#I can’t handle a bunch of a listers

[thats-rough-buddy04]

Will I be there on opening day, yes… yes I will. Will I be hoping for Klance yeah but if it’s based on the og series then my slim chances are basically none. Hope it will be sick though but most live actions are not…

[miss-choco-chips]

Bird Watchers

It was something like an open secret in Gotham, that even though all it’s heroes were open to help no matter the situation, each one of them had a special affinity to certain matters.

For example, children from all districts knew to yell for Nightwing if they found themselves lost and scared. Small business owners often painted little Oracle symbols on their doorsteps, to warn away possible thieves with the knowledge that Gotham’s cryptic hacker had their eye on them. Working girls would send a quick prayer to the Red Hood before seeing their seediest clients; and as such, knew who to call for if things took a turn for the worst.

And Red Robin… well. His was a very specific bunch.

---.---

Warnings: depression, suicide attempts, overdose comic-typical violence (discussed, not explicit). Hurt-comfort all the way, baby. There’s also one scene, with the redhead, that I copied from the comics.

(it’s almost 2 am, I wrote half of this in one go, don’t @ me for mistakes. I’ll edit tomorrow. Maybe.)

---.---

The first time he stopped a suicide, he had just turned thirteen. The suit still felt wrong, too loose in all the places where Jason’s bigger presence would have been a better fit. Too small, too brainy, not brash enough, not good enough.

He would never think himself worthy, but he was all Batman had. There were no other candidates, not ones he could have thrown the job at without risking Bruce’s identity, so he’d have to make do.

But even so, he had been gaining a little confidence over the past few months. His training with Shiva, and Dick’s and Bruce’s focus on making him as ready for the streets as humanly possible, had ensured he never encountered a situation where he couldn’t handle himself, or get back up in time to avoid any casualties.

Except for right now.

“Hey! Don’t do it, please!”

Yeah, maybe yelling at the man precariously balanced on the edge of a how many feet tall building wasn’t his wisest moment. He’d berate himself later. Now was freak out time.

Said man stumbled for a second before regaining his footing and turning to look at Tim. He couldn’t be more than forty, with a bit of an overgrown beard and tired eyes. He had something clutched in one hand, tanned and calloused from work, the other over his chest, probably due to the scare of having a bat suddenly appearing behind him.

“R-Robin…”, he gasped, shook out of whatever reverie he was going through for a second. “W-what… I mean, why are you…?”

‘Okay, Tim, breath. Can’t call B, he’ll notice, get startled and jump. Can I catch him if he does? My grappling hook is made to withstand more than my weight, but if I can’t handle the strain of swinging us both to safety…’

He couldn't risk it.

“Good evening, Mr…?”

Surprise and good manners made the man automatically answer, “Ed. Ed Harrinson.”

Encouraged, Tim took a tiny teeny step forward. Ed’s entire body shock and he leaned backwards. Tim froze, fear keeping his breathing and heartbeat hostages for the time being, stopping the first and kick starting the second.

“Mr Harrinson, I’d like to ask you to step away from the edge? I’ll call an ambulance for you, and…”

“No!”, the man screamed, suddenly over his surprise, a look of determination trying to masquerade his obvious exhaustion. “If you call an’one, I’ll jump.”

Tim wisely kept the ‘you were gonna do it anyway’ to himself. He nodded slowly, hands emerging from the confines of his cape to show Mr Harrinson the lack of a communication device.

“I won’t, then, but may I come closer? Please?”

It was on the last word, high pitched and wavering, that the man cracked. With wary demeanor, he waved him over, pointing to a patch of rooftop a little far but close enough for Tim to feel comfortable- or as comfortable as he’d get, in these circumstances.

As he approached, he could feel the man analyzing him. The little gasp when he stood by his side didn’t go unnoticed.

“You are… smaller than I imag’ned. Too small for a bat. My boy’s taller than you” he mused, likely to himself, but Tim grasped onto that bit of information and clutched at it with both hands, desperately.

“I’m short compared to my peers, so maybe I’m the same age as your son. How old is he?”, he asked, in his most conversational tone. Fear still had a grasp over both his lungs and heart.

Something in the man’s face shifted.

“He… he just turned fifteen.” Older than Tim, then. Ed continued, “He’s… ”, in a second, the sadness was replaced by pride, “he’s grown up p’tty well, if I say so m’self. A fine young man, that kid. He’ll go places.”

For a beat, Tim tried to imagine his own dad here. As much as he’d hate to see Jack in Mr Harrinson’s place, he couldn't help but wonder if he’d be talking about him the same way Ed spoke about his son.

He… didn’t think so. If on the verge of death, thoughts about his son would probably be the farthest from his dad’s mind.

“You sound like you love him very much. He’s a lucky guy” he said sincerely, a tendril of hopefulness still twisted around his stomach. His hands weren’t shaking any longer, finding solace in the fact that the man in front of him didn’t look like he was about to jump right that second.

Mr Harrinson’s face fell.

“Got served an’ unlucky hand, with an old man like me”, his eyes went back to the abyss, to the empty, poor litten streets below them. “Go ‘way, kid. Leave m’ be. Notta business what I do. Gotta do this f’r my kid.”

Fear came back, full force.

“I- Sorry, but I can’t help but think about your son”, he blurted out, the only bit of information he had about the man was his only tendril of hope. “Someone who loves his child as much as you seem to must be a good father. A father that… would be missed dearly, if lost so young.”

Mr Harrinson looked even more devastated. Tim was doing this all wrong, wasn’t he?

“There’s no other way t’ keep’im safe!'' he yelled, and for a minute Tim thought he had decided to jump then and there. Instead, he dropped to his knees, hands to his head, paper still clutched in one fist. “They’ll get to him if I don’t! Once I’m dead, they’ll just leave’im alone!”

Tim crouched next to him, tentative.

“Who is ‘they’, sir? Maybe I could help…”

Ed was already shaking his head.

“Nay, they said not to go to the bats. Kill my boy, they will, if I do. Seen them offing others for less, so I believe them.”

“Ah, but I’m too short to be a bat, am I not?” he smiled, wobbly at best but sincere. “Besides, who’s gonna tell them you spoke to me? I”, he gestured to his mask, “know how to keep a secret.”

He considered for a beat, before tired shoulders fell, defeated. He offered the slip of paper towards him, unseeing eyes on the street below.

Robin read the note carefully, noting the sloppy penmanship and cheap paper as well as the message itself.

“Mr Harrinson…”

“I know”, he whispered, “I know working for the Black Mask wasn’t my best idea. But m’boy needed to eat, and the landlord was gettin’ impatient. And now, for whatever reason, boss wants me dead. And if I make ‘im dirty his own hands, he’ll dirty ‘em twice and send me with my son for company to the other side. Felix is too young, and he’s good. Can’t let ‘im pay f’ his old man m’stakes, ya hear me?”

Tim thought his words over carefully.

“Mr Harrinson… I don’t think this comes from Black Mask himself”, for one, Blackie wasn’t one to avoid blood on his gloves, nor to send such a shitty note. The man lived for the drama, like most A-listers did, and he’d never forgo the aesthetic of an expensive peachment and beautifully worded threat. Also, if he wanted this man gone, he would have put a bullet in his head the second he clocked in; and if it were revenge he was after, he wouldn't have gotten a warning note but his son’s head sent to him instead.

He folded the paper and put it into one of his multiple pockets, free hand going to the man’s shoulder.

“I know Black Mask’s M.O, mister, and this is not it”, no need to spook him further by describing what it was, though. “Probably just a colleague who wanted your position, or has a grudge for whatever reason. And that, I can help you with. If you work with me on this one, we can both make sure Felix has his Dad making breakfast for him tomorrow morning, and all the days after that. After all”, he smiled, no longer uncertain now that he had firm ground to work with, “your son is going places, and he’ll have to be well fed to reach them, right?”

Mr Harrinson’s smile must have had magical properties, Tim thought. There was no other explanation for the way it returned his breath back to his body.

---.----

The next time he saw a jumper, a few months later, he was slightly more ready for it. Bruce had congratulated him on his work with Mr Harrinson, and the subsequent raid they could make on one of Black Mask’s warehouses thanks to the man’s information, but Tim hadn’t been satisfied until he had read every single mission report on the batcomputer about attempted suicides. And succeed ones, too. Need to know what went well and what didn’t, after all.

So when he saw the fifty-something woman crying on top of a tower in City Hall District, he didn’t almost-crash in his attempt to get there in time. He landed softly, making just enough noise to let her know she wasn’t alone, but careful to not startle her.

“It’s a little cold up here, Lady. If you’d like, I can walk you home?”, he tries for cheeky, despite the cold fear nesting in his stomach like a grumpy, spiteful bird.

The woman, sitting by the edge, turned her head to look at him. The movement called attention to her long, strawberry blonde hair, neatly braided, and her pretty diamond earrings. The face under her perfect make up was gaunt and pale, tear tracks cleaning paths of skin to his trained eye.

Despite him interrupting what probably were very private thoughts, she smiled at his approach, kind and polite. It didn’t reach her eyes, but the intent to put him at ease was generous enough.

“I may be a lady, but any adult worth their salt would insist on walking the young child home, instead of the opposite. Besides”, she patted the rooftop under her,” I live here, so it’s not a long walk at all.”

Tim stepped closer, carefully.

“May I sit?”

“I could use the company for a bit”, she accepted, head turning back to the city below.

They sat there for a few minutes in silence, before Tim’s soft voice broke it again.

“Is there anything I can do to help convince you not to do it? Please?”

The lady smiled. “You are a very sweet boy.”

“That’s… not an answer. Can I at least know why?”

“Won’t it torment you, in the future, if we speak now?”, she asked a question of her own, turning to face him again. Despite her words, there was nothing but kindness in those deep green eyes. “If you don’t know me, I’m just another one who jumped. If we talk, I’m afraid I might stay with you long after I’m gone. You are too young for that kind of weight.”

Tim swallowed. 

“That’s easily solved, Miss;”, Dick’s rule of thumb; if unsure, always call a lady Miss before Mrs “don’t do it.”

She spared him a long, meaningful look, and he slumped over.

“Not my best, I know, but I’m kinda freaking out now?” She wasn’t like Mr Harrinson, no motive he could see, no strand to pull and unravel her pain. “Please, just… why?”

She patted one of the hands gripping his own knee. His other hand rushed over hers, sandwiching her cold, slim fingers between his gloved palms.

“There’s nothing left for me. I have a nice job, live in a pretty side of town, have friends, and still… it feels so empty. So… Meaningless. Why even bother?”

Tim chewed on her words silently. He was way out of his depth. A tangible, physical problem? He could solve those, no biggie.

Depression, though… that was a different giant to tackle. Was he even prepared enough to?

A strong gust of wind made the lady with braided hair shiver. Without thought, Tim unclasped his cape and draped it over her slim shoulders.

“Aren’t you cold?” she asked, head tilted like a curious woodland animal. Tim felt strongly protective of her, of this kind, sweet lady, who said she had it all, except the one thing that mattered to her.

“I’m used to it”, he shrugged. “This suit is very warm, but cold air often trickles down from the neckline and… well. Gigs of the job and all that.”

The lady tutted, frowning for the first time since Tim arrived.

