond is a force to be reckoned with; within minutes of meeting Loid, he shamelessly shares his corrupted views on humanity:

"It is simply impossible to understand what someone else is thinking. People will never be able to understand each other."

And that's why you're using force to bring other nations to their knees?

There you have Twilight; a man who lost everything in a war started by people who had the same way of thinking that Desmond has; a man who has sacrificed his own identity and chances of personal happiness in his mission to never allow others to suffer like he did.

The emotional investment is huge. He doesn't do it just because he thinks it's the right thing to do, he does it because he has first-hand experience of how much pain a war can cause. And he'd rather keep suffering if it means such pain won't be felt again by anyone else.

And yet, through all his internal turmoil, he has to look at Desmond and smile and agree with him. Him acting like the loyal Ostanian citizen who believes the Desmond group cares for the country is nothing compared to this transition. He goes from a man who is haunted by the traumas of his past to a beaming, hopeful man who indirectly endorses violence - the very thing that ruined his and many other people's lives - over understanding among humans

He has to become the exact opposite of what he stands for, become the kind of man like the ones whose actions ruined him. And the ironic depiction is not lost to the audience; his eyes are covered in shadows as we hear his inner thoughts, slowly getting brighter as he prepares his disguise, and finally getting back to the light when he fully dons it.

It's disturbing and it's wrong and it's the opposite of how it should be. Twilight may have made it his life's mission to never act on his emotions, but it's perfectly clear he does have emotions; he's just very good at willingly pushing them aside. And this depiction in that lighting is perfect to show how it's a necessary and conscious depravity of his own self that he has to partake in in order to survive and see his mission through.

It's brilliant. Disturbing, but brilliant.

(Anime only fan here, don't spoil me for the manga)

[ethan-acfan]

More desmond headcanons bc my blorb is scurrying around my head and won't leave.

Desmond develops chronic migraines from the animus like the really bad kind. The ones where you pass out and wake up in Pain™️

Desmond is weirdly good at singing, but he never tells anyone, and most of the time, when he sings around others, he does it ironically, so one day he is just humming a song and everyone is like "WTF YOU CAN SING?"

Des starts picking up odd habits from his ancestors, such as refusing to step into a room with his left foot (edward) or running his tongue along his scar.

He 100% blames himself for not getting clay out of the animus

Is creepily flexible, like to a concerning degree.

He strikes me as a language nerd he def has duolingo, and even before the animus, he knew like 15 different languages

He climbs walls (yes, I was a wall climber as a kid, yes I am projecting rn)

ADHD DESMOND

He once got a 70 year old bottle of whiskey from a "friend" from the bar, and he absolutely shows it off every chance he gets.

He has connections to gangs and has gone on bike rides with them.

He can't do basic math to save his life if someone puts a multiplication problem in front of him, he short circuits.

He starts getting really bad nose bleeds from the animus, scares the crap out of everyone.

Definitely knows how to flirt like FLIRT can turn the straightest of men gay for a night if need be. It just gets worse after going through ezios' memories.

Has a list of really weird talents but can't do basic tasks like, yeah, you can dislocate your shoulder and pop it back into place, but can you cook eggs without burning them🤨

Terrible at cooking (95% sure his food is banned under the Geneva Conventions)

Can't walk in a straight line he is the friend who bumps into 1000 times a minute while walking down the side walk.

He is weirdly silent, like even before the animus thing, he is always weirdly quiet like silent footsteps can't hear his breathing etc. He dosent mean to it just happens

The only training that really stuck from the farm was the stealth training it was also his favorite subject to work on he probably hated hand to hand combat.

He has never filed taxes a day in his life, but the IRS could never track him down. He honestly doesn't even know he supposed to be paying them. The IRS has a meltdown over this.

Ok, I think this was enough to satisfy the itch in my brain. I'm gonna go to bed, know I might post a one-shot about the IRS one tomorrow. Idk

[curtis-corner]

STAND BY ME (Darry Curtis) PART 11

Fic Materlist Here

This part is definitely the longest one so far! It was really fun to picture the entire scene going down and I hope it comes across in writing how I pictured it. I really enjoy this little world and am so happy you are all enjoying as well. Thank you for every like and comment <3

Taglist : @lovelylegolas2123 @amnestyliketaz @spuffyfan394, @sleeplessskeleton

PART 11

Your interactions with Tim Shepard have, up until today, been limited to him buying things at the store. He is older than you, so you never shared classes and truth be told, he sort of terrifies you.

You are pretty sure Darry isn’t afraid of anything except losing his brothers, so he doesn’t seem shaken at all when he walks out the front door, shutting it tight behind him.

You notice Pony moving into the living room and you peek your head around the corner.

“Can you hear him?” Pony mumbles and Soda nods. Pony carefully walks over to where Soda is standing next to the open window and they both quietly sit on the floor.

You realize they plan on eavesdropping on their brother, and you walk over ready to blow their cover and have them move, when you hear Tim Shepard say:

“Her old man owes over three thousand dollars to Ray Desmond. That ain’t a guy you want to owe.”

You feel like your knees are about to give out. You’re frozen to the spot and unable to stop listening to the conversation. You feel Pony and Soda’s eyes on you, knowing they figured it out as well, but you can’t stop staring at the door.

“She’s got no part in that. I don’t want his goons coming after her.” Darry sounds tough, and angrier than you’ve ever heard him before.

