#EXCEPT caped crusader. i guess

[razmerry]

perhaps... i'm just one of those freaks who loves griming around in canon space and examining intentionality and timelines and also happens to have a soft spot for "fucked up and evil mode" jason... we all have our biases

“oh jason was the happy robin” this “oh he wasn’t at all angsty like people think” that well if you bitches want to have your canonical happy robin you better accept that you’re getting natural-redhead-dyes-his-hair-black-exact-copy-of-dick’s-backstory jason too. can’t have one without the other

[thy-valhallen]

i like the idea that it's understood in the Batfam that Bruce has a favorite but no one's really sure who it is-- all of them have their own guesses, and it's never themselves (except Steph, who's here to laugh at their theories)

Dick is convinced it's Jason because of how he saw Jason's death destroy Bruce-- like, he knows Bruce would cry for all of them, mourn and all, but... well, he's pretty convinced Jason had a spot in their dad's heart a bit bigger than they did

Jason, if asked, will swear to hell and back it's Dick-- the Golden Boy, the perfect son, the one he had to compare himself to growing up. Secretly though? he thinks it's Tim. Tim, the best detective of all of them, the steadfast kid who stepped in to fix everything without the slightest bit of thanks or appreciation, the nerd who dedicated himself to their crusade with nothing to gain from it. who wouldn't favor that kid??

Tim has known since the first picture he ever took of Batman and Robin who the favorite was, and has never wavered. Dick Grayson, his first son, the one who's pain was reflected so sharply back at him in a twisted mirror that he had to take the kid in-- Dick was the one to bring the Dark Knight to life in the daytime. Dick is his everything-- the boy he loved enough to slow in his life's work to help. Tim was certainly never worth the time, but Dick? Dick is impossible not to love, and to love Dick Grayson is to love with your whole chest

Cass bases her guess off of Bruce's body language, not Batman's, and for that, she thinks it's Duke. Duke is softer than the rest of them, less sharp edges from a childhood shaped by misery or death, and Bruce is less of a drill sergeant with him for it. after all, Duke doesn't struggle with directions like the rest of the Batfam (he so does, he's just the best at hiding it), so he gets less of the terrified, furious leader and more of the tired, worried dad

Damian has no doubt in his mind it's Cass-- at first, because she's the best fighter, and therefore most deserving. she's far more skilled after all, so in this insane family where adopted children upend the hierarchy he knows, it must be dictated by skill, no? no, actually. but then, he sees how Bruce doesn't yell at her, the implicit trust he has in his daughter. the way that they're so very in-tune with one another, it's like looking at a man and his shadow. Cass has to be the favorite, because no one else can look him in the eyes with the same sort of heartbreak he has and comfort him without a word

Duke was an only child before joining the Waynes, so it was a shock to suddenly see sibling favoritism so blatantly when Bruce so carefully and kindly talked Damian down from a rant about his classmates in the middle of patrol. no one else would've been allowed to talk about something so personal and revealing on a Gotham rooftop. it was just continually proven from there; shoulder pats and hair ruffles answered with little scowls, utterances of "son" that were lost to shuffling capes and tiny smiles tucked away in darkness

[kirbybecomesastarwarrior]

Okay everyone it's that time again lore drop...

Before the events of Nightmare's defeat... Sir Arthur and a scouting party were sent on a crusade to find the legendary sword Excalibur. But in reality, the scouting party was ordered (by Sir Uther) to secretly murder Sir Arthur. (Why you may ask a lot of reasons)

(This contains some lore from the Kirby light novel Kirby: Meta Knight and the Knight of Yomi)

But the aforementioned cave: where Excalibur was said to be located. Contained a rift to Yomi (created by Morpho..), the would-be assailant (& Sir Arthur) are pulled into the underworld... They are all scattered about the land of the dead...As the story goes: those who are in the land of the dead for three days become... permanent residents.

Being strong-willed enough Sir Arthur was able to retain their physical body and soul... however, he was horribly lost in the lowest level of Yomi (where the most devious monsters dwelled...)

Sir Arthur had been lost in the land of the dead for 120 years. Everyone had assumed he had died... However, this did not go unnoticed by Morpho... who wanted to make a deal with him...Seeing that he had endured for so long... (If they were lucky)could be just the soul (Sir Arthur's) they need...

Not only was he able to get his ticket back to the living world but also... Sir Arthur was able to find something he had long lost... for you see...he and the scouting party weren't the cave's first visitors.

(not sure if I should still @kirbyoctournament but Celty is here so I'll do still :3 )

Guess whose fault it for for Morpho Knight roaming about in the living world!

Sir Arthur is eventually able to tell them (which is what transpires above). Sir Arthur hid this well (until this point) but there was only one person he could not fool, his boy...

Man of the House part 1 (cut song) from Epic the musical

Spoiler Warning: keep reading for content & drawn images

(Sir Arthur got a cracked Warp Star syndrome, like Lady Celestine!)

Meta Knight & King Dedede: From One King to Another "Man of the House"

When I first came up with this I was trying to figure out... "who on earth is Meta Knight singing" and "Who's going to sing the backup vocals..." then I realized this would be the perfect chance to showcase King Dedede & Meta Knight's friendship. This is after the whole redemption arch of King Dedede near the end of the story arch... after the Forgotten Land Saga.

For those who are not that familiar with the KBASW lore. Meta Knight's story arc is meant to end with him becoming the new leader of the GSA. It ties the anime lore and makes it a major part of the story... along with Sir Arthurs deal with Morpho Knight~

Being an astral born without a warpstar (proof that he was a monster created by Nightmare...) was going to be killed the moment he (Mt) was born (by Sir Uther of course the little rat). But one lone Star Warrior believed otherwise, stopping the execution and convincing the Ancients to spare the infant.

Sir Arthur gifted his original red cape to Meta Knight to give him hope that he could be a hero too! MK was trained & raised by Sir Arthur... so he's more than just his mentor... his hero... his dad. Making it all the more heartbreaking to see Sir Arthur growing weaker by the day...

This is where the whole emotional meat & potatoes are in Meta becoming the leader of the GSA lie...( his dad is growing weaker and everyone is looking to him to take up the mantle) At the point of the story, everyone sees his potential everyone except himself...

That's where King Dedede comes in...

King Dedede gives Meta Knight the final push he needs to make him realize he is worthy and deserving of the position. After Escargoon leaves him, he sees Meta Knight as an irreplaceable person. However, this happens... but despite ensuring Meta Knight's departure from Dreamland he still does it.

Reminding him that he managed to help a raggamuffin like him become and grow into an acceptable leader surely he'd be as incredible as the leader of the GSA. Giving him the reassurance he needs to go after it.

It's a really meaningful conversation because Meta Knight and King Dedede have been helping each other grow throughout the series. Throughout the story, they realize how similar they are to each other... and ultimately become one another's rocks.

They're basically two growing kings coming into their roles. That is all I'm going to reveal before I spoil anything else.

Hope you guys enjoyed it the aske box will get reopened tomorrow!

[esperata]

Recommended reads

There's a lot of different Batman media and I've written versions of riddlebird for many of them. I've selected one of my stories from each fandom to hopefully give people a taste of the variety. Expect more to be added as I write for new shows or old ones I haven't got to yet.

Batman (1966) Sixties - G - Words: 4,385 As the years go on the invites turn from weddings to baby showers to funerals. In their line of work though, Penguin and Riddler consider themselves lucky to have made it thus far together. (Old Married Couple) (Wakes & Funerals)

Batman - All Media Types Minesweeper - G - Words: 269 Batman had finally navigated the typical Riddler labyrinth but what he finds isn't exactly what he expects. (Gamer Ed) (Sleepy Penguin) (Fluff)

Batman: Arkham (Video Games) Arkham Games - E - Words: 19,477 Factions are at play backing Penguin into a corner. And if that wasn't enough to be dealing with, he also has to fathom whatever is going on between him and Riddler. (Canon-Typical Violence) (Homophobic Language) (Sexual Tension) (Friends With Benefits) (except not really friends) (Stubborn Denial) (Hand Jobs) (Blow Jobs) (Frottage) (Semi-Public Sex) (Masturbation) (Rough Sex) (Anal Sex)

Batman: Caped Crusader Homme d'affaires - T - Words: 5,697 Edward Nashton just needs to land a big sale. What he finds is a whole other world of possibility. (salesman) (Implied/Referenced Torture) (Choking)

Batman (Comics) The Mind Is A Fragile Thing - G - Words: 2,454 Riddler is undergoing treatment in Arkham and Penguin is not happy about it. (Bruce Wayne) (Arkham Asylum) (Mental Health Issues)

Batman (Movies 1989-1997) Anything Yours Can Do - T - Words: 1,954 Helping Batman out was supposed to be a bit of fun. So how did she end up arguing with Riddler over who had the best lover? (Arguing) (Bragging) (Relationship Comparisons) (BatCat) (Guess which wins)

Batman Ninja (2018) Ridorā Kitsune - G - Words: 2,830 When Penguin is brought with several others to ancient Japan by an experiment gone wrong, he has a wealth of things to concern him. Not least of which is what precisely might have happened to Riddler. (Japan) (Canon time travel) (Friendly Kidnapping)

Batman: The Animated Series Do You Mind? - T - Words: 36,330 The tale of how Penguin and Riddler met, became friends, and then something more. "Words are easy, like the wind; faithful friends are hard to find." (Canon Compliant) (Arkham Asylum) (The Iceberg Lounge) (First Meetings) (Friends to Lovers) (Ed Is Oblivious)