“That won’t do, young man. You need a scarf. The nights will only get colder from now on.”

He shrugged again.

“I just… don’t have the time to buy one. And I had one, but… There’s these kids who often hang out by the park, and they were so cold, I just couldn't swing by and ignore them. So I gave them my scarf to share between them. I’m just kinda bummed that I don’t have more to make sure they all stay warm.”

The braided haired lady hummed for a second.

“Well… I knit”, she started, carefully. “I don’t have children or grandchildren to give my final products to, so they’ll go to waste after I’m gone. If you’d take them out of my hands, you’ll do me a favor.” 

Tim wanted to say no, unwilling to make this any easier for her, but the chance of getting her away from the edge was enough to quell his voice.

She went and came back within minutes, a big cardboard box balanced over her shaky arms. He rose to help her, meeting the woman halfway through the roof, a good distance away from the abyss.

“This red one would look good with your suit… oh, and the green one, to keep with the theme! Or maybe the yellow one… Shame pink would be such a bad fit for your colors, because that wool is the best I worked with…”

Tim’s hand carefully took said carf out and looked it over. There were about six others in the box.

“I could take this to those kids I mentioned before… It’d still not be enough for all, but more to share between them means less cold.”

She hummed again, looking at the unfinished projects on the bottom of the box.

“If… If you give me a few days…” she muttered. “I mean, I’m in no rush”, a hand vaguely gestured towards the rooftop’s edge. “I could spare a few days finishing those, and you could take them to these kids you spoke about… and maybe, I can help make a few children less cold with this silly hobby of mine.”

Elated beyond words, Tim nodded vigorously, waxing poetry about her work and about just how excited little Ellie would be with this soft, pretty pink scarf.

His patrol route could use a few detours, after all, if that meant keeping Braided Hair Lady away from her roof.

---.----

He was just returning from a late supply run when he bumped into The Cats.

It was in an alleyway, a block off from Mrs Eloise Denvarow (formerly known as Braided Hair Lady). The older woman had caved after three months knowing each other, of Tim passing by her apartment once every other night to pick up her baked goods or knitted masterpieces, to distribute between street kids and working girls, and told him her name. It was said in passing (“Stop with that ‘Lady’ thing, honey. It’s Eloise”), as if lacking importance, when in reality it meant the world to him. Sure, he’d already known, having run a background check on her the minute he came back to the cave after stopping her from jumping, but there was that implicit vow between them, that she wouldn't tell him her name and jump, wouldn’t make him carry its weight on his shoulders forever, so it was… it was a promise, on her end, a reassurance, and Tim wasn’t even embarrassed that he cried in her arms like a baby for ten minutes.

So here he was, a month after that, still riding that high, when the desperate call from below caught his attention.

There were two teens on the dirty ground, nested among cracked bottles and old newspapers. The girl was lying in the boy’s arms, with him screaming for help.

“Robin! Thank fuck!”, he almost sobs, arms visibly tightening around the girl. Tim wants to ask how he knew to call for him, and if the proximity to Mrs Denvarow’s place was luck or not.

But it wasn’t the time to ask.

The girl was pale, which only highlighted the bruises on her face. Someone with a big fist punched her. It doesn't seem likely, considering just how distraught the other kid is, but he checks his hands just in case; fortunately, too small for that kind of damage.

She’s also breathing erratically and, when he puts a gloved hand to her neck, he realizes just how crazy her pulse is. 

Fear Toxin? Except Scarecrow is still in Arkham as far as he knows, and even if he had gotten away recently, he needs time to develop his precious chemicals. Joker’s Venom and Mad’s Hatter drugs don’t have quite this results, and Ivy doesn’t usually attack street girls just for kicks; they are also too far from her usual turf for her to be a viable suspect.

So, that leaves very few choices.

“Overdose?”, he ventures a guess, hand already fumbling through the pockets on his belt.

The other boy sobs harder, nodding while looking down at the girl in his arms. Tim gently takes the girl from him to position her straighter, to help her down the vial he finally found in his belt. It was supposed to help flush out any chemical in a few minutes, tops; they usually used it when a new type of Crazy Criminal Drug made its way to the streets and they didn’t have the time to properly prepare an antidote. It was strong, and vicious in its path to devoid the body of any and all external agents, which was why it wasn’t a preferred method; who’s to say the civilian in need of a flush isn’t in some important medicine? The Big Flush, as Dick calls it, lacked any kind of finesse or discrimination.

But it was their best shot right now, so there goes nothing. 

There’s silence while they watch the girl’s progress. He doesn’t bother asking if he called for an ambulance; they are obviously minors, probably homeless, and even if the Wayne Foundation takes care of children’s hospital fees, they’d avoid it to keep themselves out of the foster system.

But then, the kid kept talking.

“I… I found her near Grant Park. I… I didn’t know what to do, so I dragged her here. She/” and then he breaks again, hands grasping one of hers, as if letting go meant he was giving up on her and he couldn't bear it.

“Grant Park is only five blocks away,” Tim thinks out loud, mind already a mile away “and Moench’s Row illicit night clinic is about the same distance from there as this place. Why did you bring her here?”

“She… Alley… Oh, her name’s Allison, by the way. And I’m Thomas. Tom.” Introductions, miraculously, seem to do the trick here and calm him down. “Nice to meetcha.”

Tim’s not deterred by his toothy grin, but he has to admit he’s kinda cute. Like, stray cat cute.

Huh. Alley, Tom, cat… Yeah, that checks.

“What happened with Allison?” he presses softly, one arm still keeping Alley up and against his chest, the other hand on her pulse point, taking note of the way the heartbeat seems to be stabilizing. The puking fest was gonna start soon.

“She… It was on purpose.” Tom confesses, eyes going clouded for a while. “She tries to not be home, yknow? I met her in kindergarten, and even then she’d try to hide behind the teacher’s desk in hopes they’d forget about her and close the building with her inside. Anyway, we pretty much live on the streets these days, and Alley… she’s very depressed. I convinced her to see someone a while ago, even stol/ I mean, earned the money for it myself”, he’s quick to correct, eyes glancing up to see if he was smooth enough to cover it; which he wasn’t, but Tim was in favor of letting that small one go, “and they gave her a prescription for antidepressants. She’s been kicking it down the road, but she’s gotten a lot worse and I wouldn't lay off her case about it, so she sneaked back home to get some money from her folks to pay for it.”

By the way the kid looks at her bruised face with unmeasurable guilt, Tim knows she didn’t go unnoticed.

“And… I don’t know. We were supposed to meet up by the Commerce Street Highway, but she was late, so I walked around for a bit and… I saw her there, on a bench. She was/ she was still conscious then, and she told me… she said ‘these aren’t what the doc gave me, but they took the pain away all the same’.” Again, Tom chokes on his own emotions. If he had any free hands, he’d try to put one on his shoulder for comfort. “I don’t even know what she took, or where did she get it from!”

Tim has heard whispers of loan sharks and drug dealres camping toghter by the Fashion Distric, just north of Grant Park, so he can make an informed guess as to how that happened. Also, he now knows what he’ll do the rest of the night, once these kids are safe.

When Tom has gotten a grasp of himself, he pushes again.

“So, why did you bring her here?”

He shrugs, a bit abashed.

“Well… I mean, everyone knows about how Mrs Denvarow is the one giving clothes and food away, and that you help her distribute it. Well, not everyone, but… you know, the street kids. We flagged her building with a yellow skull and everything.”

A yellow skull grafitti, Tim’s mind translates, is the street equivalent of a ‘don’t fuck with this place’ sing. A sort of protective sigil. He wonders how he missed it.

“And… This is kind of your thing, right? So I figured you’d be better prepared to deal with it than some overworked clinic that might even not have enough free equipment to help us. Good think I did, too” he gestures at his friend, whose face is now looking flushed; a sign both of growing health, and of the upcoming puke. Tim’s quick to turn her so her back is to his chest, head tilted down just in case.

As if rehearsed, Alley chose that exact second to empty the contents of her now flushed stomach. Tim would need a sample of that, to catch the responsible dealer.

Tom held her hair away from her face while Tim kept her steady, and she blinked bearily at them after it was done, still not completely lucid but a world away from the girl she was ten minutes ago.

“She’ll still need a hospital.'' Tim informs Tom sternly. The boy had taken his friend in his arms again, softly rubbing her back to help with the uncomfortable ache leftover after puking your guts out. “The Moench’s Row clinic should be able to help with any side effect, but she’s safe for now.”

He nods, thanks Tim again and again and politely refuses his help to take her to the clinic. They part ways, both parties probably thinking this would be the last time they saw each other.

Still, their situation sticks with Tim during the rest of his patrol, and he decides to stop by the clinic, just to check on them. His knuckles still ache from the absolute beating he delivered to the ones who gave Alley the money and sold her the drugs, so he’s in better spirits and hopes to spread it to the kids.

Alley is awake when he visits, and her shy, little smile is enough for the rage inside of Tim to die down. The bad guys dealt with, the civilians safe, everything in its proper place.

He sleeps a bit better that night.

---.----

He almost doesn’t see him. 

Actually, he probably wouldn't have, deeply lost into his own head, had the guy been anything other than a redhead. That exact shade of  orangy-brown auburn, that he would have to pick up from his workbench at Titan’s tower after Bart had decided to ‘keep him company’ during his all-nighters. 

It was ironic, how now he would give anything in the world to have those same strands of hair fucking up his experiments, if only for the impish, ‘please-don’t-kill-me-I’m-an-angel’ smile he would receive in exchange.

“Hey”, he greets, landing softly at the man’s right, sitting a few feet away from him, too tired to even stand up on common ground. “What’s happening?”

He shouldn’t be doing this. He really, really shouldn’t. His own mental health was less than stellar, and even thinking about it made him feel worse. He didn’t deserve to feel bad, not when civilians were in the hospital after his latest fuck up, Cass was missing, Cassie barely hanging in there, the family a mess with Damian’s lovely introduction, and… well. Every other person he knew…

Point being, there must be someone else, in a better inner place, that could speak to this guy. But since no one seemed to be patrolling this route, Tim could only hope to stall him long enough for a more capable vigilante to show up.

The guy looks startled, then angry. He has green eyes, he notices, under the glasses. Not sure why that sticks to him.

“What are you doing here? You’re not going to try to stop me, are you? You’re not going to swing down and catch me in mid air or something, are you?”

He seems defensive, but Tim notices a bit of hesitancy. He has worked with less.

(He wishes he had more energy to do more with what little he has)

“No. If I did, what’s to stop you from doing it again later, or tomorrow? I can’t be with you every second.  If you want to do this, you are going to, no matter how much I don’t want you to. And I don’t want you to, just so we are clear.”

The guy still looks suspicious, but he hasn’t taken that last step forward, so… a win?

“I just needed to sit down for a minute. ‘been thinking about all the ways I’ve screwed up lately, and…”

Auburn-hair deflates a little, turning away from Tim to examine the night sky. “Well, that makes two of us.”

The bat signal lights up the night. His newfound companion looks at it, then him. “Do you need to get that?”

“Nah. Batman will, and if he needs help he’ll call me.” Tim shrugs. He needs a coffee-power-up. He needs to sleep. He needs for his loved ones to not be dead.

He needs to see if there’s anything he can do for this guy.