“I already spread it around that she’s Darry Curtis’ girl and she doesn’t have a damn clue where her daddy is. But that doesn’t mean Ray’s boys won’t come asking.”

“If she had the money, she’d pay it just to bail out her dad and keep herself safe. But she doesn’t.” You can’t see Darry but you know he’s likely running his hand through his hair and looking up to the sky in frustration. “Hell, we could rob everyone’s wallets from here to the county line and we won’t get three thousand dollars.”

“I don’t run with Ray’s boys but I know he keeps a tight leash on them and he has enough standards for a bookie that he won’t hurt her if she really doesn’t know anything. But if her daddy comes back to town, he’s sealing his own coffin.”

Darry lets out a swear and it’s quiet for a minute until he clears his throat.

“Guess I owe you pretty big then.”

“It’s set for next Saturday. Clinton Park at 7.”

“I’ll be there.”

Soda and Pony move quickly, both clamoring to stand up and away from the window, but they aren’t quick enough. Darry walks in, sees the three of you in the living room and sighs.

“Are you kidding me.”

“The window was open,” Pony tries.

“What’s set for next Saturday?” Soda narrows his eyes at his older brother.

“Did you tell Tim Shepard to find out who my dad owes money to?” You ask, knowing the answer but needing to hear it from Darry himself.

Darry looks between the three of you and shakes his head, walking towards the kitchen to the forgotten supper.

“Can we talk about this later?” Darry’s irritated, but he’s not off the hook with any of you. All three of you follow him.

“Is it the rumble with the Carter boys? Are you fighting with the Shepard gang?”

“How do you know about that?” Darry asks Soda, who shrugs and raises his eyebrows, waiting for confirmation. It clicks for you exactly why Darry would be fighting in a rumble, and you see red.

“Did you make a deal with Tim that you’d be in a rumble for him?” You know your voice is getting louder, and somewhere in the back of your mind it registers that this is your and Darry’s first major argument.

“We’ll talk about it later.” Darry starts scooping mashed potatoes from the pot and slamming them on to a plate. “Y’all start eating.”

“You can’t be in a rumble by yourself, what if you get hurt!” Pony looks worried.

“Don’t worry Pony, I’m going with him.” Soda is confident and you swear his chest puffs out a little. “Steve and Two will too.”

“What about me?” Pony asks.

“No.” Darry shuts him down and he gets a piece of chicken fried steak. He turns to Soda. “And we’ll talk about you and the others. Make a plate.”

“Come on Darry!” Pony whines.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to talk to Tim?” You ignore Darry’s request to talk about it later.

“Damnit, can we just eat before I get an interrogation from every person here?” Darry’s voice is loud again, but it doesn’t scare you. It just adds the fuel to your fire.

“How could you agree to a rumble just for information on my father? What in the world would make you think I would be okay with this?”

Darry slams his plate on the table and takes a deep breath.

“Tim did something for me, I’ll do something for him. It was my choice and whoever choses to fight, it’s their choice too.”

“I choose-“ Pony starts.

“Not you.” Darry cuts him off.

“Well I’m so glad y’all have your choices.” You can see in Darry’s expression when he realizes your voice has gone from hot anger to ice cold.  “Seems the only one without a choice is me.”

“That’s not true-“

“And when someone gets hurt? It’s my fault because this was all done for me. And I don’t want it!” Your voice is back to anger and you can feel tears pricking in the corner of your eyes.

Across the table Darry seems to be cooling off. You’ve always been good at reading him, even when he was just an acquaintance coming into the store. The angry glint in his eyes starts to fade, replaced by a warm look of concern.

But while he is calming down, you are heating up.

“Do you think I feel better because I know how much my dad owes? Who he owes?”

“Honey,” Darry steps around the table but you take two steps back.

“How am I going to get that money? Three thousand fucking dollars. Jesus!” You know you’re breaking down, and your mind is yelling at you to stop but you just can’t. Words keep coming out of you like a faucet you can’t turn off. “This is such a goddamn mess!”

“Sweetheart,” Darry is within reaching distance of you know but you furiously shake your head.

“I need some fresh air.” His face crumbles and even though you are angry, you take a breath. “Just the porch, Darry. I promise.”

Darry had once confided in you that ever since Pony ran out the night he slapped him, Darry had been terrified of people leaving and never coming back. That the days Pony was gone were some of his worst, even worse than the days after his parents died.

You were upset, but you still loved him more than anything. And you would never try to hurt him on purpose.

You walk out the door, shutting it firmly behind you and throw yourself into the old lawn chair. The sun is hanging low in the Oklahoma sky, casting a brilliant mix of colors across the neighborhood.

A pack of cigarettes and an old lighter lay on the overturned cooler-turned-table. You recognize the brand as the one Pony favors, and you reach into the box, taking one and lighting it up before you can really think it through.

Smoking isn’t something you do often – you’ve tried it a few times and never liked the aftertaste, but you can’t deny that it does take the edge off when you need it to.

The door opens and put your cigarette out in the ashtray. You are both surprised and somehow not surprised to see Soda and his kind smile.

“Mind if I have a seat?” You nod and he hands you a blanket. “Darry didn’t want you gettin’ cold.”

“Thanks.” You recognize the old plaid blanket as your favorite one in the house and your heart warms a little that Darry must have caught on that you always gravitate towards that one.

