#AND EVEN ALL THE 'UPCOMING JOKERS' DIED TOO. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stxleslyds · 3 years ago

Note

Also, the writers' failure to understand, every crime Jason committed had a motive. Attack other criminals? Holy warrior destined to purify the world of evil. Attack Bruce? Joker's still alive. (Oh, Jason, it's much worse than that.) Attack Tim? A parody of what he once was. He wasn't just a "bad boy". He was dangerously insane.

Hi, Anon! Yup, there seems to be a lot of things that writers have gotten confused about Jason Todd/Red Hood and the biggest one is his motivations to kill certain criminals.

Let’s be honest, Judd Winick set a golden path for the upcoming Red Hood writers. But each and every writer that used Red Hood in their stories completely missed the point of Jason’s character. All of them. It’s so incredibly wild to me that every other writer read UtRH and came up with whichever version of Jason they came up with.

Let’s list the writers that completely missed the point.

Geoff Johns in Teen Titans vol.3 #29.

Geoff Johns was one of the first to completely mischaracterize Jason, why on earth would Jason go to the Titans Tower to beat up Tim? This is not me saying that Jason would never do that because Jason thinks of Tim as his brother or a friend or the person that he can trust the most from the Bat-Clan (can you believe Lobdell tried to sell us that one?), this is me saying that Jason wouldn’t have done that because he couldn’t have given less of a fuck about Tim’s existence.

When Jason found out that Bruce had another Robin he wasn’t bothered by his “replacement” he was mad at Bruce for having another child playing hero after he lost his life as a fifteen-year-old. Jason didn’t even think of Tim as his replacement as fandom likes to make us believe, Jason called Tim “pretender”. And that was that, but to go from minimal recognition to go out of his way to beat him up at Titans Tower is a massive mischaracterization.

Paul Dini in Countdown (to Final Crisis).

Paul Dini in Countdown did absolutely nothing with Jason, I am sorry but that’s all he did. Him writing Jason was like watching a dog trying to catch their own tail. He started with a pretty basic take on UtRH Jason, then he added a bit of Jason being an annoying man with Donna, then we had the jealousy arc because apparently, Jason had the hots for Donna but she didn’t want anything to do with him and he was all angsty when she paid attention to Kyle instead of him, and then, later on, he had that whole Red Robin bullshit (I am sorry about this, but I absolutely hated that, it was so dumb, I am so glad it didn’t last long because it was just too bad), and after all that mix of just not interesting stuff he went right back to the Jason that he had at the very start. It was a waste of time, but I guess that he had to be there because he was an anomaly and all that. I just think that was DC’s first try at making Jason Todd/Red Hood something more than just a street-level vigilante and they failed miserably.

Tony S. Daniel in Batman: Battle for the Cowl.

Even though the first two did make mistakes with Jason’s characterizations, this man was the first to just throw UtRH out of the window and make up his very own version of Jason Todd. And his version was horrendous, that Jason had no problem with attempting to kill children and innocent people, he also really wanted to be Batman because Gotham needed a Batman and he wanted to be the person to wear the Cowl and he was looking for a Robin for himself.

I know, the whole concept is the perfect opposite of what Jason Todd and Red Hood were in UtRH. Every aspect of BftC Jason is based on nothing.

Jason wanting to be Batman because Gotham needed Batman is just the beginning of what’s wrong in this book. Jason became the Red Hood (in part) because he believed that Batman and his ways weren’t what Gotham needed so he made a better version of Batman with Red Hood (according to him) because Red Hood did what Batman refused to do. Another thing that is just wrong is Jason wanting, Damian, Tim or Dick to be his Robin, there is just so much wrong with this, first of all, Jason wanted Batman to stop having Robin because child soldiers ran the risk of dying at a very young age and that’s exactly how he saw the whole thing because that was what had happened to him. Second, if Jason was mad at Bruce for getting another Robin why would he now want one of his own to team up with his Batman? Damian was a child, Tim was someone that apparently Jason hated (because Jason beating Tim was mentioned in this event), and then Jason actually asked Dick Grayson, Nightwing, to be his Robin? Listen, there is no way that was Jason, nothing about him makes sense, even taking into account that Jason had beaten Tim already in this event Jason actually tried to kill both Tim and Damian (it might have been just one of them but yeah, it still doesn’t make sense).

I just don’t think that Tony S. Daniel knew who Jason Todd was, maybe he got confused but the thing is, his “villainous” and deranged version of Jason Todd allowed a villainous and deranged version of Red Hood to happen with the next writer that I will be talking about.

Grant Morrison in Batman and Robin vol.1 #3-6.

This was the birth of the villainous, deranged and bloodthirsty Red Hood. There is absolutely no trace of UtRH Jason here, not even if we are looking at the opposite of things like we could do with Daniel’s Jason. Grant Morrison wanted Dick and Damian to have a villain to match their Batman and Robin and they decided to give us a red-haired-pill-headed-red hood. Everything from Morrison’s characterization of Jason is crazy, from the red hair (hello pre-crisis) to the awful Joker’s Red Hood looking suit, everything was just weird.

I still don’t believe that was Jason, to be honest, I would rather think that version of Jason was actually a rouge Skrull that came all the way from the Marvel Universe and lost his way in Gotham City. Maybe when he made the jump between universes, he got too much information and got confused and took the form of the wonkiest Jason Todd he could come up with.

This Jason was absolutely deranged, he knew exactly what he was doing and he didn’t care if innocents died. This Jason was the one that got locked up in Arkham. This is the Jason that Dick put in Arkham for Jason and everybody else’s safety.

Dick putting that Jason in Arkham wasn’t a bad thing or something that anyone can use to shit on Dick Grayson (not on this house). This Arkham was reformed and that Jason knew that if he stayed in that new Arkham he would stay away from trouble, but here is the thing, that Jason loved trouble, so he took all the tests to prove he wasn’t insane and asked to be transferred to Blackgate (where all the Red Hood’s enemies were). That Jason didn’t ask to be sent to Blackgate because the Joker was a cell away from his in Arkham, he did it so he could go on a killing spree in Blackgate (which he did when he got there).

Skrull Jason was just bloodthirsty and nothing like UtRH Jason, he had no motive other than just killing for fun or whatever. He didn’t want to protect Gotham and he couldn’t have cared less about the drug trade in Gotham. In Batman and Robin vol.1. Jason Todd was unrecognizable. And luckily, we never saw him again.

Scott Lobdell in Everything that he ever wrote about Red Hood.

This one is pretty self-explanatory. Lobdell was the king of overpowering Jason, he was the one that drove Red Hood farther and farther away from his street-level vigilante status. He continuously added more to him, he was a big deal because he was meant to take down Ra’s al Ghul, he was a big deal because he was the only human to train in the All-Castle and learned to summon the All-Blades.

This Red Hood’s morals and ideals were kind of gone, there just wasn’t any kind of interest in Jason to get rid of drugs or try to control its trade in Gotham, he just had no interest in street-level threats, everything was extraordinary in both New 52 and Rebirth. If he wasn’t in space he was in some mystical land. His friends and allies became even more and more powerful, his level of power was completely off compared to the others. His personality was ever-changing and quite honestly you could barely see the Jason that he once was.

This Jason also was very inconsistent in the way that he felt towards people (obviously because Lobdell is a shitty writer), he wanted to follow Batman’s rules and was shown as someone that still had fond memories of his life with Bruce before he died but was also willing to let those memories go, to move on? Maybe? I don’t know. But he changed his mind about Bruce and following his rules or not for a very long time. Jason was also a little bitch about Dick, and he was a little bitch because he (Lobdell) never gave the reader or anyone a concrete reason as to why he hated him so much and then in Rebirth he decided that Dick wasn’t that bad. Also, Jason went from “Willis Todd, abusive husband and father that deserved to die” to “Willis Todd abusive husband and father but he sent me letters when he was in prison and Penguin had him killed so now, I really want to avenge him”. Yeah, I don’t really know why that happened and like most of Lobdell’s arcs and stuff it was never really completed or well thought out.

Lobdell’s Jason characterization was a mess for ten years and that’s the prime reason why Jason is a character with no solid background, story or future.

James Tynion IV in Red Hood and the Outlaws.

Tynion’s Jason Todd was a hero, he was like a mini Tom King Batman. Everything he did was right and there was just no way that you could bamboozle him. This Jason was able to hold to Blades that drained his soul as well as hosting the Untitled in his body (that were able to drain his soul too) and on top of all that he completed his journey of the Chosen One by making those ancient martial arts moves that he learned before he was Robin even though Talia hadn’t been able to master it yet.

Scott Snyder, Tim Seeley in Batman Eternal and Batman and Robin Eternal.

A mess, this was pure New 52 levels of bullshit and they all just wanted to push the “Batfamily” and while Dick was gone, they were trying to make Jason fill the void that Dick left in Batman events. It didn’t work at all and all they did was mess around with Jason’s characterization more.

Geoff Johns in Three Jokers.

I have talked enough about Johns’ takes on Jason Todd and Red Hood, but let me tell you something real quick, if a writer thinks that the best they can do with a character is make them give up their morals/ideals for an unrequited love interest, then they can keep that idea for themselves. Geoff Johns wrote a book that was absolutely not needed and then proceeded to butcher every characterization that he could, Three Jokers was three issues long and he managed to add more trauma to Jason’s torture, push the narrative of Jason being at fault for his own murder and make Jason’s motivations to be the Red Hood weak enough to make him want to give up his work for a woman that he barely knows (and doesn’t like him at all).

Joshua Williamson in Future State: Red Hood and Robin #5.

Now, with Williamson I have issues only when he writes Jason, not because his stories are bad, don’t get me wrong, I would have completely enjoyed FS: Red Hood if it weren’t for the completely unnecessary Rose/Jason side plot he had going on. Jason was clearly working undercover for some people that he hated working with. He had to arrest or kill “masks” (vigilantes, just like he “used” to be) for the Magistrate.

His ideas were pretty solid, Jason did the job but he never killed the masks and actively didn’t trust the Magistrate but he was working there to tear them apart from within, and that’s amazing if Williamson had given us Jason Todd/Red Hood working undercover to dismantle an organization I would have been really happy.

But that’s not all he gave us, even if I just forget about his failed attempt at giving Jason a relationship, I can still see that Williamson is the kind of writer that wants (or is just following DC) to make the “Batfamily” happen no matter how dumb and out of place it looks in comics’ canon. So, I am a little bit weary, any writer that leans too much towards making Jason and Bruce work together and become a family makes me want to scream, but I do understand that is just me, many people want those two to be buddy-buddy, I, personally, would love to see Jason kick Bruce in the balls and tell him to lose his number.

Chip Zdarsky in Urban Legends: Cheer.

Ah, yes, I remember the days in which I thought that this could have been something good. Well, I was utterly wrong and I suffered all the way through this mini. I feel like now I can safely say that Zdarsky only wanted to write a Batman book but DC told him, “Hey you can write Batman but it has to be within a Red Hood story, but don’t worry, you don’t have to know much about the Hood guy, just come up with something and write Batman around that”.

I know that’s what happened because I read that story and all we got from it was horrible characterizations for pre-Robin Jason, Robin Jason, Jason Todd and Red Hood. I don’t know how he did it but yes, he managed to mess it all up.

From Jason not really wanting to be Robin and acting recklessly every step of the way, to secret desires of a perfect family with Bruce and so many other people that he couldn’t care about, Urban Legends: Cheer is the perfect book to avoid at all costs if you believe that the concept of “Batfamily” is the biggest lie, DC is trying to profit off this time around.

Zdarsky also nerfed Jason in ways that I thought DC only wanted to nerf Dick Grayson. But I was able to see that I was wrong. Zdarsky’s run also pushed some of the most disastrous narratives that DC really wants readers to believe like: Robin Jason wasn’t good at his job, he was too reckless and ultimately his death was his own fault. Yay! I want to cry!

I will give Zdarsky two points for at the very least showing that Red Hood wants to protect children and that he has a huge issue with how the drug trade is controlled and abused in Gotham City, it had been a while since we had seen that aspect of Jason’s Red Hood make an appearance.

It’s just too many writers completely missing the point of Red Hood’s character or simply writers agreeing to destroy Jason’s uniqueness in the DC Universe so DC (as the publisher) can further push the abomination that is the “Batfamily” in comics’ canon.

I do agree with you Anon when you say that Jason isn’t just a “bad boy” but I also don’t think that we can call UtRH Jason “dangerously insane”. Personally, I will only use that last description for BftC and Batman and Robin Jason, those two were dangerously insane indeed.

UtRH Jason was very meticulous in who he wanted dead and who got to live. He entered Gotham’s most dangerous world and he had to make a big entrance, he invited the eight most prosperous street dealers to a meeting, showed up with the decapitated heads of each of their right-hand men and an AK-47 and said:

“I am offering you a deal. I will be running the drug trade from now on. You will go about your business as usual. You will kick up forty percent to me. That is a much better deal than the Black Mask will give you. In return, you will have total protection from both the Black Mask and Batman. The catch? You stay away from kids and schoolyards. No dealing to children, got it? If you do, you’re dead.”

This was Red Hood! Red Hood wanted to control the drug trade in Gotham because he knew that Gotham is far too corrupt and filled with drug lords for him to just want to eradicate drugs from Gotham. If he had tried that he would have been a dumbass, but he wasn’t. He didn’t want to start a gang war and get innocent people killed because of it, he wanted to set the rules of his new Empire and he had to start with the street-level drug dealers, from there he grew until he became a major pain in Black Mask’s ass.

We went from Jason wanting to control the drug trade and take over Gotham’s underworld so people like Black mask couldn’t have people work for him (or being dependent on him) when they were still in high school or were in a vulnerable position, to Jason fighting a war for a mystic land because he was their “Chosen One”. DC really wanted to do something grand (yet boring) with Jason instead of sticking to a street-level vigilante that could have become a Drug Lord to control the drug trade of a city that is so filled with crime and corruption that it can’t be saved by anyone.

Batman doesn’t eradicate crime, he “controls” it, puts a blank it over it, lets it nap up until it wakes up once more to make more mess.

Red Hood had other plans, certain criminals didn’t get to nap, or, better said, they would get to nap forever.

So, no. I wouldn’t call that “dangerously insane”, I will call that “vigilante that believes himself judge, jury and executioner” of a city that is drowning in crime and corruption.

Anyway, I hope you have a really nice week Anon and thank you so much for sending me this ask!

#jason todd #red hood #under the red hood #red hood and the outlaws #dc comics #future state red hood #three jokers #bftc #asksss

152 notes · View notes

redhead-batgal · 3 years ago

Note

Can you do a part two to Somethings got a hold on me?

Type: Fic

Part One: Here

Part Three: Here

Pairing: Criminal! and Fem! Reader x Tim Drake/ Red Robin

Prompts: (I added these.... I don’t really have an explanation why though 😂 they just fit) ✢13: “I don’t owe you a damned thing.” ✢ 20: “I never really mattered anyway.” ✢5 “You mean nothing to me.” “Don’t lie, I know that isn’t true.” and ✢10: “Why won’t you just leave me alone?”

Content: Cursing, violence, language, abuse (flash backs), angsty angsty angsty angst, a teeny tiny incy wincy bit of fluff, and mentions of trauma

Word Count (I really need to start doing these more): 8,141 words

(P.S: This is a bit darker than anything else I’ve written, I don’t know why but the angst called to me.)

F/N: First Name, L/N: Last Name, C/N: Criminal Name

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There are things in this life that are bound to happen. Some call these things a work of fate. One thing that every person and being is fated to go through is death. Everyone dies at some point. All life has to come to an end whether it be in the beginning of a lifespan, the middle or the end. Whether some deem it too early or not soon enough death always comes. And you knew that it was coming for you.

It had been almost two month since you had a visit from Tim Drake and thwarted the Joker’s escape. Sixty days, one-thousand four hundred and forty hours, eighty six thousand and four hundred minutes and five million one hundred eighty four thousand seconds. You had been counting them, every last one. Even the damn milliseconds. Waiting impatiently for the Joker to strike, waiting for him to enact his revenge. The longer you waited, the more you lost hope. The more you lost of yourself.

It was inevitable. Your death. Sooner or later the Joker was going to attack and you were going to die, you didn’t really dwell on whether or not it was going to be a long death or short one but it was a death regardless.

Your new cell had the markings for every day that had passed since you entered it. Whether it be with your fingernail, a utensil you had snuck in after meals or the zipper of your straight-jacket. Counting didn’t really do anything other than make everything worse, it hurt your hope... not that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Your hope was a fragile thing that had transformed more into a dangerous bacteria of sorts, it was slowly eating away at you. Devouring you whole, day by day, hour by hour that neither the Joker nor Tim did anything. Soon there wouldn’t be much left for either of them to do anything with.

You sometimes thought of the light that he saw in you, how it was disappearing along with the rest of you. How when you thought of your upcoming death, when you actually, truly, thought about it, every day you felt less. You were becoming empty. Hollow, even.

Rumors of how you prevented the Joker from escaping were whispered around Arkham. Some said you did it out of a petty grudge because the Joker never noticed your skills when you were on the streets. Others said it was because he wronged you many years before and you never forgot it.

You wished you could say that you weren’t happy no one had any suspicions about Tim. But that would be a lie. The relief you felt was heavy on your chest and in your lungs. The only part of your hope, that was still hope, seemed to be warm in your chest. You were glad you could hide your feelings, it was best that none of the other villains catch on to those feelings and your relationship- if you could even call it that anymore- with Red Robin, well Tim Drake.

No word, no visits, not even whispers of Red Robin reached you in those two months. Unlike when you first entered Arkham, and you hadn’t identified your feelings as what had a hold on you, the lack of him seemed to hurt more. Especially since you could still hear his words, the final words he said before leaving, echoing in your ears.

I don’t know why, but I like you

Part of you was angry, part of you was glad that he hadn’t tried, if he came back here what was stopping the Joker from escaping again. Except this time there wouldn’t be anyone to save him. What scared you the most was that the Joker was going to use you to get to Tim, you didn’t want to ever be used again. Especially not against him.

Love was a cruel virus, it overtook all of you, and it kept taking. For some reason, the longer you knew it existed, the worse it got. It claimed all of you, wrapping around your heart, lungs, and brain. It was sharply pumping through your veins like a poison. It was worse than the hope, the longer you felt it- the more you thought about it, the worse it hurt.

It was why when you heard the footsteps approaching your cell, when you saw the movements through the very tiny window at the top of the door; your heart skipped a beat for half a second you thought it might be him. That was until the harsh reality of it all came crashing down on you.

He wasn’t here, why would he be? Despite what he said, you didn’t matter, not really, not to him.

As your cell door opened you watched as the guards gave you slightly terrified looks. They knew what you had done, you had crossed the Joker and didn’t appear fazed. Smiling with your criminal side so heavy on you, it felt like stage makeup, you tilted your head at them.

“We going for a trip, boys?” The criminal side chirped while batting your eyes.

One of the guards flinched and the other shot you a disdainful look. They had leg cuffs, which meant either you had a visitor or the Joker was finally striking. A small part of you wished it was the latter, the rest of you didn’t seem to care.

The guard who gave you a disdainful look walked into the cell and you had to stop yourself from flinching. The look on his face, the way he walked, his body language it was all too familiar. Before you could stop yourself, memories hit hard and fast.

A voice yelling over took your ears, you knew the voice a little too well, you knew it’s rasp and sting, you could almost hear your own voice in his. He was your father after all, it’d be a shock if you had nothing in common.

You hadn’t even entered the room and you could smell the stench of alcohol and smoke, the reek of must and sweat. The ground seemed to shake as he stormed towards you, towering over you with an angry gleam in his eyes he swung his fists. Closing your eyes you braced yourself for impact.

Those fists had broken so many of your bones. Your nose, your wrist, your leg, your ankle and your arm. You had more scars than you could count from his fists, more bruises staining your skin different shades of purple, green, yellow and brown. It wasn’t always when he was drunk and high but it happened more often when he was. Each instance involved a lie, a cover up and an escape. Except once.

As his fist hit your face you were suddenly jerked upward. Blinking you found the guards dragging you out of your cell, they had their hands tight on your arms almost as if they thought you were going to try and escape. It didn’t make any sense to you, you were still in the straight jacket, why did they think you’d try anything? It’s not as if you had a reason to.

They began dragging you, because they walked too quickly for your now manacled feet to keep up, halfway across Arkham. Your stomach was doing flips until they turned down the hall where visitations usually occurred. The hall seemed empty, it was like being back in your old cell, everything was eerily quiet and you didn’t know if you should feel relieved or worried because of it.

One of the heavy metal doors opened and instead of guiding you in and removing the straight jacket they shoved you into the room and closed the door behind you. You looked around the room, it was nearly pitch black with a small light at the center, hanging over a table with two chairs.

Whoever was in here, who ever wanted to talk with you, they didn’t think you were a threat. You were slightly offended.

Turning back towards the door you stared at it for a moment as the realization began to sink in. You weren’t going to get out, not until you died or sat down and spoke with whoever was in the room with you. Walking over to the chair you sat down with a sigh.

You heard rustling and then you blinked and standing in front of you was Batman. You blinked again, shock was trying to overcome you as Batman looked you over and you began to do the same to him.

He didn’t sit down, instead he stood behind the chair, clearly trying to look intimidating. He glared at you slightly before you smiled at him tightly.

“Is there anything I can do to help you Batman? Or am I allowed to head back to my cell and rot in peace?” You asked as the criminal side took over.

Narrowing his eyes, much to your surprise, he pulled out the chair and sat down. Resting his arms on the table Batman looked you over again.

“Y/N, drop the act. I’m here to ask you some questions.”

He was blunt, instead of trying to sell you some bullshit. He was, for lack of better words, very straightforward. You straightened in the seat and had your arms been free you would have crossed them. Raising your chin you let out a slight sigh.

“Fine, what do you want to know? I’m an open book... ask your son.”

For a moment you saw him tilt his head to the side as if he didn’t believe what you were saying, other than that his face was blank as if it didn’t matter, as if Tim didn’t matter.

Anger was sharp in your chest, you had seen the cascade of Robin’s Batman had gathered... No, collected would be a better word; sometimes, despite yourself, you worried about how easily Tim would be replaced. Here and now seeing him acting as if he didn’t believe you, it made you angry.

“Do you not see yourself as his father?” You snapped instantly.

Batman’s face twitched, and you closed your eyes cursing yourself. The bitter virus, love, had taken hold of you again and Batman had noticed.

“What do you want?”

Shock hit you hard enough that it appeared on your face. You raised an eyebrow and gave him a confused look.

“Excuse me?” You asked after a moment, your eyes narrowing.

Batman stared at you, and due to his cowl you couldn’t really tell his expression. However his body language was tense which told you something was bothering him.

“What do you want?” he asked almost stiffly, “You saved Red-”

Want? want? What do you want?

“No, stop.” You said, shaking your head as anger crawled up your throat.

They were under the impression you wanted something, that they owed you for saving Tim’s life. It was complete and utter fuckary. Locking your jaw you glared at him and let out a breath.

“He doesn’t owe me anything, you don’t owe me anything. And I don’t owe you a damned thing.”

It was a message of sorts, you were telling Batman you didn’t want his help, that you’d be fine and could handle the Joker’s anger. While it was a lie, it was a fairly clear message... at least to you it was.

“Why?” Batman asked without hesitation, not even blinking at your words.

“Because...” You began as you scrambled for the right words that won’t reveal everything you were feeling, “because he’s the only friend I’ve ever had.”

You watched, seeing Batman’s stance relax slightly almost as if he pitied you. The anger burned in your throat quickly turning into a cold sense of shame. No matter how hard you tried, if it involved the Bats, you had trouble controlling yourself.

Shifting slightly you looked away from him and asked, “Can I go back to my cell now?”