“So, do you want to tell me why you’re doing this? So someone can go to your family and friends to let them know?”

After all, if it was him who did it (and… wasn’t that food for thought?), he’d like Bruce and Dick to know why. To not… to not blame themselves.

Redhead looks annoyed again. Uh. A short fuse, this one.

“Don’t try any psychology, or try to make me feel guilty about hurting anyone… this isn't about anyone but me.”

He shouldn’t say it, but… “That’s pretty naive,  but whatever. Tell me anyway.” He smirks a bit, then “Unless you’re in a hurry or something.”

He hears the guy (he really should ask his name) as he tells his story. A cold, clinical part of his mind recognizes the symptoms described almost unconsciously by the guy as depression. He would know, after all. The other part of him, the part that made him Robin, that made him human, discarded the label; there was much more to this guy than his illness, and he would treat him like it.

“So here I am,” he finishes, now sitting side by side with Tim, both their legs hanging above the bustling city. “Now’s when you tell me how stupid this is. That other people have much bigger problems, there’s hunger and war, and I’m weak because my problems are nothing next to stuff like that.”

Tim thinks of a father, desperately thinking his death would save his son’s life, when in fact it would have only made it worse. He thinks of a woman, so full of love and warmth, looking into the abyss and feeling empty inside. He thinks of a couple of kids, one hanging to life with nails and teeth, the other hanging to her just as fiercely.

He thinks about himself. About looking at a future version of himself, hating what he sees, and deciding to drown the bud before it can even flower. He thinks of sickly green water, of cloning equipment in a laboratory, of a phone falling to the ground after delivering him with more bad news.

He’s still in a bad place, still probably not the most capable person to be doing this, but a part of him is sure this is the right answer. The only answer.

“No. Your problems are worse than anyone else’s, because they are yours. I’ve... felt bad like you have, and some pretty bad things have happened to me.”

Red hair looks as tired as Tim feels, so it’s a surprise that he has enough energy to glance at him worriedly, hand stretching a bit in his direction in a half-formed attempt to comfort.

“You guys make it look so easy, swinging around, having fun… Things get bad for you, too?”

Tim looks down, and smiles. It’s a sad, bitter thing. He thinks about parents lost before ever connecting to them, about a girlfriend going away, a sister lost to the madness of their lives, about two best friends gone, one even dying in his arms. 

He gives no details. Doesn’t talk about it all, just shares a little bit of himself. It’s only fair, after hearing about this guy’s demons. Misery loves company, doesn’t it?

“So what do you do? How do you deal with it?” the guy asks when he’s done, looking at Tim by the corner of his not-very-dry eyes.

Tim forces himself to remember. “One of the things I’ve learned is that it gets bad for everyone sometimes, Superman, Batman… everyone. I remember that I’m not alone, that things do get better. Sometimes on their own, most times when you work at them. And when I have trouble remembering those things, I find people to talk to.”

Most of those were dead, but Tim is hit with the epiphany that not all of them are. He still has people. He still…

“And you’ve got people like that? That you can talk to?” asks the guy, tone both worried and hopeful. Tim stands up, does his best to look calm.

“Yeah. Your folks, and old friend, even a trained counselor you’ve never met before… someone who has a totally different perspective because they’re not as close to your problems as you are. Maybe they give you advice, and that’s great… or maybe they just listen. Sometimes, that’s all you need. Anyway, that’s how I deal with it when things suck. And it works. Want to come down from there and give it a try?”

The guy gets back to his feet, as Tim watches from behind. Having been in this situation before, the fear grabbing a hold of him isn’t new, but it's different. He thinks he's too worn down. It takes the edge off of any emotion. 

Except hope. Hope still hurts like a sharp knife when it’s snatched away. He prays it won’t be, right now.

Green eyes (Jason- that’s who they reminded him of) look down, deep in thought. Then he turns, smiles at Tim. There’s hope in him too.

“Yeah, why not?”

They get down together. He gives him a few numbers and they have breakfast together. The guy promises to call his English teacher, at least. Tim promises himself to call his brother.

At least, he still has Dick.

---.----

He’s been putting off doing his rounds since he came back, he knows. But…

It changed him, a bit. Going around the world, dealing with his grief while staying on his toes, ready to break down one second and having to field off attacks from all sides the next, with the Demon’s honeyed whispers echoing in his ear and mind. 

He’ll never tell anyone, just how tempting it had been. How much he had wanted to reach for that offered hand. To lay his head on someone’s shoulder and let the responsibility bleed from his.

Tim will never tell anyone, but he’ll always know. And it’ll always make him hate himself a little bit more.

So, he’s different now. And he’s scared- that the people he gave hope to, that he talked with, that he could never stop thinking about, even halfway across the world- that they won’t like this new, worn down him.

That Mr Harrinson the Good Father, Braided Hair Lady and her sweaters, the inseparable Stray Cats, the girl with the bright yellow cardigan, the kid with the scarred wrists, the woman with beautiful star-like freckles that she’ll hopefully pass on to her baby, the gentle giant man with calloused hands, the petite but fierce young teen with defiant eyes and dead name, the soft spoken girl with the loudest laugh, auburn-haired boy and his hopeful and sympathetic green eyes… and so, so many more. They all knew him, maybe not at his best, but certainly better than now. The boy that kept them from jumping had been a bright, magical Robin. The teen that came back to their city was dark, weary Red Robin. It felt kinda like he had cheated them, returning this broken version of himself to their doorsteps.

But he had to go check on all of them. Even if Cass (and it was such a relief, that even after he lost everything else, the return of his sister could at least be a speck of light in the mist of misery surrounding him) had promised to do so, there were so many of them… and she couldn't possibly remember everyone, all the time. And if anyone had fallen through the gaps… if anyone had stood on a rooftop, waiting for their Robin to save them, only to think ‘nobody cares’ as he didn’t show up…

Tim gets sick only thinking about it. If it did happen, then he needs to know. He has to carry their names with him, that’s the least he can do for failing them.

So he’ll go check on them… anytime now. Soon. The moment he gathers enough energy to climb back to his feet and get his grapple hook out.

...The city looks full of life, beneath him. Like it feels the return of its Knight. The end of the internal quarrel among it’s vigilantes, that almost tore it all apart. The relief in Nightwing, the hesitant peace in Red Hood, the mellowing of Robin.

(He was feeling poetic tonight, in the worst ways)

Maybe it also feels Red Robin’s emptiness. Maybe that’s why it's so lively down there, like the ground is calling to him, just as it did when Ra’s broke the window with his body.

He thinks... he won’t have to check on anyone, if he jumps. And that way, there will be no name to carry with him to his grave.

“Robin!”

“Stop!”

“Don’t do it, please!”

He startles. Hadn’t even noticed when he got to his feet, nor that one of them was hanging over the abyss. The fact that he wasn’t alone on that rooftop any longer hadn’t even breached his usually perfect spatial awareness.

They didn’t call for him, but the voices sounded distraught, they were close, and he was a former Robin, so he turned around, tired, but with obedience and service too ingrained in him to consider denying help to whoever it was.

It turned out, he wouldn't need to go make his rounds any longer. His rounds had come to him.

There were… too many people on this roof. It was way too crowded.

“Robin!”

It was one voice now, not a mixture of them, so he could identify the one yelling his former alias. Allison broke from the mob of people (and there were more still, filling in from the open rooftop door, like a never-ending stream…) to run to him, looking like she might have just jumped into his arms, if not for Tom clutching her hoodie to stop her a few feet from him. Good move, considering he was still balancing precariously on the edge.

“Alleycat?” he whispered, a little blown. She looked so different (magenta looked amazing on the tips of her hair, and she totally pulled off that lip piercing), but he’d recognize those eyes anywhere. He’d been so relieved, when she first opened them after that dangerous overdose.

“We were so fucking worried, dude”, came from Tomcat just behind her, still gripping her hoodie (still keeping her safe; some things never change).

“I…”

“Where were you?” Maddie, not longer yellow but still wearing a cute cardigan, stepped up too.

“I’m… I’m not Robin”, he blurts out. They… knew it was him?  It… like, obviously there was a new Robin, Damian was (still, but probably not for much longer) smaller than him, but to immediately know that he was…

“Yeah, no shit. I’d know that long hair and noodle limbs of yours anywhere, kid. Known you too long to be fooled. And the new kid’s really trigger happy with that lon’nife of his... You’re still the Robin I prefer, and fuck if I understand the name passing you heroes do” Mr Harrinson spoke from the back of the crowd, one hand clutching his kid’s shoulder, the other arm around…

“Braided Hair Lady?”

Eloise smiles at him, soft and warm as ever, a little shy when his eyes go to the arm hugging her close and back to her. He recognizes some of her handmade scarfs around the necks of plenty of people on the roof. 

“I… wasn’t aware you all knew each other.”

A petite young teen steps forward, walking until they were shoulder-to-shoulder with the Strays.

“Most of us met through the app, and then introduced the others. There’s more, of course, but not everyone could meet here. Samantha’s baby was born just two months ago, so she chose to stay home, but we promised her pictures, so you’ll have to say cheese soon birdboy. Also, I found my name. I’m Cal.”

Allison’s smile broadened and she sneaked an arm around Cal’s waist.

“They are the new Straycat. Calico cat’s are the cutest shit ever, aren’t they?”

Well… Having someone as badass as Cal watching Tom and Alley’s back would sure make Tim feel a lot better about both kids being out in the streets. 

Were they still on the streets? He’d need to find out and fix that, soon.

Then it hit him. “What app?”

Auburn-hair smiled from his place, at the front of the crowd just behind the Cats.

“Felix over there,” he pointed over his shoulder at Mr Harrinson’s son, who smiled shyly at Tim, eyes shining in gratitude and admiration like they always did when Tim did his rounds and checked on his dad, “defended you in a GothamHeroes forum once. Some bratty douchebag was complaining about you landing over his car or something and this kid went for his fucking troath.”

“I was in that chat too,” spoke Tom, smiling a little too savagely for a kid that sweet. “He tore the idiot to shreds, speaking about how you saved his dad’s life and took it upon yourself to make sure he was still okay even weeks after you met. I mentioned how you saved Alley and Mrs Denvarow, we exchanged numbers… then we met Cal during one of our rounds handing out Mrs D’s scarfs and food. They were weary of everyone else, but trusted us because they heard you talk about the clothes and baked goods... And Cal’s friend Gina worked with Samantha on the streets and told them about her story...”

“Soon, it seemed like people personally saved by you were just… popping out of the snow like daisies” Blair laughed, and it was still the loudest, brightest noise. The night seemed a little clearer, the air a little fresher for it. “Felix made his own private chat and added us, and we added everyone else we knew… The word went around about it, and more and more people joined in…”

“It’s really a wonder how you had any time to fight crime, seeing how often you were apparently comforting jumpers on the roofs” Ailbert, still as gigantic and gentle as always, raised a hand from the middle of the group. He had a little girl on his shoulders, probably the baby niece he had taken in after his sister’s death. 

“Then the new kid appeared and Gotham went to hell on a basket, and no one saw you around any longer”, Elijah, wrists no more scarred than the last time he saw him, his arm tangled with Maddie’s, went on. “We were… well, we were a bit confused.”

