#Tim's crusade of pets

[celaenaeiln]

Thank you so much for debunking the whole "Dick was a super angry child" thing the fandom has been pressing hard for the last few years it's one of my pet peeve characterization for him. (The other him being a Playboy) Does he get angry of course he does he's only human but he's usually very level head and even if he was the "Angry Robin" when he first started he was 8 years old and just lost his parents! I feel like anyone especially a child would be hurt and angry then but he didn't want revenge he wanted justice. He was a sweet child who just wanted to make his parents proud.

og post in question

Yes!!

Actually another anon asked me about this too a while ago - that I'll be getting back to soon - and I began writing right away but then I just couldn't. I had to put it on hold because I was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of evidence that Dick was a happy robin. Not A happy robin, THE happy robin. I was exhausted because I didn't know where to begin, there was just too much evidence. I needed to create a separate post first.

It makes me so mad when i see Angry Dick Grayson posts because it's not even an interpretation of events. There's nothing to debate, there's no doubt, there's no question, there's no confusion, there's nothing to contest - HE WASN'T AN ANGRY ROBIN.

Jason says it himself! And unlike people in the fandom who've never read a comic in their life but like running their mouth off, he would actually know because he studied Dick. He watched all of Dick's videos when he was Robin. 11 years worth of videos. And this is what he says about Dick's robin:

Suicide Squad: Get Joker Issue #1

Jason straight up says that Dick was the happy robin. And that's just Jason. There's still Tim, Damian, Bruce, Alfred, Clark, the Justice League, and the Titans who talk about it.

Frankly it boggles my mind when I hear people who write takes say that Dick was an angry robin because even if they've never read any of the robin comics, they should at least know what he was like from what the adult characters say right? Did they really never stop and wonder why Jason keeps talking about not being Dick when he argues with Bruce? Or why Tim was so obsessed with Dick aside from knowing him from the circus? Or why Bruce writes entire monologues about how Dick saved him? Or why Alfred goes on massive rants about how Dick was the best thing ever to happen to Bruce and him or why he started crying and mourning when Dick merely left as Robin? Did no one stop to consider when they started going around saying he wasn't happy?

Honestly Angry Robin Dick Grayson characterization is a black hole of logic and intelligence.

The reason it became so popular is because it's a logical fallacy and logical fallacies sound convincing. This particular argument is the hasty generalization logical fallacy. Hasty generalization is when a statement is made after one or two examples rather than relying on extensive research to back up a claim.

For example: I got sick after eating pizza from Aleano's. Therefore, I must be allergic to pizza.

Proponents of angry robin dick characterization choose one example from decades of writing to claim that he was angry after his parents died which-seriously? Besides you'll start to notice that people who write those takes will never provide evidence because it's near possible to find something that doesn't exist. Sure one or two out of context photos might be provided but that's the best they can do to support that type of characterization. As much as we wish we were magicians from Hogwarts, no amount of wishing is going to transfigure the hundreds of comics filled with happy robin to him being an angry monster.

Also it's ridiculous that type of character because they're saying that if he's upset that his parents died, then he's an angry character. But if the Joker's happy that random people died, then he's a psycho. What do they want?! And that's not even the whole truth of it either. Dick was massively sad more than he was angry. He was taken away from his circus family and is left alone like all the time now. His life changed in a second - he's depressed. But he was able to work through it and that's how Robin was created.

Dick was not Robin when he went after Tony Zucco. The reason Bruce made him Robin was specifically because he admitted he didn't want Tony Zucco dead.

The problem is people sometimes hyperfocus so much on one detail that they forget the big picture. They centered 11 years of Robin characterization around one moment.

Let's get the facts straight. Robin is a success story. The greatness of Dick wasn't just that he was the smart, the best of the ages, and the greatest athelete - no. His greatness is that he is able to move. ON. He can do what Bruce never could. He could move on and take his parents death and turn it into something positive. He was able to overcome grief and not dwell in the past.

That's why he was able to be happy. That's why Bruce couldn't. And that's why Bruce needed Dick because Dick made him happy.

Alfred says this about Dick as Robin -

Robin: Year One Issue #1

"The addition of Dick Grayson into the Master's crusade has made a difference in him." "I do believe I saw him smile. There have been occasions in the pantry when I could just discern the muffled sounds of laughter echoeing up from that dreadful cavern beneath the manor."

People don't seem to understand. Alfred never approved Bruce's tenure as Batman. He loathed it so much he punched Bruce for it. It was Dick's light and goodness that changed Bruce's mind because he saw how happy Dick made him and how happy of a child he himself was.

And Dick? He never changed his personality in or out of costume.

Robin: Year One Issue #2

"He doesn't seem to struggle to lead a normal adolescence." "He's had no need to develop the masquerade that Master Bruce felt necessary." "His personality remains the same with or without the mask and boots. "

He's not the troubled kid some people seem to think he is. He wasn't mean or selfish or cast aside or raging moodily in a corner. Actually in the Batman (1940) and Detective Comics, he was seen as a role model for how helpful and kind he was. He was actually the one who went out of his way to help troubled kids because of his kindness, goodness, and empathy.