Batman: The Brave and the Bold The Brave And The Bold - G - Words: 2,088 Fortune favours the brave, they say, but Riddler is stacking the odds in his favour as he approaches Penguin for a date. (Courtship) (Crimes & Criminals)

Batman: The Telltale Series (Video Games) Bedye Art - G - Words: 1,550 The failure of Penguin's plans had merely been a stumbling block. Now, however, he had a far more pressing concern. (Blackgate Penitentiary) (Canonical Character Death)

Batwheels (Cartoon) In The Air Tonight - T - Words: 2,150 After a heist gone wrong, Penguin and Riddler find themselves trapped with very little to distract them but each other. (Ferris Wheels) (First Kiss)

Batwoman (TV 2019) Little Bird - T - Words: 4,017 Alice has left the city to undergo rehabilatitation in a private establishment run by someone very familiar with the trials faced by those seeking help in Gotham. (long separation) (Presumed Dead)

Gotham (TV) Everything Old Is New Again - G - Words: 9,722 If you had the power to go back in time, what would you hope to change? And would you do it? Those are the questions Edward is facing now he and Oswald are free for the first time in ten years. (Time Travel) (Post-Season/Series 05 Finale) (Sharing a Bed) (Jealous Edward Nygma) (Love Confessions)

Harley Quinn (Cartoon 2019) Groping For Trout In A Peculiar River - T - Words: 2,350 Riddler's attempted seduction of Penguin is curtailed but things aren't quite what they appear. (Misunderstandings) (Flirting) (Awkwardness)

Teen Titans Go! Easy Escape - T - Words: 4,835 Edward is taking Oswald out on a proper date today, whether Arkham likes it or not. (First Dates) (Museums) (Aquariums) (Theatre) (toy shop) (Pier) (Innuendo)

The Batman (Cartoon 2004) Take These Broken Wings - T - Words: 13,508 Riddler has barely escaped the Batman but his trouble might not be over as he runs into another criminal acquaintance. Its a good thing he doesn't have a crush on him or anything otherwise things might get awkward. (Injury) (Hurt/Comfort) (Developing Relationship) (Bathing/Washing) (Gay Oswald Cobblepot) (Bisexual Edward Nygma)

The Batman (Movie 2022) Boss - E - Words: 5,555 In the wake of Gotham's flooding, Ed once again turns up at the Iceberg Lounge. (Anal Sex) (Riding) (Communication)

The LEGO Batman Movie (2017)/LEGO Batman: The Movie - DC Super Heroes Unite (2013) Private Island - T - Words: 8,282 Penguin has got himself a luxury island and his fellow rogues have been invited for a visit. One in particular has an ulterior motive for going though. (Bad Flirting) (Attempted Seduction) (Riddler has a crush) (Jealousy)

[hisuian-history-makers]

Lamb/New Player, after having chosen Very Hard mode and repeatedly dying to the enemies on crusades, coming back to starving followers who keep pooping everywhere: ….

That’s it!

Their two remaining followers: ???

Lamb: I’m summoning Big Sis!

*The followers watch the very young sheep, really a Lamb, cut their own hand (hoof) then chant something as they bleed.*

Narinder, watching from the Death Realm as the vessel does a ritual he hasn’t taught them: ‘Big Sis? Is the little Lamb trying to resurrect their slain kin? They don’t have enough devo—‘

*The blood forms a shadow in the shape of the Lamb, then rises up to reveal—a goat? They have black fur, a purple cape, and a crown all too similar to the Lamb’s except purple.*

Followers: …what?

Narinder: ‘What?!’

*Lamb walked up and nearly headbutted the Goat’s stomach, letting out a muffled groan.*

Goat/“Big Sis”: Harder than you thought, huh?

Lamb, muffled: …mmmyes…

G/BS: I told you not to start on Very Hard mode! *The Goat looks around at the mess that is the Lamb’s base camp.* But, nope—you just had to beat my first run in medium mode.

Follower 1: Who’s this???

Follower 2: The Lamb’s sister, I guess?

Lamb: They’re dumb, they are so dumb when I’m not around.

Goat: Yeaaaaah. That doesn’t go away in Hard, Medium, or Easy mode.

*The Lamb and the Goat walk a bit away.*

Goat: There’s this setting—*makes vague motions in the air, to the followers*—here that makes it so time doesn’t pass on crusades. You won’t get any devotion while you’re gone, but they won’t starve either. Till you unlock the outhouse, you will have to clean up their poop.

Lamb: Isn’t that cheating?

Goat: This is your first time playing and you’re struggling. The game’s supposed to be fun. Plus, the devs wouldn’t put it in to not be used.

———————————————————————

[Note. I haven’t played Cult of the Lamb.]

[abrakuxas]

I watched the Penguin and it's a cool crime drama and all that, it's just... Not about the penguin. And what sucks is that it's clearly intentional up to this point. Everything I hear from the guys behind it is how much they want to get away from the comic book aspects of this.... Comic book adaptation.

I don't know why the fuck it has become the norm that Batman should not follow the comic book at all?

New Batman cartoon? No batfamily, they are random kids with two lines in a single episode. Every character is either not the character you know or a very diluted version of them (I'll ignore Harley on this one since her creator is the one behind it and I'm not gonna argue with how he deals with his OC)

A series about the stylish Mafia Boss supervillain, famous for his monocle, tophat and umbrella? Well, we kept the Mafia part but everything else has to go INCLUDING HIS FUCKING NAME!! Not only the moniker but the ACTUAL name. He can't be called Cobblepot because that's too much for this adaptation of a supervillain. The most they could do is give him a limp and a purple car. Yay! Let's work now on a prestige tv series about darth vader except he is actually an astronaut and maybe he could hold a red pen at some point so we can show how much we pretend to love the character idk. Maybe if we're feeling bold we might make him breath funny in a scene.

What sucks is that the show is not bad. It is objectively well written, well directed, it is good television, it just never had to be about the fucking Penguin. Just write a show about crime with your oc. Can you imagine if The Bear was sold as an adaptation of Sponge Bob "just more realistic and with less cartoony stuf. We deal with the life of Bob Stevens (we thought 'Sponge' didn't sound too real) dealing with the dramas of working on a kitchen and his traumas after being abuse at the 5 star restaurant 'Krusty's'".

It would be stupid as fuck and it's stupid as fuck for Batman as well, but it has been done so much that we're literally going to watch the second part of a Joker origin story film where Harley Quinn is Lady Gaga. Which is so fucking funny to me because not only the best Joker stories define him as a guy with a very ambiguous past and origin but Harley is very specifically her psychiatrist turned insane by abuse. That's the story. What you are showing me isn't that, it's just a story about a random loser dressed as a clown. Telling me this is Gotham and name dropping people won't make it an actual adaptation. It's not adapting anything, it's an oc, you're just making ocs and telling an original story.

Every single Batman thing has the "Pokémon is just Ashe in a coma" vibe now and I hate it idk.

I loved The Batman it really worked for me as this promise, this big change in the status quo of crime. Things are getting crazier, the quirkiness are showing and now the old face of old crime is busted giving the chance for actual supervillains to show up and take the city giving Batman a need for new partners and shit like that. I really thought it was a story that wanted to jump from that year two, early batman vibe into actual batman vibe. But now with this first episode of Penguin and even knowing that Reeves is involved with Caped Crusader I just lost any hope of it being actual Batman and I guess we'll just get yet another realistic Batman universe with solo Batman dealing with "the Scarecrow", a regular drug dealer who works with "Poison Ivy" she is the one who plants their weed. Don't forget about "Clay Face", a very ugly henchman to "Oz Cobb", the new regular crime boss. Idk, unless this series changes into actual supervillain territory I very much lost any interest in this universe.

[exdeputysonso]

comic-con wrap-up ✨

Thursday Did the dexter offsite. Honestly not really worth the hour wait, but the shipping container theming was cool!

After that I said no more offsites or lines. The rest of my trip was exhibit floor and panels. I just didn't even try for any big Hall H panels this year. Too much camping. Other panels were pretty easy to get into if you just show up a bit early. I typically sit through one to three panels to make sure I get in and get a good seat for what I actually want to see. So there's a lot of random stuff in here. But a lot of the random stuff was fun! The Todd McFarlane panel had David Dastmalchian as a surprise guest to talk about a new comic he's writing. I'm like 90% sure David waved at me as I was taking pics of him. I was off to the side, towards the front, with not many other people around and I'll just say it was trippy.

Then I was there for the Teacup panel which I knew nothing about except James Wan was producing so thought it'd be cool to check out. And it was!

Friday

Okay, so I reallllly wanted to get into the Dexter panel so I sat through four (4) random panels for this one. You can kind of see my pics get progressively better as I move up seats between panels lol.

The panels were Snowpiercer, "Brave New Warriors" (basically a random guys panel about action roles), "Collider's Ladies Night" (random ladies panel), and "TV Guide Fan Favorites" (just completely random lol). The TV Guide panel was my fave and a lot of fun. Bruce Campbell is always a riot and idk anything about Percy Jackson but Leah Jeffries was adorable. Oh, also back to the ladies panel... shout-out to Katy O'Brian for being a Sinister fan.

Then the main event was the Dexter: Original Sin panel. I was happy enough just for anything Dexter, but then Michael C. Hall showed up as a surprise guest and made my life. They also showed the intro for the new show and it looks great. Everything I heard just makes me extra hyped for it. And hyped about Michael C. Hall narrating. I'm still working out my feelings on the Dexter: Resurrections announcement, will have to wait and hear more on that one haha.