“You know, I love my brothers the same. And I’d do just about anything for them. But glory, they are stubborn.” You let out a laugh and his smile grows.

“Especially that older one.” You sigh. “Soda?”

“Yeah?”

“What happens in a rumble? I mean, I know y’all fight but…how bad does it get?” The longer you sit out here, the more it bothers you and you can’t shake the feeling of dread.

“Aw, it ain’t so bad. Especially a skin rumble. Steve’s broken his nose twice, and Two Bit usually gets a black eye for running his mouth while punching. But Darry never gets hit too bad, he can knock a grown man out with one punch.”

“I don’t know how much better I feel about that,” You admit, but the pit in your stomach does get a little lighter. “Why won’t he let Pony fight?” Soda’s expression falls.

“Last time…well, last time Pony really shouldn’t have fought at all. He had just gotten back from bein’ on the run, and he was real tired and got pretty sick after. But Johnny and Dallas died that night too, so it was just…�� He trails off.

“Just a lot going on?”

“Yeah. Darry was real scared about it though, so he doesn’t want Pony anywhere near a fight. Even a clean one.” You mull it over for a minute.

“Soda, if any of you get hurt…I don’t see how I can forgive myself.”

“You’re not makin’ us do anythin’. Darry agreed for Tim, and we got his back. Just how it goes.” He says it easily, and you guess he had a point.

“I’m sorry I yelled at Darry in front of you and Pony. And that I dropped the f word.” Soda gives you that movie-star smile and shakes his head.

“We have heard that word before, you know.” You both share a laugh. “Darry’s just always trying to fix everything. We called him superman even before our parents died.”

“I do love that about him. Even when…” You trail off.

“Even when he drives you crazy?” Soda offers and you nod. “That’s alright. My dad used to drive my mom crazy all the time. But they always worked it out. That’s what love is.”

--

Darry is attacking the laundry when you softly open the door. You see four piles – Darry, Soda, Ponyboy…and you.

“Hi,” He looks up at your quiet greeting. His eyes are guarded, but kind.

“Hey.” Darry answers. He puts down the faded high school shirt into the Ponyboy pile and jams his hands into his jean pockets. You know that’s a tell-tale sign that he’s nervous.

“Can we talk?” He nods. “I apologized to Soda and I’ll talk to Pony tomorrow, but I never should have yelled at you in front of them. Or swore. I’m sorry.”

“What? No baby, you don’t have to be sorry.” Darry takes a tentative step closer to you and you realize you need to feel his arms around you more than anything. So, you close the gap between the two of you and sink into his embrace. He lets out a soft relieved sigh when you do. “I shouldn’t have raised my voice. And I should have told you I went to Tim.”

“Why did you go to him?” You ask and Darry pulls back a little, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Because I was scared to death. When you showed up in the middle of the night, and I hear Steve screamin’ and you’re covered in cuts and can barely breathe?” His eyes are darker and even though you were there, hearing the events of the night from him sends a shiver down your spine. “That night when I dropped you home and the house was dark…I didn’t have a good feelin’. And then everything happened…”

“It wasn’t your fault.” You reach up to touch his face and his eyes close for a minute as he leans into your touch. “This is all my dad.”

“And I went to Tim to confirm that the men were after your dad, not you.” Darry’s expression is pleading, needing you to understand. You feel tears start to form again. “I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe, and if that means knocking a few guys from Louisville Heights, that’s not a problem. You’re worth it, you hear me?” You swear his captivating eyes are staring right into your soul. “You’re always worth it.”

You nod and he pulls you closer, lifting you slightly from the floor as he moves towards the bed. He sits at the edge of the bed and pulls you on to his lap. You take a few deep breaths as he runs his hands up and down your back.

“My dad’s not coming back, is he?”

“It’s…probably better if he doesn’t.” Darry is putting it delicately and you appreciate it. You know you can never go back to your house, that you would never be able to sleep and always be terrified about another break in, or worse. As if he’s reading your mind, Darry pulls you a little closer. “You can stay here.”

“For how long?”

“Forever?” Darry asks and you can feel your eyes go wide and mouth drop slightly open.

“Darry Curtis, you can’t just ask me to move in! We just had our first big fight!”

“And now we’re makin’ up.” Darry buries his head in the crook of your neck and you can feel him grinning against you.

“It’s one thing to stay a few days while things get sorted, but move in permanently?”

“People do it all the time.” Darry starts kissing up and down your collarbone.

“Married people.”

“Well-“

“Darry, do not finish that sentence.” You hear his low chuckle and you feel like this whole evening has given you emotional whiplash. He leans his head back again and smiles up at you, one of those lazy smiles that you so rarely get to see.

“I’m not asking right now, but honey, you know I already planned on doing it one day.” You certainly did not know that. “And if you’re more comfortable moving in with a ring on your finger, we’ll just speed up the timeline a bit.”

“It’s not about--oh my--I mean--Darry.” He’s back to kissing your neck as you are having a near-crisis. “If we get married, I then become another guardian for Pony and Soda. You need to talk to them about it, make sure they are okay with it, before we even think about…you know…timelines.” You finish lamely and it doesn’t help that you can feel him smiling against your jaw. He leans back and rests his forehead against yours.

“So you’ll stay?”

And you hear it in his voice: how much he wants this. How the need to protect you may have been the catalyst for you moving in, but staying for the long haul is something he desperately wants.