Batman stood up from his seat and moved towards the door, “No.”

The door opened and Batman stepped out as a woman stepped in. She was wearing a white lab coat and carrying a file, she walked to the table and sat down. Smiling at you, the woman gave a very tiny wave, you narrowed your eyes hearing the door shut with a loud click.

“Hello, Miss. L/N. My name is Leslie Thompkins,” She began setting the file on the table and her name twisted in your mind, “I have some questions I hope you don’t mind answering.”

Doctor Leslie Thompkins was a known ally of the Bats, or at least you knew that. Which was probably only because of one person. One person who seemed to keep screwing you over, intentionally or not.

As you thought about Doctor Thompkins relation to the Bats a strange feeling overcame you and you realized something was familiar about the doctor.

“Doctor.” You stopped her feeling a slight panic wash over you.

She blinks and the smile is frozen on her face for a second before it slowly slipped away, “Pardon?”

Doctor Thompkins, you realized, is a psychologist. You were getting interviewed by a damned psychologist.

Fuck Batman and his dickish ways he just crossed a line that should never be crossed. He knew of your history, well... you’d be surprised if he didn’t, but if he did and he did this bullshit- well then it seriously pissed you off.

“You’re Doctor Leslie Thompkins, is there a reason why Batman asked you to interview me?” You asked, raising an eyebrow hearing your own voice spew a bit of venom.

You felt your breath picking up as she studied your movements. A voice in the back of your head told you it was because she was going to use whatever you gave her against you.

“Please let me ask the questions Miss L/N.” Doctor Thompkins replied, her voice calm but a bit stern.

You didn’t like psychologists, nor did you like the fact that Batman wanted you to evaluated. If he wanted to know things he could ask the questions his own damn self. Not use a master manipulator and control freak to pull the answers from you.

“Are you scared of the answer? Or do you believe I won’t like it?” You questioned leaning forwards, “Though I’m wearing this jacket Doctor, you have nothing to fear. I promise.”

The words felt bitter in your mouth, you knew they were a twisted version of what words you had nearly said to Tim. They hinted at the fact that you had the jacket on for a reason, that you were to be feared. You wanted her to be scared of you, before she could even think of controlling you.

Doctor Thompkins eyes narrowed and she smiled tightly at you. She clearly knew of your reputation, or at least knew treating you nicely and pretending to be kind wasn’t going to work. And that your implications were enterally false.

“He wanted me to evaluate you. May I ask my questions now?”

Curt, but polite, that would’ve worked... if you didn’t fea- hate, hate. If you didn’t hate psychologists, of course it would have. Doctor Thompkins and you could have gotten along had she not been here to tell Batman all the dirty secrets she could pry from you... and been a manipulating bitch.

“Why are you here? I don’t believe that evaluation bullshit.” You replied rolling your eyes as you leaned back in your chair, your criminal side taking such a strong hold of you it was hard to breathe.

“Why are you here Miss, L/N?” She retorted.

Replying with true, but short answers will help you out, breathe, you can do this.

You said with a shrug, “Insanity plea, next question.”

“Why did you decide to use an insanity plea for your defense?” She asked as she looked at the folder in her hands.

Honesty was the best option, the faster you answered the faster you got away from here. Of course unless the answer led into another question then another... then of course lying was the best option.

“It was that or deal with the possibility of being raped and assaulted in prison. I thought being considered batshit crazy was the better option.”

She looked up at your words and her eyes softened, the fear, it was a universal fear of women. She wasn’t going to judge you for that... Doctor Thompkins was human when it came down to it. Then again all people were.

“You,” She continued looking away from you, “have an IQ of 135, you are by far one of the smartest people here-”

You stopped her shaking your head. You hated when people talked about your intelligence. In the past, before Arkham- before Tim Drake, you hadn’t minded people talking about your intellect. Hell, you had wanted people to know how smart you were, wanted people to know you were brilliant and to fear you because of it. Just like how you feared your father.

Now, now hearing about your intelligence, hearing people tell you how smart you were made your stomach churn. It made you feel ill because you didn’t like the old you. The person who only cared about themselves, who thought so highly of themselves they ignored others who were going through exactly what they had gone through. Like he did.

Realizing you were acting like him, like your father, it made you fully see how bad of a person you were, made you wonder why Tim had seen any light in you. It made you wonder how you ever thought you could redeem yourself.

However there is no way in hell you were going to let Doctor Thompkins know that, despite how tight a hold love had on your mind, despite how much you wanted to get it over with and spill all your secrets before it was too late you kept your mouth shut and lied. After all love had your mind captive, not your pride.

“You don’t know that.”

Doctor Thompkins’s brow furrowed and she blinked twice before asking “What do you mean by that?”

You had to think of a lie of sorts quickly, and your mind stumbled across one that wasn’t exactly a lie but something that you did believe to be true, however it wasn’t the real reason, because saying the real reason would only lead to talking and you were so damn tired of talking.

“My IQ was determined by a test that is for the intelligence we deem valuable today. For all we know there are geniuses locked away in here because they use different parts of their brain and can’t handle it without the proper medication...” You trailed off as an afterthought, a real one, escaped, “Anyways my IQ isn’t worth shit in a situation like this.”

Doctor Thompkins blinked then looked at you, intrigue clear on her face, “Like what?”

“My situation with the Joker, I’m sure Batman already informed you of what happened.” You replied, shooting her a tight smile.

Slowly, the criminal side of you was mixing with the normal you. Making it so, it wasn’t so fake, more of the you, you’d grown into. You wished some part of you felt overjoyed, but all you felt was guilty and scared. Everyday it seemed you were becoming more like your father. You were beginning to hope the Joker took you out before you became fully him.

“Yes, but there is something else isn’t there?”

A new sense of fear slammed into you as you studied Doctor Thompkins, she was good, too good. She noticed certain things, your micro expressions probably, she was going to use everything she learned against you and you were going to wish you were dead... well more than you did already

“That... that is none of your business.” You said, shaking your head as you refused to meet her gaze.

“I’m going to guess it has to do with your attachments to Red Robin.”

You froze and looked her dead in the eyes, had you not been so angry you would have taken solace in the fact that she flinched. Straightening out you shook your head trying your hardest to keep yourself under control.

“I have no attachments to him,” You replied hearing your voice fluctuate, “He’s my friend- that’s- that is all.”

Doctor Thompkins nodded slightly, leaning in towards you as if she felt she was on to something. As if she thought you were finally opening up, “So it does have to deal with him, him and some tricky emotions if I’m not wrong.”

A sharp breath hit you and you closed your eyes to stop yourself from bursting. You would not yell, you would not break. You could do this.

Opening your eyes you looked at Doctor Thompkins before remarking, “This, Doctor Thompkins, is an evaluation, an interrogation even, but it’s not a therapy session. So, do you have any other questions for me?”

She leaned back slightly before taking a look at the file. Her eyebrow raised and she let out a slight sound before looking up at you.

“Does what your father did to you cause you to have PTSD?”

Letting out a huff you shook your head as a sound faintly echoed around the room, your father was a topic you didn’t like to talk about. Especially since there was only one person you’d ever told about your relationship with your father... well unofficially two, officially one.

“My father may have been a spiteful and abusive bastard, but what happened between me and him is something only one fucking person knows.” You said glaring at Doctor Thompkins, looking to see if she noticed your mistake.

She didn’t, which meant that she didn’t know everything. Which meant there was a possibility she wasn’t told about your childhood by someone. However, you didn’t know that for sure, you had to figure out, you just had to.

“How in the hell did you come to the conclusion my childhood produced PTSD?”

Doctor Thompkins gave you a pitying look, “When you became a criminal Miss L/N, your medical records as a child were put into your file. Any common idiot could see the injuries were caused by abuse. Majority of children who suffered through abuse as long as you did suffer from a form of PTSD.”

She knew, not because someone said something, but because she was a psychologist. A slight sense of relief ran over you, no one had betrayed you, no one had said anything.

Letting out a sigh of relief you remarked, “Well then you already know the answer to your question.”

Doctor Thompkins narrowed her eyes and gave you a strange look. Closing the file she raised an eyebrow.

“What is it that you are avoiding? The emotions that are causing you problems?”

Emotions. Emotions always got you into trouble. Too much trouble.

For a moment the criminal side rose up in you, so quickly it surprised you with words in your throat then on your tongue.

“Emotions are a weakness I can’t seem to rid myself of.” The criminal side spat.

Sighing she shook her head and Doctor Thompkins opened the file again this time pulling a pen out of her pocket. She began writing something as she remarked, “That mask isn’t fooling anyone Miss. L/N.”

The mask was something you had been using since you were a child. It started when the bruises appeared and the questions were asked. The colder and harsher you were the more people left you alone. Letting the mask, your criminal side, stay firm on your face gave her a blank look.

“I have no idea what the fuck you are talking about.”

Muttering things under her breath, Doctor Thompkins wrote things down in the file before looking up at you and tilting her head to the side. Her mutterings rose to actual speech as she studied you almost as if she was asking for answers.

“Hostile... you get hostile when emotions and your mask are brought up.... your father emotionally abused you as well didn’t he? It was more than just his fists.”

As Doctor Thompkins ranted you stood up, your breath stilled in your lungs. Letting out the breath you closed your eyes moving towards the door. There was a slight click you believe to be her pen and you stopped just in front of the door. You did not want to talk about your father, not now, not ever again. You couldn’t relive those memories. Panic climbed up your chest and you felt a hitch in your throat.

“GUARD!” You shouted as calmly as you could, “I’M DONE, TAKE ME BACK TO MY CELL.”

No one came and Doctor Thompkins went silent before sighing. You didn’t turn towards her, instead you started yelling again.

“HEY, I SAID I’M DONE!”

You moved to slam yourself against the door when Doctor Thompkins winced slightly almost as if she knew what you were going to do. You stilled and heard her take in a breath.

“They aren’t going to listen I’m afraid.” She remarked almost guiltily.

You turned towards her, your eyes narrowed, feeling the panic fade into a sharp and bright anger.

“What?” You nearly snarled.

“They have been instructed to keep the door closed till I say I’m done.”

Of course, the bastard thought of everything. Locking you in here until you complied with the Doctor, until you let her take you part piece by piece, just like a puzzle. Just like your father use to.

Walking back to your seat you glared at her before taking in a breath then letting it out. If they wanted you to do this you might as well play the game the only way you knew how. Destroying your opponent by giving them exactly what they wanted.

“What do you want to know?” You asked, pretending to cave in.

It wasn’t hard, acting, pretending to have given up. All you had to do was think about how you were going to die, how probably no one would mourn you. How you were going to be forgotten, just like your father promised.

“Did your father abuse you emotionally?”

You knew how much truth to reveal, how much would make Doctor Thompkins stop asking questions about your past, it would rip open old wounds, but it’d be worth it. It would probably destroy her and some part of you cared, but at the moment you were too tired to listen to it.

“Did he? My father was one of Gotham’s most renowned psychologists Doctor Thompkins. If he couldn’t make me believe that my existence was a mistake, no one could.”

It was a subtle thing, but Doctor Thompkins flinched, for a moment she looked to the left, then messed with her hair by her ear. It took you a second to realize it, but she was wearing an earpiece. Getting fed questions to ask, told which buttons to push.

“Just to be clear, “ You said feeling anger in you hotter than a flame, “that was a yes. He was also fairly adept at psychological abuse, he would smash plates to make me think I was going to get hit. He’d bring friends over that he told me he’d promised me too. When they, men I would have trusted despite my fathers word, tried to hug me or came up behind me to ask something; I jumped and he would laugh like it was all some kind of game. To him I was a game nothing more... when you spend all your time around criminals, you being to become one.”

Actually flinching, Doctor Thompkins swallowed. She looked shaken and you knew you had hit her where it hurt. She probably had admired your father, saw him as a god or idol of sorts. Most psychologists did, most didn’t know who your father really was. It was clear despite your medical records, despite his reputation, she had no clue. No clue you were his daughter and he was a monster.

“Why are you telling me this?” She asked.

Why were you telling her this? Maybe because it felt good to yell at someone like him, maybe because it feels good to make her jump and be scared as she tried to drag up every bad memory... or maybe, maybe because it’s what she wanted even if she didn’t like it.

“It’s what you want isn’t it? You want to know every little fucking detail to see if I’m as bad as him. To see if I’m batshit crazy, and I’ll tell you a secret. I am. I'm so damned crazy I’ve deluded myself into believing that I actually mattered.”

You were rambling now, letting everything loose, because despite how much you hated this, how much you didn’t want Batman and the rest of the bats to know, you wanted her gone. And,... and once you started talking, you couldn’t stop, however,

She was too much like your father, with her fake calm and the endless questions. It made you feel hopeless, after all there was no escape from him, which could only mean there’s no escape from her.

She opened her mouth to say something when there was a slight noise, almost as if she was shifting in her chair. Something flickered in her eyes and she locked her jaw before writing something down in the file.

“Why,” Doctor Thompkins began in a sharp tone, causing you to freeze, “did you save Red Robin? Tell me the real reason, the full one.”

You felt yourself breaking down, actually breaking down. Tears were beginning to form in your eyes and you pushed them back. She had broken you, so easily your father would have laughed. There wasn’t any point anymore, to even try lying. It hurt, it felt like you were swallowing acid with every word.

“Because,” You said leaning forwards as your voice cracked, “I couldn’t watch him die.”

You saw the instant effect your words had on her, almost as if she realized your feelings. Relaxing in her chair, Doctor Thompkins looked you up and down. You had met her eyes and you knew, you knew she pitied you because she knew.

“What about you?” She asked softly as she set her pen down, almost reaching out for you.

“What about me?” You scoffed rolling your eyes.

The pain was setting in your chest so sharp and cold. Love was worming it’s way through your heart, causing you pain because you were finally admitting it. Not fully, but partially. Admitting your feelings. It hurt, hurt to realize how much you cared and how little it mattered.

“Did it occur to you that defying the Joker would get you killed?” Doctor Thompkins questioned, her voice so gentle you had a hard time believing it was her speaking.

You felt your face tremble as the pain expanded and the hollow feeling, the feeling of emptiness hit you so hard your breath hiccupped. Shrugging you sank into yourself a little bit.

“Of course, it just didn’t matter.... I never really mattered anyways. Not really, not to my father, not to any of the crime lords I worked for. Not to him, not to you.” Looking Doctor Thompkins in the eyes you sighed as you remembered she wasn’t here for you, but because of Batman, “Everyone... Everyone just wants to use me and then dispose of me.”

You looked away as you noticed the pity in Doctor Thompkins eyes. Shaking your head you relaxed against the chair as your thoughts spewed from your mouth without hesitation.

“Good thing daddy dearest is gone, though. He’d have a ball at this.”

You remembered the sound of a gun-shot, the smell of the gun powder and the feeling of blood on your face. The man, the man in the mask in front of you, how he almost seemed to be giving you a pitying look, as if he somehow understood.

“What happened to your father?” Doctor Thompkins voice echoed through your memory. You heard a slight sound but ignored it.

“Oh, he’s dead.” You replied as your memory continued.

Your father was dead on the ground, the man was in front of you, it was then the vigilante’s came into the room. The first time you met them, the only time you didn’t have to escape. However it seemed that your rescuer was the one now in need of rescuing, you were unfortunately in too much shock to do anything as the vigilantes chased him out the door.

“Did you-?” She asked as you came back into reality.

Blinking you saw a slightly scared look on her face and you felt yourself revolt against her gaze.

A killer, she thought you were a killer.

“No,” You said, shaking your head as you pushed yourself back from the table with your feet, “no I don’t hurt people.”

She paused for a moment, her face relaxing, before replying, “No, you just steal from them right?”

Something in Doctor Thompkins voice was sharp and bitter, it told you that you had probably stolen from or helped steal from someone she knew. Narrowing your eyes you opened your mouth to speak when there was a clatter in the hall.

It was then you heard the voice of guards, talking fairly loudly. It had to have been newbies, no seasoned guard would talk that loudly in Arkham.

“Word is,” One guard remarked as he passed the room, “he’s out of isolation and is joining the normal crowd for dinner-”

Before you could hear more the guards moved away and your heart stopped in your chest. There was only one person who you knew was in isolation and who the guards would even bother to talk about.

The Joker. The Joker was out of isolation and you were going to dead before sunset.

Fucking shit.

Doctor Thompkins let out a sigh and drew your attention back to her. She was writing something in the file. Then she looked up at you, a serious expression on her face.

“Why don’t we talk about your relationship with Red Robin?”

A sound came from one of the corners of the room. You froze staring at it, your heart beat faster and faster in your chest. Your mouth was still open and you felt it going dry. Someone or something was in the corner, out of your sight and had been this entire time.

You closed your eyes, remembering all the little noises and how afterwards Doctor Thompkins would move away from the subject she was in previously. Whoever it was in the corner, they were practically directing this interrogation- evaluation, whatever it was.

“Come out,” You said softly as you stiffened in the chair, “I know your there.”

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Doctor Thompkins close her eyes and curse slightly. She pressed a hand to her face and you saw something moving in the darkness.

You watch almost as if the world was in slow motion as Red Robin appeared from the darkness and your heart started beating again loudly in your ears.

Red Robin was here. The Joker was out of isolation. You had to do something, something that would get you out of here and away from Tim, away so that if and when the Joker attacks, he won’t get caught in the cross-hairs.

“What are you doing here?” You asked without hesitation.

Not even blinking Red Robin pulled a chair from the corner and set it next to Doctor Thompkins.

“I’m here to make sure nothing goes wrong.”

The words were like knives to your heart.

I’m here to make sure nothing goes wrong

He didn’t trust you, he didn’t think you could be left alone with Doctor Thompkins. He thought you’d hurt her, he was here to protect her from you. You blinked once as the criminal side covered you. It was almost an instinctive reaction. A protection of sorts.

Your criminal side began to sink in and you let it. If the one person, the only damned person who believed in you, who thought there was any good in you, didn’t trust you enough to not hurt someone, what did that say about you? What did that say about who you were? Why were you fighting so hard to be something your not?

With the criminal side firm on your face you rolled your eyes. Leaning back in the chair.

“As if something would go wrong.” You snorted, “and I don’t believe that shit for a second.”

He wouldn’t be here just because of body guard duty. There must have been another reason... right?

Noting the tense expression on both of their faces, you realized you were right. There was more than one reason for him being here. You couldn’t think of any reason, any real reason for him being here.

“I’m here,” He said, taking in a breath, “to help you.”

Your first instinct was to be touched, to feel all warm inside and let love take hold of you again; that is until your mind reminded you that he probably only wanted to help you out, because if he didn’t your life- your death, would be on his conscience. All because you decided to save him.

You rolled your eyes feeling the love, the bitter virus, beginning to swirl around almost coming to life. However your anger and the hollow, empty feeling were able to beat it back, just for long enough that you could keep a clear head.

“Of course you are,” You snorted sarcastically not looking Red Robin in the eye, “and it had nothing to do with the fact that I saved your life so you feel indebted to me”

You saw a hurt look cross his face and he shook his head almost as if he not only didn’t agree with what you said but knew you didn’t fully believe it yourself.

“That isn’t true you’re my friend, I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

Friend, were the two of you actually friends? Almost a third of this so-called friendship happened while you were behind Arkham’s bars. Despite how much you cared about him you had to hurt him. Had to give him a reason to leave and forget you.

“Fucking bullshit,” You scoffed. “I mean nothing to you and you mean nothing to me.”

“Don’t lie, I know that isn’t true.”

You looked up and met his gaze, then the two of you stared each other down. It was almost a battle of wills, to see who would be the first to crack and back down. Despite him being right, you wanted to win so he’d leave, leave and be out of danger. Leave and stop making you feel so... strange.

Love was dangerous and stupid and it made you feel so weird. While most of the time... most of the time he wasn’t here, it made you feel like you were dying, choking on something unseen and strong. When he was here, it was like... it was like you were burning. So quickly and bright, all of your senses were alit and your emotions felt different, more prominent.

Love made you feel like you were finally alive and dying all at the same time.

You didn’t like it, parts of you... the parts of you that were too much like your father told you it was weakness, loving someone. But as you looked at Tim, you couldn’t understand why.

“Do you....” Doctor Thompkins asked, causing you to look at her.

She had the file practically in her lap, her pen at the ready as if she was waiting for you to start spilling your guts at any second.

“Do you want to take the jacket off?”

You didn’t even blink, she was trying to establish a bond of sorts, it was fairly late to be doing that but you weren’t going to have any of it. Besides, being this close to him and having the jacket off was a bad idea.

You knew you’d want to wave your hands around as you spoke, twirl strands of your hair around your fingers, that you’d want to reach out for him maybe even touch him... that however was something you simply couldn’t do. No matter how much you wanted to.

“No,” You said, “for your own comfort I’ll keep it on. Can’t have your bodyguard getting jumpy when I simply move a finger now can we?”

Doctor Thompkins stiffened and Red Robin looked confused before a look of realization crossed his face and he leaned towards you.

“I’m not her bodyguard... is that why you think I’m here?”

“Why else would you be here?”

The words had slipped from your mouth, more of a statement than a question. You knew he didn’t have any other reason. Despite what he said, he couldn’t have a another reason.... or at least he shouldn’t.

“Because,” He said looking you in the eyes, “ I can’t watch you die either and I can’t stand aside as you get yourself killed.”

He paused for a moment and you noticed how his cheeks flushed slightly. Blinking, he looked away from you for a second before continuing, “You’re my friend and I care about you.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, your feelings- your love for him slamming so hard into you. Revealing all of the cracks and holes it had made, revealing how much it hurt.

You felt tears in your eyes, you cared about him so damned much and every time you tried to push him away he seemed to fight to right back to your side. You had to get space between the two of you, not only because right now being close to you put him in danger but because you were a danger.

It had taken you nearly seven years to realize you were what your father thought and so much more. A monster, a hazard, a danger. You caused trouble and got people hurt no matter what you did. Despite how much light Tim saw in you, you never could be good, not really, no matter your intentions. You were destined for destruction.

With tears streaming down your face you opened your eyes and looked at him, he looked to be struggling with something, what you didn’t know but you knew it hurt to see him upset. But it would hurt more to see him dead so you straightened yourself out and sighed.

“Why won’t you just leave me alone?”

“Because you matter to me.”

You blinked in surprise and felt more tears slip down your face. Leaning back in the chair, his cheeks fairly pink, Red Robin looked at Doctor Thompkins.

“Sorry, please continue.” He remarked, clearing his throat.

Doctor Thompkins gave him, then you, a look and she smiled slightly before flipping the page in the file. She looked up at you and narrowed her eyes slightly.

“Do you regret it? What you’ve done? As a criminal I mean.”

The words were on your lips before you could even think it over.

“Yes. I regret ever hurting anyone who felt or went through even a sliver of what I have,” You said looking more at Red Robin then Doctor Thompkins, “But other than that no, I don’t regret a damn thing. Fuck all those damn rich people.”

Both Doctor Thompkins and Red Robin blinked and you swear you saw a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. For a moment you felt a bit of pride, that is until you remembered. The second you got out of here you were dead.

Looking away from Red Robin you watched as Doctor Thompkins wrote something in the file. Once she finished she looked at you and you wiggled a bit in your seat.

“Are we done?”

She nodded and closed the file, returning her pen to her coat. She pushed away from the table and stood up.

“Guards!” She called.

The door swung open almost automatically and two guards, two different guards entered the room. You shot Red Robin one last look as they grabbed onto you and began dragging you from the room.

“Goodbye, old friend.” You called.

It wasn’t just a I’ll see you later goodbye, but a final one. Doctor Thompkins took in a breath and Red Robin flinched. Before either of them could reply or do anything however you were dragged from the room.