Saturday

Saturday was my see-random-panels-for-actors-i-like day. Jack Quaid, hollywood's good boy (cbb joke I can't resist), was there for the The Safe Man audio drama.

And then Hamish Linklater was there for a panel for voicing Batman: Caped Crusader. My Hamish feelings are resurfacing after this, he's just such an interesting soul and a joy to listen to. Matt Reeves was also there which I guess is pretty cool!!! (But this panel only got vague references to the wider DC universe.)

Sunday

Sunday was just me finishing walking the rest of the floor I hadn't hit yet. And finishing my game of how much chucky merch can I find.

And finally my haul of random stuff I bought off the exhibit floor. <3

[velvetvexations]

I saw a post recently deriding the take that superheroes are inherently fascist, but I think it's complicated.

They DID all come from that seed of vigilante bullshit where they all practically worshipped the cops (except early Superman who didn't spit on them but neither was he especially respectful) and warred against vague Crime as a concept, often represented by "the Underworld" conceptualized in a way that's very familiar to anyone whose seen people rant about antifa.

However, they started to inch away from that in the Bronze Age. It was a very, very gradual process, with some regressions like how post-Crisis Batman swung hard into Gotham being a nightmare of New York at it's worst in the 80s (although that came with plenty of criticism of the cops and elite), but by the time of the MCU it's notable that none of the Avengers fought crime. We could get into how it used a modified version of the Ultimates-set up (which was explicitly designed to be a little fucked, which is something I love about the first two Ultimates minis and especially the second) and that version of Hawkeye and Black Widow who are basically heroic CIA ("wOrLd SeCuRiTy CoUnCiL") assassins played totally straight that then shifts to being a billionaire's world shaping pet project, but at least in terms of vigilantism it takes until Spider-Man for someone to be like, going out at night to stop muggings like a "classic" superhero and I think his age does a lot to dial down the eyebrow you can raise at the fact that he's going up against a gang of ordinary criminals doing ordinary criminal things (just, you know, with scavenged alien tech).

Then we get Daredevil, which takes pains to portray the Kingpin as a very rich man gentrifying neighborhoods and terrorizing the underprivileged. Then season two introduces the Punisher, who I really thought would have already been absolved if you just limit his crusade to the specific mafiosos who killed his family, but despite killing a bunch of mafiosos anyway it still turns out to have been at the behest of a rogue element of the US military - I guess because they just needed a twist. It's hard to stretch out a Punisher story for too long for obvious reasons. Then in season one of the Punisher it's a PMC (including yet more rogue US military).

I didn't watch season two of the Punisher because I'd heard it was going to adapt The Slavers and got really excited, but then it turned out to not adapt The Slavers and I lost all interest. But that makes sense and fits into my thesis here, because even aside from how soul-crushingly bleak The Slavers was, THERE IS NO FUCKING WAY Netflix or Disney or ANYONE would EVER do the window scene, or at least not without changing it to a guy and that really feels like it'd drain the scene of half it's impact. But here we again see concern for optics.

Luke Cage was interesting because by starring an underprivileged Black man on the run for crimes he didn't commit, he was able to fight criminals without it being weird, and what's more they were Black criminals, reinforcing Black people are perfectly capable of being both villains and heroes in a narrative without white people one way or another. This was crucial, since racism is another common element of the problematic soup of traditional superhero narratives.

But while I haven't really been paying attention to cape stuff at all lately, other than that I don't really think there's been a lot that wasn't total sci-fi fantasy bullshit, including the following two Spider-Man movies.

Except, I guess, The Batman (2022). But that movie fucking RULED so it's fine.

[astralartefact]

Placeholder Name for Atarase's Media Diary

Extra Entry 00a - Final Fantasy 14 Endwalker 6.X Patch Series

Synopsis

The Gang Solves a Demon Crusade

The Gang Learns of the Messiest Divorce in the Multiverse

The Gang Ruins their Academic Reputation by Absolutely Botching the Only Interview Humanity Will Ever Have With Their Gods (Gone Wrong) (Gone Blasphemous)

The Gang Does Side Quests at the Other End of the Universe

i wrote this ages ago before dawntrail came out and forgot to post it but i still agree with what i wrote so have fun experiencing some hindsight <3

How much did I know before playing?

I'm playing this game since the end of Heavensward.

Did I like it more than I expected?

As seemingly one of 5 people with healthy expectations in this community I actually did.

Except for---

Since I liked it, here's what I hated about it

Eulogia. Fuck Eulogia. Way to ruin, like, everything.

Who wrote this. I just have some questions. I want to know if you ever once thought, like at all. For your own sake, dear writer responsible for this shlock, I hope YoshiP never reveals your name to the public for you already have a spiritual nemesis that will badmouth you to his absolutely non-sizeable internet audience.

Also, I guess searching for a Pictomancer glam in preparation for Dawntrail also has made me once again aware that the designs for magic armor in this game suck ass, you know I enjoy the subdued but still magical vibe of the art design but to be quite honest I thoroughly dislike most of the armor aesthetic. How are you guys, especially male characters, maining magic jobs with only like 3 glams that aren't long, ugly and/or feminine robes, I knew it was a meme but it's really that bad.

The worst part really is that there's several dozen good outfits where you can literally see the line where the top should have ended - only for them to still extend the cape all the way to the ground for no good reason making the entire piece look like shit. pls yoshi p just loosen the glam restrictions so you just have to have the class unlocked at that level to glam it onto every other class q_q that would take a minimal amount of effort and it would solve world hunger i swear it would q_q

What did this game make me think about?

The place of Redemption, Accountability and Forgiveness in our current age and its relation to our relationship to Religion.

And just so you're aware it's not the fucking God Exodus Story Line that made me think about any of that, no, that shitty story line has not thought a singular second about any of those points.

Specific Impressions that will stick with me

As much as I hate the story of Myths of the Realm the presentation slaps as always, the raids are gorgeous and Soken does what Soken do. (I'm value neutral on the Raid's difficulty or whatever the community decides to care about these days)

The Left Ending of Sil'dih with the tea table surrounded by flowers (i think it's the left one?) that place is so fckin pretty q_q and i love nanamooo

Outstanding Audio

Basically all of Myths of the Realm except for the Final Boss theme which I hate on principle because Fuck Eulogia

hurts bc dawn of a new era is was my favorite ff14 theme q_q

Troian Beauty in D Minor i don't think it's d minor

Favorite Character

KRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILE does she count she's barely in it

Nophica with a Gun (the Nophica that wasn't ruined by Myths of a Realm)

Paper Menphina

My Hrothgar Barbariccia OC I wrote to be my wol's shard of the void

And I did like Zero!

Favorite Arc/Story Line

I liked the Void Arc, I know People are big mad about it but I think it's fine! I only think it should have been optional, basically exactly like Stormblood's Four Lords, a Trial Series with a few Dungeons in between - then it wouldn't have had the burden of leading right into Dawntrail (a contrast so stark they couldn't even have tried to smoothen the transition) and people wouldn't have expected Zero to stay immediately relevant too.

Also some of the minor-ish quest lines were cute :)

Favorite Set Piece

I love Lymllaen's arena, it's kind of simple but so effective.

The final trash mobs in Thaleia :)))

Really cool Area with interesting mob design :)))))

A glimpse of what could have been :)))))))))) HOW IS THE FINAL TRASH MOB AREA PRETTIER THAN THE FINAL BOSS ROOM

Favorite Scene

Zero giving Golbez the chance to repent.

Best Performance (I played with JP voices)

AEGISU OBU HARUONE!!!!!!!!!

every single one of the gods was great, but not all of them, if you catch my drift (get it, fuck eulogia)

German Localization Notes

If you know me you know that I think the German FFXIV Localization is better than the English one and it still is and it will continue to be. I gladly pass on meme-y item descriptions if it means that I can expect the translation to not just write whatever it feels like at any given moment. (also, as I have expressed before I can't stand english olden speech writing, thank god the german tl doesn't do all that)

--- ENTERING THE PRETENTIOUS SECTION OF THIS ENTRY ---

What about this game gives me Hope for the future of gaming?

I have nothing really to say, I'm just so excited for Pictomancer you guys, every time I think about it I'm flushed with immense joy. I didn't think they would do it, but it's real. It's actually happening.

I guess what gives me Hope about that is that Yoshi P didn't get too lost in FF16's Fantasy Realism, because drab fantasy aesthetics is truly the worst outcome of lore culture.

What about this game makes me scared for the future of gaming?

You see, there is this thing that has happened since the common consciousness has deemed that Shadowbringers is indeed that good and it's that people kind of immediately turned around to say, that actually, FF14 - WITH THE EXCEPTION OF THE BAD BAD STORMBLOOD WHICH IS BAD!!!! - has always been good.

After all Heavensward had that one quest line we all liked, remember, and the one dude died and we all really cared about him, right right right???

And while you are allowed to picture me dismissively pointing at your copy of Heavensward while I'm saying this I don't actually have that big of a take over Heavensward, mainly because I'm not particularly interested in reexamining it since I'm still not over how wildly that writer fumbled FF16's entire narrative point for 'emotional storytelling' or whatever that ending was about, the only thing I will say is that People always bring up the death as this big meaningful thing that's so impactful and how dare you not care about it as if Heavensward hasn't had two other pretty essential characters die for absolutely no good reason apart from conveniently getting rid of a character that would be a hassle to keep up with or setting up character development for another.