You understand the feeling because you want it just as bad. You want the good days and the hard days and the regular old days in between. You want to come home to Darry and you want Darry to come home to you. It seems simple when you really think about it.

“I’ll stay. Always.”

NEXT: Settling into the Curtis house/life, thinking about Darry's talk of timelines and the outcome of the rumble with the Shepard boys.

[suzukiblu]

Ko-fi thank-you sentences for redflawedglass behind the cut; they asked for dealer's choice, and I picked "Clark wakes up alive". ( chrono || non-chrono )

“I hope you don't mind me just showing up like this,” he says, gentle and apologetic. Conner never had enough choices in his life, short as it was. He feels like–Clark just wants better for him, this time. “Is it alright that I'm here?”

It was partially his fault, that Conner thought he couldn't choose things for himself for so long. Thought he couldn't have things he wanted. Thought he just had to accept whatever he was offered, more often than not. 

Not always. Not every time. But–too much of the time. 

If Clark can help him learn otherwise sooner . . . 

Well. Of course he's going to try to. 

. . . yes, appears very slowly in Clark's head, and he smiles at Conner again. 

“Thank you,” he says. “I'm happy to hear that. I hope us meeting each other makes you happy too.” 

Conner's face stays perfectly impassive, but his eyes go wet. He blinks, and Clark hears his heartbeat stutter again. 

He could've done this last time. He could've done less than this, and Conner would've had a much easier and much less painful start to life outside Cadmus. 

But he didn't, of course, so he can't do any less than this now. 

“Call security,” Desmond says flatly. . 

“On Superman?” Guardian asks in disbelief. “Sir, even if there was a reason to call security, I wouldn't do that to security.” 

“He’s trespassing!” Desmond snaps. “And interfering with the subject, besides!” 

“I mean, I don’t know if this is interfering . . .” Guardian says skeptically. 

This is absolutely interfering, and Clark is going to be doing as much of it as (in)humanly possible, but he does prefer no one calling security and interrupting the conversation. 

“Don’t mind me,” he says to them, as pleasant and sweet as Ma’s most passive-aggressive “bless your heart”. Then he smiles a little softer at Conner, trying to be . . . careful, maybe. 

He did this so badly last time. Did so badly by Conner last time. 

He doesn’t intend to do anything like that again. 

Ever. 

“It really is so good to meet you, kid,” he says gently. Simple and straightforward, still. Easy for a child to understand, he hopes–or at least easier. Conner had enough trouble understanding other people to begin with, and he can’t imagine it’d be any easier while operating a younger brain and with an even earlier interruption to his education uploads. “Would you mind if I hugged you now?” 

Conner’s eyes . . . flicker, just barely. There’s confusion in them, Clark thinks, but it’s a little hard to tell. He’s even less expressive than the version of himself Clark’s used to. 

. . . was used to. 

Clark doesn’t think about that. Not right now. 

. . . ‘hug’? appears in his head, slow and hesitant over an obviously unfamiliar word. 

Clark debates throwing Desmond through a wall. Just a thin wall. Not a load-bearing one. 

But definitely a wall. 

“I mean I’d like to hold you,” he explains, because if Conner sees him get angry, he’ll blame himself for it. Of course he would, between his current age and the kind of things he’s likely had shoved into his brain so far. “Like you were holding your friend a moment ago.” 

He points at the G-gnome to clarify, and Conner . . . hesitates. Nothing appears in Clark’s head. 

“Call security immediately,” Desmond snaps at Guardian. “Now!” 

“Sir–” Guardian starts, half-raising his hands, and Desmond’s expression turns murderous. 

“That was an order, Guardian,” he says dangerously. Clark half-expects to feel G-gnomes in his mind or for Guardian to change his mind under their influence, but nothing happens. 

He doesn’t look at Dubbilex, but he . . . wonders, a little. 

Conner just barely shrinks in on himself, and Clark wonders how many times he’s been faced with an angry person so much bigger and older than him in real life, or even been out of his pod at all. Is this the first time? A regular occurrence? Something in-between? 

The G-gnome hops up on Conner’s shoulders; leans forward over his head and inspects Clark curiously, tilting its own head. Conner freezes, and Clark sees the faintest trace of fear in the back of his eyes. 

He wonders if the G-gnome’s putting it there, but Conner’s looking right at him. 

So if the G-gnome is putting it there . . . 

If it is, Clark can’t help but suspect it’s not actually a deliberate effort on the creature’s part, as opposed to a genuine by-product of Conner not knowing what to expect from him. 

Not knowing if he’ll hurt the G-gnome, he means, remembering the way Conner had hesitated when he’d called it his friend. 

Considering what he knows of how Desmond ran this place–is running this place right now . . . 

“Hello,” Clark says, and smiles at the G-gnome. “It’s nice to meet you too.” 

The G-gnome stares at him for a long, silent moment, and then slips back down behind Conner’s back and wraps its arms around his neck. Clark hears something like a whisper from another room, but not that clear, and Conner . . . hesitates, again. 

Then the word hug appears in Clark’s mind again, this time tentative and longing, and he doesn’t hesitate himself at all. He scoops up Conner and stands up with him in the same moment, and Conner lets out a little breath as his thrumming heartbeat stutters in his chest, and Clark holds him against his own chest very, very carefully, as if he’s holding something more delicate than melting frost on a sunny morning or cracked porcelain. 