As the guards pulled you down the hall you knew what you had to do. You didn’t want to be killed in front of everyone while they were eating; if the Joker wanted to kill you not only would he have to do it himself he’d have to break into your cell to do it. You were going to get yourself into isolation. Might as well die in the place you’d been living for the last two months.

Struggling against the guards grip you began to fight. It wasn’t difficult after so long of being compliant you fighting back was a surprise to the guards. You quickly broke free of their grip and tripped one of them.

As he slammed onto the ground, the other charged towards you, you jumped out of the way only to have the guard grab onto your hair as he passed and yank you with him. You both went tumbling towards the ground. You spun around and your face slammed straight into the tiles.

You felt a slight snap and blood spilling from your nose. Raising your head you looked to find one of the guards swinging at you, perfect.

The second his fist hit your face your head went backwards and the other guard grabbed onto your shoulder. They both yanked you up and began dragging you back towards your cell. You could feel the blood spilling down from your nose and now from your busted lip. A maniacal grin was on your face and for a moment you felt light instead of the heavy hollow you’d been feeling for months.

You heard the sound of a door opening and then you were thrown back into your cell. As you tumbled into it your head hit the ground and the world tumbled into darkness.

When you woke up, you heard your cell neighbors humming and muttering in gibberish respectively. This meant you had missed lunch and it was probably getting dark out. Raising your head you shifted so your legs were under you, then you waited.

You didn’t know how long it would take him, but eventually the Joker would come for you. So you sat, with dried blood on your face, your nose probably broken and your heart essentially shattered in your chest. There wasn’t much that the Joker could do to you that could be worse than what you had already done to yourself.

So when you heard the footsteps, when you heard a slight clanging and the sound of your door beginning to open. You were ready. Ready for whatever torture the Joker had prepared for you. You knew you had suffered a lot and were probably about to suffer a whole lot more. But what mattered was that Tim was safe.

And whether he knew it or not he had a hold on you so strong that it made you see past reason and he had your heart.

With both him and your heart safely away from Arkham, you put a smile on your face and turned to greet the Joker.

Bring it on, you thought.

After all, you were pretty much batshit crazy. Crazy in love. And all that mattered was that you died on your own terms and the person who you cared about was safe. Safe and far away from here.

Love sucked, but it had a strong hold on you and you couldn’t hold it back anymore.

Damn.

Love, it always wins, doesn’t it?

#Tim Drake #tim drake x fem!reader #tim drake x reader #Tim Drake x Y/n #reader x tim drake #batboys #batfam #y/n #reader #angst #Red Robin #Batman #Gotham #arkham asylum #two-shot #part two #y/n x tim drake #something'sgottaholdonme #requests

112 notes · View notes

theliterateape · 3 years ago

Text

We Killed Jason Todd

By Matt Markman

In 1988 my friends and I killed a kid.

He was just a boy really. We had help it wasn’t just me and my pals. there were adults involved, lots of them. I mean we were young we were just thirteen and really couldn’t comprehend the ramification of our actions, the adults knew what they were doing. I’m painting it to sound way more sinister than it was, and in today’s society, wouldn’t trend on Twitter but maybe in the ’80s, it was probably considered quite ominous.

To set your mind at ease, it was Jason Todd. You know, Batman's sidekick, The Boy Wonder, Robin—well, the second Robin anyways. And I helped kill him.

I was big into comic books but my favorite was, The Dark Knight, The Caped Crusader, The Batman… He donned the best costume, he had all the money and was the most intelligent of all the superheroes. That last trait right there, the fact that he was considered a superhero and he had no actual super powers made him cooler than the other side of the pillow. You know how The Big Bang Theory has convinced the world it’s an Emmy-winning sitcom worth watching? I think it’s the fact that Batman was someone any one of us could actually be. Sure we needed to start with a base coat of genius followed by a splash of handsome billionaire playboy then train overseas in martial arts for several years, but if you had those things you, too, could be a vigilante. You ask me today and I'd stand by the fact that Batman would beat Superman in a fight, say ten out of ten times. This is not debatable because super beings from another planet are not real.

My favorite thing about Batman, though, is his ability to balance out good and evil. He spawned one of the greatest comic book villains and fictional characters ever created, The Joker. They have tried and tried again but in my opinion never got close to the Clown Prince of Crime—maybe Negan from The Walking Dead, he's pretty ruthless. The Joker is what would happen if a stand-up comedian became a criminal mastermind, so basically the plot of the 2019 film Joker.

My love for Joker made sense because growing up I was always more into the bad guys than the good guys. Watching and playing with G.I.Joe, I was always on the side of Cobra Commander, the twins Tomax and Xamot, and Zartan because they were always more glamorous and eye-catching than the boring ass Joes. Just once, I’d like that “knowing is half the battle” part at the end of the cartoon to have been Storm Shadow giving us kids a tip on how to fuck up Shipwreck and his stupid Parrot. Megatron, Skeletor, Shredder, Mumm-ra…

The list goes on, but the antagonists always resonated with me. they had a much better and more intriguing agenda than the good guys did. I know that wasn't the purpose, we were supposed to cheer on the good guys, like the idea of saving the world and all, but the mayhem… It’s like Alfred Pennyworth said, “Some men just want to watch the world burn.” It’s odd because the bad guys in my life were real, the bullies and I didn't like them at all. They tormented me daily unprovoked because I was short and had big ears. Perhaps my love for the dark side stemmed for my desire to be on that side because in real life there was no Superman swooping in to rescue me from the clutches of Lex Luthor.

There were two sides, and good had a lack of champions looking out for the weaker, smaller good guys. The bad guys in my neighborhood, well, they were real and never really foiled and more importantly, they always got the girl in the end. Fuck the good guys!

My admiration for evildoers achieving their agenda was tested in 1988, Batman was running a four-part series called A Death in the Family. It was your typical Batman arc. Somehow, The Joker was going to get the upper hand on The World’s Greatest Detective only to be bested in the end by Batman. But this time, the third comic decided to do something nobody had never seen in the industry. The writers were going to give the fans the opportunity to decide where they were going to go with the story, only it was an option between two different roads, one quite unconventional. Apparently a few years earlier, one of the writers, Dennis O'Neil, had seen a sketch they did on SNL where Eddie Murphy held up a Lobster—Larry the Lobster—and was asking viewers to decide whether Larry was boiled and eaten or was to be set free. The choices were offered in the form of two phone numbers both costing fifty cents a call. One number was a vote for him to be freed and the other number was a vote for Larry to be murdered, smothered in butter, and devoured by Axel Foley. Ultimately, after nearly 500,000 calls, the people voted for Larry the lovable lobster to be pardoned with a 12,000 call margin. The popularity of this bit intrigued O'Neil and A few years later he decided to implement it in his Death in The Family storyline.

In the third book, The Joker had taken Batman's sidekick, the Boy Wonder, hostage. He’d beaten him bloody with a crowbar leaving a cliffhanger to be wrapped up in the fourth book. The last page of the comic was full page and at the top read in true ’80s Do the Right Thing fashion: “Robin will die because The Joker wants revenge, but you can prevent it with a telephone call!” They even phrased it to steer you down the hero’s path, like you can literally be Batman with one phone call. Underneath the imploring verbiage were two numbers, dial one number; The Joker fails and Robin lives, Batman would once somehow saves the day. However, call this other number and The Joker succeeds and Robin dies. Gruesomely.

Wow! They were going to let the fans decide the fate of Robin, really this was one of my earliest introductions to a reality voting competition type show. In my opinion, it was a bad idea. Robin was always the worst. Go back and read through an adventure or two involving Jason Todd and tell me he wasn't always whiney and bellyaching. He was never going to be iconic or cool like Bruce Wayne or even his predecessor Dick Grayson—the first Robin. See, Dick got pissed off, decided he was tired of being in Batman's shadow, ditched the Robin costume, threw on a black blue and gold costume, moved to another city and became Nightwing. Dick was a go getter, ambitious. Grayson’s Robin was a winner, Todd's Robin was an irritating little bitch; he was not an innocent lobster.

I went to my mother and asked if I could make a call that was going to cost just fifty cents and I would pay her back or she could just take it out of my allowance. She wanted to know what it was for and mostly wanted to confirm it wasn't for an adult sex line, which costs more than fifty cents a minute, but that’s a different story. It was nothing as tawdry as phontercourse, I just wanted to help murder an annoying teenage sidekick. My mother response was “Oh, yeah, that’s fine.”

I think after it was exposed that it wasn't phone sex anything else I said went in one ear and out the other, surely she didn't think I was actually voting for a plucky comic book sidepiece to be murdered by The Joker. So that’s what I did. I cast my vote along with a majority of DC comic book fans that shared my detest for the boy wonder. Ten thousand votes were recorded with a narrow margin going to Robin dying. I think the writers never suspected that fans would go that route.

O’Neal himself voted for Robin’s stay of execution. A man of his word, Batman issue #429 was released and Robin was killed by The Joker in an explosion and we were to blame for it. Sad to say but you give a bunch of comic book nerds the power I think it would go bad every time. That day we were all proud to be The Joker's henchmen. I felt like a soldier at the end of Star Wars cheering madly while The Joker received his metal shouting, “I helped that happen!”

So many shows these days embrace our fascination with the anti-hero with the success of The Sopranos, The Shield, Breaking Bad, hell Narcos had me rooting for Pablo Escobar—Pablo fucking Escobar. I wouldn't say I was a bad person growing up. Quite the contrary, I was a shy nerd with no power to do anything but pick my books up after they were smacked to the ground. What I’m saying is don't give me the power to make important life or death decisions with your franchise because myself and the other dorks will have the bodies of Orko, Snarf, and Jimmy Olson lying in a shallow grave, just tell me what number to dial… or text.

Matt started performing standup comedy in 2004 in Las Vegas and is now a regular at every major comedy club on the Las Vegas strip. He released his first comedy album in 2016 titled Uncut available on iTunes. More about Matt and his upcoming appearances can be found on MattMarkman.com.

#Matt Markman #Matt Markman Comedian #Matt Markman Comedian Las Vegas #Las Vegas Comedians #G.I. Joe #Skeletor #Joker #Batman #Joker kills Robin #Jason Todd

38 notes · View notes

geekgemsspooksandtoons · 3 years ago

Text

My Spider-Man Ideas

Because I’m glad my good bro @kaijuguy19 asked me about this. I want to say and it’s not a secret I’m actually a big Spider-Man fan. And ever since last year. I wanted to make my own take on the character. And maybe I still will one day. But smaller maybe. But ever since this post I made. https://geekgemsspooksandtoons.tumblr.com/post/662905966119075840/to-be-honest-i-just-wanna-say-i-feel-like-maybe-i I think it’s best I just talk about it.

In a way, I feel like this is what The Amazing Spider-Man series could’ve been maybe. Which is something I wanted to talk about. Despite some big criticisms towards that franchise. I don’t mind it’s place, and we can’t change history with it. And Spider-Man is in the MCU now.

This may not be all finished yet. Or put together much better. But this is practically my, “The Dark Knight” of the Spider-Man character. Yet also, I feel like maybe it’s best I don’t touch the Spider-Man franchise.

Because I feel like if fans, non fans, and whoever read this. They would honestly think, “GeekGem, please go back to The Mask franchise” because while I love Spider-Man, and the themes his character represent. Along with the many characters and stories. That have even inspired the likes of The Mask Rebirth strangely. But The Mask is maybe a series that is...maybe more suited for me...

I just wanted to say that I think people would be like, “Go back to The Mask franchise please. And never touch any Spider-Man related again” but I’m being way too harsh about myself. Now let’s begin. XD

Part 1.

I wanted to strangely make my own Spider-Man in a sense like Batman 1989. But I feel Spider-Man 2002 fills that hole. Including one of the old ideas that Peter has been Spider-Man for 5 years with no huge villains. But recently, it had gone to maybe his second year instead. Him being 19 and in college. With the origin not shown, but cleverly shown and told maybe akin to how Spectacular told it. And what I wanted Homecoming to do possibly. Or even something like that 2017 series.

It mainly dealt with Quinten Beck’s Mysterio. And it was basically a more mature version of, “The Menace Of Mysterio” and basically, Mysterio’s first apperance. With Beck trying become a superhero by framing Spider-Man. But after he frames Spider-Man. He tries to showcase he’s even more of a hero by deciding to kill criminals. I remember a friend of mine understanding that he called him an evil(er) version of Neil Druckmann/Quentin Tarantino/Ken Levine.

Even though I was really gonna look into his story because comics had gone in more depth with him.

Other characters like Mary Jane, Gwen Stacy, Harry Osborn, Aunt May, and the employees at the Daily Bugle would be involved. With the main story of Peter recalling why he became Spider-Man in the first place. And with Mysterio practically being a foil to him. And there is the inclusion of Silver Stable being brought to take down Spider-Man. But her job has become more troubling with Mysterio. Yet I question if I still want her in this.

Including it developed into something like the upcoming The Batman movie. With maybe Beck losing it more because the police hate the fact he’s begun killing criminals. But anyway, I wanna leave as it is. I just remembered the Silver Stable part. I wanna talk about the one I thought of the most. The one that I really wanted to do. Forgot to put Captain Stacy in this. Since I just wrote him down in part 2.

Part 2.

This idea is basically my The Dark Knight for Spider-Man. Like, literally. With the idea of using the Green Goblin, and really showcasing how dangerous the character is. And I really wanted to test the words, “With great power comes great responsibility”.

Think of this story if the Green Goblin replace the Joker in The Dark Knight. And you replace certain characters with Spider-Man characters. But if I recall, it’s mainly this idea of Goblin trying to teach Spider-Man the consequences of being a superhero.

Going in line with his original version like he first appeared. This is Norman Osborn. But it’s never revealed until the end. And it’s kind of a mystery. And with Norman faking his death by a terrorist attack by the Green Goblin. With Norman before that, acting like an older and kind fatherly figure. When in reality, he’s a genuine horrible person hiding behind a persona. And with the Goblin persona, his abilities and all that. He uses the Green Goblin as an outlet to unleash who he truly is. Going with what how the 616 version of him is. There’s no split personality.

I will admit, the faking his own death thing might backfire on him if he wins. Maybe him with a back up plan that Norman was alive, and was taken hostage by the Goblin. With Norman making it look like that.

In a nutshell, the Green Goblin is practically who Norman is deep inside. And he tries to become the leader of organized crime. Until he meets Spider-Man. Where in this version, Green Goblin is like a cruel teacher, and he wants to really teach Spider-Man what it’s the huge consequences of being a superhero.

This dude is literally more like a boogeyman. He’s if Arkham Knight’s Scarecrow and Heath Ledger’s Joker were fused into one. But he‘s also basically if Ghostface was a supervillain with powers and gadgets. He has the glider, but he does other shit. Despite his original intention, he becomes Hell bent on making Spider-Man understand the responsibility of what he’s doing.

With Green Goblin becoming more of a terrorist. That it becomes so bad. That Silver Stable is brought in likely by Captain George Stacy. That this problem with costumed people has gone too far.

Goblin is killing members of the Wild Pack, police officers, and he’s just causing chaos to bring Spider-Man down. But when he figures out who Spider-Man is. It becomes even more personal.

At first, it seems like the story is gonna go the way of, “The Night Gwen Stacy Died”. And it’s scary because Gwen knows who Peter is, and is with him. But it’s different, with not Goblin taking an unconscious Gwen to the Brooklyn Bridge. It’s still the Brooklyn Bridge. But instead he kidnaps her, leaves her tied and gagged surrounded by a bunch of barrels that will explode. There’s no Spider-Man accidently killing Gwen with his webs. But instead...what happens is...much worse. To me personally.

Spider-Man saves Gwen, and stops the barrels from exploding. But it doesn’t go the route of, “What if Gwen Stacy had lived?” storyline. Instead, the Green Goblin’s plan wasn’t to kill Gwen. But something to destroy both her, and Peter mentally.

Instead, when Peter tries to go back to May’s house. Aunt May is literally killed by a bunch of hidden explosions. And during the same time or a little later. Captain George Stacy in his office is killed by similar hidden explosions.

What happened is that because Goblin found out who Spider-Man was, and knew who he was dating. He felt like it was too easy to kill Gwen. But he wanted to do something possibly more extreme. Something that would still make Peter snap. But also destroy his relationship with Gwen.

He took the words from Spider-Man 2002, “The heart Osborn. First, we attack his heart” to literal heart. He kills Aunt May, and George Stacy in the most horrific way. Including destroying the home Peter grew up in. And after some time. Goblin literally calls Peter to pretty much rub it in that these are the consequences of him being Spider-Man. And that Gwen wasn’t the one he wanted to kill. With him possibly ending the conversation, talking about how it’s gonna end.

That it will end with one of them dying. But he doesn’t care. If Green Goblin kill Spider-Man, he wins. If Spider-Man kills Green Goblin, Spider-Man will be viewed maybe more as a menace. Because he likely killed Green Goblin out of pure rage. Which Goblin tried to create, he unleashes the anger that Peter tries to hold in. And with his mother figure killed in such a way, and a friend who was like a new father figure killed in a similar fashion. It’s literally a cruel test Goblin is trying to pull.

And in the end, during some stuff, with Spider-Man nearly killing Goblin like in the comics. But soon stopping himself when he learns that it was Norman all along. And it ends with Norman like the 2002 film and comics, accidently killing himself with the gilder. He never comes back, he’s truly dead.

On one point, Spider-Man stops himself from killing Goblin, and Norman kills himself instead. But the other point is something else instead. Norman is revealed to the the Green Goblin, putting Oscorp in a heap of shit, and people looking at Harry strangely. And despite comforting each other, but because of the horrible events.

Gwen decides that it’s maybe best to break up with Peter. Understanding her being with Peter seemed to have gotten her father killed. She doesn’t hate Peter. But she seems to hate Spider-Man. That persona, not Peter himself.

Part 3.

This was the most challenging one. Because I really wondered about the villains. There was Kraven with possibly a Kraven’s Last Hunt story. Hobgoblin because Peter would lose his shit at another Goblin. But also the idea of the symbiote suit being in the story. And during this whole development process from last year. Characters like Miles and Black Cat were involved. But I’m not sure now. With the idea that Miles may become a Spider-Man one day. And Black Cat being bothered by black suit Spider-Man.

Yet recently, despite it may feel overstuffed. But it’s not three villains. And it could be as long as it wants.

This part is basically Spider-Man 2 fused with Spider-Man 3. With the big focus of the aftermath of Green Goblin's destruction upon New York City. And Peter’s grief with the loss of Aunt May, George Stacy, and Gwen deciding to leave him. Despite he fully understands and respects Gwen for leaving him. But it’s hard.

But also with Mary Jane truly becoming Peter’s true love. After the traumatic loss and Gwen leaving New York. I know and understand Gwen’s death was a huge part of changing Mary Jane as a person because they were friends with a friendly rivalry that I recall. I...wanted to make it less depressing. Despite May was the one replacing Gwen’s death. Because that seems maybe more powerful, it depends on how you see it. Mainly with the idea that May never did anything wrong, and it was such an easy kill for Goblin. It’s like Uncle Ben’s death all over again.

Yet again, the concept of part 3 is of Peter truly embracing being Spider-Man. And not letting his darkness take ahold of him after the death of the woman that raised him. With the symbiote bringing out repressed anger even more. And made worse after the death of Aunt May.

But it’s Mary Jane that helps him overcome that darkness. And I wanna share this video that explains that more. Because I feel like that could’ve been an amazing plot point for The Amazing Spider-Man 3 if done right.

The video is by Sevenwebheads. I loved this guy before he sadly left YouTube out of nowhere.

youtube

And with how I talked about this part. It being Spider-Man 2 fused with Spider-Man 3. The villains being Doc Ock, and Venom. And in a sense, Peter is his own villain. Because of the symbiote.

It’s possible Doc Ock like his 2004 film version is maybe more sympathetic. And honestly more understandable as a villain than Norman Osborn.

Quentin Beck/Mysterio is a man who is crushed by his ambitions, and being a foil to Peter’s belief about responsibility and being a superhero.

Silver Stable is a mercenary that’s more like a complex character. Yet gets into conflict with Spider-Man. Not really a villain.

The Green Goblin/Norman Osborn in this is pretty much the embodiment of pure evil. Practically enjoying what he is doing, and not caring what the consequences are. A total anti-thesis to everything Spider-Man represents. And would make other villains or anti heroes look at him like, “What the fuck is wrong with you!?”

With Doc Ock again, being more sympathetic, but still a villain. Akin to Spider-Man 2′s Alfred Molina. And Eddie Brock, who I think should have sprinkled throughout this three part story.

With Venom and Eddie. I really like them both, I really do. But I wanted to do a version that would make sense. Instead of copying the 616 version or only the Ultimate version. Considering in a sense, the 616 Eddie isn’t much of a foil to Peter. Where the Ultimate version seems more like that in a sense.

I feel like the symbiote shouldn’t be an alien from outer space. Because that opens a whole can of worms. I seriously feel like the alien aspect doesn’t mesh with the more grounded take of Spider-Man. And it just at times makes me feel fine with the idea of Venom not being included in Spider-Man’s mythos. Despite how iconic he is.

So the symbiote’s origins would be more involved with science than from outer space. And with Eddie not only being a bit more complex. Yet he is also a foil to both Peter and Mary Jane. While you can understand him, he practically becomes more unhinged and possibly has some relations with Peter like in Ultimate and Spectacular. And when I think about, even using some elements from The Amazing Spider-Man 2 mobile game version of Eddie/Venom.

His character would be more in line with how Todd McFarlane and David Michelinie introduced the character. But while there is some dark comedy. It’s seriously more frightening. Another boogeyman in a sense like Green Goblin. With his first appearance being like in The Amazing Spider-Man issue 299. And Venom representing one of the many mistakes Spider-Man made. That being the birth of Venom and it bonding to Eddie Brock. Creating a villain that Peter feels responsible for.

I guess in a sense, I wanted to use three of Spider-Man biggest villains. Those being Green Goblin, Doc Ock, and Venom. With Mysterio and Silver Stable included. There is the idea of Carnage. Even though I liked the inclusion of Carnage in The Amazing Spider-Man 2 game. And Cletus is truly a foil to everything Peter is. I really wanted to showcase Venom as that. Still wondering about Black Cat because I love Felicia.

With this part. Considering how tough this whole trilogy is. This part is basically I guess, the light in the darkest hour.

Where you have moments like a black suited Spider-Man nearly killing Doc Ock, and even before that, ripping off one of his arms, or maybe all of them. I’m not sure. But it’s nearly killing Doc Ock that truly makes Peter if his anger has truly gone too far. And an interaction with Mary Jane who is the biggest person who has been comforting him. Helping him through his grief, after everything that had happened with him.

Peter chooses Mary Jane over keeping the symbiote. And because of his rejection of the symbiote, it bonds with Eddie. Who is practically a final test for Peter in this story. The dark reflection of what he could’ve became. A man despite you can feel for him. Eddie slowly became more sociopathic, became more irresponsible, and becoming more consumed with hate and anger.

The light rising above dark, and moving on with life. Because if we cling on to the past. We’ll be stuck there forever. And with Peter being a pessimist who has optimistic moments. This whole trilogy is like an endurance test of him as Spider-Man.

I really wanted to bring to life the earlier stories of Spider-Man from Stan Lee and Steve Ditko. It’s basically a love letter to the character and his mythos. Focusing on some more darker elements like Peter’s anger issues, and other things. But also dealing with the many themes about the character. But it’s even more rough when you replace Spider-Man 2′s Doc Ock with Green Goblin. And you maybe place Doc Ock in Spider-Man 3.

Even though I feel like Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man trilogy is maybe the perfect representation of the character. Despite all the criticisms towards Spider-Man 3. And other people’s nitpicks among many things. I feel like those films REALLY got Spider-Man right. Along with others like The Spectacular Spider-Man cartoon and others.