Anyways, the problem I actually have was that middle bit, the text in bold where people feel this insistent need to point out that they do indeed know that Stormblood's story is "bad."

But we all know that. It's one of those opinions everyone already shares with each other, because it's pretty obvious. Literally everyone, even and especially the ones who still like it, know that the story leaves at least a little bit to be desired - because different from what certain people online try to make you believe most people are indeed critical of the things they like. A lot of people just don't feel like loudly critizising every little thing they have a problem with, especially when overall they're still enjoying themselves. Some people call it being fun at a party. And if you're constantly nagging, you're not fun at a party - it's not a safe space full of snowflakes, you're just a complainer and that's why nobody wants to talk to you.

It's not that insightful to see that Stormblood didn't quite do it. If you were alone with him in a room even Yoshi-P would admit that Stormblood 'wasn't optimal' or whatever he would say, he's not that stupid, he's just professional enough not to throw his writers under the bus just to bad mouth his own product. And yet there's this certain subset of people that really really needs you to know that the expansion where they cried because that one guy they shipped their oc with died is really really good and yet the other one that's split in half for no reason is really really bad - as if it's something that's needed to be said. As if it's Insightful Commentary we all needed to hear.

I will make this sound more dramatic than I think it really is, but I think the critical reception of Shadowbringers has emboldened the FFXIV community to take their personal (emotional) reaction to a piece of media as proof that a thing is good. I think some link between "I liked it" and "It is good" has been strengthened in some people's minds and some of those people have started to use that for bad by using it as a weapon upgrade in the usual endless complaining about things everyone agrees is bad.

Basically, This thing is Bad has become This thing is Bad, unlike the thing which is clearly Good because I liked it (and look, everyone agrees with me)

Except of course you can like bad things. The Game Awards nominated FF16 for Best Narrative.

And that just makes for repeated situations where people will say shit like "but it's so good because it's bittersweet" about Myths of the Realm - which, great, happy you had an emotional response to all of that - but that's also kind of the bare minimum you should achieve when you decide to kill off characters that are so important to the setting you choose a diety for your character before you choose a name. The Twelve Leaving being sad is Basic Empathy, to me that's not some kind of writing success.

Sadly whoever mangled this sad excuse for a storyline also decided to make sure the exodus of the Twelve somehow left less impact on the game world than fucking YoRHa:Dark Apocalypse and there you people keep complaining about it despite it being a cross-over storyline where something like that shouldn't be expected.

What I want to make clear by pointing this out is that the problem with that isn't that people like something that's bad actually - you can like Myths of the Realm, it's fine - and it's not even something more profound sounding like 'people become "too attached" to a piece of media to the point of being personally insulted when it's critizised.'

Because to that point I say a) of course people feel weird when a thing they like is being bad mouthed that's just a normal human reaction (you know, one of the things art is about, you generally create something to be reacted to) and I don't like how that continually crops up as a rebuttal to people becoming "defensive" over "something meaningless" (nice way to refer to art btw) as if growing attached to a piece of art is something to be ashamed of - and also b): people on the internet overstate the value and necessity of public critique. (not saying it's not important but some people seem to think only their critique alone is the sole way a creator can grow which... i regret to inform you that unsolicited advice is rarely as helpful as you would like it to be, even if it is "correct".)

I think the problem is that these 'criticisms' don't come out of a genuine "empathy" for the thing they like - unlike some people seem to have convinced themselves - because if that was the case maybe we would actually get not necessarily a productive discussion - none of us is working on this game after all (and honestly it's okay to stop pretending that somebody who does listens) - but it would be a more interesting one for sure. I can't tell you what to like (as much as I would love to), but I can encourage you to have more meaningful introspections into what you love than to blindly accept those tired talking points everyone is repeating at nauseam.

And with more meaningful I don't actually mean 'deep' it just means being honest to yourself and your feelings, even and especially if it is something completely mundane.

Because I think a lot of this is the opposite - this is people parroting common points about the thing that is popular to be part of the in-group with as little personal stake as possible - and by punching down on the out-group you can strengthen your place in the crowd, your social capital. It's bullying masquerading as 'valid criticisms', or maybe even Nerd Populism. if only we had an alliance raid series about that.

The Ramble Section where I get to actually talk about what I thought about

I would love nothing more than to 'valid criticism' all over Myths of the Realm - but that would take 15 pages of a Google Doc and I think down here is really not the place.

It's just sad to see the Twelve, Aglaia, Euphrosyne and 3/4ths of Thaleia be absolutely wasted for a shitty resolution that spits in the face not only of our beloved made-up history facts known as Lore but also the entire premise of ARR to Stormblood. But hey, at least it's bittersweet am i right

Anyways, let's Ramble about Ancient Greek Pronounciation.

I haven't had Ancient Greek in School (I could have, but Latin was already old and boring enough for me, thanks) so I had to scrape together how to pronounce Euphrosyne just so I can be annoying about it and as much as I want to say Oi-pro-sü-neh (I think English Speakers don't have the german ü sound, it's basically the same as in the french word rue) because it's much easier to pronounce, Ancient Greek makes a difference between Eu and Oi and I fail to understand how the Eu sounds no matter how many times I listen to it.

By which I mean, you can pretend it's You-froze-a-knee as much as you want, it's wrong and you sound foolish.

[lornrocks]

I’m watching that Caped Crusader cartoon and 1. It slaps and I think they did a fairly good job imitating that Batman: the animated series look (mostly in the backgrounds, the character models are a little too clean, probably due to being puppet animation instead of hand drawn if I had to guess??)

I do like how it’s sort of an AU set in the (20s? 30s?) and that they’ve changed things around for funsies like making Penguin a woman or Harley of Asian descent.

And I also appreciate how many different body types the female characters have.

And hey, lesbians!!! And it’s not treated as a bad thing! It’s like Bridgerton where everything is race blind (except this show treats queer folks as normal, unlike Bridgerton)

I know some fucking nerd dudes threw a fit when they first revealed stuff from this show, and it makes me pleased watching it now what stuff they hate and going like “hahahaha suck a dick, this show deserves plus size women and poc character bends and gender bends and shit like that” (cause like if you get mad, it’s not like there isn’t 292938 versions of Batman in every single form of media to pick from)

(Also cat woman has been black since eartha kitt played her and the Gotham show made riddler and penguin gay for each other and also fuck you)

[macawbre]

"Ha! Comfy, cozy, ain't it?" Ignoring the hiccup, and the amateur mistake of not, uh... sweeping before sleeping. From what he gathered, Cynthia wasn't too difficult to please, since she seemed to all but lean into the idea of napping on a plush patch of grass. "Huh. They are, are they?" He kinda liked when they were around. That is, the kids from the future. They were a rambunctious sort, and he thought that for all the terribly big things that weighed in on their lives, they made up for it in ripples.

"Huuuuuuuh? Well at least they picked names that were kind of-sort of in the same alley as their old ones! Like imagine if they went by Dark Hyacinth the Third and uh...Loretta, or something!" What was in a name, really? He wasn't the kind of person to ask why because why would anyone do anything? 'Cause they wanted to! Or they were forced at knife point! Or something touchy-feely, to that extent. He even managed to pick up a surname for no reason except for the funnies. "Are you gonna follow in pursuit? Cyn... Cyril? Caped crusader?" He snickered, thinking back to that delightful wormhole of a time, where Shepherds put up barracks full of fresh faces and war veterans alike. (With arms thrown back, the sun kissing their heads, and kids the size of adults running through the barracks.)

"Ohhhh! Gerome's here too, huh? Y'know he iiiiiis a bit too young to be retiring, but maybe he had a point. You two coulda retired together instead of getting into whatever..." He gestured nondescriptly towards the towering walls of Garreg Mach that hovered in the distance. "...This is."

He waved held up his pinkie, twirling it like Lissa and Maribelle would before tea. "Of course, kid. He won't hear a peep from me." Pressed into the promise was a creepy smile that didn't match his voice one bit.

"Well, you know, a kid's still a kid, no matter how old they get. And no matter what time they've clawed themselves away from." His voice didn't teeter obnoxiously as it usually did, floating between thoughtful and nonchalant. He pulled his arms behind his neck— reclining so thoroughly he could have been dead— trying not to press too hard on this bruise of hers that he didn't know how to heal. "I can't talk for her, but I don't think you can do that either. Can't say you know what's going through her head 'til you hear it from her, y'know?"

"Oh, me? Nyahaha!" To this day, he still wondered about that. What in the world was his reason to be here? "To be honest, I just figured out where the other Shepherds were disappearing to and followed in pursuit. I'm so used to abandoning my so-called homes, but I guess I'm not done haunting Chrom's quite yet."

dirt naps

[zae82]

Hanging with Friends

Marvel & DC Bros having a nice time. Clark, Bruce, Sam, Steve and Bucky.

They brought their wives well except for Clark and Sam. Because Lois and Maria were obviously busy working.

The Waynes have a rare night out and about. What is this Date Night thing? I thought it’s something people do before marriage during courtship…

Capwidow with their PDA. Aaaah my Babiesss…

Also Bucky and Wanda Barnes😍

The Difference between the Waynes and the Rogers. The Rogers aren’t always in business mode. Steve and Nat enjoying the moment during the Festival, writing their wishes on a tree while Bruce and Talia are busy with their phones getting updates on their bidding war against LexCorp.