Conner doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself; where to put his hands or arms. If he should hold onto him or lean into him or not. 

Clark keeps him in his arms anyway, and swears to himself he’s not leaving without the kid. Not for anything. If Conner doesn’t want to come with him right now, then he’ll wait here with him until he does, no matter what happens outside. 

If Conner never wants to come with him, well–then he’ll just stay, if that’s what it takes. 

He’s not giving Desmond the chance to hurt or hide him. Not giving anyone that chance. 

He wonders if the Conner he remembers even remembered being this small himself, or if it was so brief an experience that it didn’t stick in his head at all. 

He suspects it might’ve been, and hates the thought. 

Buzzes, appears in Clark’s head, still tentative. He doesn’t understand, for a moment, and then realizes Conner’s ear is practically against his chest. So he’s probably talking about . . . 

“I always thought of it as more a ‘thrum’, myself,” he says, and Conner stares mutely at him. Their heartbeats aren’t a perfect match–even with cloned DNA, Conner isn’t quite Kryptonian enough, and his heart beats a little slower and harder than his does. The separate beats are more audible, too. 

But it does still thrum, when it comes to it. 

Warm, appears in Clark’s head too, and Conner ducks his head just enough to hide his face from Desmond when the tears start falling. 

His expression doesn’t change at all, but the tears on his face are undeniable. 

Maybe a load-bearing wall wouldn’t be so bad to throw Desmond through, Clark thinks, bundling the kid up tighter in his arms and wrapping his cape around him as he does. Then he looks at Guardian, and puts on the most pleasant smile he can manage without needing to actually throw Desmond through a load-bearing wall first. 

“I appreciate you taking care of him, but it’s not good for him to be down in the dark like this,” he says, gently stroking what of Conner’s back the G-gnome isn’t perched on and pretending not to notice the fat, heavy tears dripping onto the El crest on his chest. “He needs the sun.” 

“There’s, ah–a solar suit, sir,” Guardian says, but he looks uncomfortable even as he says it. “I mean–he’s being fed solar energy, not just . . . uh . . .” 

He trails off, and looks much more uncomfortable; like he’s just realized what he’s saying. Maybe he has, given Desmond’s influence over the G-gnomes and what they do and don’t let people down here think. 

Guardian still thinks he’s human himself right now, after all.

[green-eyedfirework]

Dick slowly pulled the longsleeve on, keeping his movements even to avoid flinching or showing a grimace of pain on his face.  His teammates wouldn't care if he was injured--would, in fact, sneer at him worse, though Dick could feel Desmond's eyes on him, relentless in smug satisfaction.

The Bludhaven Blockbusters had lost, not that it mattered much to them in the standings.  It was a well-fought game--the Blockbusters had a great offense, courtesy of Dick, but the Jokers' defensive lineup was no, ha, joke.  The score had been close, no team getting more than a two-point lead, until the last period, where Desmond let in an astonishing number of goals.

Almost like he'd been paid off to do so.

"Ready to make up for our loss, Grayson?"  Someone wolf-whistled from the other side of the locker room.  "You have to be good for something, and clearly winning isn't it."

Dick had scored four goals despite the Jokers' defensemen attacking him like a school of piranha on chum.  The fact that they'd marked him so closely had let the rest of the line-up score as well.  Desmond was the one who lost the game.

Not that Dick was stupid enough to say that out loud.  He was well aware he had no friends here.

Dick finished changing into the longsleeve and sweatpants and closed his locker before walking out of the room.  His side throbbed with fierce intensity on every step and he had to force himself not to limp.  He was pretty sure he'd broken something when he'd been shoved against the boards, elbow slamming into his side, but there was no way he was going to go to the medic to get it checked out.

He'd get this over with and ice it in his hotel room.  Along with the rest of his injuries.  And whatever else he picked up along the way.

"What took so long?" Redhorn barked the moment he stepped out.  "Come on, they're waiting."  He marched off, not looking to see if Dick was following, and Dick had to jog to keep up.

His whole body ached, but nothing as much as the hollow inside his chest.  Dick loved hockey.  He loved the ice.  He loved the game, as brutal as it was, didn't mind limping away with a broken rib or five in exhilaration.  He'd been prepared to accept the messy politics of the game, the omnipresent corruption, the money, the paparazzi, and even the more unsavory aspects, like the winner's room that was all but an open secret in the league.

Dick didn't think he liked hockey any more.

The ice was no longer an escape, winning didn't bring any joy, and Dick could feel a part of himself get leached away as he fell over and over in the same trap, stuck in the mire instead of skating above it.  And all because of one scorned woman.

"Richard," the low voice called out from the darkened corridors.  Dick flinched, but he managed to suppress the hiss as his chest tightened.  Redhorn paused as the woman unfolded herself from the shadows, striding forward with a bright red smile.  "Mi amor, you played so well today," the woman hummed, catching his face and kissing both cheeks.  Dick didn't move, carefully frozen still.  "It's such a shame we lost, no?"

Dick didn't say a word.  In a world of sharks, Catalina Flores was the biggest one in the shiver.  Desmond's orders had probably come directly from her.

"It is a shame," Catalina murmured, voice dropping even lower as a manicured fingernail stroked down his cheek.  "I wish you did not have to do this, Richard."  Lie.  "Won't you change your mind, mi amor?  Come with me and I promise you'll never have to do this again."