Think I’ve said enough. I’ll talk other stuff in the reblogs. But yeah...which I’ll say this in a reblog. Despite I don’t mind flawed films...I wished The Amazing Spider-Man franchise took a direction like this.

#GeekGem Rambles

18 notes · View notes

thr-333 · 4 years ago

Text

Mismatch- Part 17

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

“Push me off the roof you coward!”

First< Previous > Next

------

“So do you want to be Batman or should I?” Marion brings out the two outfits identical in every way except size.

“It’s not actually dressing up,” Marinette scolds fixing her hair.

“Well then you single handedly ruined halloween,” Marion grins coming up behind her, “Everyone wears them for it,”

“Don’t exaggerate,” Marinette watches him warily in the mirror, prepared to defend if-when he makes a move to mess up her hair.

“So Batman or Robin?” Marion holds the outfits up, dangerous close to her head.

“I don’t care,” Marinette stands up, spinning around, using the chair as a shield.

“Coin flip then,” Marion drapes them over the chair, “Oooh foreshadowing!”

“Please tell me you're going to take this marginally seriously?” Marinette leans back on the dresser as he fishes for a coin.

“You’re starting to sound like our manager,” Marion flips the coin with extra flare, “Heads,”

“You should thank Kate for setting this up,” Marinette catches the coin before he can, “Tails,”

She takes the Robin outfit from the chair, ducking Marion as she passes.

“You know I don’t think Kate wants to see me,” Marion takes his outfit behind the opposite curtain, “She's pretty stressed something will go wrong,”

“In Gotham?” Marinette pokes her head out the curtain on the other side of the room.

“I know, crazy right,” Marion also peaks through the curtain, “Where would she get that idea?”

“Who knows?” Marinette cheekily grins before ducking back behind the curtain.

“If we get attacked again I think we might give aunt- I mean,” Marion pauses pulling on his grey turtleneck, “ugh, this is hard,”

“Mari, the outfits are designed for easy use,” Marinette teases, tone sounding half hearted even from this distance.

“What are you calling her in your head?” Marion pulls the turtle neck down all the way.

“Selina,” Marinette answers, as he shrugs on his hooded crop top over the turtleneck, split into two colours to make a vague bat-shape. “Although I just avoid saying it out loud,”

“Great minds think alike,” Marion pulls on his grey leggings, that Marinette had thankfully made into thermals.

“I’m the only great mind here,” Marinette teases, Marion lets out fake gasp as he pulls a pair of shorts over his leggings, “You just like to copy,”

“How dare you!” Marion pulls the curtains aside dramatically, Marinette doesn't even look up from where she's putting on bracelets, “Dishonour! Dishonour on you, Dishonour on your kwami! Dis-”

“Hey!” Tikki flies out of the backpack.

“Sorry Tikki,” Marion looks away from the fuming Kwami, trying to avoid her by pulling on his black and blue boots.

“It’s ok Tikki,” Marinette finishes putting green and gold bracelets up to her elbows, “He’s just trying to be funny,”

“And succeeding!” Marion corrects, smoothing a mask over his eyes.

“Ah-ha,” Marinette stands, black and yellow scarf flaring out at the back.

“You know I don’t think she agrees,” Marion stage whispers to Plagg from his bag.

“Ah-ha,” Plagg says in the same tone, as Marion is pulling on his black gloves.

“Traitors, all of you,”

“Hey look,” Marinette bumps his shoulder, nodding towards someone.

“It’s Jason,” Marion whispers back excitedly, moving to wave.

“MCD doesn't know him,” Marinette grabs his arm, “Let’s hope this isn’t as awkward as it was with Chloe,”

“I thought that was fun,”

“Of course you did,”

"Hi," Jason approaches nervously, completely different to how Marion's met him before, it's cute.

"Oh hello, stranger," Marion grins, ignoring the kick from Marinette, he'll be careful, it's fine he's got this, "Whats your name?"

"Jason," Oh my God he's blushing!

"Jasin," Marion repeats pretending to write on what he was handed.

"Um…." Jason looks like he's about to correct Marion, this will be perfect- "yep,"

Fuck fuck fuck i though he would correct me fuck, Marinette help! Marinette rolls her eyes at his pleading look.

"Jason, CD," Pointing to the page without writing, "son,"

"Ohhhh Jason,” Marion says, as if he had come to some amazing realisation, Marinette looks like she wants to slap him, “haha, sorry, of course, I just didn’t hear you right, because I don’t know your name, why would I know your name? It's-"

Marinette rightfully cuts off his rambling with a swift kick, that both knew would never actually hurt him. At least Jason looks just as embarrassed as him, neither quite knowing how to start the conversation back up,"

"How about we take a picture?" Marinette says, their saving grace.

"Yeah, that would be great," Jason fumbles for his phone, Marion hopes his mask will cover his blush, as he remembers what Jason had said about him at dinner, the only reason he was blushing.

They take a nice picture together. Then one where Marion throws bunny ears behind MDC. She swats his hand away and he pushes her out of frame. The next picture is one of him and Jason with Marinette rising up, like a threatening blur in the background.

"Aw thats a nice picture" Marion looks over Jason shoulder, they were meant to be with the next person already but they were a design hopeful, babbling to MDC about her designs, "You should send it to me,"

"Of course," Jason seems flustered with his proximity, enough so that he didn't see Marion's trap.

"Great heres my number," Marion quickly writes it down on blank piece of paper, a picture seeming a bit too narcissistic at that point.

"...Waut,"

"Well you have to send it to me someway," Marion shrugs, conveniently ignori-forgetting that pictures were sent through his social media all the time.

"Right... right," Jason seems to be in a bit of a daze when Marion sends him off, standing next to Marinette as the fan leaves.

They watch Jason leave. Marinette starts giggling when he almost runs into a wall.

“Are you ok?" Marion asks, partly for the security guard who was waiting for their ok to send the next person up.

“You are such a dork,” She breaths through her upcoming laughter, “I think I need a minute,”

“Fine but if I get a hopeful fashion designer I’m telling them your new direction is crocs,” Marion huffs, not really insulted, but if he didn't act it she would only up the anti.

“Do it and your casket will be made out of crocs,” Marinette threatens ineffectively, walking to the backstage door.

“I kinda want to see that,”

“You’d be dead,” Marinette calls from the door.

“Minor issue,”

Marinette waves him off, which could have been an aborted swat. He watches as the crowd nearby begin whispering, some offering others to go first to stall for time. Marion plans to shove this in her face next time Marinette claims she isn’t popular. He’s about to take a camera out for evidence when one of the groups, fast tracked but the crowd, approaches.

Marion goes to do his more basic greetings when a gun is shoved in his face. The group made up of armed men surrounding him, one holding a camera.

“Smile for the camera,” The figure pulls his coat back, revealing the frankly disturbing face of the Joker.

“Oh it’s you,” Marion keeps a blank face, evidently confusing him, “Any chance two-face will show up?”

“.... No?” Marion fights to keep his composure as the crowd are threatened by the remaining thugs, pushing them to the ground.

“Pity, what a waste of good foreshadowing,” Marion shrugs casually, that camera is probably filming.

“What,” Marion supposes its a rare thing to see the Joker taken aback, but watching a group of armed men storm backstage distracts him from the sight.

“Nothing, I just made a brilliant joke earlier and you're sort of ruining it,” Marion makes exaggerated gestures, testing his limits, the guns follow him but don’t shoot. “Anyway are you here for an autograph or what?”

“I’m not-” He watches the Joker's face twist in gruesome realisation, “you’re trying to stall me,”

“Stall you from what?” Marion tries not to make his scan of the crowd obvious, “Please go in depth,”

“How about on the way up to the roof?” Chilling smile, but Marion is too used to fear to let it get to him.

“Oh goodie, I hear it has wonderful views,” Marion claps his hands, probably getting weird looks from the goons hiding behind masks, but who are they to judge?

He’s guided to the elevator. The Joker making the mistake of not tying his hands, or gagging him. He feels Kaalki and Plagg tense in his pocket.

“Huh, no elevator music,” Marion observes as the elevator starts to rise, “I just kind of expected it at this point,”

“You are strange,” Marion makes the mistake of glancing over, the Joker does not seem perturbed by that fact.

“You’re telling me that?” Marion tilts his head, “Actually that's quite the achievement,”

The Joker starts to go on about his plan, something about throwing MCD off the roof in front of the crowd for whatever reason, he’s not really listening. No, instead he’s made his own plan. There's no way Marinette was caught, not when she has no one to look after. She must be somewhere in the building, probably as Sparrow. It’s best if Sparrow and Songbird are seen near their other identities as little as possible, so he had to deal with the camera. If she saw the footage, which was probably being broadcast (a brilliant idea, really, no problems with that) she would intercept them. The best position would be on the elevator, but he had to buy time.

The cameras closest so he strikes, hitting it out of the goons hand, mid sentence. In the split second confusion he hits the number panel, lighting up all but a few.

“Huh, that was easy,” Marion says with genuine surprise.

“And here I thought you were being a good hostage,” Marion feels several guns press against him, but it’s only the pistol with the Joker at the end that worries him.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Marion smirks cockily, the threats turning more violent.

No, not threats, promises. Marion debates calling on Kaalki, while he’s still able too. It wouldn’t be great for a miraculous to be seen in a different country, but better than the one that can teleport than Ladybug. If Marinette couldn’t stop them in time she would surely turn to Ladybug and pick him up as he falls, right in front of the crowd and cameras. Not great.

There were other heroes in Gotham, they both knew. And if it was just him at stake he would put faith in them. But it’s not. He’s Chat Noir and there's not enough time to train a new Black Cat, not anymore.

The elevator finally reaches the top. Marion braces to help Marinette fight on the other side of the door. It opens. There’s no one. Great, great, great .

“Well, well, well why don’t we see what's behind that mask and carve up your pretty face, hm?” Joker leads him close enough to the edge of the building that anyone else should be scared.

“That sounds counter productive,” Might as well try plan b, he should have come up with one, but as is he’ll have to wing it, “Weren’t you going to throw me off the roof?”

“Eager aren't you?” Not really “After, promise,”

That grin paired with the knife inching closer should scare him, but honestly the only thing that truly scares him anymore is someone going for his ring, or Ladybug’s.

“What's the point? I’d be dead soon anyway, sounds like a waste of time,” Marion debates adding a yawn to match the tone, but it seems like overkill.

“A few screams are never a waste of time,” Marion is backed up further to the edge of the roof, able to see the fretting crowd below.

“Sounds to me like you just don’t have any confidence,” Marion says with all the sass he can muster, which is a lot.

“Oh, do explain,” The knife inching closer to the edge of his mask encourages the opposite, but he was never much good with warnings.

“If you really believe your plan will work and I wouldn’t be saved by I-don’t-know, Batman?” Yep that strikes a cord, probably not the best cord to strike with a knife in your face, oh well his wounds will heal soon anyway, “Then you’d throw me over the roof, a few cuts doesn't matter much when your dead,”

He can see the gears turning, debating if there's merit to his bullshit or if it’s just that. Honestly Marion doesn't know either.

“Revealing my identity and stuff is just a way for you to feel like you’ve won when Batman beats you,” He carefully doesn't emphasise the ‘when’, making it sound casual, like a given fact, “Cutting my face is just admitting you think the heroes will win,”

Just a little bit more. He’s almost pulled off plan ‘b’ for bat-shit crazy. He has the horse miraculous in his grip, Kaalki won’t like it but it's hard to put glasses on in mid air.

“Besides, won’t the mask leave a bit more impact?”

Hook. Line. Sinker.

“You really think the Bats going to save you huh?” The grin is unnerving, so Marion matches it with one of his own.

“I do,” He challenges, chin tilted up, “do you,”

He hears a cackle that would have surely appeared in his fear toxin dream if he heard it before. He’s pushed, vest twisted in the jokers grip, trying to stay balanced on the very edge.

“I like you kid,” And yeah, by that smile it’s not a good thing.

“Goodie,” Marion says sardonically, ignoring the shouting below, probably because his torso is all the way off the edge.

“Make sure to scream,” He feels the grip loosen, not having the natural response to grab onto something.

“I won’t,” he sends one last smirk as he’s dropped, weight sending him off balance and off the edge.

He’s in free fall and knows the screaming is not his own. He’s too busy debating the right time to transform. The street is getting closer and closer, no staff or grappling hook to save him.

“Klakki!-”

The air gets knocked out of him at the sudden change in directions. He can feel the arm and hears the glass shattering. For all the speed of a few seconds ago he is not expecting the quiet that follows. He’s leaning forward against someone's chest, both crouched down inside the building he just fell from. He recognises the shade of red first, Marinette had spent weeks with it pinned up all over their room and Marion has been wearing it ever since. He relaxes.

“Are you ok?” He gets pulled back from the chest, his complaints are cut off, a gloved hand tracing over his cheek, he feels the sting so it must be cut.

“Yeah I’m fine,” Probably not convincing, since his crush is the closest he’s ever been and Marion is almost the same shade of red.

“You’re fine?” The disbelief is clear and it takes Marion a second to realise why.

“I mean… Oh no! Trauma!” Marion tries to fall dramatically but the arm still on his back catches him.

“Good thing you’re a popstar not an actor,” Marion feels relief at the stiff atmosphere relaxing.

“Excuse you,” He snaps back up, poking Red Hood’s chest, smirking, “I’d make a wonderful actor,”

“Yeah, yeah,” Red Hood looks away, as far as Marion can tell with the helmet, “You sure you’re ok?”

“Yes, are you?” Marion stresses, remembering that he broke through the glass.

“... what?” Red Hood's full attention comes back to him.

“Are you ok?” Marion tries not to get annoyed at the answer, humour then, “After all breaking through a window isn’t much fun,”

You idiot you can't use his line on him ! Not in different identities! What if he figures it out?!

“Yeah.. yeah," He looks away again, "I’m… great,”

Marion smiles, guess things did turn out great in the end.

“CD!” Marion jumps out his skin, both suddenly realising how they looked and stand, Marinette runs right up to him, “Are you ok!?”

“Yep I’m… great,” Marion exchanges a private glance with Red Hood as Marinette frets over him.

“Thank goodness,” She sighs, shoulders sagging, then coming back up to hit him over the head, “Then why are you such an idiot!”

“Natural talent?” Marion rubs the spot, she put some Ladybug strength in that one.

“At least you’re good at something,” She sighs, brushing her hand over the spot.

“Rude,” Marion pouts, even as his head feels better, and his cut is startling to close up.

“If every things ok then,” Red Hood says awkwardly, “I’ve got a clown to go beat up,”

I Forgot!! How do you forget that! Marion yells at himself When your crush saves you from falling to your death…. Less romantic than it seemed in the moment.

“Have fun….” Marion waves, increasing the awkwardness ten fold, “dear god, I am an idiot!”

He groans into Marinette's shoulder after Red Hood left.

“Yes, but blush later, we need to be ready to provide backup,” Marinette pulls him out of the room stepping over broken glass.

“Uh- yeah! Right! lets go,” Marion snaps out of it, running after her.

“You are such a mess,” She insults as they jog, or with their speed, sprint up the stairs.

“Of all people you don’t get to call me that,” Marion needn't remind her of how she spilt orange juice all over herself at breakfast.

“... You just fell off a building, I was talking about your clothes,” Marinette has on her, ‘you’re an idiot’ face, well practiced that one.

“Oh,”

“But yeah you are a walking disaster,” She speeds up.

“Hey!” Marion sprints after her.

They reach the roof, not as out of breath as they should be.

“I thought I told you to stay put?” Red Hood snaps, alone on the roof.

“You didn’t,” They chorus coincidentally.

“I thought you had common sense,”

“We don’t,” They chorus on purpose.

Red Hood just shakes his head, probably smiling under the helmet.

“So the Joker escaped?” Marinette is the first to wipe the grin off her face.

“He was gone when I got up here,” Red Hood shrugs, “Waiting on intel,”

Probably from oracle.

“I didn’t say thank you!” Marion realises, not used to being the one saved.

“You don’t have to,” He looks away again, “Just doing my job,”

“But I want to,” Marion walks into his line of sight “So thank you,”

“Yeah well… thanks too I guess,” He looks away again and it's starting to get annoying.

“For what,” Marion leans over enough that he should be in sight, but he can't see his eye to confirm.

“I like the outfit you designed off me,” Marion freezes, almost stumbling over, “The interview was… entertaining,”

With that killing blow, a grappling hook is sent out and Red Hook is whisked away.

“.... Hey, can I borrow your miraculous?” Marion says blankly when Marinette comes to stand by him, “I need to wish myself out of existence real quick,”

----------------

Taglist:

@technicallyburninggarden @fusser90 @misslenamooney @superbwhispersconnoisseur @biodad-bruce-month @nalu-ismyjam

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fic #bio dad bruce wayne #Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020 #Mismatch #Marinette #marinette is mdc #twins au #vigilante au #pop star au #bio dad au #bio! dadbrucewaynemonth2020 #b!dbwm2020 #Maribat #mlb

172 notes · View notes

thattimdrakeguy · 4 years ago

Note

Tim is going to be in an upcoming issue of Nightwing and its not one page cameo but a classic team up

I’m so scared about it really, to be honest, because I can’t help but feel like that it’s just going to be so shallow feeling and stuff. Like just references, and they’re just going to have the personality of “Happy, pleasant, dateable young men” and that’s about it.

Because I haven’t seen any page that’s had me impressed with Tom Taylor’s Dick work, and the one time he wrote Tim he didn’t exactly have me convinced he could write Tim well in anyway that didn’t feel really basic. (Not that he had much of a chance since Tim died right after.) They both just seem so bare and not really full of their own character, just sort of--characterization that makes them pleasant over them being them.

Like if I’m wrong I’ll gladly be wrong because I don’t enjoy expecting things to be bad. But I really enjoy that it’s happening as an idea, but as far as the execution might go I’m not in the mood for something that just feels like another shell because Tim and Dick together as brothers mean a lot to me, and the idea they could write them so bad scares me cause I get my hopes up and then they burn me.

I’m hoping it’s good, I really really really hope it’s gonna be great. But I don’t just want fan service just for fan service, I just want it to be fan service that still feels like the characters.

An acknowledgement that their brothers and not just Dick saying “He was a good kid” again is still pretty good on it’s own. So I’m not all upset at it completely. It’s kinda like--feeling like I’m just gonna be teased for a whole issue.

I want them to feel like themselves so freaking bad because I really need a cheer me up with DC, but Tom Taylor always feels so shallow to me, just there for fan service that only acknowledges what the fans want to acknowledge and not the rest.

I need dweebie Timmy, a teasing big brother Dick, Dick with a bit more of an edge and protective over Tim, Tim being talented but not perfect or Mister Super Genius that’s oh so goooooooood and smaaaaaaaart, and Dick not being belittled just to make Tim look better or smarter or something. Like I want them being them. A Tim that’s more as himself and comfortable because Dick brings the more lightheartedness out of him that doesn’t worry as much because he’s with his big brother (even if Dick has a habit of making Tim have to try extra hard to prove himself).

I’m sounding a bit too negative--like I’ll most likely enjoy it. I’ll say that, but there’s this part of me that just wants it to be right and not just for brownie points if that make any sense.

Like I know you like Tom Taylor, so I’m not saying this to be the big jerk, but Idk, it’s just how I feel about him. I’m not a fan of his writing habits. Dude wrote Joker to throw a kid a birthday party cause he felt bad for him. He’s not the biggest guy on characterization over fan service and making everyone just--sort of there to be pleasant (Though his Joker still kills--it’s just so weirdly fan servicey to have him be nice to a kid cause he feels bad. It says a lot about his writing style to me.).

And I enjoy fan service--as much as I typically use it in a negative connotation. But I hope I’m understandable about it. I want it to feel like them over anything else.

Just really really worried, cause I really want it to be good, and DC always makes me feel like I get my hopes up too much when something seems good. I don’t trust them anymore. I’m too worried to get excited when it hurts me because I really want to be excited.

To say it simply, I guess I’ll just say I’m really scared about it, cause I want it to be good so bad, and I don’t want to get my hopes up at all anymore cause DC is the big stinky.

13 notes · View notes

spaced0lphin · 4 years ago

Text

Massive Speculation

On N7 day of this hellscape of a year, BioWare announced they were making another Mass Effect instalment. Naturally, being sat up here in the bridge as I am, it gives me a lot of time to speculate and here are my thoughts on the wider picture.

These remasters are intended to revitalise the fandom for the upcoming project.

That much, to me, seems obvious. Whatever this new instalment is, it’s some years off and it makes perfect sense to give something to the (not insignificant) fanbase Mass Effect still has to attract them again, as well as new fans. These remasters will be well positioned to buy them a few years of good “fandom time.”

This upcoming instalment after the remasters is going to be Mass Effect’s last hurrah.

And maybe, as much as it sucks to say, BioWare’s last hurrah in its current form, too. It’s no industry secret that BioWare has outlived its life expectancy since the EA takeover. EA notoriously acquires and dissolves spirited, highly skilled studios once they stop being profitable (and sometimes even before that.) Unlike films, where franchises are just allowed to limp on indefinitely despite litanies of failures (think Terminator, Alien vs Predator and its ilk) games “enjoy” no such luxury. Beloved franchises are taken out behind the barn on the regular. BioWare’s productions in particular are large, grand, expensive, and alarmingly the past two have been both critical and commercial failures, vastly underperforming expectations. Mass Effect: Andromeda sold well initially, but proved to have no legs in the market; so much so, that all its DLC was cancelled and the title unceremoniously shelved. Anthem suffered a very similar and drastic fate. Whatever this upcoming Mass Effect title is going to be, it needs wide, iconic and lasting appeal.

Mass Effect can only be a flagship title.

There is no way to make a cheap Mass Effect game, and so all the stops are going to have to be pulled for this one. The studio learned a painful lesson when they left ME in the hands of their passionate, yet relatively inexperienced branch. Narratively, that puts the upcoming title in a very interesting place.

Mass Effect: Andromeda 2 is not a safe investment for a flagship title.

It doesn’t make a lot of sense to rile up interest in the ME universe again just for the next offering to be a sequel to the broadly disliked and violently shelved Andromeda. Such a decision seems counterintuitive. ME:A seems like a very bad basis to hitch a project of such importance on.

In terms of Mass Effect, what is more iconic than Commander Shepard?

As discussed, the new title is going to need to capitalise on broad appeal and fan favourites to survive. Mass Effect: Andromeda’s premise of sidestepping the whole Reapers debacle by being pioneers seeding the stars in a new galaxy was an excellent idea. Unfortunately, that ticket has been used up. Doing that same idea again seems ill-advised at best. Fandom has been hungry for more Commander Shepard for almost eight years, now... Easily, they and the N7s are the most recognisable, iconic figures. But, and it is a krogan sized “but”...

However, the endings were not meant to be written around.