Seriously guys?? Chess? This is what happens when you marry Batman and you’re not Catwoman. The passionate sexy vibes only work with BatCat. This is like if Steve marries Peggy or what we call Canon🙄. Boooring… no Passion, pretty ordinary. Meh… And I really like Talia. She’s so pretty, elegant and posh just I guess there’s no sexual chemistry? Even though she and Bruce look good together, they’re just not that Hot couple. I thought they would have an epic love story so that was Hmmm 🤔 interesting. But I also wonder if any other woman who ended up being Mrs Bruce Wayne will have a boring marriage as well, especially since he’s more into his Caped Crusader lifestyle. Or maybe he would have been happier with Selina?

[divinespill]

dark magic in those deep brown eyes

Pairing: Jonathan Crane/Edward Nygma

Characters: Jonathan Crane, Edward Nygma, Diedre Vance, Nina Damfino

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Read on Ao3 here.

—

“This wouldn’t have happened if you’d let me bring the girls along,” Edward sighs.

“I don’t believe even Query and Echo could rein in your stupid decisions.” Jonathan replies coldly.

“I see, so this is my fault now!”

“You’re the one who got us locked in the fucking closet,” Jonathan snaps.

“What else was I supposed to do? It was this or Arkham,” Edward replies, wrinkling his nose. “You really should be thanking me. I don’t know how I managed to fit us both in here, what with your ridiculous limbs.”

“How sweet of you,” Jonathan says dryly. He doesn’t argue the fact though, most likely because he does in fact take up most of the space thanks to his height, arms crossed lest they hit the cold piping that runs along the back wall.

“You’d think the Gotham Museum of Antiquities would have bigger storage rooms, given their grandiosity in everything else,” Edward muses. “Alas.”

Edward had teamed up with the Scarecrow to take over the museum for logical reasons; the doctor wanted to test a new strain of his toxin, and Edward wanted the new emerald on display that had been unveiled last week. Jonathan had scoffed at him for that, of course. Anyhow, it had all been going quite smoothly until Batman showed up to ruin their fun as he was wont to do. With no time to get to the ground floor and unwilling to risk a broken leg by jumping out the window, Edward had made the split second decision to grab Jonathan and pull them both into a storage closet, flinging a smoke bomb—green, obviously—through the window he refused to jump out of for good measure, hoping the police and the caped crusader would assume they’d made their escape.

And in fact it had worked, as they waited with bated breath until the sounds of gruff voices and heavy boots faded away. It was quite brilliant, really. Perfect improvisation.

…Except for the fact that the closet was apparently able to lock on its own.

When Edward had been sure that the coast was clear he’d gone to turn the doorknob, casually at first, then more and more frantically as the reality of the situation dawned on him.

Jonathan had snapped at him to hurry up and let him out, and Edward had shot right back that if Jonathan wanted to try, he was welcome to.

Jonathan did so, and when he failed to produce results either a great deal of arguing ensued, continuing all the way to the present.

“Look, let me call the girls and we’ll be out of here before you know it.” Edward digs into his pocket for his phone, dialing up Query but unable to resist rolling his eyes at Jonathan, who huffs.

“Childish,” Jonathan grumbles.

“Oh, whatever.”

“Boss?” Query’s voice is a welcome sound. “I was about to call you. You’re late for poker. Heist went wrong?”

Ah, in his emotional duress Edward had nearly forgotten about their weekly game night. “Indeed, I'm afraid we might have to postpone. Our favorite vigliante showed up and we had to improvise. He thinks we’re halfway across the city by now.”

“I’m going to take a guess and say that they’re wrong about that.”

“Correct. We are in a closet.”

There’s a pause. Edward thinks he hears a snicker in the background, a distinctly Echo noise. He’ll have to have a word with her later about proper respect. He pays them too much to be laughed at.

“Sorry, what?” Query asks.

“We’re locked in a storage closet in the museum,” Edward repeats. “Second floor, left wing. So, if you would be so kind as to come assist us in getting out of said closet, it would be appreciated. Do not ask how it happened.”

Murmuring on the other end of the line. “Alright, but it might be a minute.”

Edward can feel dread creeping up his spine. “Query, exactly how long is a minute?”

“Well, several minutes.” Query pauses, the way she does when delivering news she knows Edward won’t be happy to hear. “Probably… twenty.”

Edward makes a noise somewhere between a cough and a frustrated whine. “You can’t get here any faster?”

“Going off what you said, Bat’s on the prowl, boss,” Query says, and Edward can practically hear her shrug of what can I do? “We gotta take the long way round if you don’t want to be stuck there for days while we sit around behind bars.”

“Fine.” Edward pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just make it as quick as you can.”

“You got it.”

He hangs up, cursing under his breath. Jonathan raises a brow. “Trouble?”

“They’re taking a detour,” Edward says snippily. “We’ll have to coexist a while longer yet.”

“Coño,” Jonathan hisses.

“Oh, now that's just vulgar,” Edward complains. “Where’s you learn that? You’re Colombian.” He’s still unused to hearing Jonathan’s Spanish—he pitches his voice differently than when he speaks English, and it’s more attractive than Edward will ever admit aloud.

“Colombian-Ecuadorian,” Jonathan corrects, “but if you must know, I picked it up during a brief and awful stay in Miami.”

“What on Earth were you doing in Miami?” Edward is thoroughly taken aback.

“Had a new formula and wanted to see how it interacted with heat,” Jonathan explains. “Gotham isn’t very conductive for that, and Batman was on my tail that month anyway, so I took a… vacation, you could call it.”

“Ah, a nice relaxation vacation of terrorizing the good Cubans of Florida. And picking up their slang, it seems.”

Jonathan sighs.

They lapse into silence for the first time since discovering they were trapped. In this proximity Edward is hyper aware of every movement the other makes, every time the rhythm of his breathing changes. He’s worked with Jonathan before, sometimes successfully and sometimes not, but this is new. It’s not odd for them to argue, but the circumstances have set them both on edge, forced them closer—literally. Though being crammed in this closet isn’t ideal, Edward finds that despite the snark and cold attitude the man exudes, he isn’t at all opposed to Jonathan’s presence. It’s rather nice to have someone match him wit for wit.

At this point the quiet has grown uncomfortable, so Edward does what he does best: he talks.

“I should be collecting my winnings from Query and Echo right now,” he says wistfully. Jonathan raises an eyebrow, and though it was likely unintentional Edward jumps at the opportunity to elaborate. “It’s game night. Poker, blackjack, the whole nine yards. They can hold their own against me, but of course I stay one step ahead at all times.”

“Should’ve known you gamble,” Jonathan remarks.

“On occasion.” Edward shrugs. “Most people are hopeless at it, though, so I’m rather selective.” He tilts his head. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to take that chance.”

Jonathan steps forward. “I think you’d find that I am not so easily defeated.”

He’s close enough now that Edward has to tilt his head up to meet his eyes, barely visible in the darkness. Still, he can see how they burn, intense and almost—but only almost—warm.

Edward shifts slightly and manages to knock over a broom, startling him enough that he unconsciously moves toward Jonathan, which means he is now pressed up against him. He realizes quite suddenly that they’ve never touched before. He swallows, able to feel every slow breath that Jonathan takes. He’s awfully thin, his ribs practically protrude, and Edward sort of wants to run his hands across them—

Jonathan makes a choked sound, and Edward is yanked back into reality with the revelation that he has, in fact, begun to trail his hands up Jonathan’s sides.

Shit. He hadn’t meant to actually do that. “Um,” he says intelligently, removing his fingers from where they were brushing against the itchy burlap of Jonathan’s costume. He doesn’t get far, however, before Jonathan’s own hands come up to encircle his wrists, holding them in place.

Edward shivers.

“How long did those ladies of yours say they’d be?” Jonathan asks, tone level as always but laced with something darker.

“Oh, about ten more minutes or so,” Edward hums thoughtfully.

In unison, they look at the storage closet door.

They look back at each other.

—

Diedre Vance is having a thoroughly interesting night.

She’d been worried when Edward hadn’t shown up for game night, but for the first few minutes she’d simply assumed he was held up by some sort of complication. It was a known fact that working with Scarecrow came with quite the risk. After a while, though, she and Nina had both realized that something more was going on.

Edward’s call had confirmed that, so here she is, parking the car and stepping out with a crowbar and a length of rope slung over her shoulder. Nina follows behind, shotgun in hand, because one can never be too prepared. There are guards all over the place, probably from paranoia that the Riddler and the Scarecrow will return to finish the job, but it’s easy enough to sneak past the fools and they only have to knock out two. Diedre and Nina have barely broken a sweat by the time they start scaling the museum wall.

Hoisting herself up into the spacious room on the second floor, Diedre looks around for the closet her unfortunate boss is trapped in. She catches sight of it to the left, barely visible in the darkness, and she notes with some alarm that it clearly wasn’t built to fit even one person comfortably, and certainly not two.

She wonders if either of them are still alive, or if she’ll open the door to find two corpses choked to death by their own egos.

“Boss?” She calls out.

“Query!” Comes the muffled reply. “There you are. Now get us out of here.”

Diedre passes the rope off to Nina so that she can tie it around the windowsill for an easier descent. Turning back to the door, she grips the crowbar in both hands.

“I’m breaking this shit,” she warns Edward and Jonathan. Adjusting her stance, she brings the crowbar down on the doorknob and hears the satisfying crunch of a cylinder breaking. Her boss and the Scarecrow come tumbling out, suspiciously sweaty and unkempt.

“Well,” Edward pants, trying to be discreet about buttoning his shirt back up and failing extraordinarily, “that was an illuminating experience.”