“Speak for yourself, Cal jumped Red Hood one night, held him at knife point and demanded to know what the fuck happened to our Robin. We were like, zero chill.”

“Sorry, they did what?” Tim was definitely in the twilight zone now. 

“No thoughts, head empty, only murder”

...Tim needed to give Jason a quick call. Also sign Cal up for anger management. And probably, judging by the way both Alley and Tom were looking at them, get one of the adults to give them the talk.

Mrs Eloise smiled at him, and like always it served to calm his nerves. That woman was a different kind of magic than Alfred, but magic indeed. “Anyway, dear, what matters is that we were worried about you. And then this incredible young man, Aaron,” she waved at him, and he winked one of his green eyes in response, “suggested we kept in closer contact with one another, so anyone who spotted you could inform the others.”

Aaron shrugged, his auburn mane of hair bobbing with the movement. “It just seemed like it’d be easier to have an alarm set up, since messaging everyone would take so long… and then someone suggested making a map of Gotham so we could have clearer routes for the kids handing out Mrs Denvarow’s stuff… and someone wanted a shared blackboard to write theories on where the fuck you were with others… and a few demanded a space to share photos, possible sightings or old selfies with you… It kinda spiralled and I thought it’d be less of a chaotic mess if I made an app that could do all of that, instead of all of us using multiple apps for the different fixtures everyone asked for… Since this is Gotham, we also added some Rouge Alarm for whenever a criminal was set loose. It helped keep us safe, and if we knew when crime was happening, we could pay attention to which heroes answered the call…”

“And then, you fought that firefly guy the other day”, Felix said, still by his dad’s side, still looking as awed as ever when looking at tim. “I was in the crowd, and I recognized you within a minute.”

“I don’t really understand technology that well, and the group chat was such a mess that day” Ailbert lamented, but he was still smiling. They all were.

That hit Tim then, hard. 

They all looked so happy to see him. To have him back. They had been waiting for him to be back, banded together to make sure they’d all know when he did.

“You looked so sad the last time we saw you” Blair added softly, sadly. “And… when you saved Aaron, you told him about such sad things…”

Elijah winced “And I heard the Midnighter fell from Wayne Tower a few weeks ago, but then he was never seen around again, and your suit looks kinda similar, so that was probably really you… and, that fall…”

“We were very worried” repeated Eloise, but her eyes didn’t lose their warmth. “But you’re back now, and we can keep track of you and each other now, so it’s all good. It’s wonderful to have you back, love.”

This was an out of body experience.

Something must have shown on his face, because Cal snorted.

“We adore you, you dumbass. You are our hero.”

Alley smiled. “You are our Robin.”

Tim fell into her arms, and away from the roof’s edge. The rest of the crowd was upon them in seconds, all eager to pat his back or joke about the cowl hiding his hair from their hands.

He met eyes with Aaron, over Alley’s shoulder. He looked like the hope Tim had helped plant in his heart all those months ago had flowered, and the petals filled his heart.

(He was feeling poetic tonight, in the best ways)

“You should download the app too, so you always have someone to talk to. Look it up. It’s called BirdWatchers, because we’ll always look up and out for you. Because when we wanted to jump, you lended us your wings to fly instead.”

It was like this fucker wanted Tim to cry.

“Welcome home, Red Robin.”

[pellicano-sanguino]

Finland’s most famous graveyard must be Hietaniemi Cemetery. Many famous people are buried there, including presidents. And a whole bunch of artists. They have a separate area for them, the “artist’s hill.” But one famous artist didn’t get to be buried there among other great painters, sculptors and writers.

Helene Schjerfbeck. 

One of the most famous Finnish artists wasn’t buried in the artist’s hill. She did get a grave in another part of Hietaniemi Cemetery, though. And that grave? Until very recently, was left unattended, growing weeds. It was only because there’s a movie coming out about Schjerfbeck that someone pointed out the sorry state of her grave. Everyone excited about the movie was making great speeches how her art being so loved internationally brought Finns national pride, and someone wrote an angry comment in the newspaper, pointing that it’s disrespectful for politicians and art patrons to claim they love and appreciate her work while her grave grows nettles and we can’t be bothered to pay for the caring of her grave from public sources. 

Some organisation took taking care of Schjerfbeck’s grave as their responsibility. But it was still very disturbing to me how a female artist was treated so differently, even in death. 

The reason I’m writing this is because I went to see Portrait of a Lady on Fire recently. The movie left me an emotional wreck, it touched me on such a basic, almost subconscious level that I’m not sure I’m able to write anything coherent about my feelings. But I will try. Though I think this is a movie one must see for oneself, nothing I say about it will be able to describe the experience properly.

This post contains spoilers for the movie.

The movie is set in 1770 France. A time when female artists were forbidden from painting men, but allowed to paint portraits of women. The protagonist Marianne is one such exceptional lady who had a father open minded enough to allow her an artist’s career instead of choosing from the remaining three options. 

The remaining options? Convent, marriage or suicide.

The plot revolves around a woman, Heloise, who chose convent, but has that choice forcibly taken away from her after her sister chose suicide over arranged marriage and the family now needs to go for plan B and sell their second daughter to some man she has never met. Her mother needs a portrait of her to use as a selling tool, showing it to the man she intends to make her marry. Heloise resists and refuses to pose for an artist. So her mother hires Marianne, who is to pretend to be someone hired for keeping Heloise company, but secretly she is painting her portrait. 

I admit I don’t often enjoy watching movies. It’s just not my medium of choice. But then again, most of the movies I’ve seen are Hollywood stuff or pretentious artsy films, and both of those can be too much for someone as sensitive as I am. I can’t handle violence or unnecessary sex scenes. Also, the vast majority of movies are stories made by men, about men, for men. Even the women in movies are seen through the eyes of men.

But this movie is made by women, about women, for women.

The absence of man’s eyes is notable in small details. How there are no important male characters in this movie, men only show up in the very beginning and end and even then they are just background extras. The fact that we don’t get sex scenes (a male director could never resist doing that when handling a story about lesbians). The fact that both leading ladies look rather plain, ordinary women instead of your typical Hollywood barbie-dolls. The last time I saw a woman in a movie with unshaved armpits was back in highschool when during Swedish lesson we watched some Swedish flick that had a loudly feminist character who made a point of not shaving. 

There’s a scene where a woman goes to an old lady to get an abortion done. If this scene was done by a man, if it had been filmed in Hollywood, they would have made her scream in pain and showed the blood and discharge and feasted on every gruesome detail of the procedure. But the scene is calm, peaceful and intimately respectful. We don’t need to see any details. Focusing on what’s going on between her legs is unnecessary, seeing her face trying to keep calm but breaking into silent, suffocated cries is enough.

Women suffer silently. We have all been taught to grin and bear it, the harder it hurts, the harder you must smile.

The movie isn’t gloomy and depressing. The unpleasant truths jab at your heart without you noticing. Because they let the story speak for itself. No one needs to point out the unfairness of women’s fate in a world ruled by men. The doomed romance between Marianne and Heloise speaks loud enough. Their knowledge that once the portrait is finished, it’s all over. Heloise’s family home is situated on an island with steep cliffs around its shores and surrounded by the restless, ice cold waters of the sea. It’s all very symbolic. There is no escape.

The story builds slowly, patiently. I shouldn’t constantly compare this to Hollywood movies, but in an American movie you could never have this few spoken lines and take this long before the romance buds. Marianne knows she only has few days to finish the portrait, but she and Heloise don’t rush anything and live like they had all the time in the world. They are powerless to do anything to the fate looming ahead and instead spend their last days together without worrying about it. But the viewer is constantly aware of what is going to happen in the end. The tension builds, invisible hands are placed on my throat and slowly tighten their grip. When the last scene begins, I feel so choked by catharsis that I have to breathe through parted lips. I was happy for the movie theater’s darkness, so that neither of my friends sitting beside me could see the tears flowing down my cheek. Women suffer silently, I have been taught to hide my tears and be ashamed if they are discovered.

My friends gave me a ride back home and we talked about the movie. Tigel mentioned that she’d probably have to search the net for fix-it-fics to help her deal with her feelings. I responded that I probably have to call my mother and thank her for letting me choose my own fate and loving me just as I am.

I had to make a phone call like that once before. It was when I was reading Well of Loneliness by Radclyffe Hall. At first I didn’t even like the book, or the main character. But slowly I began to notice similarities between myself and Stephen. They felt so familiar, so much more personal than any of the things het characters in other books did or said. I became frighteningly aware that this book wasn’t just about one specific person, it was about my people. I knew that the story wouldn’t have a happy ending (with a name like Well of Loneliness, what do you expect?) but I couldn’t stop reading. I felt as if I had a responsibility to read on, that I owed it to my past fellow lesbians. Stephen was a fictional character, but she was made to speak for us, to speak for the unfairness of a homosexual’s fate in a world ruled by heteros. For the silent suffering of women who were rejected by society.

When I got to the part where Stephen’s mother tells her that she wished she had never been born, I had to stop. The pain became unbearable. I had to put the book away and call my mother, seeking relief from the invisible hands choking me. I don’t remember that call very well, because I was an emotional mess during it. I remember telling her over and over again that I don’t take for granted the fact that she loves me despite knowing I’m a lesbian. That I am painfully aware that many have not been as fortunate as me. Even today, even in modern, civilized countries like Finland, there are countless gays and lesbians who are rejected by their parents. When you’re homosexual, being loved by your parent isn’t a default, it’s a matter of luck. I have been so very, very lucky.

Both the Well of Loneliness and Portrait of a Lady on Fire have touched me by making me aware of the history of my people. While some parts of our history is celebrated (all the great artists and other historic figures who were one of us), there’s the heavy weight of knowledge about our oppression, how in order for lesbians to live happily ever after in the past they had to be sneaky and so very, very lucky. Not all lesbians were Anne Listers, whose family was ok with not pressuring her to marry. I feel pain thinking how many women there must have been who were forced to suffer just like Stephen, just like Heloise. 

Another reason why our history lies heavy on my mind is because so much of it is lost, hidden, denied and shamed because of heteros. They burned Sappho’s poems. Fire also claimed the love letters men sent to Philippe, brother of Ludwig XIV. While gay men were sentenced openly, lesbianism wasn’t even spoken out loud, out of fear that women couldn’t commit such a sin if they were unaware of its existence. Oscar Wilde was sentenced to prison and died in France, his legacy to the art of writing unappreciated by his countrymen. How many of our graves grew nettles, because we were the dirty secret that everyone wanted to forget? How many of us had uncared graves because the only thing lesser than a woman is a woman who refuses to center her life around a man?

Now I’m going to voice an unpopular opinion that’s probably going to give me hatemail but I’m going to voice it anyway. I don’t like it when people posthumously push trans identity to people who did not identify as trans in life. There’s no way around it, I find it disrespectful. The reason I’m mentioning this is, that despite not liking it, I completely understand why they do it. Trans folks long for a history. They want their own Sapphos and Oscar Wildes. They want great historic characters to look up to and think “We have always been here and despite the world being against us, we could achieve great things.” The weight of lesbian and gay history can be a painful burden, but it will also give us comfort, knowing that people like us have always been and will always be there, that even when heteros made attempts to silence us or wipe us out of existence, we clung to the surviving parts of our history and treasured them. We will never know what the full poem behind the fragment “Someone will remember us/I say/even in another time” was like, but even so those words are precious to us. I do not blame trans folks for wishing for a history, even small fragments to reach through time and give them comfort. 