Whatever you think of them, each “candy flavour” has far-reaching consequences that narratively speaking would be intensely difficult to write a meaningful and interesting continuance for. I’m not saying it isn’t possible, but it is extremely challenging and I think the only way to go forward with that would be to piss off a lot of people, for lack of a better term. It presents several challenges: 1. Okay, so the protagonist is Shepard. How? We have to pick the only path forward from here, which is to say that only the Shepards who chose this particular colour candy ending can proceed. This essentially makes one of the decisions the “canon” ending, because you can only make a game based on one of these outcomes, realistically. Scope becomes too huge if you’re trying to include all the branches. So... we are faced with the age old problem that caused such outrage over the endings initially... a lot of people are going to feel like their choices didn’t matter. This said, there is a slight precedence for this in that one could get their squad and themselves all killed in Mass Effect 2, and only my man Joker is left. That’s a bit of a different situation, but it’s all I got. 2. Okay, so only the Shepards who chose x ending can load their save and continue on. Shepard doing what? N7s are an interesting concept and the Mass Effect universe is a very interesting one with many kinds of narrative possibilities, however, it’s a real pretty corner the writers have painted themselves into on this one, gotta say. This leaves only two other narrative possibilities: 1. The least interesting of all the options, a prequel. This presents challenges of its own, because in Mass Effect’s own lore, it’s not actually that long ago that humanity came into contact with the rest of the galaxy. You can either write about the First Contact War, which involves only humans and turians and shrinks the scope drastically so much so as to be disappointing and lose much of the colour of the universe... or you go so far back into the past that it’s the Protheans’ cycle, in which case there’s no opportunity for a human protagonist - which is a massive problem - and is narratively not very compelling because we know everyone and everything dies, unless you want to do something stupid like time travel. Mass Effect is already high concept enough, I don’t think time travel is a particularly good mechanic to introduce to the series... Unless it’s short-term and single-use, like Shepard has to stop themselves from making a choice in the third game’s era. Even then, that’s opening a big can of worms that I don’t think is a good fit for the series. 2. Mass Effect: Mandalorian The only way to retain the colourful scope, the human protagonist, and the aliens we’re familiar with is ditch the iconic N7 situation entirely and set the instalment maybe 5 or 10 years before Shepard’s time. This ensures humanity is still an up-and-coming member of galactic society, yet the whole Reapers business isn’t going on yet. They won’t go for N7s because as we know, Shepard was the first human Spectre, so the protagonist could be some kind of smuggler, criminal or vigilante rather than military. Touching on what fans loved so much about Mass Effect 2, which was the feeling of getting together your motley crew of misfits to do a real big job, your role could simply be to amass a group of space jerks to do a mission of much smaller scale than the Reapers’ plotline, but no less fun. I’m going to bet it would be called something like Mass Effect: Renegades (you can have that one for free, BioWare) and the player could be pitted against C-Sec and other galactic law enforcement agencies. This even gives the opportunity for small cameos, such as Garrus’ time in C-Sec, and other characters to appear in different points in their careers. Whilst it wouldn’t make up for the loss of the iconic N7 visual and idea, it might go some way towards helping broad appeal. Also just look at how successful the Mandalorian has been for Star Wars. The only reason I don’t like these ideas is because I don’t get to date Joker in any of them. Seriously, BioWare, I don’t care what you do, just let me date the damn scruffy pilot. Not a different one, that one. Specifically. You could get an impersonator if Seth Green doesn’t wanna do it. Say his voicebox got damaged, I don’t care, just something, please In all seriousness though, I’d love for Shepard to come back. My ideal situation has to do with only one of the endings being “canonised” and is that Shepard somehow survives. Then it’s about rebuilding the galaxy after the Reapers have gone. I’m sure there’s drama to be had in that. And it gives me the opportunity to hope for Shepard to finally, FINALLY hook up with Joker. Seriously it’s so narratively powerful they’re always there for each other come on give me this I think that option would be challenging to write and would involve a sacrifice of pissing some fans off quite a lot, but the fact is, Mass Effect needs to be saved if it’s going to continue on, and it might be possible to orchestrate a situation where Shepard passes the torch on to new characters at the end. That’s also a common theme in shows and games these days.

#Mass Effect #mass effect speculation #Mass Effect 5 #but seriously whatever you do just let me date joker ffs

23 notes · View notes

n7inky-fanfics · 4 years ago

Text

Aftermath pt. 11 (final part)

CW: medical, mention of surgeries, burns

Three months pass. During this time, the majority of Shepard's burns heal. Dr. Chakwas does her best to ensure minimal scaring, but her left arm is especially affected. The majority of her left arm will likely be scarred for the remainder of her life. Shepard has several revision surgeries for her cybernetic implants. Miranda is able to repair the majority of the damage, but Shepard will need frequent recalibration to ensure that her implants stay in working order. Fortunately, these can be done with a trained professional and an omnitool.

Shepard decides that it is best for her if her friends learn of what really happened through the recording of her interview with Hackett, so she convinces him to allow them all to listen. After that, she refuses to speak of it to anyone. Her friends all come and go during these three months. They work on reconstruction efforts across the galaxy, but always find time to come back and visit. When they can't visit, they do their best to keep in touch. This becomes easier as galactic communication is restored within the first month. Tali, Garrus, Miranda, and Joker spend found time working together to restore EDI. They're close, and are very hopeful. Kaidan is given a leave of absence to stay with Shepard. After much prodding and convincing from Shepard, be even visits his mom.

During all this activity, Shepard quickly seems to return to her old self. Kaidan knows it's too good to be true and that she is burying ber emotions and pain, but he doesn't push her to talk. She attends therapy at the request of both Dr. Chakwas and the Alliance brass, but as far as Kaidan knows she spends most of her therapy sessions staring down the therapist or talking about the logistics of galactic peace and reconstruction.

Life goes on, and everything keeps moving at lightening speed. Finally, Shepard is released from the hospital. Despite her heroics, fanatical groups have formed that are determined to take her down by whatever means necessary. Some are angry about the destruction of the Batarian colony. Some blame Shepard for the death of the Geth, despite the official story being that it was an unknown consequence. Some feel threatened by the hold on the galaxy that humanity could gain if Shepard were to step in to politics. In order to protect her from these fringe groups, it is decided that she should be moved somewhere remote with armed personal nearby to guard her. Kaidan's family agrees to house her at their orchard, and so arrangements are made to transport her there along with a dozen armed personnel.

On the day of Shepard's release, Hackett visits her. She is standing in her room, dressed in her N7 jacket and her cargo pants. She wears her dog tags under her shirt. She seems to take great comfort in them. Kaidan stands with her, discussing the upcoming visit with his family. He watches her closely. Her left leg still has frequent calibration issues. Miranda has trained them both to perform necessary maintainence, but he still worries that it will give way and she will fall. He wants to be there to catch her.

Hackett knocks before entering her room. "Commander Shepard," he salutes her as the door closes behind him. She returns the salute and they shake hands. "Commander, I am here to ask you about your future with the Alliance."

"Good to see you, Admiral. If I may, sir, I have been thinking a great deal about this and I know what I want."

"Speak freely, Commander."

She smiles and says "Admiral, I will remain with the Alliance long enough to attend whatever ceremonies you require of me. But beyond that, I would like to retire."

"Ah, I didn't think you would be ready for retirement, Commander."

"With all due respect, Admiral, I have given the Alliance my life. I've died for it once, come close to death for it countless times, and I'm honestly exhausted. I think it's high time I step away and show up to any future events as a veteran rather than an active serviceman."

"I would like to retire as well, Admiral." Kaidan adds.

"If that is what you want, the Alliance will grant it. What about the Spectres?" Kaidan finds himself grateful that Hackett doesn't want any more from them. It has been a long three years, and their service has worn them both down.

"The second human Spectre and I are grateful for the honor, but after this war, we need to rest. For once, we'd like to put ourselves first."

"Well said, Commander. I will discuss the conditions of your retirements with the brass. We may take some time before publicly announcing this. I will get back to you shortly."

Shepard kisses Kaidan once Hackett leaves. Their escort arrives to take them to the shuttle, and they walk together hand in hand. No matter what happens, they know that they have each other. It's going to be a good life.

#fanfic #mass effect #shenko #female shepard #commander shepard #kaidan alenko #f!shenko #bioware

1 note · View note

diyunho · 5 years ago

Text

The Joker x Reader - “John Wick” Part 1

Y/N left The Organization 3 years ago for the one reason strong enough to make her settle down: love. But after tragedy crushed her to pieces, she decided to leave The Joker and seek refuge with an old friend and mentor - John Wick. Needless to say The King of Gotham can’t accept his wife running away without a word, especially since he didn’t have a chance to tell her things she might want to hear.

Part 2 Part 3

Your high heels click on the marble floor, numerous conversations stopping in the hotel’s lobby since you haven’t been seen around in the past 3 years. The concierge can’t hide a smile and you take your sunglasses off, finally making it to the front desk after driving for hours.

“Welcome to the Continental, Miss Y/N. Such a pleasure to see you.”

“Thank you Charon,” you remove 7 gold coins out of your purse and slide them on the counter towards him. “It’s good to see you too.”

“For how long will we have the pleasure of your company?” the man inquires, taking a peek at the computer’s screen to make sure he can shuffle things if needed.

“One night.”

“That will only be 4 coins,” Charon informs and you point out at the tiny pile:

“The rest is for you.”

“Thank you, Miss Y/N,” he smiles again, typing on the keyboard. “Your old room is available; it will be a couple of minutes for us to add a few finishing touches.”

“Sure. Is the manager here?” you ask because you texted him this morning to announce your arrival.

“He’s waiting at the bar,” Charon gestures towards the elevator and you take a deep breath, excited and a bit nervous about the upcoming encounter. “Also, if I may… Allow me to express my deepest condolences.”

You bite on your lip and can’t utter a sound besides nodding your head instead of a reply: although it’s a genuine declaration, it caught you off-guard.

You slowly walk towards the elevator and once inside you press the B button when a hand halts the doors from closing; you know whom those tattooed knuckles belong to. Ares squeezes inside looking like she wants to kill everyone. What else is new?

“I thought that was you,” the woman uses the sign language and you silently gaze at her.

“Which floor?” you sign back.

“10th,” her thumb indicates the number.

The elevator’s doors shut and she analyzes Y/N, deciding to continue the conversation:

“Remember I told you next time we bump into each other I’m going to kill you?” the mute assassin’s threat brings a faint smirk on your lips.

“Shut up,” you elbow her and the smartass response doesn’t fail:

“I’m always as quiet as a mouse.”

You chuckle and Ares grins at her own cleverness, having a nice suggestion for the evening.

“I have the night off; wanna meet later for dinner?”

You are tired as hell but a distraction doesn’t hurt.

“Will 7pm work?” you accept the invitation.

“Awesome!” she signs, delighted you two can catch up. “They have new items on the menu you would enjoy,” Ares winks then her enthusiasm gradually dies out. “I’m sorry about…,” the discussion takes a serious tone and you sniffle, trying hard not to cry.

“Thank you,” you touch your chin and the ding sound reveals its first destination. “I have to bail; I’ll see you soon,” you step out of the elevator and she remains inside.

“It’s a date!” she signs, concerned you’ll burst out in tears as soon as she’s gone.

Yet after the elevator’s door close, Y/N manages to pull herself together; God knows it’s not easy to pretend she’s fine following the tragedy of losing someone she loved with all her heart.

The individual waiting for her at one of the tables at the bar can definitely notice the struggle behind the tired eyes; Winston sipps from his martini and gets up, opening his arms in anticipation.

“There you are,” he gives you a hug, then invites you to sit down.

“Hello Winston,” you place your purse on the floor and Continental’s owner is attempting to small talk:

“Please make an old man happy and confirm your return.”

“You’re anything but old,” you emphasize while he snorts, amused. “I’m not sure; I have to figure out some personal stuff…”

“Of course,” Winston agrees right away given the situation. “Mmmm… I’m terribly sorry for your loss,“ he addresses the heartbroken Y/N.

“Thank you…” you mumble, avoiding eye contact since the painful subject hurts more than any physical wound you ever sustained.

“I wanted to come attend the funeral yet I was out of the country,” the man underlines.

“No worries. I appreciate the flowers you sent… …”

Moments of complete stillness before Winston changes the topic; he knows better than to prolong your agony. A manager with his flair can at least guess the extenuating circumstances that led to your presence on the premises.

“Any plans for the near future?”

“I’m going to stay with Jonathan until I decide.”

Winston wishes to suggest a couple of options but he’s interrupted by your warning:

“Someone might come searching for me.”

He taps his fingernails against the martini glass, the weak echo dissipating in the background noise.

“Is that someone…somebody’s husband?” his furrowed eyebrows prompt an answer not difficult to estimate:

“More like… ex-husband…”

The manager inhales, debating on your confession.

“Nothing we can’t handle,” he reassures without any hesitation; heaven knows a domestic dispute is the last kind of mess Continental needs but it will probably pass undetected. “Would you care for a drink?”

Suddenly, Winston’s cell goes off and he retrieves it out of his suit’s pocket, apologizing for the delay.

“I’m sorry, I really have to get this,” he slides the screen, attentively listening to the person speaking. “Are you kidding me?!” the man raises his voice with contempt. “Damn…,” he rubs his forehead, annoyed. "Well, he brought it upon himself! Transfer me,” the manager passes the sentence without hesitation after his call reaches the correct department. ”Accounts payable: 11111. Effective immediately: Magnus Stonnenberg, excommunicado. Open contract: 2 million dollars. Distribution: international,” and he hangs up. “Work never ends,” Winston adds even if it’s not necessary; you are perfectly aware how the company works and what it means to run it.

“What happened?” you curiously investigate.

“Trouble on the 15th floor: Magnus murdered Anuscka Volovdya on the hotel grounds, thus I have to implement punitive measures. This is neutral environment and the rules are clear: no killing. Cocktail?” he lifts his glass up and you politely decline.

“No, thank you. If it’s all the same, I will retreat to my quarters. It was a very long drive and I can’t wait to freshen up. I will come see you in the morning before I leave; would that be ok?”

“Of course,” Winston stands up in the same time with you, a faint smile lingering on his face as he watches you distancing yourself from the bar. He didn’t see you in a long time and he can tell that although you look pretty much the same, something has certainly changed.

Everyone’s cells start chiming and ringing, including yours: the text messages keep on popping up with the manager’s most recent order regarding Stonnenberg.

You wander along the small corridor leading the stairs when at the corner Magnus almost crashes into you; he seems distressed and no big surprise due to his present predicament.

“Are you back?” he hisses while quickening the pace in the opposite direction because he wants to get the hell out of there.

“No,” the short acknowledgement triggers his cockiness mixed with relief.

“Great! One less to worry about!”

You frown at the unnecessary statement: pursuing a bounty is not financial gain you are momentarily interested in; you have more important problems on your plate and chasing a persona non grata isn’t on your list.

************

Next evening, 7:13pm

“There you are!” John exclaims as soon as he sees you. “Come on in,” he grabs the two suitcases out of your hands, leading the way around the house. “Did you get stuck in traffic?”

“Yes,” you close the door and follow him into one of the bedrooms downstairs already prepared for your visit. “Traffic was terrible, took me one hour to pass Lincoln Avenue.”

“Well…” he places the luggage by the bed, “I’m glad you made it.”

“Me too… Thank you so much for letting me stay here, Jonathan.”

Despite having his hair in a ponytail, the shorter strands slide out and John blows them off his cheeks, irritated.

“Yeah, absolutely. Plenty of space.”

“What’s that smell?” you sniff the air, intrigued.

“I cooked chicken Alfredo.”

“Oh no,” you crinkle your nose and he laughs at your despair. “Are your skills as bad as I remember?”

“Worse,” he admits. “Helen is not here to guide… me…”, John swallows the last word and you feel compelled to soothe his grief.

“I’m sorry she’s gone… You had a terrific partner…”, you sadly smile and continue . “We pay such a heavy price for leaving the organization… I must say you got a better deal than I did.”

He’s quiet for a few seconds and you could swear there’s no trace of Baba Yaga inside him; I suppose this is John Wick’s greatness: his ability to switch from an apparent normal guy to the deadliest assassin in a blink of an eye.

“Umm… do you want me to help you unpack?” he breaks the silence and you lift the first suitcase on the bed, opening the metal clasps.

“I don’t have a lot; just some basic necessities,” you explain and gulp when you take out the device you use on a regular basis. “I… I still pump the milk and… and throw it away since I don’t have my baby to feed anymore…”

Jonathan exhales, sensitive to the mother’s sorrow: he knows a thing or two about losing a loved one and Y/N uncontrollably sobbing triggers emotions he kept bottled up for weeks. He pulls you in his arms and you hug him back, hopelessly crying on his shoulder after displaying such restraint in the past days.

“Why didn’t he drive the car? Why?” you keep on repeating the question and John understands what you’re referring to:

Two months ago The Joker was supposed to bring his three weeks old son from the beach house to The Penthouse and didn’t; he had a meeting and instead he sent one of his henchmen to drive Kase back to you and they never made it. There was a horrible accident on Glissan Street: the car was smashed to pieces by a huge truck, both driver and the baby dying on impact. You couldn’t stop blaming your husband for his indifference regarding the safety of his own child. I supposed the meeting and making money was infinitely more critical than driving his son home.

Maybe if J navigated the vehicle, he would have taken another route and you would still have your tiny treasure right now.

You’re calming down a bit and John wipes your tears, upset to see you broken beyond anything he could ever fix.

“Do you want to lie down?”

“No,” you whimper and fight to regain your composure. “I’m a little bit hungry…”

“Well,” your friend puckers his lips, “depending on how bad it is we might have to order something. Shall I…call anybody for you?” he hints and surely didn’t predict the reply:

“My anybody is probably too busy with his mistress or planning a heist, can’t be bothered with any type of insignificant matters.”

Your friend seems shocked and you enlighten the mystery for him:

“I followed J so I know… That’s why I decided enough is enough. I packed minimum necessary in a hurry and left… … …I should have killed him… …” your voice dies out and your attitude proves Jonathan that you most than likely tried to. “Can we eat now please?”

“Should I actually order Italian?” he plays along for your sake.

“I’ll try the chicken Alfredo first.”

“Shit! You’re brave,” his brutal honesty makes you giggle and whimper in the same time. “C’mon then, food’s on the stove. Hopefully we’ll survive,” he smirks and you nod in agreement, grateful to have a soul to talk to since your husband’s lack of empathy made it so much harder to cope with your son’s demise.

***************

Same evening, 7:30pm – Continental Hotel

“Mister Joker,” Winston greets The King of Gotham. “Welcome to New York!”

The gush of wind sweeping the terrace on top of the building messes J’s locks and for once he couldn’t care less.

“Hello Winston,” your spouse growls, barely able to concentrate after he slept a couple of hours the previous night.

“Grape juice on ice?” the manager’s hospitality emerges out of necessity because The Clown isn’t exactly the easiest character to accommodate.

“Is my wife here?” J quizzes, ignoring Winston’s cordiality.

“Walk with me,” the hotel owner persuades your husband; they move alongside the concrete path bordered by decorative shrubs as information is shared. “Y/N was here.”

“She’s gone?”

“Yes.”

“Where did she go?” The Joker sneers.

Winston fails to spill the beans and J is aware he can’t push for a disclosure, not with a high ranking member of the organization. So he attempts a different strategy.

“Imagine my surprise when I returned home after a meeting just to find out my wife abandoned the nest,” he shows management a post-it with your handwritten note:

Do what you want with the rest.

“She just took a few things, thus I have to personally discuss with her a very crucial dilemma: what am I supposed to do with the baby’s items? I have a room full of them. So I’m asking: WHERE.IS.MY.WIFE?”

“Mister Joker, you forget that in my line of business I am good at reading people and I can tell when they lie,” Winston elegantly throws it out there for the heck of it.

The King of Gotham halts and cracks his neck, displeased with the comment.

“Then tell me, am I lying?!”

The manager sighs, carefully analyzing J’s features: although he looks pretty much the same, something has certainly changed.

“Maybe she’s staying with a friend,” he insinuates and your husband articulates a sentence rarely spoken aloud:

“Thank you,” J stomps away, already having a few ideas about your whereabouts.

Winston huffs, intrigued to have discerned a crazy detail while reading The Clown’s reactions: besides the fact he wasn’t lying, something else stood out.

“He loves her…” management mumbles to himself. “I bet he doesn’t even know it.”

*************

10:34 pm

John softly knocks at the cracked bedroom’s door, unsure if you’re awake or not.

“Y/N, do you need anything before I go to sleep?”

There’s no answer and he creeps inside only to see you passed out with your hand hanging over the side of the bed. Jonathan tucks you in, feeling awkward about your unresponsiveness.

“Hey, are you ok?” he gently shakes you and freezes when he realizes there’s an empty pill bottle on the nightstand.

“Oh God!” he panics and reads the label. “Trazodone 300 mg: Take 1 tablet by mouth nightly for depression/insomnia.” That’s the highest dose for the medication and he taps on your cheeks, concerned you took a bunch of them at once. “Y/N, Y/N! Can you hear me?!”

You moan and open your eyes, unhappy to be woken up in such a hasty fashion.

“Jesus, lemme sleep... would you?!...” you grumble and turn on the other side, groggy from the drug.

“How many sleeping pills did you take?” John doesn’t give up and you yawn:

“One…my last one…” you adjust your body on the comfortable mattress, not comprehending why your host is agitated. “I’m exhausted…” you close your eyes and he lingers next to your bed, relieved the situation was a misinterpretation from his part.

**************

11:32am, New York

“Oh my…”The Bowery King deciphers a missive a dove flew in 10 minutes ago; he got a whiff of some valuable data yesterday and the new documentation is by far the best conspiracy and revenge scheme he stumbled upon this year. “Would you look at that,” the man grins, caressing the bird’s feathers. “What do you think?” he addresses the winged companion. “Should we be nice and tell Y/N and Mister Joker their son is not dead?”

Also read: MASTERLIST

You can follow me on Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

#the joker x reader #the joker fanfiction #the joker imagine #john wick x reader #john wick imagine #the joker jared leto #the joker #joker #joker suicide squad #joker imagine #joker fanfiction #joker jared leto #the joker suicide squad #dc #dcu

105 notes · View notes

favescandis · 5 years ago

Photo

ICON Magazine: Cover Story: Million Dollar Bill (By Jessica Bailey)

Bill Skarsgård returns as the big-headed, balloon-toting demonic clown in IT Chapter Two. ICON sits down with the next big actor in Hollywood

NEW YORK CITY: Bill Skarsgård is talking me through how he mastered the sinister, bone-chilling laugh of Stephen King’s evil clown, Pennywise, in horror film It Chapter Two. “I wanted the laugh to sound like someone who is having a panic attack and is almost about to cry,” the 29-year-old Swedish actor explains. Suddenly, he begins cackling, his tall frame – which was seconds before slumped in his chair in the hotel room – rises and his eyes become so intense and fixated on something imaginary on the grey carpet between us. His voice is shaky, crackly, almost gasping for air. You feel like he could either lunge at you or burst into a million pieces at any given moment. It’s scary. “Even doing it out loud evokes a kind of unsettling feeling in myself,” Skarsgård says coming back to reality. “I kind of like it.”

Theatrical, serious and intelligent. It’s fascinating watching the actor come in and out of character; it seems as simple as flicking a light switch on and off. But Skarsgård insists the actual process on the It set – of which he, the human, disappears underneath layers of prosthetics – took more work than what I’d just witnessed. “I would scream and laugh hysterically before takes and reach a certain level of adrenaline to help me get into character for the scene,” he explains. By his own admission, Pennywise was by far the most physically and mentally draining character Skarsgård has played. But when I tell him I can’t seem to un-see Pennywise when I look at him, he almost shudders with distaste. “You see Pennywise in me?” he asks. “I think this is the first time anybody has said that. I don’t like to think too much about being associated with a murderous clown. I thought the makeup was my mask.”

While the wheedling and lethal villain is Skarsgård’s most notable role to date – and he’s brilliant in it, by the way – you might also recognise him from the 2017 mystery thriller Atomic Blonde (with Charlize Theron), the 2016 sci-fi film The Divergent Series: Allegiant (with Shailene Woodley) or Netflix’s supernatural drama Hemlock Grove. The actor has a slew of upcoming films, too, including thriller The Devil All the Time with fellow heartthrobs Robert Pattinson and Tom Holland, and drama Nine Days will see him return to fantastical fare alongside up-and-comer Zazie Beetz. To answer the obvious question, yes.