“About damn time,” Jonathan grumbles, though the gruffness is somewhat negated by the way his hair is mussed in a way that could only have resulted from it being pulled on.

“Sorry for the wait, boss,” Nina says, having finished with the rope, and Diedre notices how her shoulders shake with the effort of holding back laughter.

Jonathan at least has the decency to nod in their direction. “Query. Echo.” It’s likely the most thanks they’ll get tonight, Diedre thinks bemusedly.

“Hi Doctor Crane,” she and Nina reply together. Edward is already clambering down from the window, and Diedre knows he only moves that awkwardly and quickly when he’s flustered.

The rope holds for all of them, thankfully, and once they’re safely on the ground again Jonathan immediately begins walking in the opposite direction of Diedre’s car.

“Are you really going to walk all the way back?” Edward asks incredulously. Diedre’s head whips around to look at him, quite shocked. Is he… offering the Scarecrow a ride? Her boss is many things, but being generous is not one of them. If there was any doubt of what happened in that storage closet, it’s gone now. Nina must have come to the same conclusion, if the elbow digging into Diedre’s side and the snicker by her ear is any indication.

Jonathan stops, turning back to look at the trio and shrugging. “Why not?”

Edward scoffs as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s freezing out.”

“And?”

Edward frowns. “Don’t be stubborn. Get in the car.”

Jonathan runs a hand through his hair, sighing. “Have a good night, Edward.” He stalks off quickly before Edward can protest.

Diedre glances between his retreating form and her boss, who is standing still as she’s ever seen him. He blinks, coming back to himself with a visible jolt.

“Have a good night,” he mutters. “Really. As if he… means that.” He gestures at Diedre and Nina. “Alright, let’s go. I was promised poker and I intend to collect.”

Diedre tosses her keys in the air and catches them, then acquiesces. No use in getting the Riddler any more riled up, especially not if she wants a chance at winning the betting pool tonight.

Edward sniffs as he slides into the passenger seat, Jonathan’s words clearly still affecting him. “See if I work with that man again. Of all the infuriating, self-righteous…”

Diedre catches Nina’s eye through the rear-view mirror and mouths the word idiots, affectionate and exasperated as always.

[kassofchaos]

Getting the Facts Straight

So, after what seems to have been a super long hiatus, I'm back with another chapter of the fic! Hope the wait wasn't unbearable, ya'll.

The Batcave. Perhaps it’s a childish name for a 31-year old billionaire to adopt for his alter-ego’s base of operations and armory, but there’s no denying it sounds cool. To the younger, more impressionable guest, the moniker certainly succeeds in its wow factor, not to mention the awe of finding himself there.

Batman doesn’t have many guests down here. It’s usually just him and Alfred, maybe the occasional criminal; but never someone like Ben. “Why do you have a dinosaur up here?” Speak of the devil.

Batman turns to face his guest, looking to see the green-vested lad standing next to one of the giant cave’s many attractions: a life-size model of a Tyrannosaur. Granted, a very old depiction.

“I came across it during an old mission. Decided to keep it.” He responds. Easy, succinct.

“It isn’t even accurate, how old is this thing?”

“I don’t know. These things don’t come with information plaques.”

A silence wafts over them both. Even for just that second, the silence is palpable.

“Man, hate that.” Ben responds. “I get that it’s just more work, but I can’t ever see something like this as finished without a plaque like that, y’know?”

Another pause, this one slightly longer than the last. Batman sighs; so this is the kind of person he’s let in. Could be worse.

“We can mess around with my decorations later. Tell me about the watch.”

“What, this old thing? Had it since I was ten.”

“And how long ago was that?”

“By now? Eeehh, twelve, maybe thirteen years? I got it late into my tenth, so I can’t know for certain. I don’t just have the exact date on me, right-”

“Explain what it does.” Batman’s order cuts through Ben’s rant before it could even begin. Ben gulps; he’s really dealing with THE BATMAN here.

“Well…” He lets out a half-hearted chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “Where do you want me to start?”

“You know where I want you to start.”

Ben takes a step back, looking away for just a second, shrinking at even the slightest hint of intimidation.

“Well… this-” He puts up his left arm, letting the light of the Batcave fall upon the device attached to his wrist, its green-and-black dial gleaming with the bright. “-is the Omnitrix. I don’t know everything about it myself, either, but I know how to use it, and I’ve been able to clue together some information on it after so long.”

Batman listens on, a notepad in his hands, ready to jot down anything important.

“From what I’ve gathered, this is alien technology. Within it are the samples of ten different alien species. I can choose which one I want to transform into by-” To demonstrate, he taps a small button on the device’s side facing him, watching the dial rise just slightly, projecting a holographic black silhouette of a four-armed humanoid. Ben grabs onto the dial’s side and turns it left, watching as the silhouette is replaced with another, this one of a shorter creature resembling a crab. “-turning the dial. When I press it down, then.. I suspect you can guess from there.”

“Only ten?” Batman asks amidst note-taking.

“Ten.” Ben nods. “An arsenal that compliments itself well. I don’t know if it’s a coincidence or not, but the choice of aliens on the watch feels planned, for lack of a better word. Intelligently designed, in a sense.”

“Lead me through each one.”

“I don’t know that I want to .” Ben finally interjects. “Sorry if that’s rude, sir, but… I’m not just going to tell you all of my strengths and weaknesses.”

Batman smiles. “There it is.” Batman waves Ben forward, leading him further. Down a set of stairs, to face a ginormous onslaught of computer monitors of varying sizes, all heralding a lengthy desk and a couple of simple revolving chairs. “I think I know why you’re here.”

“I’d be surprised if you didn’t.”

Batman nods, turning to type up on the keyboard, facing the smallest monitor screen just above said keyboard as if it were a simple laptop or home computer. After a few clicks, a picture comes up on one of the largest monitors; the scowling visage of a bitter, scarred, and somewhat wrinkled face, adorned with wide red goggles and cybernetics around the sides of his face.

“You’ve come here for him.”

Ben looks up at the display, not needing any more than a second to recognize that face. He nods. “Dr. Aloysius James. Insists on the name ‘Dr. Animo’. Sounds tacky.”

“This coming from ‘Ben Ten’.” “This coming from ‘The Batman’?”

A pause wafts over the room, broken only by the sounds of keyboard keys being pressed rapidly.

“Fair point.” Batman turns Ben’s attention out to another screen. Several dates from the last three months all laid out uniform on the monitor. “There are the days Dr. Animo has been seen publicly for the last three months. Anywhere from Bellwood to DC, even all the way down in Texas or Kansas. Most recently, he’s converged here.”

Ben nods. “That’s part of why I’m here. I heard Animo was coming by to visit. He and I have something to settle.” Ben narrows his eyes, taking a look at each date. September 7th, September 17th, October 7th, and so on. The consistency drags on. “All dates ending on a 7.”

“The question is… why.”

“Why? Dr. Animo’s often like this… kinda weird around numbers.” “This isn’t just Dr. Animo, Ben.” Batman reassures him, and another monitor lights up with even more dates. September 3rd, September 9th, September 15th, on and on.

“These ones are divisible by three.” Ben confirms.

Batman nods. “These are all dates pertaining to an enemy of mine, Bane. Once again, from various cities all over the United States. I’m positive these have a connection, and I have a name to go off of, but…” That’s when the caped crusader hears the slam of a button and a flash of green light envelops Ben. He turns around quickly to make sense of the commotion, only to behold an entirely new figure having taken Ben’s place: an orange, crab-like thing easily standing above three feet tall, and with a massive head to take up most of that height.

The creature waves one of his pincers, using its other to point to the belt it was wearing right underneath its head; the dial of ben’s omnitrix on full display at the front of the iron strap. “Worry not.” He speaks in a slightly deeper, trilling voice with the hint of a british stiff-upper-lip. “I thought I’d swap over to another more… intellectually gifted form.”

“What do you call this one?” Batman asks rhetorically, not expecting the crab to answer with “Brainstorm, actually”. Upon hearing that, he lets out a sigh and returns his focus to the information at hand.

Before he can get another word in, Brainstorm interrupts.

“Mayhaps it is worth noting every date of Dr. Animo’s appearance ends with a 7, with the exception of any days where it is the 27th. Divisible by three, just like every appearance attributed to your ‘Bane’ figure.”

“Right.” Batman nods, then looks to all of Bane’s dates for a similar pattern. September 6th, missing entirely. September 12th, the very same. “Not a single even number on this list. Divisible by 2.”

“A hint to another cohort in this scheme?” Brainstorm adds. “Or perhaps we’ve fallen into a purposely set rabbithole? This could all be an elaborate ruse; a red herring, if you will.”

“Even if it is-” Batman quickly asserts, “-I can’t ignore the fact that it might not be. If this is intentional, we’re step further into finding the reason behind all this.

“Does that reason mayhaps include that thing that attacked us on the street?” Brainstorm’s thoughts flicker back to just a few hours ago, having been assaulted by that large, somewhat mechanical purple beast. An alien? Mayhaps.

“I don’t know. He seemed more intent on your watch than anything else… still, we can’t strike the idea.”

“Today is the 16th of December. If the pattern holds true-” Brainstorm adds, “-and if Dr. Animo truly is in Gotham, we will see him tomorrow. We best be prepared for such.” Brainstorm gives the dial on his belt a firm press, and with the same flash of green light, Ben returns to normal.

“If you want me to rest here, I will. I don’t mind sleeping on couches. Point is, we should be prepared.”

“Indeed. We should.”