In case I will receive hatemail for this, I will make an announcement. I have no obligation to react to any message, comment or reblog sent my way. This is my blog, my house, my personal space. I decide who is invited in and who is not. If someone tries to contact me and I see they want to debate, before even reading what they’ve written to me, I will check their blog. A quick glance will usually be enough to reveal if the person in question is capable of intelligent and mature conversation or if engaging in debate with them will just be playing chess with a pigeon (the pigeon will knock the pawns over, bite your nose, shit on the board and then fly to boast to its fellow pigeons how well it won you in a game of chess). If I deem you a pigeon chess player, you will be ignored. I have no time to waste on useless debate. All terfhunters will be ignored as well, I do not wish to interact with the likes of them. However, just like not all gender criticals are radical feminists, not all trans folks are terfhunters. I am willing to speak with people I disagree with, but I will be choosing who I wish to speak with and who I won’t. If I see that you can’t behave, you are not welcome here.

[f4liveblogarchives]

Fantastic Four Vol 1 #214 & #215

Mon Sep 9 2019 [01:29 AM] Wack'd: OH GOD YOU CAN SEE BEN'S RIBS. WHY. HOW

[01:31 AM] Wack'd: Johnny decides that if an aging ray could make them old he just needs to find a supergenius to build a de-aging ray to make them young [01:31 AM] Wack'd: Seems simple, sure, just find someone on Earth who can cure old age [01:31 AM] Wack'd: That won't break the setting at all [01:32 AM] Bocaj: Endgame Hulk intensifies [01:32 AM] Wack'd: Jarvis is a good

[01:32 AM] Bocaj: I do like Jarvis [01:32 AM] Wack'd: (He can't be that allergic to nuts, he lives with a half-dozen of 'em) [01:34 AM] Bocaj: HAH [01:34 AM] Wack'd: HOLY SHIT THIS HELICARRIER DESIGN. GLORIOUS

[01:34 AM] maxwellelvis: Bean [01:34 AM] Bocaj: Why does it have a handle [01:35 AM] Wack'd: This is what you want. The underside seems hostile to the concept of landing and there's huge deadly propeller blades giving off massive gusts of wind where people are walking around and launching planes [01:35 AM] maxwellelvis: And it looks like it's got a giant metal- [01:36 AM] Wack'd: There's a dong yeah [01:36 AM] Bocaj: I didn't want to say dong but yeah [01:36 AM] Wack'd: Anyway Tony is taking care of a radioactive waste problem and the decontamination procedure takes 25 hours so he's out [01:37 AM] Wack'd: Not like everyone's in stasis. Definitely a real ticking-clock situation [01:37 AM] Bocaj: Writer of this book: "Fuck the shared universe" [01:37 AM] Wack'd: In fairness if you look to the Marvel Cinematic Universe you get the opposite situation where it seems like everyone's just too stupid to call each other [01:38 AM] Wack'd: "Everyone's conveniently indisposed" is a good answer that keeps the main characters centralized [01:38 AM] Wack'd: If you have the space to spare. I'm not asking for every MCU movie to have a scene where they call up all the other heroes and get sent to voicemail [01:40 AM] Wack'd: So anyway Johnny decides to ask if anyone on Xandar has a fix. Answer: no. Also: we're in the middle of a war, please call back later [01:40 AM] Wack'd: Johnny is about to give up when he's attacked by SKRULL X! [01:41 AM] Wack'd: Skrull X has all Super-Skrull's powers. Since Super-Skrull is dead at the moment [01:41 AM] Wack'd: He's a fairly transparent substitution [01:43 AM] Wack'd: I have to say that this is remarkably well set up? They established this dude was here before the aging ray even appeared. Weird to see this level of long-term planning

[01:44 AM] Wack'd: Skrull X is dead now. Bye Skrull X. [01:44 AM] Wack'd: You would think a dude with Johnny's powers would be more fireproof but I guess not [01:47 AM] Wack'd: Anyway with the aging ray in hand, Johnny wakes Reed up so he can use the rest of his strength figuring out how to reverse it. Last time we saw him he was at deaths door but I guess now he's ambulatory enough to make this work [01:49 AM] Wack'd: This is a good scene. Keeps Johnny central to the plot and lets him expand his range. Can't solve everything by brute force. Or brute heat I guess

[01:51 AM] Bocaj: I admire how they make welding dramatic [01:51 AM] Bocaj: I'm not being facetious [01:51 AM] Wack'd: Welp

[01:51 AM] Bocaj: In greenest day, in darkest night [01:51 AM] maxwellelvis: "It's working! My gray is going away gradually!" [01:52 AM] Wack'd: It is not, in fact, working [01:53 AM] Wack'd: Holy shit dude

[01:54 AM] maxwellelvis: Marv's just warming up. [01:54 AM] maxwellelvis: Wait until he writes for the Titans, then you'll see primo angst. [01:55 AM] Wack'd: So of course, it did actually work. It just took a while. [01:56 AM] Wack'd: (Given that the aging ray took three days to kill them, it's definitely a little weird that he expected instant results, but patience has never been Johnny's strong suit) [01:57 AM] Wack'd: Awwww

[01:57 AM] maxwellelvis: Yaaayyyy [01:59 AM] Wack'd: WE HAVE BEEN SPARED THE RAVAGES OF TIME

[01:59 AM] maxwellelvis: And so the Comic Book Stasis... begins [02:00 AM] Wack'd: A good way to commemorate...uh...milestone issue 214? Anniversary year 19? I've got nothing

[02:02 AM] Wack'd: Anyway I guess that's it for tonight. Nice to end on a story-ending note [02:02 AM] Bocaj: When they cheer at the screen, who are they cheering at in universe? [02:03 AM] maxwellelvis: Us [02:03 AM] Wack'd: @Bocaj : HERBIE [02:03 AM] maxwellelvis: Doop [02:06 AM] Bocaj: Fair enough

Mon Sep 9 2019 [04:37 PM] Wack'd: This one has Blastaar. From ish 62. He's a negative man from a Negative Zone [04:37 PM] Wack'd: Gotta keep recycling z-listers I guess [04:37 PM] maxwellelvis: He hates both Annihilus and the Four. [04:38 PM] Wack'd: So we open in media res! Professor Randolph James' lab blew up but the Four contained the blast [04:38 PM] Wack'd: Reed warns Prof James to take his very dangerous work more slowly and use more safeguards. What is that work? *shrug* [04:38 PM] maxwellelvis: And I'd say he's about a B-lister at most. He's crossed paths with the X-Men, Thor, and Hulk, since then. [04:40 PM] Wack'd: Ben objects to eugenics

[04:40 PM] Wack'd: Anyway the Four hurry back to the Baxter because an alarm just went off [04:41 PM] Wack'd: Ah yes, experimental scientists, well known for their immense wealth

[04:42 PM] Wack'd: Back at the Baxter--Blastaar! Fight fight fight [04:43 PM] maxwellelvis: I guess that's a reason for a bunch of Hell's Angels to start bullying a scientist. [04:43 PM] Wack'd: Well that's concerning

[04:43 PM] Umbramatic: oh [04:44 PM] Wack'd: Anyway they lose track of Blastaar in the sewers and give the Avengers a courtesy heads-up [04:45 PM] Wack'd: Oh no! It's a supervillain origin story!

[04:45 PM] Wack'd: *siiiiiiigh*

[04:46 PM] Wack'd: 🎵 Guess what I'm a Watcher now 🎶

[04:47 PM] maxwellelvis: GOOD LORD! GIGANTISM! [04:47 PM] Wack'd: And then he turns the neighborhood toughs into mice with his mind [04:49 PM] Bocaj: Why did he choose to wear a toga? [04:49 PM] Wack'd: Look it's the ultimate in human clothes evolution [04:49 PM] Wack'd: Also this is a cliffhanger. Reed doesn't see James do this so he's like "come back to the lab to run some tests" and James is like "you're my only friend so yeah sure" and then we cut outside and the toughs are mice [04:49 PM] maxwellelvis: It's like, half-toga, half-wrestling trunks [04:50 PM] Wack'd: THE ULTIMATE IN HUMAN CLOTHES EVOLUTION

[m00nslippers]

The past is coming back to wreck Jason’s new life, in RHATO Issue #33

We knew Essence and the All-caste were coming back, from the solicitations/previews, but I don’t think anyone saw the second blonde love interest’s appearance coming. We probably should have though, since this whole comic is just throwing out everything people liked about Rebirth RHATO (Biz and Artemis) and bringing in everything from the New 52 run except what people liked about it, (namely Roy and Starfire being Jason’s besties). So...I don’t know, we’ll jump into this.

It opens on Essence, in the Thousand acres of All, going to see Ducra, or maybe her ghost. She’s supposed to be dead, I thought, but these All-Caste people seem to be able to communicate/exist as spirits. Actually I thought they’d pretty much been wiped out? I am really fuzzy on the All-caste stuff I need to go back and reread New 52 RHATO to refresh my memory, it’s just hard when the art is so consistently BAD after the first artist leaves that I can’t really stand it.

Essence implies that Jason is some ‘great darkness’ and it was a mistake to teach him. Which people have been saying about Jason since Stalin wrote him with the whole ‘bad seed’ thing so, sure, okay. Jason having the potential to be some kind of ultimate evil is actually cool in the sense that it acknowledges Jason is badass and competent enough to be a threat to heroes, which I like, but the idea that Jason would ever be evil is head-shaking to me. But Essence honestly didn’t say much about what’s going on but that Jason is the problem, so there’s no point getting mad about it yet, we’ll see how that develops.

We go back to the Iceburg lounge with Jason talking to Cobblepot through the fish tank wall, the usual “you won’t get away with this!” and “Oh but I already have!” and blah blah blah. It’s revealed the wall can go opaque and show a scenery to disguise the room behind it or it can be clear so Jason can see in, and there’s a little remote that controls it, and I’m already anticipating Suzie or Miguel finding the remote, pressing it and finding Cobblepot there and being outraged. Suzie might not be that outraged, I’m not sure, but Miguel probably would. I’m not sure if there’s a speaker too, because it’s clearly soundproofed since Cobblepot can’t hear out after he presses the button, some kind of Jamming system, he calls it. Which is basically elevator music. Should have learned to read lips, Cobblepot!

But Cobblepot, as it turns out, has some contingencies in place for if he drops off the radar, in the form of two shadowy creeps cutting fish at a production facility. The fact that he thinks his D-listers stand a chance against Jason is honestly adorable.

In the office, Miguel waxes poetic a moment about how he’s feeling all fulfilled and such, running the Casino. It’s maybe a little weird? Like if you said this guy was brainwashed right now I’d be like, yeah, I see it. I don’t think he’s actually brain-washed though, I think he’s just being set up to be really disappointed when he finds out his new situation is built on Jason keeping Cobblepot prisoner. It seems like Miguel is the ‘people-pleaser’ type. He feels most fulfilled when he’s being helpful. As a hero you save people, sure but people are also blaming everything you can’t fix on you, and you don’t get a lot of contact with the people you save after the fact, so being in a more mundane job where he can see the fruits of his labor actually probably fits him better, especially with a good boss like Jason.