Dick stepped back, controlled so it didn't look like he was jerking himself free of her grip.  "No," he said, the same thing he said every time she made this offer.  Even the first time he could tell she was bad news, but he didn't realize how bad until he'd seen the consequences of spurning her.

Catalina's smile dropped away to a hard look and flashing eyes.  "Very well," she said, voice cold.  "Enjoy your time with Wilson, then."

Dick had to fight not to blanch.  Wilson?  Slade Wilson?  One of the oldest players in the league, still at the top of his game, strong and fast enough that rumors of doping had swirled unconfirmed for years?  The Jokers' star defenseman, and the very same defenseman that Dick had outwitted with a flashy trick to get his fourth goal?

He could still remember the seething fire in Wilson's eyes.  The man had checked him twice as hard after Dick had shot the puck through his legs, and he was the reason half of Dick's left side felt like it'd been crushed.  And that had been Wilson on the ice, with restraint.

Dick felt faint.  But Redhorn was moving so Dick had to follow behind him, leaving Catalina and her burning glare behind.  The numbness was coming on fast this time and Dick welcomed it, cocooning himself in the fog so he didn't end up hyperventilating.

It had been a couple of weeks since the Blockbusters had lost a game, since Dick had been on the receiving end of hatred and not just scorn, and a part of him wondered how long he could survive this.

Catalina wasn't going to stop.  She clearly wasn't getting tired of him, and his frequent rejections were just making her angry.  Maybe he should give in, accept whatever protection she offered and sell his soul.

He was already in hell anyway.

They approached a plain door and Dick suppressed the panic and hung on to the numbness.  It was getting easier and easier to draw himself down into it, and harder and harder to come out.  "Get to the hotel when you're done," Redhorn growled, turning away without a glance.  "The team's leaving at six in the morning."

That was it.  No instructions on how he was supposed to get to the hotel, or what would happen if he was late, or any kind of support at all.  Just abandonment in the middle of the Jokers' stadium.  Dick luckily knew his way around Gotham, but he wasn't sure how many pieces Wilson would leave him in.

Dick waited until the sound of Redhorn's footsteps had faded away before he reached out and knocked on the door.

The sound felt muted.  Disconnected.  Everything was moving a step behind his mind and Dick blinked when the door opened to a silver-haired man nearly twice his size.

Part of Dick was fascinated by the disparity.  As a winger, Dick was smaller than his teammates, built for agility and not so much for slamming people against the boards.  Wilson was clearly built for his job, a steel wall of muscle towering above him, with ice blue eyes scanning over Dick before settling on his face.  "Come inside," Wilson said.

The room was tamer than most others Dick had seen, looking more like a hotel room than a sex dungeon.  There was a drawer set next to the bed that was clearly for supplies, and a mini fridge, and what appeared to be an attached bathroom.  Dick followed Wilson all the way to the bed and stopped when Wilson turned to face him.

"So, Bludhaven's hotshot new left wing," Wilson said.  This time, his scan was more of a leer, gaze dragging over his body.  "Think those flashy tricks of yours are cute, kid?"

Dick didn't answer.  He knew better than to engage.  Wilson already wanted a punching bag, he didn't need to make things worse.

"I'm surprised no one's beaten that out of you yet," Wilson mused.  "Though I suppose it's my turn to give it a go."

Dick didn't back away as Wilson stalked closer, no matter how much he wanted to.

"You shot four goals," Wilson said, eyes burning.  "How about we start with payback for each one?"

Wilson's grip was stronger than Catalina's, easily shoving him back against the bed as he bent down.  His kiss was equally aggressive, harsh and plundering, and Dick retreated deeper into the fog and let it happen.

There was no point to the fear, it wouldn't save him, it didn't tell him anything he didn't already know.  All Dick could do was try to brace for the pain that was going to follow.

Wilson shoved, hard, and Dick fell back on the bed, sinking instantly into the soft material.  He barely managed to struggle up on his elbows before Wilson crawled on after him, straddling his thigh and shoving him back down, big hands wrapping around his ribs.

Dick couldn't help the gasp of pain.

The grip disappeared immediately, but the throbbing pain was high and searing and Dick instinctively, ineffectually, tried to curl up, hand pressed to his ribs and blinking against his prickling eyes.  Fuck, that hurt, and Dick was suddenly concerned about his ability to take this punishment.  They hadn't even gotten started.

"What happened?" Wilson demanded, still straddling Dick.  "Are you injured?"

"I'm fine," Dick said thickly, or tried to say, the pain made everything even more disconnected.

Wilson just scoffed, tugging at his shirt.  "Get this off and let me see.  I don't want your team to accuse me of damaging their precious star forward."

The numbness made it hard to muddle through that sentence as Dick obediently tried to pull his shirt off.  Was Wilson saying he wasn't going to injure him?  Clearly he didn't know the priorities of Blockbusters' management very well, which was great for Dick if it meant Wilson wasn't going to be that rough.

Dick hissed as he tried to pull the shirt up, it was more difficult when he was practically pinned to the bed, and he ended up letting go and trying to breathe past the black spots in his vision when the pain grew too large to ignore.

"Christ, Grayson," the harsh voice said as Dick stared at the ceiling and tried to blink the stars out of his eyes.  "Why didn't you get this treated?"