Skarsgård is related to 43-year-old Alexander Skarsgård, who is his older brother and is best known for his roles in True Blood and Big Little Lies. Both grew up in Stockholm in a family of 10, in which four of the eight children became actors. Their father, Stellan, is also a very famous actor in Sweden and starred as Professor Gerald Lambeau in Good Will Hunting. Post his ICON cover shoot in TriBeCa, NYC, we give the younger Skarsgård some pennies for his thoughts. Here, he discusses his titular character and the vast differences between his native Sweden, where no one locked the doors, and Hollywood, where men in clown makeup is a normal sight on the main strip.

ICON: Unlike Joaquin Phoenix’s Joker – an unhinged man in clown makeup – you essentially had to get inside the head of an evil and maniacal thing. How did you prepare for this role?

SKARSGÅRD: In a way, it’s even more abstract getting into the head of a madman because he’s not a man, he’s a thing. He’s a creature, an entity, so we had to come up with what the rules were for the character or the creature and then kind of humanise it in a way for me to be able to relate to it. He’s kind of the embodiment of evil – everything that’s nasty in people, he is. He’s a bully, he thrives off pain and fear and he’s mean. I used to draw on animals as a reference point a lot, like Jaws. The shark in Jaws is a monster, but it’s an animal. It’s going out trying to eat humans because it’s hungry and that element is in Pennywise as well; he’s hungry and he needs to feed. But what makes him evil and sinister is him taking pleasure out of feeding or pleasure of frightening and tormenting young children. In the first movie, the kids would cry and he would mock the kids crying and I thought that was like pretty much as evil as it gets, when you’re not only making a kid cry but you’re enjoying the fact that you’re making a kid cry. There are those people in the real world who are that bad, but I kind of wanted to go through the character mentally and think, “What is the most monstrous and evil thing I can think of?” and those things kind of came to mind.

ICON: Did you look to other famous clowns in history at all?

SKARSGÅRD: Not really. I watched Bozo The Clown and Ronald McDonald a little bit. There’s kind of a few of those iconic clowns, but the thing we didn’t want to do too much, or at least my entry way into the character, was not make him like this [makes goofy noises] doo-di-doo clown kind of a thing. Because I wanted Pennywise to have this really off thing about him. Also, Tim Curry’s clown [he portrayed Pennywise in the 1990 TV adaptation of King’s novel It) was very much more this villain, old-timey clown. That type of performance was great, but we wanted to do something different for this version. I didn’t go too far into the studying of a clown’s mimicry, but I took little pieces of what I liked and incorporated it into Pennywise.

ICON: At the time of your It audition, you lived with housemates and couldn’t practise Pennywise’s evil laugh in the house, so you had to do it in the car on the way to the audition. Tell me about that drive – in full clown makeup. Were people staring?

SKARSGÅRD: [Laughs] Yeah, that was for the callback audition. I had a version of what became his laugh pretty early on. I wanted it to sound like someone having a panic attack and it’s almost about to be a cry. That amplified became the laugh. Like it’s not someone who’s happy, it’s someone who maybe is miserable and almost having a crazy panic attack with its laugh. Even doing it out loud evokes a kind of unsettling feeling in myself that I kind of liked. But, yeah, I was driving around with this kind of basic clown makeup on and was just trying screams and laughs and everything. If it were recorded, it would have almost been a cliché of an actor’s life in Hollywood; it was so ridiculous. Going to the audition, there was only street parking, so I had to park the car and walk my way into the casting director’s office, which is right by Hollywood Boulevard, so there were construction workers out the front. When they looked at me, they didn’t even flinch. That’s just what Hollywood is, I guess. It’s like, “There’s a man walking around with a clown face laughing to himself” [laughs].

ICON: What was your experience like when you first came to Hollywood? Were there stray clowns?

SKARSGÅRD: I came to LA for the first time when I was seven years old and then again when I was 10. I’ve been travelling there since I was fairly young because of my dad, who would shoot movies out here as well. I don’t remember my perception of LA very much – I liked the weather, I liked the mall, the Beverly Center was the coolest thing ever. You know, Footlocker! At that time, you could get sneakers in America that you definitely couldn’t get in Sweden. I had all the Nike out fits.

ICON: Your brother Alexander has said he’s not a method actor when he takes on dark and dramatic roles. Are you a method actor?

SKARSGÅRD: No, I don’t need to stay in character. That approach doesn’t make sense for me. But everyone has different ways of reaching what they need to reach and I’m definitely not method, but I have my own methods. With Pennywise, it was less about character and more about the energy. You need to find a state of energy that is true for the scene that you’re playing. So say you’re doing a really emotional scene, you need to find that energy or that chemical in your body – which is all it is to me at least – and when you trigger it, tears can start. A talented actor can trigger it chemically. In your body you feel like you’re about to start crying, you make yourself start crying and it’s a chemical reaction to it, you feel it in your body. You need to reach that place before you go into the scene and that’s the sort of method that I work with.

ICON: How did this method work with Pennywise?

SKARSGÅRD: He was a very particular kind of character. He’s always so expressive and energetic. I would scream and laugh hysterically before takes and reach a certain level of adrenaline to help me get into character for the scene.

ICON: We’ve seen dark characters get to actors before. Australian actor Heath Ledger and his iconic role as the Joker – and his clown-like villain – is an extreme example of this. How do you get out of that Pennywise headspace when you arrive home at night?

SKARSGÅRD: I also heard it’s kind of a misconception; that’s a romantic idea that Heath died of the Joker performance. From all accounts I’ve heard, he really enjoyed it and he wasn’t method either.

ICON: He reportedly was very immersed in the character…

SKARSGÅRD: Oh, completely, but from actors who worked with him on the set, they were like, “He would talk about his daughter.” We have this romantic idea that “Oh, this man, he went crazy or he went to the darkest place ever and he couldn’t figure his way out.” As the public, we like those types of stories and sometimes they’re true and sometimes actors fabricate that truth in order for them to seem a little bit more remarkable. So you talk about his or her performance as, “Oh, they did all these things,” and that’s what made it so great. Sometimes I feel like some actors maybe want to feel a little bit extra special in that regard. If I go and I have a very particular type of scene, like if I’m hurting someone or if I’m being awful, that doesn’t feel good afterwards. I think the worst is not like a character like Pennywise or those kinds of villainous roles – they’re dark but they’re fun, the character enjoys what they’re doing – the characters that will really get to you are the characters that are depressed or inflicted by pain. Say you play someone who is so depressed that they are about to commit suicide. Like, if that is your day, every day going into that mindset, you’re not going to be a happy person, because your character is not happy.

ICON: Pennywise though…

SKARSGÅRD: Pennywise is enjoying what he is doing, and in the same way Joker is as well; they’re dark but they’re enjoying it. You’re playing a character who enjoys the darkness, so that is what you have to access, and you don’t have to access the lack of self-worth or characters who are paranoid or in their own head and stuff like that. There is a movie that I’m about to start doing and you read the character and he’s very unlikeable: paranoid, insecure, a pathological liar, mentally ill. As a result, he goes into this kind of schizophrenic state. I read that script and I was like, “This is going to be really, really tough for me to do. I’m going to feel like shit doing it because it’s a character who’s losing his mind throughout the whole movie.” That is the state I have to go into, so when I’m coming home from work and I’ve been in that mental state, I think those things will affect how you feel during the production of the film.

ICON: Some creepy things went down in Derry, Maine. You’re from Stockholm in Sweden – what was it like growing up there and in a household with, like, a million people?

SKARSGÅRD: It was great. Stockholm is a wonderful place for a kid. I grew up in what would be called an extremely gentrified neighbourhood, but it used to be a working class neighbourhood. It was very bohemian and we went to school with immigrants and people from different places around the world. It felt like a very diverse upbringing – at least compared to a place like LA, which is the most secluded, segregated place there is. So Stockholm was wonderful in the way that you were exposed to all these different cultures and people. You could attend different classes and we were all just going to the same schools, there were no private schools or none of that. I’m extremely happy that that was my background. It’s healthy for kids to be exposed to all of that, and my family – a big, big family – our home was always the home that you would bring your friends to. That was true for all of our siblings. Sometimes there would be like 10-15 kids hanging out in our rooms, because our parents very much had an open- door policy – nobody knocked and we never locked the doors. Everybody just walked in and out – it was a big party.

It Chapter Two is in Australian cinemas now.

Photography: Michael Schwartz Styling: Bill Mullen

https://icon.ink/articles/bill-skarsgard-pennywise-it-chapter-two-interview/

https://icon.ink/fashion-shoot/million-dollar-bill-skarsgard-tribesandtribulations-cover-photoshoot/

#Bill Skarsgård #Michael Schwartz #ICON #long post #bill skarsgar

105 notes · View notes

carryonmywaywardwriters · 5 years ago

Text

Heathens - Soulless Reader x Demon Dean (Short Series)

A/N: Yes, I’m alive. I just don’t particularly want to discuss it in depth. For now? Have this. I have some stuff lined up to be posted, already. So, there’ll be some more over this next week that way. As always, feedback is incredible. And, I hope you all enjoy <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Warnings: Harley/Joker kinda relationship. Unhealthy. Power driven. Implied/Upcoming smut. Etc. Each chapter will have individual warnings.

Word Count: Roughly 2,800

“Y/N?” Dean Winchester. A deep, gravelly voice you hadn't heard since Bobby died echoed around you. A voice that should have meant something. Instead, it made you turn slowly, a brow raised. Waiting for the consequences with a blank face.

He hadn't been sure it was you. Darkness covered you. But, that wasn't enough. The actions he'd witnessed too fundamentally wrong to be from the woman he'd known. Y/N wouldn't ever kill in cold blood. Wouldn't off someone simply for attempting to mug her.

But you had. Without even blinking. You simply took out your gun from the back of your jeans. Shot twice, causing the kid to fall to the ground. Picking up the bag, you slung it over your shoulders. Another bullet was slung, this time to the skull, before you walked away. Tucking the gun away. Only to find yourself stopped by Dean in the alley.

The Y/N he knew always cried after a hunt. After any kind of kill. His lifestyle had been necessary to you at the time, but taking a life had never come natural. If anyone had known that, it was Dean. You'd turned to him from the beginning. All the way until the day he'd shoved you away. Trying to protect you. Failing miserably from the look of things.

“Well, well, well.” Your head tilted to the side. Inspecting him as though he were a bug. “And to what do I owe the pleasure?” Your lips kicked up humorlessly. “One of the great Winchester Duo paying little ole me mind again. What an honor.” The sarcasm might have made him flinch in his original state, but he was able to withhold in his newer form- barely.

“Happened to be walking this way, on a job.” He wasn't lying. Not completely, anyway.

Crowley had directed him that way. Promising that he'd have a kill ready for Dean. A means to keep the Mark under control. Even as a demon, the need to shed blood was fixed into his very being thanks to the raised scar etched into this forearm.

Once, you'd been repulsed, and even scared, of how easily Dean had lifted the gun and fired. He had gotten to the point where he barely blinked as a human, much less as a Knight of Hell. And yet, he couldn't help but to wonder what had taken the light out of your eyes. The guilt out of your head. What had turned you into him.

“I see you found her.” Crowley's low voice called out, in a way that should have sent chills up your spine. Instead, your lips pulled up even wider.

“You're working with the King of Hell?” You chuckled darkly. Losing what bit of tension there'd been in your shoulders. “Man, I've missed out on a lot. When did you become his bitch, Dean?”

“I'm not his bitch,” He bit out. His eyes flashing black under the alley light. Expecting you to shiver in revulsion.

“Even better.” Your smile fell a bit, but your face didn't lose that off feel to it. As if you were possessed. Or, maybe even under a spell. “You became his slave, instead.”

“I'm no one's slave, Y/N.” His words echoed another past memory.

“I'm scared, Dean.” You'd swallowed tightly, looking into his green eyes. Scared wasn't enough to cover it. You were petrified. A dead man could see it.

“Why?” If he was able, he'd fight off every one of your fears. Kill them before they could even begin to form.

“Because you're changing.” You whispered brokenly. The sound ripped at his chest. “You're becoming a...a slave. To this life. The guilt. Your fear... And I can't do anything...just sit by and watch.”

“I'm not a slave to anyone.” He'd bit out. Pride winning out against the urge to protect. “Or, anything. We'll be fine, Y/N. We always are.”

“Funny.” You snorted. Drawing him back to the present. “I've heard that before,” Your mind had traveled to the same place. “And, yet, here we are.”

“Yes,” Crowley had been watching the exchange curiously, “here we are. Eloquent words, darling.”

“I try,” Tilting your head mockingly, you got to the meat of the situation. Clearly not wanting to be bothered. Particularly by them. “What do you want with me?”

“It would seem that you're part of a contract that went wrong-”

“Oh, yeah.” A false, heavy sigh left your lips. “I almost forgot about that.” Dean's gaze turned back to his fellow demon for a moment. Attempting to piece together what was happening. “Thanks, by the way. Really loved having a hell hound come after me.” You pinched your index finger to your thumb in an approving gesture. “It only got better with the small hoard of demons you sent on my ass.”

“Such sass-”

“I was nicer before I lost my soul. Forgive me for my lack of manners. I seem to have trouble feeling these days.” Coldness seeped from your lips. A weapon honed by the attacks.

“You're soulless?” Understanding swam through him. Why, although you were so different, you were still so familiar.

The way you moved. How you detached. An empty eeriness clung to your features. It was completely unnatural. As if you were his brother when he'd come back from hell. Broken. Missing a large part of what made you, you.

“It's not as awful as it sounds.” You ran your tongue over your teeth as you glared at the superior demon in front of you. “Actually, I like it. A lot.” Your fingers twitched back to your weapon, “which is why I don't want it back. The only thing I want is to be left alone.”

“The contract isn't complete-”

“It wasn't my contract.” You cut him off, sneering. The tension lining your body. Prepared to fight to keep yourself destitute. “So, not my problem.”

“But, it is ours.” The shorter man hissed while snapping his fingers. Sending your body flying through the air until it connected against the brick. Your skull cracked with enough force to knock you out. But, you'd live. After all, you were there for a reason. “All yours.” Crowley motioned at Dean. Signaling that you'd be his kill.

“Why her?” Dean narrowed his eyes. Taking in the shameless king in front of him. Resisting the desire to step between him and your lifeless body.

When he'd turned, he hadn't become the usual demon. Bits that hadn't quite died off when Metatron stabbed a blade into Dean's body made themselves known on a regular basis. Killing Lester rather than the wife had only been the most recent offense.

The king of the underworld not only needed the job finished, but he needed that almost human part of Dean gone. Wanted the obstinate side of him to crumble. If Dean killed you? The woman he'd loved at one point- if not always...the problematic demon would morph. He'd be the perfect side kick.

“I believe that you already know the answer to that question, Dean-o.” Crowley quipped, following the movement of the green that had reappeared. Seeing the hesitation, and the connection being made. “You're almost to your full potential. There's just a smidge that needs fixed to get you there. This will make everything right.” His eyes were slightly crazed, as if he needed this. “It feels good, right? To continue to be a demon. To not be riddled with those pesky emotions. Fear. Guilt. Love. To do what you want, when you want, without being held back. Without consequence.”

“You're right.” Dean's jaw clenched lightly. The first blade came out of his denim jacket, and into his hand. “I am a demon.” His lips pulled up into a twisted smile of his own. Growing confident in his decision. “I feel nothing. I can do what I want, when I want.” Crowley backed away as Dean stepped between you two. His back facing your body. “And, I'll kill you before I kill her.”

–

“Dean?” Your head should have hurt far worse than the dull ache given the amount of blood you could see smeared onto the pillow and sheets in the mirror above the bed as you squinted up. But, that was nothing new. You'd been that way for weeks. “Where the hell are we?”

He'd been pacing by the window when you'd woken up. Completely ignorant to your eyes opening. You turned his way, watching the way he moved.

His hand wrecked his hair over and over again. The jacket was gone, thrown onto the table with a blade made from a large jaw bone resting atop of it. Red flannel was tossed over a black t-shirt. Even as a demon, he had to layer up. If you could have felt amused, you would have.

“I'm not telling you.” His eyes flashed back in warning. As if that would matter to you. “You're a problem for me, Y/N. Always have been. Now? You fucked this up, too.”

“Oh, yes... Let's blame the soulless girl who's been back into the equation for five minutes.” Your eyes rolled heavily as you got to your feet to stretch. “Your problems came from your own hands, Winchester. The minute you sold yourself for Sam, it was over. I was the one unwillingly pulled into the fray.”

“Watch it.” The green was gone for a longer period this time. His anger showing in another snarl. “Go too far? That blade will land in your throat.”

“If you were going to do it, you would have already.” That devilish smirk crossed your lips. So certain now that emotion didn't rule you. “I've been out of your life for years, Dean. It should have been simple. Especially since you're sporting the Mark of Caine.” Your eyes landed on the reddened flesh. Too well versed to not recognize the symbol. “Take it this is the first blade?” You walked over to the weapon. Dried blood coated the yellowed, aged, bone. “You actually cut Crowley with this? To get me out of there?” Your brows rose as the weapon twisted in your hands. Mind churning as you inspected the rusted flakes clinging to it. “How sweet... I suppose you want paid back... the usual good enough?” Dean liked sex. That was no secret. He'd accepted more than his fair share from women he'd saved back in the day. His full lips pulled down into a deadly frown at your words. No doubt second guessing the decision to keep you alive. “Oh, lighten up.” Your eyes rolled at his grumpiness.

He'd be lying if he said that the offer wasn't appealing. Demonhood hadn't diminished his sexual appetites. If anything, they'd only grown stronger. Everything carnal expanding inside of him. However, he had bigger things to focus on. He'd nearly offed the King of Hell. Other demons would be on his ass sooner than later.

“You have any idea how you ended up in a contract?” Finding out who'd asked for your soul to get collected was the first step. That was about as far as he'd gotten.

“No clue.” Your finger was pricked by the point of the knife before you set it down. You sucked at the irony liquid out of habit. Grinning lightly at the way Dean's eyes followed the action. “I don't even really think one exists.” You finally stated, licking your lip clean of the rust flavored spot that had landed on it.

“You think he was trying to manipulate me?” He didn't seem surprised. Furious enough to have ignored the dart of your tongue.

It should have seemed odd to you. Dean with black eyes. The Winchester embracing the bad rather than the good. Not attempting to fight it anymore. But, you took it in stride. It was amazing how simple of a task it was when you didn't have any worries left.

“Tell me it doesn't make sense.” He couldn't. You knew it. “And you're just going to take that laying down?”

“He has an army of demons at his disposal. I just have me.” You looked at him expectantly while pointing to yourself. A grunt of acknowledgment left him. “And, you. But, that'll only last as long as he holds onto your soul.”

“Good point.” You pursed your lips. It was your turn to pace. Self preservation being the only thing you had left. “So, what're you planning to do about it?”

“You think I'm going to run.” He heard it in your voice. His pride hadn't been damaged by death. It rose its venomous head as you shrugged, pretending that wasn't what you were thinking. “So, what do you think I should do? After all, you seem to have it all figured out..” He plopped to the bed, looking at you expectantly. Daring you to come up with a better idea. Mocking you with his words. Still so similar to the man he'd been.

A low hum left you. Your eyes turned out to the window. Gazing at the world beyond as you moved. When it finally came together, you turned your head his way.

“You stopped the Apocalypse. You destroyed the Leviathans. And who knows what else since I've been gone.” Your pacing turned into more of a prowl until your hands rested on his shoulder. His eyes turned black immediately, again. You weren't sure if it was in response to your touch, or out of distrust. But, neither stopped you. “That was as a human. As a demon? I think you could take over Hell, and take all of the power for yourself.”

That caught his interest, “Yeah?”

“Let's face it, Dean.” Your lips brushed against his ear as you sat down on his lap. Drawing forth a low shiver. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you got to work. “Most demons know your name. They fear it.” Your hand brushed over the hair by his ear as you leaned back to look into his eyes. Staring into the bleakness. “You could have killed Crowley today. Easily.” He was too well trained not to be able to. “I know it. You know it. And, I'm sure he does.” Your lips curled up deviously. Setting the bait. “You've earned the crown, already.”

“And what's in it for you?” His eyes narrowed distrustfully. Knowing there was a catch. That no one, even those without a soul, came without a price.

“Besides you? And protection?” You shrugged nonchalantly. As if it meant nothing, “I rule by your side.”

“And here I thought demons were the power hungry ones.” His blackened eyes searched yours as you leaned forward.

“We soulless people have drives, too.” Your lips brushed against his lightly as you talked, making his breath hitch. “I want to live. I want to be safe. Unchallenged. I want to feel powerful for once in my pathetic life.” Your tongue wet your lips, grazing against his in the process. “And, this? This is how I can get all of that. You and your body are just a hell of a perk.”

“And your soul?” The million dollar question.

“I want it locked away.” There wasn't a moment of hesitation. “I meant what I said earlier. I don't want it back.” The almost empty E/C eyes searched his warily. The next question would determine everything. “And, your demonism?”

“It's me.” He answered gruffly. As if it was insulting you'd bothered to ask. “I don't want cured. I don't want to go back.” His dark smile made your lips kick back up. “I love this disease.”

“So, we have a deal?” Your grin grew. It was oddly chilling to Dean, even in his form. But, that didn't stop him from nodding. “Where you're a demon, does that mean we kiss on it?”

“Something this big, it takes a lot more than a kiss to seal it.” His raspy tone made your body break out in goosebumps. Your emotions may not have been there, but his words alone felt like a caress to your skin. As if your senses were amplified in those regards.

“Better get to work then,” Your lips met his as he pulled you down onto the bed. Signing over everything to you.

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon @supernaturalginger

149 notes · View notes

m00nslippers · 5 years ago

Text

Bizarro and Artemis are back, in RHATO Annual #3

I’m back with a review of the RHATO annual #3 and it is so good to see Biz and Artemis again. I think we’ve all missed them. Hopefully this issue heralds their triumphant return in the next arc (after the one this is previewing), but let’s get into this.

We get a preview of the upcoming arc that we know involves Lex Luthor recruiting Jason to teach a bunch of kids how to be villains...or something. I’m sure we’ll figure out more in the new issues coming up. I highly doubt that’s all there is to it. I think it’s pretty obvious that Jason isn’t on the side of villains or creating more villains even if he isn’t strictly a hero. So I’m guessing there is some subterfuge involved in his plan and possibly Lex is trying to influence him a bit, maybe holding the fact that he helped Bizarro over his head, something like that. I think it’s most likely that he’s investigating Lex while pretending to work for him and teach in his villain school while secretly teaching all the kids values and whatnot. That would be cute, anyway.

I have to point out this moment though, because I’m not sure how I feel about it. Basically this kid can sense/contact people who are dead but it’s mentally or physically painful, but Jason asks him to do it anyway. Yeah, he expects that it won’t work and therefore not hurt because he thinks Artemis and Bizarro aren’t dead, and also the pain might be minor and finding out if someone is dead or alive is pretty important, worth some mild discomfort even to a child, but I don’t really like the attitude he has when saying, “I’m not asking.” I think he must be playing up/pretending he’s villainous because otherwise that seems pretty out of character for him. He’s generally straight forward but kind to children, animals and non-normative people (like Biz). So I’m kind of assuming he’s acting this way because of circumstances we are going to find out more about in the next issue. Basically the take away from the interaction is that Biz and Artemis are not dead.

So it picks up 6 months before the events of Jason talking to the kid. What this means is that between issue #25 of RHATO and upcoming issue #37, 6 months have elapsed, which seems reasonable. I’ve head-canoned Jason’s current age at 22 and I think this time frame supports that idea (there is reason to believe he was 21 in the Eternal comics).