[handlewcaare]

Trauma was an indistinguishable characteristic for some. Not all, but some.

Like a drug, it was inhibited or it was amplified in demeanor. Some preferred to wear their bleeding hearts on their sleeves, others kept it tucked away in their coat pockets. Even in the midst of a dimly lit meeting room—The detective never understood why, it caused a strain to some peoples’ eyes—he could catch the slightest of lines that betrayed his peer’s discretions (or lack thereof).

The newest recruit was no different.

For comparison, Metal Bat is all attitude, barking at Sitch in the midst of the meeting, but his posture would slump over a chair and kick his feet atop of the table. Irritation and caution about being late for his little sister’s school play would often be a greeting. Yet, his arms never folded and there was no friend to accompany him.

The newest recruit—the Demon Cyborg, he was dubbed—was as guarded as the definition would put it. His mechanical arms would fold, securing the humming core trapped within his pleural cavity. Such private furor would only be reserved for someone who spoke out of line (not often, but it has happened) or he would entirely let the wires within his deltoid plating tense.

Once, the detective let his eyes stray too long. As soon as he felt the singeing caution of neon diadems lock onto him, he feigned immediate disinterest and lit up a cigarette.

Shelter was a natural response to guarding a bleeding heart. Said bleeding heart came in the strange form of a bald man wearing a mustard onesie who asked questions even Badd wasn’t bold enough to ask himself. The detective was joking about caped crusaders being part of the HA, but if Tatsumaki could run around without pants, judgment should be reserved.

“Shit!”

The hiss past teeth managed to inch its way from the mental list of chore the Detective had established for himself. His brow arched when he observed the caped Crusader vigorously Pat down his pockets, his mechanical marvel of a friend looking just as excited as he was.

“The coupon—! It—!” high risk red gloves, ones passable for washing dishes, laconically fished out his wallet and began to haphazardly toss expired cards into his friend’s outstretched palm. “—Did I leave it in the meeting??”

“I can go check-!” The Demon Cyborg sounded just like his age; an excitable nineteen year old who hadn’t fully grasped what being an adult entailed. Just as he swiveled to charge and search aimlessly for a piece of paper in a dimly lit room.

“Excuse me,” the detective’s interjection was as phantasmic as the smoke at the end of his cigarette, “you’re missing a coupon?”

In an instant, that guard returned. What excitability perished under the iron glare the detective was subjected to. Did you steal it? Was what the kid looked like he wanted to declare, but knew it was too ridiculous to take seriously.

Fortune came in the crusader’s sheepish murmur, “yeah, but hey- I can just go get it, it’s notta big deal.”

“It’ll be a hard find,” the detective remarked as he fished for his own leather wallet. It’s trauma just as extensive as his favorite black pants he stitched up constantly after his assignments. “You’d think they didn’t have enough money to pay for lighting in there.”

The laugh the crusader emitted was less than graceful, moreso tender over the aspect of him needing to use said coupon.

“Which store is it?”

“E-Z Mart,” just as the Crusader seemed to decline the offer—don’t worry about it, man—his brows raised when he was presented with a coupon that was 50% off all meat products. “No, it’s-!”

“I don’t shop in that place anyways,” the retort was enough to stun the duo, “I usually just get spam mail from them.”

“Did you used to shop there?”

“Only once,” the detective said, “and then my agency got torn to shreds while I was gone.”

The Crusader’s demeanor never flickered into anything but wonder as to how this would somehow backfire comedically. At least it was much more considerate than what heat the demon cyborg brought in his gaze alone. Once he accepted it, however, his incredulity simmered into astonishment.

“Hey, look-! This is a better deal than the one we got!” As those brown eyes lingered toward the detective, there was something borderline childlike in the crusader’s grin. It was unabashed, even when his company didn’t reflect the same radiance, “I seriously appreciate it, Zoombaman!”

The detective suppress the urge to outright snort a laugh. His shoulders lightly quaked when he chuckled. He might just propose that name to the HA, “not a problem.”

Even as he trailed off to complete a case, he hadn’t the slightest idea how imperative that meeting would have become later.

What started off as occasional small talk became something of an opened wound for Genos. He didn’t mind the one act of charity that was completely unwarranted, nor did he mind the sliver of scrutiny he and Saitama were subjected to. What he did mind was the falsetto of companionship the detective provided.

Little queries such as ‘how are you?’ had now lost their value. They were obsolete to what jokes Saitama and he had shared, one making his mentor practically be thrown into stitches as a little grin seared along Zombieman’s lips.

He knew not the name of his ailment, but only that it gave him a gnawing sensation at his base of his stomach. It made him wonder how soon Zombieman would witness Saitama’s power, how he would respond in awe or in pure desire to keep him harbored from everyone—from his own disciple.

He wasn’t irrational, not when his emotions could be shoveled to the side. However, avarocity only made him determined to keep such discretion buried in the yard outside. The need to discover the truth about his mentor’s power should be a task solely for him alone.

What humility The Carcass seemed to radiate could be no better than the masquerade an obnoxious idol hero adorned or the popular girl peer pressure Fubuki subjected into weaker heroes. It would have easily deceived his mentor, but it would have never catch him off guard.

“Hey,”

The voice was not his mentor’s. In an instant, the cyborg swiveled his attention fully on the corpse. He opted to be as polite as he could possibly muster; “what is it?”

Manners seemed to be in vain, as the brusque and sharp accentuation wrought a pause from the detective. His brow raised, almost as if he stepped an inch too close to a land mine.

“I was going to ask if everything is alright.”

“It is,” he was always fine. Genos wasted no time to grovel over what would soon be lost. The world continued to turn and so would he in response to it. He could prevent it’s reoccurrence onto another or himself, but the present was always a second too soon and a second too late.

Had it been another, they would have irritatingly prompted him to speak with his feelings—‘my feelings are saying I’m busy. Go away.’—or to reflect his frustration with a snarl and a seize of his hoodie collar. The algorithm often fluctuated, sometimes he was just tossed to the side by the momentum of verdant ESP and had to call Kuseno early.

The detective seemed to be an exception of that. What should have been a lecture of respecting his elders was met with a deflated sigh, “well, if you need to talk, just let me know.”

“I won’t need it,” another caution that the detective seemed eager to oblige with a nod and a retreat.

He didn’t need anything that could hamper him in a fight. He needed to become stronger, to become more adaptable in any fight; never just one he could scrape by the skin of his teeth. A pathetic excuse of a pep talk would have just grated on his nerves, moreso than any imperative meeting would have.

He could just never understand why Saitama spoke to him more frequently as of late. Why his greeting consisted of him referring to the detective by name and asking about new recipes that were cheap to buy. Just as Zombieman elucidated what sauces would go great with wagyu as he accompanied them to the food market, his gaze flickered toward the various egg cartons and seized his opportunity.

“Uh? Genos?” Saitama paused, “I don’t think we need eggs.”

“It is imperative for dinner tonight,” the authoritative baritone resounded vibrantly. No tone fluctuated beyond what would betray him of his avaricious misdeed. Had he known then that the detective already had a decent read on him, he wouldn’t have acted the way he did.

It was intrusive, to be read, as Genos never allowed his emotions to flourish and he felt defensive at the look the detective provided him. What did he know, what did he care for other than to know what power Saitama housed? All he wanted was something he could not have—that no one could have.

One could envision his astonishment when his competitor wholeheartedly agreed, “yeah- I guess you guys do need some egg yolk,” the detective paused as he rolled his shoulders into a nonchalant shrug, “a lot of people add it to the wagyu dish.”

Saitama’s eyes widened, “really?”

“Yeah, you can have it pasteurized as well.”

Such dismissive behavior shouldn’t have grated his nerves so severely. Yet, the handsome drawl of each note only made him want to refuse to accept the genorosity once more. Unfortunately, Saitama was too oblivious and bought the eggs anyway.

How soon would it be until Zombieman implored about housework. When will he start visiting their apartment and remark how the place wasn’t as clean as he would have made it. He might start recommending ridiculous cleaning techniques like using herbs to remove stains.

The ache anchored in his chest, weighing his core ten times heavier than it should be. He would become obsolete and his Sensei would never acknowledge the progress he made, only his failures. He could dismantle an entire army with nothing but his teeth and Saitama would only remark about how he was broken again. All because Zombieman would excel in what Genos lacked in: instant regeneration.

Even now, as he drifted off to let Sitch’s voice fade into obscurity in the midst of another meeting, he felt that future possibility become a reality. Zombieman would progressively win every fight, only to retire with the ability to swat his opponents with but the bite of his bullet. He would have been a hallmark and all because Genos let Saitama go.

“Hey,”

It wasn’t his mentor’s voice he heard again. He wasn’t aware that the meeting was over until he encountered the detective’s demeanor once again. He could pass off as anemic on a good day.

“Are you—?”

“I’m fine,” stop fucking asking me.

Whether the detective knew it was the same song and dance or he found offense in the rebuttal, neither prevented him from gently settling beside a neglected seat. It was unwarranted, considering how quick Genos was to inch away, but he didn’t cease there.

“About the market,” the detective said surgically, “I wasn’t sure if I was stepping on your toes or not.”

“You weren’t,” another hasty refutation, “you were helping my Sensei with cooking.”

“And that’s something you usually do, right?”

The faintest sound of a pin drop seemed to resonante between the two of them. Even when his mechanical phalanges burrowed and gripped at his knees, the Demon Cyborg was more candid than ever.

“It is,” he was a terrible liar, it would seem.