Checkmate (2006) Issue #14

Checkmate is a member of Task Force X under Amanda Waller and an ally of Batman's. She knows him. She knows what Dick was to him and Dick even mourns about the time when Bruce used to be happy. It was his joy and personality that did that.

Of course my argument isn't to be taken one sidedly saying he was constantly happy 24/7, all the time, in every occasion - no. Emotions are a spectrum and no one feels one emotion all the time. Thats silly. But, your personality outlook is based on what you feel most of the time. Dick sometimes got angry, sometimes got sad, etc. But in a dichotomy between happy and angry there is no doubt, no question, that he was overwhelmingly on the happy side.

There's a reason why everyone calls him happy. It's because for an overwhelming majority of the time, he was the happy robin.

52 Issue #25

Way back in the Batman (1940) comic Dick says, "I became Robin, history's first sidekick. And there I was, the laughing boy daredevil--"

Batman and Robin (2009) Issue #9

You can call him crazy, excitable, feral, overexcellent, etc. But never forget that Bruce once went insane after locking himself in a simulator that emulated Robin Dick Grayson's joy.

The incontestable truth - Dick was a happy robin.

[mistress-of-vos]

// Ra'sTim, amnesia trope, gaslighting:

.

I have been thinking about our usual amnesia trope except this time it's Ra's who gets hit with it. Let's say he went to rescue Tim from a mission gone wrong, and during the chaos, Ra's was hit in the head.

Of course Ra's is taken by his followers, treated by the best doctors yet not dipped in the Pit. Neither Timothy nor Talia nor Ubu would dare to put Ra's into the Lazarus Pits without his consent, not when he has been stable and not at risk of dying.

Despite the doctors seeing no brain damage at first, when Ra's wakes up it's obvious there was damage indeed: He knows no one, speaks on a language no one seems to understand and is shaken off even by his own daughter's voice.

Ra's, the great demon's head, has forgotten all his 800 years of life.

Tim is the only one able to speak with Ra's, knowing his husband's mother tongue only because he insisted again and again on Ra's teaching him. Tim had found unfair that Ra's knew everything about him and Tim knew so little, and learning a dead language only them could understand had seemed like a fair trade.

So, Tim speaks with Ra's. And in a selfish, dark desire he has always have, Tim lies to his husband.

Tim whispers in Ra's' ears about how he's such a gentle, soft soul. A man who uses his influence to help people, and it's not that Ra's doesn't help in his own way, but that Tim decides to convince Ra's that he's a man who loathes violence.

Never has Ra's killed a single person. Never would Ra's dare to hurt anyone. Ra's is a hero, and heroes don't kill.

It's a selfish act, and Tim is aware of that. He's taking away years of change that Ra's endured, and perhaps he's killing a side of him willing to do anything and everything that it's needed. But this way, Tim gets to be with Ra's without any obstacles.

This way, Ra's can let go of his impossible crusade, and enjoy life a bit more. Ra's can hug his grandchildren, apologize to his only alive daughter, and love Timothy without a war of villains and heroes in the middle of their passion.

With the birth of this new Ra's, Tim can imagine a future that isn't tainted with blood and cursed to failure. He can imagine a home at some forest, them both growing old together and raising many pets. No more Batman, no more shadows, only love.

And so, Tim lies to his husband for months.

And because Ra's is, at heart, a selfish man too, he allows Timothy to believe his memories are never recovered. Ra's pretends to not remember the blood in his hands, nor the pain he has pushed on his loved ones. He takes the lies and the opportunity of moving on, and it's almost adorable that this time, it is his beloved who plays villain.

[the-illiterate-pirate]

JoJo Masterlist

* = Nsfw

° = Angst

× = Yandere

≈ = Family fic

© = Crack fic

Robert Speedwagon

• If I Was Your Vampire

Dio Brando

• In Due Time°

• Shame on the Night*

Joseph Joestar

• In-A-Godda-Da-Vidda°

Caesar Zeppeli

• In-A-Godda-Da-Vidda°

Pillarmen

• Pillow Talk

• Coddling Santana and Wamuu (HCs)

• Pillarmen with a child "hostage" (HCs)

Wamuu

• Love Machine*

Crusaders

• Them falling in love (HCs)

• Singing "Tequila" on karaoke night (HCs)

Jotaro Kujo

• One Shot, 2 Shot ©

• Bring on the Night*

• Feel Good Inc.