Also, Artemis and Bizarro are clearly alive and in an alternate dimension where the Hall of Justice has been defaced and renamed “the Hall of Punishment” and is a ‘museum’, with the Justice League dead and disrespected. Everyone, even Superman.

As it turns out, the world is like this because of some bomb which made regular humans metas and metas regular humans, so most of the Justice League immediately became helpless without their abilities to almost everyone around them who now had meta abilities. What this means for people like Jason and the bats in this world who didn’t have powers to begin with is a real question, but not one we get answered. Basically, humans who now had powers and felt resentful of heroes who had originally had powers, took it out on the former heroes, hunting them down and putting them into camps where they eventually died. Which...okay, people are jerks so it seems reasonable that once they had powers some people would find any and every excuse to beat up on people who made them feel weak before so this isn’t a completely stupid basis for an alternate dystopia.

After it’s established that Artemis doesn’t have access to Mistress (or presumably the Bow of Ra) because she can’t call her weapon across universes--which seems reasonable--we get introduced to a few one-off villains.

And like...the moment I saw these guys I shook my head because they are just classic Lobdell-type villains. Flat, corny, names are puny as hell, your stereotypical comic book villains. I’m not knocking it, they are fine for minor villains that only exist for a one shot, at least they are kind of memorable for being so ridiculous, I’m just mildly amused at their everything. One guy is some kind of discount horror-villain butcher character that you can’t understand called Butcher Block, another is a freaking Pop-Eye-esque Milk Man called DAIRY KING because of course he is, and there’s a pigish cop and a chick in a Carebear shirt who holds her hand like an air phone and goes by the name ‘Air Quote’. And the fiery butterfly chick who looks like the love-child of Firefly and Bumblebee. There are just...no words. I just can’t even, you guys.

Along the way on their adventures they meet a guy calling himself Jack Knife who is part of the resistance against the normal people with super powers who made the world all dystopian and messed-up and didn’t agree with people killing former heroes in camps. Also, he is very clearly this universe’s Joker. I haven’t seen anyone mention this, but I’m not crazy here, right? Like, this is as obvious as I think it is, isn’t it? The guy’s name is Jack Knife, so his name is Jack, like Jack Napier, the Joker’s identity in many iterations of him. He has this long, sharp face with a crazy chin and wide mouth, is a bit of a wise-cracker and he wears a purple waistcoat and a green tie and a yellow shirt and has a flower in his lapel--like the Joker-- and uses pistols and knives, like...this guy is clearly the freaking Joker over here!

I can only assume Jason has not filled Artemis or Biz in on his issues with the Joker--which would be pretty in-character for Jay--or at the very least they have never seen him and don’t recognize him because this team up would have been over before it started if they had. They might still have went along with him, since this is a different guy, but they would have been suspicious.

Also, Jack doesn’t seem to have any powers...meaning he had powers before ‘hero day’ when metas lost their powers and norms gained powers...meaning the Joker is a meta. So that’s a thing. The reason the Joker is so wily and weird and doesn’t seem to die or age is because he’s a meta, you guys. You heard it here.

So we get the ‘6 months later’ flash forward and Artemis and BIzarro are working as part of the resistance along with the Flutterby girl seems to have defected in the time skip. Arty and Biz have gone native with some awesome, in my opinion, costume changes. Biz has a beard and muscle shirt and like...latex pants or something, which I am super into for some reason, and Artemis has your stereotypical punk haircut with the shaved head. It’s kind of an overdone design but I can’t lie, I think it works for her, she rocks it.

But even more importantly there’s this awesome interaction between Biz and Flutterby where Biz shows just how much he listens and values and still remembers Jason even after all this time. Their bond is just so strong, even now. Biz stops the girl from killing someone, remembering Jason’s values, which just drives home the fallacy that Jason just kills all criminals. No, Jason thinks for some people, the cost of leaving them alive outweighs the moral price of killing them. It’s a thing you have to do sometimes, something you are sometimes morally obligated to do in his opinion, but not a first resort. That’s what he taught Biz and Bizarro is teaching Flutterby. But he also taught Biz that sometimes you gotta get even, so he lets her give the guy some revenge knocks too, heh. Oh Biz, you’re a chip off the old block. Jay would be proud.

As this is happening, Jack Knife and Artemis are being held ‘prisoner’ (turns out it’s all part of their plan) by...General Samuel Lane?! Yeah, Lois’s dad. I don’t know much about him, I haven’t read anything with him in it, but I guess he’s kind of an on-the-fence secret-service type usually, like Amanda Waller, but seeing him as an outright villain is a bit surprising to me. There is probably no relation, but Lane has also cropped up in the recent Leviathan Event where everyone, seems to think Jason is Leviathan (I don’t, but we’ll see I guess.) I just thought that was interesting. There’s not mention of Lois but there IS mention of...

Lex-fucking-Luthor. Who is apparently a big, nasty head-brain monster, like MODOK or something now. Apparently the meta bomb was his brain-child (heh) and he’s surprisingly okay with the outcome that he’s a giant head that gets around via fork-lift and the world is messed-up. In fact, he and Lane are itching to drop one on Artemis and BIz’s world too! Which they can do, because Luthor--or more likely some minion, I mean he doesn’t have hands anymore--went around collecting the splinters of the doorway which Bizarro and Artemis originally went through to get to this universe.

As the resistance springs their trap Bizarro calls everyone Outlaws which warms my heart. The Outlaws isn’t the same without Biz and Artemis (or Star and Roy), Red Hood is an outlaw, sure, but the team is what made it special, made it something other than Jason just trying to right the wrongs he thinks the other heroes are letting slide because they won’t get their hands dirty. They are better together.

And so in this comic we see an example of the Outlaws sparing some criminals and them outright killing one when Artemis straight-up murders Lex Luthor, hell yes. The guy was just a nasty psychic brain on a fork-lift anyway, it was probably a mercy kill. And then Biz and Artemis jump through the doorway and hopefully end up...home?

This issue was pretty straight forward, just a one-off side story to explain where Biz and Artemis have been, nothing revolutionary. The art was pretty good, though there are a few panels at the beginning where Artemis has really weird expressions. I really enjoyed Biz and Artemis’s costume change, I hope they stick with something like it when they do meet back up with Jason eventually. Two things stood out to me. One, that Biz and Artemis, despite probably only being with Jason a shorter amount of time than they actually ended up spending apart, clearly hold Jason and the Outlaws very dear and are keeping The Outlaws and everything it stood for alive. It’s so wonderful to see someone in the goddamn DC Universe loves and appreciates Jason like he deserves. They can’t return fast enough, IMO, but I don’t think they will drop back into the story until the very end or just after this upcoming arc with Lex Luthor.

The other thing that stood out to me...was the freaking alt-Joker on the Outlaws team! What?! Like I’m not mad or happy, I’m just...what!? I don’t know how to feel. I like this version of the Joker but that in no way makes me not want to perform intimate torture on the main world’s Joker and see him die a cruel, painful death. I still want that very much. Can’t wait until the next issue, happily we only have to wait about two weeks I think. I so here for it.

#Red Hood And The Outlaws #Annual 3 #Scott Lobdell #jason todd #red hood #Artemis Of Bana-Mighdall #Artemis Grace #Bizarro #Biz #Jack Knife #The Joker #Jack knife is the Joker why is no one talking about this?!#The Joker is a meta human #dc comics #I miss Artemis and Bizarro so much #Lex Luthor #He's basically MODOK now #Colonel Samuel Lane

114 notes · View notes

imyourliquor-youremypoison · 6 years ago

Text

The Flip Side (Peter Parker x OC - Oneshot)

Synopsis: Hurt/Comfort. Aged Up!Peter is in College now, but that doesn’t mean he relayed his Spider suit to the back of his closet. How does one balance out personal and superhero life?

Does not take into account the Far From Home post-credit scenes; spoiler-free.

Word count: 9.2k

MASTERLIST

High school hadn’t been a walk in the park for Peter. One would argue that high school was tough for most people, but he thought he had had it worse, and he wasn’t wrong. Most people didn’t lead a secret double life they had to hide from the world lest it jeopardize their other, normal life. So, if someone had asked Peter back then what he wanted to do with his life, he wouldn’t have known what to answer; or rather, he knew what he wanted to say but feared the answer would disappoint.

Peter Parker wanted to apply for College and get a degree in physics, but that hope was shot dead when he received his report card on his last year. Being the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man did not allow for much study time, and his grades suffered from that. The consequence of this was that Ned got the scholarship for the University he wanted, and Peter didn’t.

He had thought that was it – he couldn’t ask his Aunt May to take up a loan to pay for his tuition, and what was he going to do with that degree anyway? Being a superhero didn’t require going to college. That was when Pepper Potts knocked on his door – metaphorically – and pulled a joker out of her sleeve.

Tony, ever ahead of everyone else, even in death, had opened an secret account in Peter’s name that he would only access at age eighteen, and that contained a frankly obscene amount of money meant to be his college fund (but that would surely last him a lifetime and leave him wanting for nothing). At least, he wouldn't have to live in a shared dorm room and that had to count for something, especially when you considered he would have had to wash his Spidey-suit in the laundromat.

This unexpected divine intervention from late Tony Stark had sparked hope in Peter’s heart and he dared wish for things once again. He ended up going to a different college than Ned, but he didn’t let that dampen his mood: he had to consider this a fresh start. And a fresh start it was because he knew no one, he was far from his best friend, his aunt and even more so from MJ who had left him earlier during their senior year on the ground that high school crushes don’t last.

He had been miserable at first, but quickly understood where she was coming from. They stayed good friends, though they tried to keep their interactions to a minimum and never hung out alone again after their breakup.

Despite all of this, Peter Parker felt ecstatic, like there was electricity in the air, when he walked on his new campus – at UC, Davis - , feeling like any other anonymous student in the crowd. He wouldn’t waste his chance at starting fresh, he owed it to himself. It was hell week, the worst time for freshmen; Peter thought he was the only person looking forward to being hazed.

When he moved out of his and Aunt May's apartment in Queens, he pictured a lot of things for his new life. Going to college, becoming an adult, being independent and surveying a new territory. He hoped to make friends quickly, have interesting classes, good grades, maybe get a girlfriend at some point - that was the dream. He never expected to find one on the first day, especially not during a three-legged race because the resident jock asked him to switch partners so he could be with the local cheerleader type girl.

“Hey man,” the tall blond had greeted him, slapping his shoulder so hard Peter thought he might have dislocated it if he wasn’t super-strong. “I got an idea. What about you go over there and ask the hot red head if she wants to trade places with you?”

This felt oddly familiar to Peter, being the loser people tried to get rid of. He looked over at the above-mentioned red head and agreed that she was very pretty. She was standing next to a shorter brunette and they were laughing together. He always admired the way girls flocked together and could act as if they had known each other all their lives even though they just met.

He didn’t feel like refusing the jock this favor because surely that would backfire. Not to mention that he didn’t particularly want to be hazed alongside him. All the first years trying for a science degree were gathered on the lawn and had been asked to pair up with someone they didn’t know.

Peter shrugged and walked over to the red head.

“Hi- Hi, my name’s Peter,” he awkward introduced himself, feeling terribly self-conscious when the tall girl stopped laughing and gave him an ice-cold glare.

“What can I do for you?” The temperature dropped even more when she opened her mouth.

“You see the guy over there?” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder, and her eyes followed the movement, landing on Mr. Blond Jock, a smile illuminating her face.

“I see him, yes,” she cooed and gone was the icy tone.

“He asks if you want to pair up with him.”

Peter stuck his hands in his pockets, feeling terrible for the other girl who surely hadn’t won anything in this sudden swipe, but the red-head eagerly agreed, forgetting about her new girl friend and scooting over to the eye-candy.

He hadn’t thought as far as to consider that he was now paired up with the brunette, and they both stood there, staring at each other like statues, not moving an inch. If he didn’t speak right the hell now, the awkward would only grow until it became irreversibly tense, so-

“I, ugh, I’m Peter,” he managed to say, not entirely sure how.

The tension left her shoulders and she gave him a coy little smile.

“I know, you just said it,” she giggled, adopting a more relaxed demeanor and letting her hip jut out instead of standing straight as an ‘I’. “I’m Elle.”

She held out her hand for him to shake. It was a bit of a formal greeting, but she thought it better than simply stand there, hands in their pockets. Taken aback, Peter merely stared at her hand for a moment too long before shaking it, and she laughed.

“Breathe, Peter. I don’t bite.”

“Sorry.” He blushed and tried to discreetly wipe his sweaty palms on his jeans. “First day… I’m a bit of a nervous wreck.” Yeah, great Peter, just tell the pretty girl that you have crippling anxiety, why not pull out your inhaler too to impress her, ugh?

“Oh, but you should be,” she told him, still grinning. “It’s not called hell week for funsies.”

“Wow thanks, I feel so much better now!” She laughed again; it was a nice sound and he noticed she scrunched up her nose when she laughed. “What’s your major?”

“Biotechnology. What about you?”

Peter’s eyebrows met his hairline and he had a slight backward movement upon hearing that. He didn’t expect that, but then again, what did he expect?

“Applied physics, which sounds less fancy than your major, I admit,” he said with a throaty chuckle that quickly turned into a cough.

They only talked for a few more minutes before the Seniors in charge of the freshmen asked for their attention.

“The person you paired up with will be your teammate for the upcoming week, whether you get along or not,” they explained. “It’s part of the game, so play along or suffer the consequences.”

Apparently, the hazing would start slow to let them warm up – said with a sadistic smile on their faces. For starters, a three-legged race, two against two, and the losers had to down shots. Peter was not looking forward to what was to come after that, but he thought that at least, he had found an amicable partner to suffer through this week with. He hadn’t done too badly for a first day: Instead of being paired up with the jock and winning the race, Peter got Elle and while they might have ended up last, neither felt like they lost.

The world had healed from Thanos, or at least it seemed like it was doing well. Losing so many people at once had been a shock. All of a sudden, there was no more housing problems, no more issues with finding a job, or parking your car. Less pollution, less waste, more space. But it came with the devastating truth that your loved ones had turned to dust and disappeared from the face of the earth.

Nature at least, did a lot better with half the human population gone with the wind. When everybody came back, people were too happy to fully understand the effects it would have. It was disastrous. The Vanished simply reappeared where they disappeared, creating chaos all around the globe. They hadn’t aged, hadn’t a clue what happened, and wanted to pick up where they left off – expect they couldn’t.

Those who stayed had aged, had moved on as best they could. Old people had died, children had grown up, people had gotten married, babies had been born. A new President had been elected, those who vanished had been replaced, simply put. It was difficult, but the human species was a resilient one, and they had made it work.

Every year, there was a bank Holiday to remember the fateful day of the Snap, five years ago. Peter stood on the lawn in the middle of campus, right next to Elle. They were dressed up, as required, and stared ahead without saying a word, without smiling, or sending each other a teasing look. A minute of utter silence ticked by, making Peter’s ears whistle. Not a car honk, not a plane, not a cough was to be heard. The world was holding its breath for sixty long seconds.

And then it was over. People started moving again, breaking the impeccable lines they had formed and erupting in chatter as if they hadn’t spoken in days rather than seconds.

“We should go to town,” Elle blurted out, not yet looking at him. In fact, she was the only still standing straight and looking at the monument erected to commemorate the Vanished.

“But everything’s closed today,” Peter pointed out. She finally tore her gaze away from the statue and met his eyes. The corners of her mouth twitched slightly upwards.

“Even better. We’ll have the city to ourselves.” He could get behind that. Peter nodded in approval.

“Can I get changed first? I don’t feel like walking ‘round town in a suit.” He winced, vaguely gesturing at himself. In fact, Petr would rather walk around in his Spider-Man suit, which was made to measure, than this thing he rented for the day. “Meet here in ten?”

“Last one’s a loser,” Elle shouted before dashing off, holding up her formal dress to allow her to run across the lawn like the devil was chasing her, hair slipping out of her neat hairdo.

Oh, she was so going to lose. They had been hanging out since that first day, seven months ago. He was allowed to wipe the floor with her ass now, the awkward adjustment period after making a friend where you wonder if you can do this or that without upsetting them was over.

Four minutes later, Peter was standing in the exact same spot, wearing sneakers, jeans and a sweatshirt, and he was delighted to see Elle run towards him, laughing and cursing because she was the loser, and wearing more or less the same outfit.

“And look who’s here last - again,” he teased her as soon as she was within earshot. “You need to stop challenging me and accept defeat.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she replied, leaning on his shoulder to catch her breath. “Damn, I need to get in better shape. Or quit snacks, I don’t know which is worse.”

Peter chuckled and put his hands in his pockets. They hopped on the first bus, which was uncharacteristically empty, they even found two available seats. People liked to spend this holiday with their family, it was no wonder the streets were near deserted. The shops were closed, less buses circulated, the parks were empty. No cars driving around. It was peaceful.

They walked in comfortable silence for a while, taking this opportunity to visit the usually crowded places and enjoy the view. The closer they got to the water, the windier it became, and Elle pulled up her hood to stop her hair from flying around her face.

“Are you cold?” Peter asked, watching her square her shoulders and also put her hands in her front pocket.

“A little,” she admitted. “But it’s fine.”

Searching for something to do that wouldn’t be out there in the cold wind, Elle’s eyes eventually landed on a crepes vendor who was open down the street. They could walk in the narrow back streets to shield themselves for the wind from there.

“C’mon, I’ll buy you a crepe and we can visit the old town,” she told him, looping her arm around his elbow and pulling him forward.

“What about quitting snacks?” he teased her, a wicked grin on his face.

“It’s only a real diet if it starts the next day,” she replied, and he had to admit that was a pretty good comeback, she still had him beat in that area. “But for the sake of my credibility, we’ll share one. What flavor do you want?”

They stopped in their tracks by the shop’s window, squinting to see the menu.

“I don’t know, you choose,” Peter said with a shrug.

Elle smirked and turned towards him, a twisted little grin on her face as she gave him a once over.

“You look like a vanilla guy,” she chuckled, making Peter blush instantly.

He wasn’t the most perceptive guy, but he could tell an innuendo when he heard one, and her tone didn’t allow for much doubt.

“I- I’m not- I mean, I like- but I’m not-“ he stuttered out, the shade of red of his face deepening with each word tumbling out of his mouth. “Vanilla’s fine,” he finally said, if only to put an end to his misery.

“I was kidding,” she assured him, seeing his state of distress. “Though there’s nothing wrong with that.”

With a shrug, Elle walked inside and ordered her crepe, while Peter waited outside, letting the cold wind cool down his face. She was only messing with him. It was merely payback for his teasing her earlier.

She came back with a vanilla sugar crepe and let him have the first bite.

“So, since it’s commemoration day and all, I thought I’d ask”, she started, licking her fingers clean. “What happened to you?”

Peter forced down an awkward chuckle at this, wondering how to answer that as truthfully as possible without full-on telling her he was trying to save the world on another planet called Titan and miserably failed, which led to him and half of humanity during to ash.

“I was one of the Vanished, so… not much happened,” he tried to say it as offhandedly as possible, not letting his grief show through.

“What was it like?” Elle wondered out loud, looking up at him. “I mean, if it’s not-“

“’s okay.” Peter shrugged. “I take it you were among the lucky ones who inherited the earth after the Snap?”

“Yeah…” Elle lowered her head, as if thinking back on something. “It’s just that most people never even mention it. It’s become taboo and-“

“You really don’t need to explain,” Peter cut her off. “I get it. But it would be hard to describe. I was just there, then I wasn’t. And the next second, I was back. It felt like waking up from a nap, and I don’t remember anything of the five years that had gone by when I came back. It must have been harder for the people who stayed.”

Elle stopped walking and Peter froze when she suddenly wasn’t by his side anymore.

“You know, you’re the first person to tell me that,” she said, looking pained. “I have a baby sister. She was four when the vanished, and my parents took it very hard, it was horrible at home. We had all aged when she re-appeared, and while we were all over the moon to have her again, it was never the same as before. I don’t have a relationship with her because she’s so much younger than me now. My parents didn’t think they would get to raise her again, they’d thrown all her stuff away because it hurt to have it home, and-“ she stopped, unable to continue.

“I’m sorry you had to go through this,” Peter said with a gravity she had never seen on him.

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” She pushed back on hood and crossed her arms over her chest. Peter was afraid she would cry but she seemed to pull herself together and decide to move on to a lighter topic. “I shouldn’t cry about this, today is for celebrating the fact that you came back, not for throwing a pity party.”

“That’s true. Just imagine what your life would be if I hadn’t returned,” Peter joked in an attempt to make her smile return. It worked, to his utmost relief. “Awful.”

“I’d be hanging out with the Ryans instead,” she said with a shudder.

It had turned out, to their absolute bafflement, that Blond Jock and Red-head were both called Ryan. Thus becoming “The Ryans” when they started dating. Elle had made several crude jokes about the Ryans screaming their own name during sex, and Peter had blushed and laughed along to hide his embarrassment. She really had a talent for making him lose his composure.

“So really, you should be celebrating me today,” Peter argued.

They had resumed their walk and were now crossing an almost empty square lined with cute little shops – all closed.

“I shared my crepe with you, Vanilla Boy!” She rolled her eyes. “Hey, wait a second!” Elle stopped again, one hand on Peter’s shoulder to prevent him from walking away. “That means I was born five years after you, even though we’re the same age!”

“Solid deduction,” Peter agreed with a condescending nod, earning a swat on the shoulder. “I mean, yeah, what’s your point?”

“When’s your birthday?” she asked.

Peter raised a brow.

“June 1st,” he said, not seeing where this was going. Elle broke into a smile. A Cheshire Cat, ear-to-ear kind of smile that made Peter shudder. “What is it? I feel like I just said something I shouldn’t have.”

“I’m older than you,” she beamed.

“What? No- what?”

“My birthday is May 30th, which means I’m two days older than you.”

“That is- that’s not-“ Peter sucked in a breath, holding a finger up but radiating no authority whatsoever. “That’s wrong,” he finished, in a rather anti-climactic fashion.

“It’s quite simple math, really, I’m sure even you in applied physics know that,” Elle snickered, making Peter squint his eyes at her.

“Technically, I-“

“No technicalities, just plain old math,” she cut him off, enjoying herself very much. “Do not contradict your elders, Vanilla Boy.”

“Stop calling me that,” he grumbled, pouting.

“Why?”

“I don’t like it.”

“Why not? It suits you,” Elle challenged him, stepping forward, chin up.

“I’m not vanilla.”

How did he say that without liquefying on the pavement? He would think about that later. But he sure felt his cheeks burn up when Elle closed the remaining distance between them until there was but an inch separating their faces and she whispered, “Prove it.”

If Peter was half as brave as he ought to be as an Avenger, he would have done it. He would have kissed her, like he had wanted to do for months now. But he couldn’t. His body refused to move, and it was like high school all over again, when he couldn’t muster up the courage to talk to the girl he liked. Elle was smirking, waiting for him to make a move, but he simply couldn’t.

Peter closed his eyes and stepped back, sighing to himself, admitting defeat. Elle smiled wider.

“I knew it.” Before Peter had a chance to let her know it wasn’t very tasteful to boast about this, she slipped a hand behind his neck and pulled him back to her. He closed his eyes again when their lips met, and she kissed him.

Not long enough, though.

“That’s okay, you’re my Vanilla Boy,” she told him before pulling back and smiling up at him.

He must have looked awfully shocked because her smile dropped right away, and she let him go.

“I- I’m sorry, did I misread the situation?” she stuttered out, losing her self-confidence now that the deed was done. At least, it comforted him to know she was a little nervous too. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry, I don’t kno-“

This time around, Peter was the one doing to startling and cradled her face between his hands to kiss her once more, muffling her rambling. Elle gave in to the embrace and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, kissing back. They didn’t break away so soon this time.