"It's fine," Dick said, and had to stifle a gasp as Wilson pressed down against the throbbing ache.

"You're black and blue all over, and you haven't applied anything.  Why didn't you go to the medic first?"  There was something approaching alarm in Wilson's voice.

"I'm fine," Dick repeated.  Amy would've slipped some painkillers in his bag and he could ice it when he got back.  "Why do you care?" Dick couldn't stop himself from saying.  "You're the one that caused it."

Silence.

That was a stupid thing to say.  Especially when he was flat on his back underneath the defenseman, utterly at his mercy.  A slow, creeping cold slithered in past the numbness and Dick couldn't even shiver.

Wilson hadn't moved.  His fingers were still resting lightly on what was probably a black splotch on Dick's chest, just waiting to dig in.  Dick had the sudden--and chilling--realization that the state of his body probably gave Wilson a very clear picture of how little Blockbusters' management cared about his injuries, as long as he could still skate.

"Look, can you just get on with it?" Dick said, brain-to-mouth filter completely on vacation.

The fingers moved up, skating across his ribs up to his collarbone.  "I didn't cause this," Wilson said, quiet.

Dick didn't know what he was pointing to.  He tried to crane his neck past the balled-up fabric of his shirt to see, but the movement just pulled at his ribs.

"The one that looks like someone tried to take a bite out of you," Wilson clarified.  "What the hell, Grayson?  Got a vampire partner you haven't mentioned?"

"Don't have a partner," Dick exhaled, flinching as Catalina's image popped before his eyes.  He thought he knew what Wilson was pointing to, but a lot of the Blockbusters liked to use teeth.  Liked to mark him.

"Then who the hell did this to you?"  A pause, and Wilson's voice grew darker.  "The Blockbusters haven't lost a game in weeks."

Dick exhaled and reached for the numbness again.  It flooded him, stronger than before, until it no longer mattered that he was pinned underneath a man that intended to fuck him as payback for scoring past him.  "Doesn't matter," he said, voice light and almost floaty.

"What doesn't matter?"  Wilson sounded thoroughly pissed off now, but that was a problem for Future Dick.  Present Dick was dissociating too hard to care.

"Winning or losing," Dick said.  Introduce the idea of sex for punishment, normalize it, and people would twist it for all manner of things.  Winning just meant that Dick would go to the person on the Blockbusters' line-up that wanted him, and there were a lot of people that wanted him.

Wilson's fingers disappeared and his weight shifted off.  Dick waited for him to come back, another hard kiss, more bruising touches, more pain.  He wondered if he could get back to the hotel before six.  He wondered about how Bruce was doing, whether he watched Dick's games or just blocked out all mention of him after Dick had left his coaching to make it on his own.  He wondered if it would be this bad on any other hockey team.

He wondered if he could go back in time, to little eight-year-old Dick Grayson who loved the ice, and shake him and tell him not to go into hockey.

Wilson was taking an awfully long time.  Dick lifted his head up, and lifted all the way up to sitting when he didn't spot the defenseman anywhere in the room.

A bang of the door showed where he’d gone.  Wilson was glowering now, fury roiling off of him like a stormcloud, but Dick could only stare, unconcerned.  He didn't even flinch when the man advanced on him.

"Get up," Wilson ordered harshly, pulling Dick to his feet and tugging his shirt back down.  "Come with me."

Dick didn't try to fight the casual manhandling and merely trotted after Wilson.

They were leaving the room.  Dick didn't understand why, and everything was moving too slow for him to form the words to ask.  Wilson seemed to know where he was going, darting frequent glances back as if to check that Dick was still there, and Dick followed him, confused and unable to care.

The hallways weren't familiar, but they were starting to get noisy and when Wilson pushed through a door to the sound of loud conversations, Dick realized he'd brought him to the Jokers' locker room.

The thought should've caused shrieking alarm.  Instead, all Dick could feel was a dull pang as he obediently followed Wilson inside.

"Done that quick?" someone jeered as they strode further into the locker room--the majority of the team was still here and Dick's gaze skipped past faces, deliberately not counting them.  "Oooh," there was a chorus of wolf whistles as they spotted him behind Wilson.  "Did you bring him to share?"

Everything felt so far away.  Even the ground.  Dick felt like he was falling and falling.

"Shut up," Wilson snapped.  "And go get Fries."  Wilson turned back to Dick and pushed him back to an empty bench.  "You, sit down."

There was another round of heckling.  "Did you break him already?" someone laughed, followed by crude comments about their relative sizes.

Wilson ignored them, crouching in front of Dick.  "Can you raise your arms?" he asked.  Dick started to lift them but they started trembling the moment they reached shoulder level and Wilson grabbed his arms and pulled them down.  "Never mind," he said, "lean forward and duck your head."

Dick did as he was told, forehead hovering next to Wilson's shoulder as the man curled his fingers in the back of Dick's shirt and pulled it up.  He managed to get it off without any input from Dick, and Dick watched as his arms speckled with gooseflesh.

He didn't feel cold.  He didn't feel anything.

Dick didn't hear laughter anymore.  There was a low whistle and footsteps and suddenly a small crowd surrounding Dick and Wilson.  Their faces were all blurry.  Dick didn't try to make them out.

"Damn, Wilson, what did you do?" someone asked, hushed, and there was a minor scuffle when Wilson aimed an elbow at the speaker.