And Jason seems to be a good boss, we see. He trusts his employees to do their jobs, isn’t breathing down their necks, acts friendly and positively to them, is concerned for their well-being and they can come to him with problems without him taking it out on them. He really seems to be good at being in charge, actually. People prop up Tim and Dick to be such great leaders, but they both act aloof and sarcastic and sometimes even take out their frustration on the people around them. They aren’t great leaders, in my opinion. They’re great tacticians and they’re very charismatic so people want to listen to them, but they actually are very frustrating leaders to have for their teammates a lot of the time. Jason does have the same bat-weakness as they all do though, in that he keeps secrets that he probably shouldn’t keep from his teammates and I think that’s what’s going to ruin this whole gig.

Let’s take a moment to talk about the art. It’s the same colorist we’ve had, who has been doing a great job, but we went back to the artist who’s been doing things since Dexter Soy left, and while I do like him, I’m a little disappointed. He does great bodylines and shadows and proportions are very good, I like the way he did Cobblepot’s nose super exaggerated, but...I really miss cute Jason’s face from the other artist last issue. In profile Jason looks okay sometimes, all the Su girls look great and most of the other characters too, but in front and three-quarters views it’s very strange and angular, I don’t like it. Also his hair isn’t fluffy and nice, it’s slick and spikey. Oh well, the art quality is still high and I appreciate all the work put into it, I just don’t personally like how Jason is being drawn, but It’s still better than the buzzcut, in my opinion.

But speaking of Jason, he looks awesome in the white, black and red tux, I love it. Jay in formal-wear, always nice. And walking through the casino floor he suddenly spies...

Isabel! Which I was surprised and actually kind of excited to see a little. For those who don’t remember, Jason went on like, two dates with her in the New 52 RHATO. She’s an airline stewardess and basically her thing is she’s minding her own business, runs into Jason and she ends up picking up alien guns and shooting people, and taking it really chill. And this happened more than once. They seemed to decide that Jason constantly being in danger meant they couldn’t really date, since even though she could seemingly handle being in fire-fights all the time unlike most people, she didn’t want that for obvious reasons.

...but apparently she changed her mind.

I personally am pretty committed to Jason and Artemis being a romantic couple in the canon, and I do not want to see him get back together with Isabel, but I do like her and I think she’s mostly good for Jason. This is going to be kind of interesting though because Jason also had a relationship with Essence, who is obviously going to show up later on. Honestly, the ideal situation is that at the end of the arc, Essence and Isabel are in the same room and Artemis drops in from a portal and returns, and all three sit around comparing notes about Jason and he’s just terrified.

But as they are in the midst of their fancy kiss, the casino gets attacked by Penguin’s contingency bozos. Jason says, “I’m not in the 'doing something’ business anymore,” which is kind of confusing to me? Like I didn’t think he was ‘quitting’ being the Red Hood, per se. Or maybe he genuinely thought he was, and he could do everything through his casino without being Red Hood anymore. I don’t know. But we all know Jason won’t stop 'doing something', in particular shooting people who have it coming. So I’m not sure if he’s outright lying to her, or it’s just strange wording. But also, where the heck is Wingman in all this?

So, the people who show up are the ‘Five Aces’ who I have never heard of. I’m assuming Lobdell didn’t just make them up for this, but maybe he did, I’m not sure. What I do know is there are four aces in a deck so there being five aces is confusing. But the Su sisters are on it and fight these guys and I actually really like the Su sisters, they are each of them very cool, even if Candy is sort of a discount Harley Quinn. They are all very snazzy and badass and I’m glad they got a redemption of sorts by teaming up with Jason.

One thing though, is they treat Suzie Su like she’s freaking invulnerable? She gets hit with arrows and an axe and doesn’t even bleed, like what? Clearly she has invulnerability and maybe some super-human strength, but no one has mentioned this ever, so...

The fight is pretty good, all the ladies got chances to be badass, the art was easy to understand and looked clean. And it’s actually nice to see people just straight up shoot someone, like we don’t need to make this complicated, just do the obvious thing to take them out, yeah? There was no blood, which felt unrealistic and a little insulting. The sisters take out four of the five aces, and I think at least three of them are arguably dead, since one got shot to hell, one had a bomb stuck down his pants and the other got his face blown up. The guy stuck in the diamond/ice might be alive but if you tell me the others are later I’m gonna call bullshit. But all this leads to the sisters remarking that this might be a diversion to take out Jason which...

Jason is running around with Isabel and she remarks, “Oh you’ve really changed,” which, no? Jason always tried to get Isabel out of the situation first, if I recall? This is perfectly in character for how he has acted towards her before. She was always the one who insisted on jumping in with him I think, but I guess she means him delegating and not jumping in too. But he only had Roy and Starfire before so he didn’t really have a choice back then. I don’t know, I guess maybe there is a subtle distinction, but the way I see it, before he stayed involved to help his friends and here, the Su sisters are paid employees who should be able to handle things on their own, and there’s a bunch more of them and their fighting the dregs of the villain bucket. It’s the situation that has changed, not Jason himself.

At this point the fifth ace appears, takes some shots at them, and Jason says, “Hold my beer,” for no goddamn reason. This line really put me out of the story. He’s not even holding a beer, or anything at all for that matter, the line in this situation makes no sense. Lobdell, stop forcing memes or whatever into Red Hood comics. I don’t like it. Yeah, Jason is sarcastic and quippy on occasion but he’s not this pop-culture geek you have suddenly started insisting he is? Like that’s Tim or even Dick, it’s not Jason, okay? Also, this situation might have been funny if he actually was holding a champagne flute or something? It’s a casino, he could reasonably have been doing that before. Or he could have handed her his jacket, I don’t know, then maybe the line would make sense. It would still be dumb, but at least it would make sense.

But anyway, Miguel uses his brick powers to save them from getting shot up and hands Jason a suitcase--the “security protocols”, which contains his Red Hood outfit. Apparently this was not actually a thing set up by Jason himself, Miguel did it. So give this guy a raise, Jason, he’s really going above and beyond for you over here. I’m thinking maybe it’s not that Jason has totally stopped being Red Hood, just that he is trying to avoid being him in his casino to keep the connection between Jason Todd and Red Hood a secret, which makes sense.

It turns out the fifth ace guy is one of the All-Caste, which considering the fancy swords and the fact that there are only four aces in a deck, makes sense. Jason calls him out and it’s reiterated that Jason is the ‘chosen’, the last disciple of the All-Caste.

They fight, the guy spouts some stuff about how Jason never should have been trained and all that jazz. Jason remarks that people are always trying to make him do things their way and he’s more or less sick and tired of it. Which, you can’t blame him, no one who ever tried to train Jason seemed to have his interests at heart, even Bruce really. They just wanted a biddable little ninja boy.

So that all goes down and Jason literally turns the guy to dust, that’s just what happens to All-Caste and Untitled who get killed I guess, they turn to dust because they’re ancient. Suzie is all worried about Jason which is kind of nice. Like someone actually giving a shit about Jason is honestly a novelty, no one in the bat family ever seems to wonder if he’s okay, Biz and Artemis gave him lots of space and just assume he could handle himself, only Roy and Starfire cared at all and Roy is dead now. So yeah, seeing someone rush in, worried for Jason, kind of endears me to Suzie. I know she did messed up stuff in the past but I’m sold, okay? If she goes back to being an irredeemable villain I’ll be really disappointed.

But the real important thing is Jason hides that he took out the other intruder. He isn’t mentioning the All-Caste stuff to her, or maybe anyone, he could tell Miguel and Wingman about it later, we don’t know. All I know is that it’s in character, Jason tries very hard to keep All-Caste/Untitled stuff to himself and the Caste and not involve outsiders, but I know for a fact it’s going to blow up in his face somehow. It all worked out with Roy and Starfire but I don’t see it going so well here.

And that’s it. This issue was a lot of set up, there was good action, a lot of stuff happened. I’m interested to see more All-Caste stuff, hopefully get some things about it explained. It was really a blast from the past and felt a lot like New 52 RHATO which...I have mixed feelings about. I was hoping or something different, that seemed to be what was happening with the Casino arc but it’s really turning a corner. It wasn’t as if the New 52 run was all bad, and I mostly like what he’s done with the Su sisters so far, but I just hope Lobdell takes the occasion to re-explain some things with the All-Caste into being more interesting or making more sense. Seeing Isabel again was a nice surprise but I personally don’t see it lasting. Everything is going to come down on Jason again and she’s going to remember why they didn’t really go out in the first place. Also, I have a personal bias for Artemis, so there’s that.

I have NO IDEA what is going on with Wingman, why the heck wasn’t he in the issue at all? He was built up as some big mystery and wanted Jason to go back to Gotham, but then he isn’t even here when stuff goes down? I hope this doesn’t turn into some loose end that never gets explained, but we’ll have to see.

[ibelieveinahappilyeverafter]

Just You And Me - Phic Phight 02

Event: Phic Phight 2019 Team: Team Ghost

Title: Just You And Me  

Prompt Giver:  Ave-aria on tumblr

Prompt Chosen: One side effect of fighting spooks in your spare time? It makes for a lot of good stories to tell around the campfire. While away at camp, Danny, Sam, Tucker, and Jazz get the chance to share some of their best and creepiest firsthand Ghost Stories, with their classmates none the wiser. *Can also be set Post Phantom Planet if desired.

Rating: T Content Warnings: Mentions of past character death (ghost). Status: Complete Final Word Count:1,028

Author’s Comments: Written alongside Kasena/Cheshire-Kas!

Summary: What’s better than real ghost stories around the campfire? Well, it’s a lot more fun when the ghosts actually show up.

              Click here to read the work on Archive Of Our Own.

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                                                     ::

They had gotten the campfire going, and now it seemed like everyone was looking around, waiting for something. It was Dash that finally spoke, “So. Who’s got some good ghost stories?”

“Ghost stories?” Danny felt the grin growing on his face as he realized this stupid camping trip he had been forced to go on might end up being more fun than he thought. “Depends on how scared you’re willing to get.”

“Jeez, Fenton, we want something actually scary. What are you gonna tell us about? The little ghost kitten that went ‘meow?’”

“If that’s the only story you think you can handle, Dash, sure,” Sam cut in sweetly. “Just leave it, Danny. Pretty obvious they can’t handle stories like we’re used to telling.”

Kwan leaned forward. “What kind of story would you guys tell?”

Danny looked at their classmates and shrugged. “Just the story about Amber.”

“Amber?” Star frowned, huddled in a jacket and already looking wary. “Amber who?”

“You haven’t heard about Wailing Amber?”

Sam and Tucker looked at him and they all grinned as they leaned forward. “Amber was just another girl. A teenager, she wanted to be a total popstar.”

“She was sixteen when she died, and that was probably about ten years ago.”

Dash shook his head, interrupting almost immediately, “You’re really just gonna start off with ‘oh, here’s this girl who died ten years ago.’ Weak, Fenton. Weak.”

“Well, hang on. Gotta build up to it, first,” he told Dash with a grin. “Amber went to a high school pretty close by. She loved writing songs, and so she had sheet music and a whole bunch of lyrics and stuff around her bedroom, right?”