“You didn’t misread anything, you’re very good at reading situations,” Peter assured her, making them both giggle like fools.

At least, there were no witnesses to this awkward display of affection. The wind had picked up and the people who were outside had gone home a while ago. It looked like it was going to rain anytime now.

Peter interlaced their fingers and slipped their joined hands into the front pocket of his sweater, and together, they walked back to his place, to get a roof over their head before it started pouring on them.

Elle woke up with a start at her desk. Shit, it was the third time she snoozed on her textbook. She wasn’t even done with today's reading, but she was tired and couldn’t seem to focus. Senior year required much more reading than she was prepared for, but freshers was long behind her.

Truth was, Peter should have been back already. It was nearly half past 10pm. Not very late for a college student, but later than normal for Peter; he always made sure not to stay out too late when he was on a beat. He knew Elle worried if he stayed out too long after dark and it was late November. It became dark around five, he had had enough time to scout the neighborhood, what was he doing?

Sitting at the desk in sweatpants and a vintage original Jurassic Park t-shirt, Elle stretched and yawned, as if to get the tired out. She liked to dress down when she studied, and she loved that shirt. She had bought it at an auction for more money than she would ever care to admit - Peter had found out but was sworn to secrecy before Ned could tease the answer out of him. The memory made her laugh, and she stood up to get herself a snack.

She was halfway done with preparing her PB&J sandwich when the sound of broken glass caught her attention. Elle’s head jerked up and she dropped her snack, running to the living room. She always left a window unlocked for Peter to use when he came back from a mission and couldn’t use the front door. It was too risky to walk through the front door where the night manager sat at his desk.

Shards of glass from a vase littered the floor and the window was wide open, a dark silhouette standing before it.

“Peter,” Elle breathed out, bringing a hand to her mouth and staring in horror.

She lunged forward just as he did the same and they crashed into each other, holding on for dear life. Nights such as this one occurred on rare but dreaded occasions. He wore his sweats, which wasn’t a good sign. He always carried those around to wear over his suit in case he needed to stay incognito and sneak back home.

The relief was so great that tears threatened to spill over, but Elle swallowed them back and breathed in his scent instead, telling herself over and over again that everything was fine, Peter was fine. Though she way he leaned into her was worrying, she felt she carried all his weight and he would have collapsed on the floor if she hadn’t been there to catch him.

Elle pulled down Peter’s hood to reveal his battered face as soon as he released her from his embrace. His tousled hair was matted in blood, sticking to his head.

“You should see the other guys,” Peter tried to joke before Elle could ask what on earth happened.

Still repressing her tears – and now a slight smile - Elle pulled him back to her and threw her arms around his neck. The movement caused Peter to grunt slightly and cough a little but he returned the hug without a word, nuzzling Elle’s neck and closing his eyes in delight.

This mission had been worse than expected, but he always felt like everything was alright when he held Elle in his arms like now. He couldn’t afford to lose a fight or be killed, ever, because she was waiting for him. If one day he didn’t return, he knew for a fact that she would leave that window unlocked for the years to come, hoping against hope that he would turn up again.

They have been together for little less than four years now, and Elle had moved in with Peter last year. Of course, she knew about his alter ego long before taking that step – she guessed actually, much like MJ had back in High School. Except that, in retrospect, Peter realized he wasn’t the most discreet back then, so perhaps he had laid out the ground for MJ to find out. But he couldn’t take credit away from Elle, because he had taken every precaution to make sure she wouldn’t be dragged into his superhero problems.

Turns out, she wanted to be a part of it. When he decided to tell her, it was because he couldn’t bear the thought of keeping the truth from her anymore – if he couldn’t trust the girl he loved to keep his secret, than what was the point of this relationship? She had smiled and said she was glad he had finally told her. For days Peter had racked his brain to try and find what gave him away, but he never found out, and she never told him. She said it was her secret, but not to worry, that no one else but her would find out.

Still, back then, she couldn’t have measured what it entailed to be in a relationship with Spider-Man, the constant worry, the anguish, the violence. Every day, she feared he might not come back, and every day, Peter feared she might leave.

“You need to sit down,” she said, finally letting go, sniffling but holding back the treacherous tears. “I’ll get the first-aid kit.”

Elle was about to go to the bathroom when Peter caught her wrist, silently asking her to stay with him for now. Together, they slowly walked to the couch and Peter dropped there with a pained groan, arching his back and hissing between his clenched teeth.

“What can I do?” Elle urged him, feeling powerless.

Pushing her hair back, she knelt down in front of him, holding his hands in hers. There was no worse feeling than seeing Peter hurt and not being able to do anything about it. What good was a degree in biotechnology? She should have been a nurse!

“I’ll be fine, I’ll- I’ll heal,” he assured her, sighing once the pain subdued and he was able to lean into the back of the couch without feeling as though a thousand needles pierced his spine.

Elle gave him a once over to check for any severe wound that he would try and hide from her to spare her feelings. She wasn’t that soft, she could handle whatever happened, if only he allowed her to help. He was covered in bruises, his left eye was black already; she also spotted several cuts on his cheeks; his knuckles were raw, and she would bet his suit was torn in places under his black sweats. Whenever he coughed, he held his ribs, hissing, and she guessed some were broken.

Just then, his phone buzzed, and he took it out of his pocket, checking the caller ID and dropping it face down on the couch. Elle dived on the phone like a hawk to see who it was, and Peter began to cough again, blood staining his lips. If Elle didn't know he healed ten times faster than any normal human being, she would be sick with worry. While it hurt to see him like this, she knew what she had signed up for when she started a life with Peter Parker. It was part of the job to come back in rough shape sometimes, and there was very little she could do about it - except make things easier whenever possible.

“I can't- I can't...” Peter rasped, shaking his eyes as he looked at his screen which had lit up with a picture of Aunt May. Elle looked at it too, knowing it was up to her to deal with this.

“Hi, May. This is Elle.” She pressed the speaker button and laid the phone on the couch, so Peter could hear everything.

“Oh, hi Elle, I didn't expect to hear you. It's been a while, how are things?”

“Everything is going well, I'm not complaining,” she answered, using her small talk voice.

“Is Peter with you? I haven't heard from him in a week, I thought I'd get a hold of him before going to bed.”

Elle looked at Peter on the couch, looking the worse for wear, like he had been punched through an entire building and came out on the other side. Which was probably what really happened, it wouldn’t be the first time anyway. She would get the details later.

“He just came back from a mission,” she told May.

She didn't like lying to her, she was family. Peter looked alarmed. He didn't want to worry May, he didn't want her to freak out even if she had every right to. Elle could get behind that. His life wasn't in any danger and she was the one who collected the pieces now. Peter wasn't a teenager anymore and Aunt May forgot that sometimes.

“Is he alright?” There was the concern in her voice. Elle had put her on speaker so Peter couldn't do anything but stare wide eyed at his girlfriend, silently shaking his head.

“He's fine, no need to worry. He's just really tired and fell asleep as soon as he hit the pillow.” She hated that the lie came out so easily, but it was for the best. Like said before, Peter was in no direct danger, his body was healing so fast she could already swear some cuts disappeared. It didn't make it any easier to see him in such a state. “I'll let him know you checked in, and make sure to tell him to call you tomorrow.”

Aunt May chatted a bit longer before bidding Elle good night and hanging up, making it harder to keep up the appearance that everything was peachy. The moment Elle ended the call, she sighed and slouched over Peter’s knees.

“Thank you. I'm sorry you have to do that.”

He doesn't try to explain or justify himself. Elle already knew that he didn’t ask her to lie for the sake of it, or because he wanted to hide what he did from his last living family member. He did what he always did: he protected them. And if by telling white lies to May to help her sleep better at night Elle could participate in this, then so be it.

“I’m sorry too,” she said, her eyes glowing with a mix sadness and overwhelming relief. One single tear rolled down her cheek. “C’mon now.” She wiped it away with the palm of her hand. “We need to get you out of this suit and into the shower. You know the rule: no-“

“-bleeding in our bed,” Peter finished, smiling weakly. “Yes, I know. Give me a hand.”

Getting him to stand up was an ordeal in itself, but removing two layers of clothes, one of which was a super suit that Elle still didn’t know how to work, and waddling towards the bathroom without hitting any furniture proved to be near impossible. They had been there before, and it usually ended up in a lot of cussing and laughing, quickly followed by grunts of pain because it hurt to laugh.

In removing the ripped suit, Elle bared Peter’s back and stared blankly at the many scars littering his body. There were white and completely healed scars under the new ones. The most worrying was the long gash running from his shoulder down to the middle of his back, it still oozed blood and looked deep enough to require assistance in healing.

Elle undressed and threw her clothes in a corner to shower with Peter who could barely stand alone now that the adrenalin from the fight had worn off and made way to utter exhaustion and numbness. It was better than hurting all over, Elle supposed. She did most of the work because Peter had to grip the edge of the shower wall to stay standing.

“Talk to me,” she asked him while gently rubbing his back, taking extra care not to go anywhere near his open wound with the soap or the shower head. “What happened out there? Who did this to you?”

Peter wanted to tell her that he did this to himself, no one forced him to play superhero, he was responsible for his own life choices. But it wasn’t what Elle wanted to hear.

“There were more of them than I expected,” he simply told her. “I should have surveyed the place before going in, they were obviously prepared for my coming.”

Elle nodded even if Peter couldn’t see her. She had learnt not to give him pointless words of reassurance such as “it wasn’t your fault” and “there was nothing you could do”.

“People are used to your presence now, they know Spider-Man has relocated to California, and no longer operates in New York City.”

“And unlike New York, there’s only one superhero here, and that’s me,” he sighed, leaning his head back so Elle could wash his hair.

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up over this! You said I should see the other guys, that means you got them, right?” she asked, prompting him to smile, even just a little. “You defeated the bad guys, and you came back to me. That’s all that matters.”

“I guess you’re right,” he whispered to himself, knowing there was no winning an argument against Elle regarding this matter. “Next time, I-“ he hissed and bit down on his lip when soap trickled in his back wound.

“This one is not pretty, it needs stitches,” Elle informed him with a wince, knowing how much he hated being stitched up.

They finished up and got out of the shower. The warm water had done its job: it had washed away the blood and eased the tension in Peter’s aching muscles. He could walk alone, though he remained unsteady on his feet. Elle put on her robe and Pete wrapped a towel around his middle before sitting down on the stool next to the shower. While he rubbed a towel on his head to absorb the excess water, Elle prepared the thread and needle, sterilizing it before coming to stand behind her very much shaking boyfriend.

“I apologize in advance,” she said before leaning over and getting to work.

She truly hated doing that, but she had learned to be good at it. From the corner of her eye, she saw his fists tightening and his jaw clenching when the needle came in contact with his flesh, but she had to keep going.

“Almost done,” Elle said, feeling how tense Peter was under her touch, grounding his teeth to avoid groaning in pain and worrying her more than she already was. “Here, all good.” His shoulders slumped as soon as the words left her mouth.

Elle cut off the thread and cleaned up the trickles of blood running down his back, then she also cleaned the other, minor cuts, and went back to the kitchen to grab the ice pack from the fridge to apply on his broken ribs.

“Hold it in place as long as you need,” she said, knowing very little about what to do in case of broken ribs but trusting the cold would reduce the pain. “Can you stand up?”

Her fingers brushed against his naked shoulder and it broke her heart when he looked up with a crooking smirk, eyes blood shot and bruised. He nodded, grabbing her hand in his to give it a reassuring squeeze and placing a kiss on the back of it.

“I’ll get dressed and be right over,” he told her, not yet knowing if he had the strength to do any of this.

Summoning all of his remaining forces, he got up on his feet without toppling over. It seemed to ease her mind a little bit because she smiled for real this time and when Peter tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and stroked her cheek, she leaned into his touch and blushed slightly. Elle was the only girl Peter ever managed to make blush, and he liked that.

“You dumbass,” she told him in a chuckle. “Any gray hair I might have is on you, you know that?”

“Some people bleach their hair to get that color,” he pointed out, making her laugh again and ignoring the throbbing pain in his side as he held the ice pack more firmly to his ribs.

Elle felt better but was aware that he pushed through the pain for her sake, so she cut short their exchange to get dressed again before going to the kitchen and preparing two cups of tea. Peter liked his tea a certain way, and she alone had mastered it. She took out their respective favorite mugs while the water boiled and added sugar to their preference, then cut a slice a lemon to put in Peter’s.

Soon, she heard the kitchen stool creak against the wooden floor, and she poured the water, then carried their mugs over to the table. He looked more human now that he was clean and wearing his pajamas, almost like nothing happened at all – if it weren’t for the bruises, sore and sole reminder of his extra-curricular activities.

“Who was it tonight?”

“A local gang that was responsible for a good portion of the drugs circulating on the territory. It was delivery night tonight, so I thought I’d make two birds one stone and get both the supplier and the reseller, but like I said, I severely underestimated their manpower.”

“It was a good idea, but hard to pull off when you’re alone,” Elle agreed. “It’d be different if you had a partner, someone to count on out there.”

“But I have a partner,” Peter countered, shooting her a charming grin and nudging her in the shoulder. Elle tried not to smile but it was a losing battle. “I can count on you.”

“But not when you go on a mission. You need someone to have your back on the field,” she replied, rolling her eyes and taking a sip of her tea. Elle fidgeted with the handle of her mug, anxiously thinking about what would happen if one day, Peter did not come back. “If I could, I would come with.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth. If I knew I could help one way or another, I would come with you. I’d be your Robin,” she laughed. “We’re only talking, of course. I don’t have powers and I would be a burden and a distraction if I followed you on your missions.”

Peter’s smile vanished as he turned towards Elle, a serious expression twisting his otherwise relaxed features.

“You sound like you put an awful lot of time into that thought,” he pointed out.

“I have. I wish I could do more than just patch you up after the work’s been done.” She let go of her mug and put her hands in her lap to stop fidgeting.

What to say to that? Peter understood the feeling but he couldn’t bear the thought of Elle standing between him and a bullet. Her life could never be in danger because of him, that’s where he drew the line. Her safety was everything. His mouth went dry.

“I didn’t know my double life took such a toll on you,” he croaked out, biting the inside of his cheeks and hollowing them out as he thought about what she said. “I know it’s not easy. If it ever becomes too much…”

“I forbid you to finish that sentence,” Elle cut him off before he said the damn words.

He had told her already, time and time again, that she was free to walk out of his life if she felt too unsafe or unhappy. A conversation that no people their age should have, in Peter’s opinion, but they had had it anyway, because he wasn’t any people of his age, he was Spider-Man.

“The option is there,” he still said, staring right into her clouded eyes.

They were deep and full of boundless affection that he would like to drown in, but he couldn’t turn his back on the people who needed Spider-Man. Peter Parker might belong to Elle, but Spider-Man belonged to the people.

“I never considered it an option, Peter. Do you really think I would leave you when you need me the most? Do you think so little of me?” It was difficult not to cry at this point, but perhaps it was what Elle needed: to let it all out of her system.

“Of course not,” Peter sighed, sliding off his stool to stand behind her, encircling her with his arms and letting the ice pack hit the floor. Elle felt a cold spot on her back, where Peter pressed his cold side. She held on to his arm around her middle.

“Then don’t ask me to quit you again,” she demanded, sounding determined. “I’m here by my own volition, because I want to be with you. I love you, Peter, I love you.”

“I know, I know you do,” he whispered in her ear, his face buried in her neck while he rocked them gently. Elle shook slightly against him, as though she were repressing sobs. “I only suggested it because I love you too. Too much to let you be miserable because I’m such a dumb superhero who half-asses his survey jobs.”

This time he could tell she was shaking from laughter and he felt better knowing she wasn’t too mad at him. Trust him to mess up a mission and then upset his girlfriend in the same evening.

“I didn’t mean to start whining, sorry,” Elle apologized, dismissing her behavior and worry and pulling herself together.

“Don’t say that,” Peter scolded her, turning her around on the rotating chair to look at her. “Whatever’s on your mind, I want to hear about it. Even if it’s about how much of an idiot boyfriend I am. You’re right, I know you worry about me, and it doesn’t help that I come home looking like I’ve been run over by a truck.”

“You really do,” she felt the need to say, much to Peter’s bafflement. He gaped at her, then shook his head, though he couldn’t hide the slight smirk on his face.

“Right. But what I’m trying to say is that I understand. I’d want to do more if we traded roles. In fact, I’d be much worse! If I were you, I’d have tried and followed you already and butted in at the worst possible time during a fight. That’s just the kind of timing and luck that I have!” he rambled, making big hand gestures that made Elle smile and reach out for his face.

“Focus, Peter.”

“Yes, right! Where was I? You definitely can’t come with me out there, it’s too dangerous, and I’d rather get beat up every day than see you in harm’s way. But you’re the smartest out of the two of us- don’t interrupt,” he quickly added when Elle was about to argue. “Would it help if you could participate more? I’ve always kept to myself because I thought it would make you worry too much if you knew what I was up against, but maybe… maybe it’s the contrary.”

“Maybe, yeah,” Elle repeated softly, watching Peter’s agitated state, expecting him to drop any moment, out of exhaustion. “I won’t be your Robin, then.”

“No, you’ll be my Q.”

Elle lifted a skeptical eyebrow.

“Because you’re James Bond, huh,” she hummed, obviously not convinced.

Peter slapped a hand over his chest.

“You wound me,” he said dramatically. “Do I not look like the next James Bond?” he asked in a funny English accent, pretending to hold up a gun.

“This is a trick question, joker.” Elle shook her head, looking away from him before she burst in laughter. “All jokes aside, I would like that very much. Maybe if you run your plans by me, you won’t forget to make sure you’re not heading towards an army of gang members waiting for you to show up.”

“Too soon, Elle, way too soon,” Peter whined, making her laugh. “So, what do you say? You want the job?”

“Where do I sign?” Elle asked.

Peter didn’t say anything, but his smug smile said it all. Then, he pointed at his lips. Without a word, Elle slipped her hand behind his neck and pulled him towards her lips, being very careful not to hurt him in the process, then sealed the deal with a kiss.

“Great. Now I’ll head to bed, because I’m this close to sleeping on the kitchen floor,” Peter kindly informed Elle, already dragging her behind him. “Let’s call it a day.”

She could tell he felt better already; there was little to no reason to worry herself sick over his well-being, but she couldn’t help herself. When she saw him hurt, her heart constricted in the most unpleasant way, and she wanted to rip apart those who did this to her man.

“We’ll have to discuss the specifics of my new job in the morning. Also, you should know that if I ever meet a gang member, I will throw hands with him for laying a hand on you,” she giggled behind him, following Peter to their bedroom.

When Peter’s tired body hit the mattress, he let out a long groan of delight. He had been standing for way too long, it was a miracle he hadn’t simply collapsed the moment he came back. What he wouldn’t do for his lovely girlfriend.

She usually slept on the left side of the bed, but he felt the bed dip on his right. He knew she didn’t like to sleep window-side because of the draft, but he didn’t say anything. She was doing this because of his ribs, he knew it, she didn’t want to accidentally hit him there.

He didn’t mind the pain much, it was subsiding already, and he would rather hold Elle in his arms a bit longer than sleep right away. She guessed as much and scooted over to join him in the middle of the bed, huddling against his body in the dark. They both sighed in content, finally letting go of the day’s tension and enjoying being in each other’s presence.

Peter slipped a hand under Elle and rested his hand in the small of her back, while the other gently played with her hair. Her open palm rested on his chest, as if it soothed her to feel his heartbeat – and maybe it did, how would he know? He pressed his cheek against the top of her head and let his fingertips trail up and down her spine.

“Hey Vanilla boy, do you wanna know how I figured out you were Spider-Man?” Elle whispered in the dark.

Peter shot up and turned on the lamp on the bedside table.

“Yes, please. I want to know so bad,” he told her, point-blank. To be fair, he probably didn't sleep for a week straight after he realized she had known for a while.

“What do I get in exchange?” she bargained, leaning on her elbow and raising a brow at him.

Peter clicked his tongue inside his cheek and narrowed his eyes.

“My eternal love and gratitude?” he offered, knowing it wouldn't be enough but trying anyway.

“I already have that.” Her smirk widened. “Bid higher.”

“I'll let you try on my suit.” That would surely work, he had seen her eyeing it more than once. Then again, it could simply be a kink of hers, to see him in his suit.

“It's way too big for me,” she countered.

“Not this one. The one Mr.Stark made with the nanotechnology.” It was his turn to smirk, he knew he had her. If appealing to her good heart didn't work, he knew the scientist couldn't refuse that. “It'll adapt to your body,” he added, for good measure.

Elle sucked in her cheeks and pretended to think about it for another two seconds before holding out her hand for him to shake it and seal the deal.

“Now tell me how you guessed. You know I won't be able to fall asleep if you don't spit it out, and I really need the rest,” he urged her, having no shame to guilt-trip his own girlfriend into spilling the beans.

“You talk in your sleep,” she said with a shrug. She fell back on the pillow and closed her eyes, clearly about to replay the whole scene for him, free of charge. “Elle- Elle...” she began to mumble, pretending to sleep-talk. “I wanna- wanna... tell ya somethin'... Elle.” Peter also dropped on his pillow, throwing an arm over his eyes so he wouldn't have to see this. “'m Spider-Man, Elle. 'm Spider-Man.”

She ended up bursting in laughter, much to Peter's despair.

“And you just took my word for it?” He couldn't believe that was how she found out. He had thought he had somehow forgotten something, that he had left clues. But no! He had flat out told her himself. In his sleep. Goddammit.

“Not really, I thought you were dreaming at first,” she admitted, rolling on her side to cuddle him again and forcing him to remove his arm so she could look at him. “But I didn't forget, and you can understand my surprise when I realized it added up. You kept disappearing, you're oddly fast and agile, you moved here at the same time Spider-Man left New York, and coming back with bruises that you blamed on your joining a boxing club... You don't have the built of a boxer, Peter, that didn't make any sense!”

“Ah, I should have known not to lie about this,” Peter grumbled. “Aunt May was right.”

“What about?”

“You can't hide anything from a woman.”

“C'mon now,” Elle cooed, pushing back Peter's wet strands of hair that fell into his eyes. “We give back more than we get.”

It was meant to be light teasing, but Peter smiled back at her softly, a dreamy glow in his eyes.

“You know, you might think you don’t do much right now, but you’re wrong. Thank you for everything.”

Elle wriggled slightly against him.

“It's nothing,” she muttered against his neck, eyes open now.

“It's not nothing. I don't know what I would do without you.”

“C'mon now.” She lifted her head to meet his gaze. She could see his blue eyes, even in the dark room only lit by the moon. “I'm sure it isn't that hard to find someone who can stitch a wound.”

“It's not about stitching my wounds, Elle, but about everything else. It's about waiting for me without knowing when or if I'll come back. About reassuring May even if you have to lie. About preparing tea just the way I like and sleeping on the window side even if you don't like it and putting up with my double life all the time.”

A silence followed, and he wondered if he should have kept quiet, but then Elle spoke up.

“It's all or nothing, Peter. I don't want just one half of you, I want every aspect of Peter Parker, even if some of them come with their drawbacks. You can’t expect me to only love a part of you.”

Now he was the one who didn’t know what to say. What answer did he expect? Not this one, that much was clear. It occurred to him that he frequently forgot that Elle really did love him whole heartedly; or rather, he persuaded himself that no one could love him this much. But maybe – just maybe – he could dare to hope that he found the one person who would stick by his side forever.

“No, I really can’t,” he said with a goofy smile.

Peter leaned in once more, pressing his lips against Elle’s for a soft, hungry kiss. They didn’t break it before being out of breath. Then Peter placed a quick kiss to her forehead and bid her goodnight, still holding her tight – and God be witness, he would never let her go.

Reblog to save a writer!

54 notes · View notes