The detective’s simper was lethargic at the contours, his back eased against the chair. How could anyone be so casual around the likes of Genos? “I think you need to be more aware that people aren’t exactly as materialistic as you expect them to be. That includes yourself.

“At the end of the day, he’s still your friend, right?”

There was no contempt by Saitama this morning, nor was he eager to blatantly ignore his roommate. He wasn’t more irritated, nor was he frustrated that Genos didn’t know a thing about cutting Wagyu. He was Saitama; the same man who could mold the Earth’s core with his limitless strength had sprawled himself over the futon to play one of King’s game consoles.

The epiphany managed to hush his exacerbation, “Well, yes,” there was an eventual pause when Genos caressed his own chin, “he hasn’t treated me any differently lately.”

“I just thought it’d be a nice reminder is all,” the detective assured. Before the cyborg would interject with his usual declaration of being busy, the detective cut in, “I know, you’re busy. I won’t lecture you if you don’t need it.”

If he didn’t need it, Genos would have scoffed. Yet, he could only find a small semblance of reassurance that he wasn’t being replaced. It was minuscule, barely a flicker of submission, but it wasn’t enough to change his mind.

For a moment, he wondered if the detective was lying through his damn teeth. It would have been feasible enough to assume he would, especially to avoid a confrontation he wouldn’t win in. By the time the evening fell, Genos proposed a query past the plumbs of steam in the hotpot. His brow arched when he watched Saitama ground his teeth and comedically groan when he lost another pocket monster—Pokémon?—match.

“Sensei?” Maybe now wouldn’t be the best of times.

“Yeah?” The defeated sigh singed more than the chirping boiling.

“How would you describe our relationship?”

What acrimonious loss from the gym battle had been replaced by a combatative demeanor of perplexity and astonishment. “Well, I say we’re pretty good friends.”

“... even if I don’t have everything you need?”

The personification of an immovable mountain only sighed. Saitama might not have much credit when it comes to intelligence, but he could still hone in on the tirade of emotions Genos conjured. There was always a resonance as evident in how his outburst was diminished by the calm the blasphemous cyborg surprisingly radiated.

“You’re not my butler, man,” though he had a bad habit of thinking he was, “you have all that you got and that’s more than enough. I wouldn’t ask for anything more.”

What sprout of assurance bloomed at the root of his core. It couldn’t answer for Zombieman’s stunning humility nor did it provide Genos the promise that he could harness the world exclusively for his Sensei, but that he was enough. Maybe not for later, when his strength would progress, but for now.

Had Saitama not known him, he would have missed the small phantasmic smile, “dinner’s ready.”

Genos was himself

and that was okay.

[pinkysfaultorbrainsfault]

animaniacs - s1e60: the cranial crusader

sorry this one’s late! i went out tonight. it was nice. uvu

episode summary: after realising that the superhero they apparently live with has just one guy left to take down, the mice don capes and masks in the hope that getting there first will gain them noteriety.

the rundown:

we open on a shot of Mouse Car.

according to the narration it’s an opossum car, actually. never mind! rodents are of course interchangeable. opossum car is owned by the caped opossum, who seems to be doing some cool shit with it.

yeet.

thankfully, despite his track record with dangerous driving, the caped opossum makes it home safely, it seems.

good for him.

“chalk up another caped opossum law enforcement victory, alphonse.” obviously, yes, he’s supposed to be batman, but he’s less batman and more a man who’s been smoking 70 a day for longer than i have been alive.

good thing alphonse doesn’t seem to mind! if we’re going full batman here he probably raised the dude, so i can only assume his chainsmoking habits were encouraged.

“astounding, sir. remote?

“thanks.”

as the caped oppossum trundles off to “see if he’s made the eleven o clock news”-- oh? is that a grumpy boy we see in the background?

oh, that is an extra grumpy boy, today. something about superheroes must piss him off. either that, or AKOM got hold of this one.

brain pauses his seething temporarily to devote his attention to pinky, who is narfing quite happily to himself.

“what spectacular adventure awaits the caped opossum in his next issue?”

“grow up, pinky.”

the boys are fighting ):

brain’s in a bad mood today, apparently. as the two of them bicker over whether the opossum is a “crime fighting genius” (pinky) or “a self obsessed, nocturnal loon with a dreadful fashion sense” (brain) the aforementioned object of their discourse is watching the news.

it’s captivating enough for the mice to stop mid-callout post, anyway. i’m so sorry this is the only frame i could get of pinky. flashdance.

“tonight, the caped opossum’s calling card was found again, making a near perfect record for the masked marsupial.”

“except for!” oh god it’s this horrifying lady again. “arch fiend johnny badnote.”

(me: what would you do if i changed my name to johnny badnote? my boyfriend: scream.)

“that cursed johnny badnote! he’s the only thing standing between me and true superhero fame.”

and then he starts to cry and has to be taken away by alphonse.

to that, brain makes a funny face. i’m not sure why.

“are you pondering what i’m pondering?”

“i think so, brain, but i can’t memorise a whole opera in yiddish.”

okay.

as brain picks the lock on their cage-- actually, as brain does that i need to tell you that for some reason there are horrifying squelching noises at this part. i have no idea why. it’s like there’s a portal in there leading to a pasta bake. be thankful you can’t hear them from here. it’s incredibly visceral.

but anyway, no, as he squishes around in there, he explains to pinky that he shall “become a costumed, crime fighting hero, and thwart johnny badnote, overshadowing the caped opossum.” and then he’ll be so famous he’ll be elected, like, world president or something, immediately.

worked for batman. so anyway they go off and do that i guess.

TAADAAAAAA.

MOUSE IN SHORTS. MOUSE IN SHORTS. pinky actually looks sick as hell. i love it. i’m sure i went to class dressed like this once or twice. what an icon! hell yeah! the pink wonder is ready for action!!!

brain has put an awful lot of effort into padding out his muscles, and none at all into wearing any trousers.

hm.

undeterred by the possibility of Embarrassing Slip, the Cranial Crusader (which is his new name now) (better than the john, i guess) shows off his own calling card, which is basically just art theft.

not particularly original. still, they have shit to do, so they go off and steal mr opossum’s car.

which is a crime in itself, but they’re not going to let that stop them.

somehow, brain magically knows where johnny badnote’s hideout is. how? i can’t say. maybe he left his details at the Secret Club For People Named John B that they both go to.

“too bad we can’t use the power possum’s prehensile tail hook to lower ourselves down.” says pinky, who is in the middle of drawing The Caped Crusader Comic Book.

“why, who says we can’t?”

so they do.

good thing there’s no danger in dangling precariously over the edge of a cliff like that.

ah! wait, no, the train says you can’t. sorry, brain.

oof.

the mice are fine, don’t worry. pinky is immune to damage and brain had an albinistic edition of the yellow pages to break his fall.

look at his FEETS.

but that aside. the mice are undeterred, and pinky suggests they use the “power sniffer” to sniff out johnny badnote’s lair, and pushes a bunch of buttons to make that happen.

“you seem to know much of the crimefighter business, pinky.”

“i learnt everything from comic books.”

et voila! the power sniffer!

seems to be in working order. “egad!” yells pinky, “it must really smell something stinky!” before immediately crashing into the wall.

lol.

conclusion:

so it... doesn’t actually take them that long to identify that they’ve crashed right into johnny badnote’s lair.

regular bard, this dude. brain mentions that “thwarting the arch-twerp johnny badnote should be child’s play,”

before they get squoshed by a piano. hee hee.

“if that’s not a song cue,” says the adult progeny of the snow and heat misers, “my name isn’t johnny badnote!” and his name is johnny badnote, so you can tell it’s-- it’s the-- never mind.

he cradles the mice so gently in his palm, and tells them enthusiatically that he’s going to blow up the world.

OH I’M JOHNNY BADNOTE ARCHFIEND FELON SLIME

THE PUBLIC DIDN’T LIKE MY SONGS AND SO I TURNED TO CRIME

i love this bastard. he ties the mice to this giant egg.

“when my metronome yanks out your firing pin, my music box egg grenade will play lovely music for a few, precious, seconds, before kaboom! it gives me your last downbeat!”

“you call that a diabolical plan?” says brain, who is pictured near the bottom there. he’s the tiny white blob.

“oh, there’s more. when i hear that downbeat, i’ll play my missile launching pipe organ and blow up the wooooorld!”

man, i love this guy! why doesn’t he come back? i want him in every episode of the reboot.

“is that diabolical enough?”

“yes.”

but! as johnny badnote prepares himself to play the Johnny Bad Notes, he, uh.

he forgets they’re mice, and they can just... wriggle out.

with a triumphant “narf”, pinky rescues his beloved comic book,

and manages to yeet the grenade in the process.

oops.

still, never mind. nothing bad could come of that. brain leaves his Art Theft Calling Card.

“pinky, let’s get out of here.”

“hey, what’s keeping that downbeat?”

well, job done, i suppose. satisfied, the mice head back to the... possum cave? i guess?

but oh wait, what’s this?

you have got to be kidding me.

still, the imperceptively convenient inkblots do their job, and the mice get the bad news a little later, from the weird, weird looking woman from earlier.

“in other news tonight, johnny badnote was finally captured by a masterful crime fighter and great hero--”

“the caped oppossum.”

well.

that’s... that, i guess.

brain turns off the tv. his facial features seem to have shrunk in righteous rage.

brain: 3 ½ pinky: 5 ½ outside influence: 7

“minature crimefighters??? i’ve got to get out more.”