"Fries is on his way," another voice called out.

"Why didn't you just take him to his own team?" someone else muttered.

"Couldn't find them," Wilson said, voice hard and flat.

More silence.

Another voice, quiet.  "Jones said that he didn't see any of them still here when he left."

A round of sharp inhales and low what the fucks.  "They just left him?" someone asked, sounding horrified.

Wilson was watching him, stare narrowed and intense.  Dick held his gaze, still and quiet, waiting pliantly.  His eyes were a cold blue with flecks of gray.  He had wrinkles on his face.  His hair wasn't actually all gray, some of it was a blonde so light it was indistinguishable at first glance.

"Something's wrong with him," someone said abruptly.

"Uh, yeah, we can see that something's wrong with him--"

"No, I meant, look--" something snapped in front of Dick's face.  He blinked but didn't move.  "See?  He hasn't said anything since he got here.  He hasn't even twitched."

"Wilson, what the fuck did you do?!" the tone was higher, harsher.  Wilson broke his stare with Dick and straightened to turn on the speaker, an argument of growls and hisses.

Someone else settled in front of Dick, bald, with a crinkled frown on his face.  "Hello, my name is Victor Fries," he said, voice slow and calm.  "Can you tell me where you're injured?"

Where wasn't Dick injured was a better question.  Dick mutely pointed to the giant developing bruise on his side, because that was what had caught Wilson's attention.

Dick didn't flinch when Fries began prodding at the wound, tiny jolts of pain fizzling out in the numbness.  Fries frowned, and then frowned even deeper when he met Dick's gaze.  Dick didn't realize that the volume of the argument between the Jokers had risen and fallen until someone abruptly sat down on the bench next to him.

He turned, blinking at Wilson.  Wilson glowered back.  "Well?" he rumbled, turning the glare to Fries.

Fries looked upset.  "Richard--can I call you Richard?"  He waited for Dick's slow nod to continue.  "Do you know where you are?"

Of course Dick knew.  "Jokers' locker room," he rasped.  There was abrupt silence, which was the only reason he realized how noisy the room was before then.

"That's great," Fries smiled tightly.  "Are you feeling cold?"

Dick looked down at his goosebumps.  "No," he answered honestly.

Wilson made a low growling sound.  There was a scuffle of movement and something soft hit Dick in the face.  It was the purple and black of the Jokers' colors and Dick stared at Wilson when the man wrapped it around his shoulders.

"Richard," Fries said, and Dick's gaze swung back to him, ignoring the towel.  "Judging by the bruising, I think you have some broken ribs, though we'll need an X-ray to make sure.  I've been informed that your team has already left, so I can drive you to the hospital and you can call them to meet you there--"

"No."  Dick's fingers were trembling.  He stared at them, lost in the shudders.

"Excuse me?"

"No hospital."  Dick had to clear out his throat.  "I'm fine."  He was so tired.  Everyone was staring at him, and he didn't know why.  He just wanted this night to be over.

"Richard, you really need to get it checked out--"

"I said I'm fine."

Wilson scoffed loudly at that.  "You're not fine," he said, daring Dick to argue.

Dick had to let go of the numbness, pushing up to his feet, but exhaustion swooped in to take its place, leaving him ragged and still distant.  Clearly Wilson didn't like the bruises, but there wasn't anything Dick could do about that.

"You don't get to tell me that," Dick said evenly, watching Wilson's eyes flash and knowing he'd be paying for that soon enough.  "You won.  You get the night and nothing else.  So either take your spoils or leave me alone."

The locker room was dead silent.  Dick realized he had a towel around his shoulders, one of the big, soft, fluffy ones, and he suppressed the urge to huddle further in it.  It was cold and he had to fight not to shiver.

There was probably a more diplomatic way to play this, he could've gotten that ride and then ditched them there, but Dick was so very tired.  He just wanted it over with.

"Fine," Wilson snapped.  Some of his teammates made protesting sounds, but Wilson levered up, shooting them all dark looks.  "Fries, give me some painkillers and an ice pack."  The medic mutely did as he was told, shooting Dick undefinable looks.  "Come on, Grayson, let's get back to the room.  Can't miss out on my spoils."

He twisted the words into a nasty sneer.  Dick would've felt afraid if he had the energy to, but he didn't even have enough to imagine what Wilson had planned.  He just followed the man silently back through the same hallways, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, until they were back next to the bed.

"Take these."  Wilson handed Dick the painkillers and a bottle of water.  Dick thought about pointing out that Wilson didn't have the authority to drug him either, but lost the impulse under the exhaustion.  He swallowed the pills.

"Now get in bed."

Dick crawled up on the bed.  "Do you want me to take off my pants?" he asked, trying to stifle a yawn.

"No."  Wilson casually manhandled him until Dick was on his back, on a pillow, watching Wilson draw the covers back.

Wilson got in after him, and pressed the folded towel to Dick's ribs--Dick hissed at the sudden shock of ice, but then gradually relaxed as the numbing set in.

"What do you want me to do?" Dick said, or thought he said.  It was getting more and more difficult to keep his attention focused on Wilson.  The man was shifting on the bed, sitting next to him, drawing the covers over them, a warm, burning presence at Dick's side.

"Close your eyes," came the order.  Dick followed it.  Maybe it would be easier if he wasn't watching.

He didn't know when the darkness slipped to unconsciousness.