“It was total music heaven,” Sam laughed. “She loved the guitar, the most, and she was actually really good at it. She could even play a few other instruments, but the guitar was the best for her, and she knew that she and her guitar were going to be famous.”

“Amber, you know, she was a teenager, right? She had a crush on a guy at school. His name was Adam, he was like the Dash Baxter of their school.”

“Aw, yeah, sounds awesome!”

“Dude was totally not awesome.”

“Aw, what? You said he was like me!” Dash whined, a few of the other A Listers snickering or hiding behind coughs. “How bad could the dude be?”

“She asked him out, and he said yes,” Danny said. “He told her to meet him… In the forest right around here. At midnight. You know what she thought was gonna happen. So she came out here to the forest, and she waited.”

Sam picked up the story. “She got there at about eleven-thirty. She didn’t have a watch, or a phone, so she never knew what time it was. Midnight came and passed, and he never showed.”

“She kept waiting,” Tucker said. “She waited until one. Until two. When she finally got home, it was like four in the morning.”

“Jeez, what a douchebag,” Kawn grumbled, crossing his arms as he looked around. “And she was alone throughout all of this? Until that late?”

“Yeah, they basically thought Amber was like one of the losers.”

“Amber went back home and basically passed out in her bed.”

“While she was sleeping, her house caught on fire. Remember all that music and those papers? They lit up. She stayed up so late, she didn’t even wake up. She didn’t make it.”

“They say that if you’re out here, late at night, you can hear her practicing one of her songs while she waits for him to come meet her.”

Paulina gave a huff, crossing her legs, “Please, there’s no way any part of that is…” Paulina trailed off due to the fact that a gentle guitar song was filtering through the trees. “Oh, very funny, Fenton. You can stop whatever you’re playing on your phone, now.”

Danny pulled up his phone. “My phone’s been off this whole time. Sam? Tuck?” Both of them pulled out their own phones, Tucker even turning his on to show that nothing was playing.

“Then one of you guys need to stop it,” Paulina snapped, everyone else quickly pulling out their phones to show they were either off or not playing anything. The guitar was getting louder, too.

“What if we could be… Just us, you and me?”

“Uh, guys?”

“Oh, no way, no way, no way, no way, I refuse to be the dumb jock in the horror movie! Fenton! This was your stupid story do something!”

Just before anyone could do anything, there was a rustling in the bushes near them, and a translucent girl with a glow about her came forward. She looked like any other teenage girl, except obviously ghostly. “You finally came.”

Danny watched with absolute glee as every kid there except him and his friends screeched and then took off running into the woods. It was impossible to hold in his laughter as the ghostly girl’s form flickered before Ember was floating in front of them and looking amused, “Man, babypop, you’re more sadistic than I thought.”

“That’s not sadistic,” Danny defended. “That? That was payback!” Tucker was still laughing, Sam shaking her head with a happy sigh.

“I hope Paulina breaks a heel before they get back to camp.”

Danny stood and looked at Ember. “You alright?”

“Aw, worried about me?” Ember laughed, flying over to ruffle Danny’s hair. “No worries, Danny, I’m fine. Besides, did you see the looks on their faces? Johnny and Kitty are gonna be jealous missing out on this.”

“And hey, that sounded like a cool song,” Tucker pointed out. “You just start writing it?”

Ember blinked, looking surprised before giving a rare, softer smile, “Thanks for the compliment, but that was actually an old one of mine. Thought I might play around with it again.”

“Thanks for the help, Ember. Those jerks totally deserved it.

“Of course! And hey, you know, if you ever told a story about two lovesick teenagers who died on a motorcycle… And then a ghostly motorcycle just happened to run through you all…”

“We’ll save it for next time.”

[davidmann95]

New justice league line looks interesting, doesn’t it?

Not posting the released art, since there’s a LOT of it and not a single convenient full-group shot in the bunch, but the gist of it is Scott Snyder/James Tynion IV/Joshua Williamson are writing a weekly mini Justice League: No Justice (the title having been hinted at in Batman: Lost) for May drawn by Francis Manapul, with the high concept being that a warning from Brainiac of a cosmic threat forces the League to bring in some of their enemies and temporarily break up into four different teams: Mystery - Starfire, Sinestro, Martian Manhunter, and Starro, led by Superman - Entropy - Lobo, Beast Boy, Deathstroke, and Lex Luthor, led by Batman - Wonder - Raven, Zatanna, Dr. Fate, and Etrigan, led by Wonder Woman - and Wisdom - Cyborg, Robin, Harley Quinn, and the Atom, led by Flash. This’ll lead to a revamped slate of DC team books* led by Snyder and an unannounced art team (definitely including Greg Capullo) on Justice League, presumably with a shiny new #1.

To be honest, I’m a bit disappointed this inevitable development is happening now, since the Justice League books finally found a balance recently after years of flailing; Orlando’s JLA bypassed the usual small-scale woes of B-team titles by putting them up against major threats, whereas Justice League proper under Priest and Woods has managed to become the ‘serious’ character book that people have been trying to make it for years by taking their ability to handle world-shaking catastrophes as a given happening in the background and zeroing in on the post-Authority political angle. Still, 10 issues of Priest on Justice League is about 12 more than anyone was expecting to ever happen, and between this and him seemingly leaving Supergirl in April based on the cover, hopefully Orlando is going to be given bigger and better things - maybe The Flash if Williamson’s going to be busy elsewhere?

No Justice itself seems like perfectly decent disposable fun in the making - the temporary teams have Power Rangers color-coordinated uniforms! They know exactly how silly this is - but it’s the new lineup afterwards that’s really interesting. I’ve been harping for awhile that DC Rebirth hasn’t been built on nearly as solid a foundation as people seem to like to think when so many of its biggest titles are profoundly middling or even outright crap, but now with Bendis for better or worse seemingly seizing the Superman titles, Tim Seeley on the lead Green Lantern comic, and now a restored core of team titles, I think things are about to become far more interesting and propulsive.** I’m guessing we’ll have Tynion on Young Justice, Priest doing some new Legion of Doom book (I understand he had them show up in a recent issue of Deathstroke that was well-received), and Williamson…actually, I don’t have a clue about that guy. Look, his stuff is perfectly passable by 2010s DC standards, but the dude’s anything but an A-lister in the making, so it’s weird to keep seeing him get pushed. My point being, Scott Snyder on Justice League is rad as hell and I can’t wait to see what bonkers shit he’s gonna pull.

* The initial report suggested these would be multiple new Justice League titles, but Snyder himself simply described it as “the team books” being revamped.

** Still gotta fix Wonder Woman though now that everyone’s gone and fucked it up again the moment Rucka left.

[rippedjeansandfadeddreams]

Jacob’s story (official) chapter one

Hi! Here’s the official chapter one to Jacob’s story! It’s really long! I hope you like it! Let me know if you want to be tagged!

CW: Not a lot this time. Referenced abuse/trauma/captivity, scars, minor whumpee but not really? He’s 18 but was taken when he was 8. It’s just talking about what happened. Partial nudity, he just lifts his shirt for a few moments to show his scars.

“Hello, my name is Officer Lewis,” the woman dressed in a blue uniform says. She stands next to the couch where I sit.

I look up at her, my heart beating fast. I look to where I set my staff. A man in a blue uniform has found it and picked it up. My mom is talking with a second woman.

“Please don’t hurt me,” I whisper.

“We’re not going to hurt you as long as you come with us,” she says. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Jacob Lister, ma’am,” I whisper. I watch my mom as she gestures around the room. She looks scared. Why was she scared? I’m home.

“Can you come with me, Jacob?” The woman asks.

I look away from my mom and meet the woman’s eyes. I nod, standing up. The woman leads me out the door and to a car. She has me sit in the back seat.

“Stay here,” she says and shuts the door, locking it as she walks back into the house.

I fiddle with the leather straps on my shirt. I wipe away the dried tears. Why didn’t my mom recognize me? Olner did send me back to the right area, right? The school looked familiar and I had to crawl out of the bushes. The fence was new, but that’s to be expected. Why didn’t she recognize me?

The car door opens again, and Officer Lewis and the man climb in.

“Jacob, we’re going to take you back to the station,” Officer Lewis says.

I nod.

We’re moving in a moment. I grab the door handle, expecting a bumpy ride. I’m surprised at how smooth the ride is. It’s been so long since I rode in a car, I’ve forgotten how nice these are.

We arrive at the station. The man opens my door and I climb out. The man puts a hand on my shoulder. I glance at him. He doesn’t look at me. We follow Officer Lewis into the station.  

They chained me to a table in a stone room. They leave me alone for a while. When they come back, I watch them. One stays by the door, the other sits down across from me. The one by the door has his arms crossed.

The one sitting across from me folds his arms and leans back in his chair. “My name is Officer Dale. Can you tell me yours?” He asks.

“Jacob Lister, sir,” I say.

“How old are you, Jacob?”

I look away. I honestly don’t know my age. I know I was eight when they took me. “I don’t know,” I whisper.

Officer Dale looks to his partner. “What can you tell me about your situation?”

I look back at him. “I was taken when I was little. Now I just want to go home,” I say.

“Who took you?” Officer Dale leans forward, setting his hands on the table.

I look to him, to his partner by the door. “Someone with a dog. They pulled me into the bushes behind the school and dragged me to another world,” I say.

Officer Dale furrows his eyebrows. “Another world?”

I nod.

“Are you sure it wasn’t just far away from here?”

I nod again. “It was another world. All flat and rocky. There were giant trees with houses hanging between them. There was magic there too,” I say. “Everyone had magic.”

“Can you take us to that place?”

I shake my head ‘no.’ “The portal has to be opened on the other side.”

“Did you have magic, in this other world?” Officer Dale asks.

I nod.

“Can you show us your magic?”

I look down and shake my head ‘no.’ “I already tried. I can’t reach it on Earth,” I say.

Officer Dale leans back in his chair. “Do you have any evidence of your time in the other world?”

He doesn’t believe me. I nod.

“Can you show us?”

“I’ll need my hands unlocked. It’s all under my shirt,” I say, feeling my cheeks go red.

Officer Dale turns to the officer by the door. He waits for a moment before nodding. Officer Dale produces a key and unlocks the cuffs. I undo the buckles on my armor and slowly shrug out of it. I lay it on the table. There is a tight fitting, grey shirt that sits underneath the armor. I slowly lift that up, exposing the brand and various other scars. The officers stare at me with wide eyes.

“How did you get all of these?” Officer Dale asks. He motions for me to lower my shirt.

“I got caught in a… situation,” I say, tugging my shirt down.

They are quiet for a few moments. “What situation?” Officer Dale asks.

I bite the inside of my lip. “It… It was… I… I don’t really like to talk about it,” I whisper, looking down.

“Why not?”

“There was, it was, I… It’s really hard to talk about,” I say, sliding back into the chair. My heart starts pounding. I don’t want to talk about it. The room with the hooks and the hood over my face. The terrible tearing sensation-

Officer Dale sits in a chair opposite me. “How long did this situation last?”

I glance up at him. “About six months, I think. That’s what they told me.”

“Who told you?”

“Tristan and the queen, sir,” I say. Even though I can’t use my magic, I can still feel the Bond I have with Tristan.

“Who is Tristan?”

“He’s my best, and only, friend,” I say.

“So, you have a friend who’s close with the queen of this world?”

“She’s not the queen of the world, just the kingdom. It wasn’t that big, but it was where I was taken. I was the one who was close with the queen. Tristan was just really good at magic and helped me learn.” I explain, feeling my heartbeat slow.

“…Alright,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “You claim to be Jacob Lister, taken at age 8 to another world where you did what? Why were you taken to this other world?” He asks.

I feel my heartrate pick up again. “I, um, was brought to take down the Dark Master,” I say.

“Did you?” Officer Dale asks.

I nod.

“Was he the one to give you all those scars?”

I pale, looking down. I nod again. He’s dead. He can’t come back. You’re safe. He can’t get to you. You’re safe.

Officer Dale nods, looking to his partner. His partner shrugs and Officer Dale nods. His partner opens the door and walks out.

“I know it’s hard to believe, but I am Jacob Lister. I was taken to the other world. I just want to go home,” I say.

Officer Dale holds up a hand. “I don’t know if I believe you or not. All I know is that Jacob Lister disappeared during school when he was 8. After years of searching and no leads, Jacob was declared dead and the case was closed. Now you show up, claiming to be Jacob Lister and that you were taken to another world. That seems like a bunch of bull, but your scars say otherwise. I’m not sure what to think,” he says.

I look down. “I just want to go home,” I whisper.

“We’ll get you home, kid. Don’t worry. We just need to sort this out,” he says and stands up.

The door opens again and his partner walks in, followed by another guy in a uniform. His partner shuts the door after he walks in.

“Jacob, is it?” The new man asks.

I nod. “Yes, sir,” I say.

“My name is Officer Daniel Hughes. You can call me Daniel,” he says, offering a hand.

I stand and shake it. “Nice to meet you Daniel,” I say.

“Good strong grip you have. That’s very nice,” he says, sitting down. “Have a seat.”

I sit in the chair I just vacated. “Thank you, sir,” I say.

“I heard your story. It seems like a child’s fantasy,” he says. “But I hear you have scars to back it up?”

I nod. “Yes, sir,” I say hesitantly.

“Can you show me?”

I nod and slowly pull up my shirt, high enough to expose the brand that sits in the middle of my chest.

“Those look really nasty. Especially that brand,” he says.

I lower my shirt, not saying anything. He’s going to ask about how I got them. I don’t want to tell him. Please don’t make me tell. I just want to forget it all.

“Can you tell me about the brand?” He asks.

“Just, just the brand?” I ask.

He nods. “Nothing else, just the brand.”

“It was the Dark Master’s way of marking what was his. All of his servants and soldiers, anyone who served under him would get branded. I was on a raid with my scouting group and we got caught. He found out about my power and decided to keep me, Bond with me to gain access to my power. He branded me and kept me locked away. It was the first thing he did to get into my head,” I explain. My hands shake and my heart feels like it will beat right through my chest.

Daniel nods. “Thank you,” he says. “You don’t have to explain any more if you don’t want to.”

“Thank you, sir,” I say.

“Now down to business,” he says, leaning forward.

“Business, sir?” I ask.

“Do you have a place to stay tonight?” He asks.

“I don’t think so, sir,” I say.

“Well, until we find your home, you’re going to need a place to stay,” he says. “I have an extra room at home, and I’m sure my wife won’t mind you staying. My son used to bring his friends over all the time, and they would stay the night. Now he’s up at college and those rooms aren’t being used anymore.”

“I’m not sure I’m following, sir,” I say.

“Would you like to stay with me tonight? It’s better than staying here at the station,” he says. “Trust me. I’ve had more than a few overnight shifts here.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” I say.

Daniel smiles a genuine smile. It reaches his eyes. “Wonderful!” He stands.

I stand as well, hands behind my back. Daniel puts a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s get you home,” he says. “It’s almost time for dinner.”

I smile slightly as we walk out of the room. Daniel leads me past the area where I passed before. I see my mom sitting at one of the desks, talking with an officer. She’s crying. My dad sits next to her, an arm around her shoulders.

“Mom? Dad?” I say quietly, taking a step towards them.

My dad looks up at us. He watches as we walk past.

“Dad?” I say, a little louder. I stop in my tracks. Daniel stops as well.

My dad looks towards my mom, gently getting her attention.

Daniel puts his hand on my shoulder again. “You’ll see them later,” he says.

“But they’re right here,” I say. I can feel tears building. “Please.”

My mom looks up at me. My dad looks as well.

Daniel meets their gazes. He nods slightly to me. My parents nod as well. “Alright. You can see them now,” he says.

I take a few steps towards them. My parents stand. I quickly walk towards them, stopping a few feet away. “Hi mom. Hi dad,” I whisper.

“Hello,” my dad says. Mom doesn’t say anything.

I feel a few tears fall down my cheeks. “I’ve missed you,” I say.

My dad’s face falls. He doesn’t say anything as he gently pulls me into a hug. I cry into his chest. He rubs small circles on my back. It feels like a dream just to be held by my dad again. I forgot him. I forgot my life. I forgot Earth. I forgot all of this.

I pull away and look at him. I’m almost as tall as him. My dad puts his hands on my shoulders. “It’ll be okay,” he says. “We’ll figure this out.”

I nod.

My mom nods, tears in her eyes.

I give them a smile.

Daniel puts a hand on my shoulder. I hastily wipe my eyes. “I’ll take care of him tonight. We’ll sort this all out in the morning,” he says.

“Thank you, officer,” my dad says.

“Of course,” he says.

My dad reaches out and gives my arm a squeeze. “We’ll see you in the morning, kiddo,” he says.

“See you in the morning,” I whisper back with a smile.

Daniel leads me away from my parents and out of the station.

[impudentmiscengenation]

@festus14, Here you are! Hope this was okay! Thanks for the prompt! Ouija “Are you sure this is going to work, Dash?” Kwan bit his lip nervously. “What if we end up with something we can’t handle? I’ve heard these ouija board things are dangerous.” Dash rolled his eyes. “Don’t be such a baby.” The blonde sixteen-year old shoved his friend. “The girls don’t even have a problem with it!” He pointed out. Star was filing her nails boredly and Paulina was on social media posting about how she was going to use a ouija board for the first time ‘be sure to follow me!’ she posted and took a picture of herself as she puckered her lips sensually. She then put her phone in her pocket and looked over to her boyfriend (soon to be ex, if he kept making her wait like this). The juniors settled in as Dash adjusted their homemade Ouija board to look straight. (They would have ordered a real one, but apparently the company that distributes them doesn’t deliver to Amity Park-bunch of yokels.) “Come on, Dashie, I’ve been waiting for, like, ever!” She complained with a loud whine. Dash nearly rolled his eyes, but knew that if he did it would be playing with fire. “Okay, Kwan, get the camera rolling. Let’s go live.” He grinned excitedly and Kwan gulped, reluctantly hitting the ‘on’ button. “I still think this is a bad idea.” He whimpered pathetically. “Shut up, Kwan.” Three voices admonished him as the feed went live on social media. Tucker snorted when the notification popped up on his PDA (of course he followed Paulina-she posted her best pictures there) with the title ‘Ouija Board fun!!!’. “Hey, guys, check this out.” He showed Sam and Danny the live feed of the four A-Listers holding the planchette and asking questions. In the middle of a dimly lit room with candles, which the trio recognized as the rarely-used science lab on the second floor of Casper High. Sam snorted. “I would have hoped that a demon eats them all,” She commented casually. “but they’re doing it wrong. That isn’t even a genuine Ouija board; they drew it on a piece of cardboard. They didn’t even add the sun and moon. They’re literally going to be sitting there for hours with no real connection to the spirit world.” Sam informed and Danny wanted to ask just how much Sam knew about summoning things with a Ouija board. Before he could, however, Tucker got a look of utter joy and mischief on his face. Danny had come to know and fear that look. “Oh no. He’s planning something.” Danny brought to attention, to which tucker only chuckled darkly. “Oh, you’re damn right I’m planning something… So, Sam, they aren’t getting to the ‘spirit world’ with that thing, right?” “Correct.” She affirmed, her eyes narrowing. “Where are you going with this, Tucker?” “So… What if... we bring the spirit world to them?” Tucker finished and Sam caught on quickly. Both of them sent matching grins in Danny’s direction, who finally caught on. “Oh no, nope. Not doing it; I literally just got the people of Amity Park to trust Phantom! I’m not gonna trade that for a stupid prank!” “But you don’t even have to show your face! You can be invisible the entire time! C’mon, dude, it’ll be hilarious! Just imagine the look on Dash’s face!” “No, Tucker.” Danny said definitively, though he had to admit the idea sounded slightly appealing. Sam saw the slight indecision on Danny’s face and smirked. “Danny, if you do this while the feed is still on I’ll give you fifty bucks.” Okay, now it sounded really appealing. “... You two are the sole reason that I’m going to Hell when I die.” “But you’re already-” “If you finish that sentence, I’m not doing shit, even for fifty dollars.” Ten minutes and nothing. Dash was pouting, Kwan was relieved, Star was bored, and Paulina was whining-as per the norm. “This is gonna be the most lamest live feed ever, you guys! Dash you’re not doing it right!” “How can I do it wrong?! It’s just holding the thing and asking questions!” “Well, you’re doing that wrong!” Suddenly, the planchette that they were holding jerked. All four of the teenagers froze. “K-Kwan… Did you do that?” “N-No, did you?” “If I did, would I be asking you?” Dash snapped. The planchette jerked again and the teens screamed. “That’s it, I’m out!” Kwan said and tried to let go of the planchette. With a yelp, he found that his hands got cold and he was unable to move them. Something was holding him down! “Will both of you, like, shut up?! This is our chance! We gotta ask our questions now!” Star interrupted Kwan’s hyperventilating. Dash gulped. “O-Okay… What’s your n-name?” The planchette moved to the letters, seemingly unaware of the teenagers’ fright. Danny, currently invisible and directly above the board, was trying his hardest not to laugh as he held down the A-Listers’ hands and moved the planchette. “D… A… N.” Star read aloud. “... Dan. Your name is Dan.” She made sure and Danny moved the planchette to ‘yes’. Kwan was whimpering and Dash had a very uncomfortable look on his face. “Wh-Why are you here?” Dash asked and Danny grinned. They were making this too easy! “Y...O...U...L...E...A...V...E...N...O...W...O...R...E...L...S...E” Star read off, cutting herself off with a whimper. Kwan began bawling and Paulina joined in. Dash was a white as sheet. “O-Or else… Y-You’re gonna kill us?” He asked, his eyes wide. Rather than moving the planchette again, Danny yanked it from their grip and threw it across the room. He let out some of his ice powers and made the room at least ten degrees colder. With that, he also blew out all the candles at once. All of them screamed as Danny flipped the cardboard Ouija board and began laughing like a maniac. The teenagers scrambled for the exit and Danny let them run. He was sure that Sam and Tucker were holding their sides by now. He’d noticed the large wet stain on Dash’s jeans as he’d run away. He needed to tell Tucker he owed him for this idea. He noticed the camera was still filming the empty room. Danny knocked it over and then promptly shut it off, laughing his whole way home.