Mohammed Avdol

• Burnin' for You

Terence D'Arby

• Holding on to You*

Josuke Higashikata

• Don't Stop Me Now

Rohan Kishibe

• Finding out their S/o is pregnant (HCs)

Akira Otoishi

• Pepper

Hayato Kawajiri

• A Little Bit Off Today ≈

Yoshikage Kira

• Beggin'*

• Modern Love*

Guido Mista

• Looking for a Kiss*

La Squadra

• Japanese Mythology HCs

• Seducing La Squadra* (HCs)

• NSFW headcanons*

• No Rest for the Wicked AU HCs

Melone

• Him with your pet tortoise (HCs)

Diavolo / Vinegar Doppio

• Head Like a Hole, Ch. 1

Weather Report

• Selkie out of Water, Ch. 1 || Ch. 2 || Ch. 3 || Ch. 4

• Dancing in the Moonlight

• Canned Heat

• Electric Love ×

• Dad Report ≈

• Dreams of a Samurai*

• Cold as Ice

• What's New Pussycat*

• Finding out their S/o is pregnant (HCs)

• S/o is on their period (HCs)

Emporio Alnino

• Thank You (for sending me an angel) ≈

Narciso Anasui

• Dating HCs

• S/o is on their period (HCs)

Jotaro Kujo

• Drive*

Enrico Pucci

• Fallen Angel*

• Lady in Red*

• My Light*

• Saints an' Sinners*

• Take Me to Church*

• That's Life

• Finding out their S/o is pregnant (HCs)

• S/o on their period (HCs)

Johngali A.

• White Room*

Thunder McQueen

• SFW & NSFW HCs*

• (You) Shook Me All Night Long*

D an G

• SFW & NSFW HCs*

Donatello Versace

• To Heal*

Perla Pucci

• General platonic HCs

Gyro Zeppeli

• Hayloft*

• Hayloft II*

• Kickstart My Heart*

• Whole Lotta Love*

Diego Brando

• Moonage Daydream*

Sandman

• Tell Him That His Lonesome Nights Are Over, Pt. 1 || Pt. 2*

Mountain Tim

• Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy)*

Funny Valentine

• Cupid's Chokehold ×

Oyecomova

• Oye Cómo Va*

Blackmore

• I Surrender*

• Twisted Nerve ch. 1

D-I-S-C-O

• Dating HCs*

Josefumi Kujo

• Dating HCs (Ft. Kira)

Jobin Higashikata

• Hard Lovin' Man*

Aisho Dainenjiyama

• Keep On Loving You

Tooru

• Can't Help Falling in Love

• Bad Case of Lovin' You

• Tooru HCs* (SFW and NSFW)

• Yan!Tooru HCs*

• Doctor play with Tooru* (HCs)

• Tooru x Nurse!reader*

Paco Lovelantes

• Good Old-fashioned Lover Boy

[nitewrighter]

That bbrae ‘playing with genre’ ask got me thinking about Harvey Dent. Because up until acid gets splashed in his face, he’s basically living in a John Grisham novel as the crusading attorney with his own personal demons but continues to stick to his ideals.

Duela meanwhile is somewhere between a soap opera and a Saw Movie depending on how she’s being written.

"Turn Mr. Smith goes to Washington (1939) into Falling Down (1993) with this one neat trick!"

I think all the Robins kind of have their own genres. Dick, is the quintessential superhero genre because he basically grew up and matured with the genre, you have the early 20th century pulpy roots of him being a circus kid, the performance factor of him being a daredevil, and then as he splits apart from Batman and leads the Titans, you can see as he grows, he's able to adapt and refine Bruce's own goals of healing and mentorship to all the members of his team, no matter how weird their origin stories, no matter how alone they feel.

Post-Resurrection, Jason kind of takes on a lot of the aspects of edgy independent comics in the 90's, many of which would later get absorbed into DC--think Wildstorm.

Tim's solo stories I think most successfully adapt a classic Batman+Detective approach. He's not a clone of Bruce, per se, but the really interesting thing about Tim's stories, for me, is basically when he's figuring out when he will and won't take Bruce's approaches to things. He's also arguably able to keep believably high stakes in smaller scale stories than Bruce because Bruce's capabilities have obviously gone ridiculously astronomical just to make him keep up with the Justice League and be the Specialest Goth Boy in the room.

I think if you really want to do Stephanie well, you have to let her be a Kickass-style deconstruction of superheroes and vigilanteism, take the scrappy, homemade approach. (Spoiler >>>>> Batgirl). Arguably you could do the same with Carrie Kelley.

I like that with Damian's Robin we kind of see an earnest return to ridiculous and fantastical comic plots. He has a sword. He's got a pet gargoyle (Okay, Dragon Bat, yeesh). He's riding a pterodactyl. Bruce let him drive a tank through a swamp. He's kind of a return to Robin being a kid's fantasy, but now they're able to cherrypick from all over comics history to really enrich that fantasy.

[the-booty-crusader]

Lord and Saviour, Booty Crusader™ I just finished "I don't belong here" and it was absolutely stunning, 11/10 Tim fic

Do you plan on adding anything more to the sequel?

also, ur art is positively scrumptious it made the fic even better🩵

-peachie-wren13

Thank you so much, I'm glad you enjoyed it! I do have loose plans to add more to it, such as pets for Tim, a birthday celebration and maybe him resuming school and finishing his education, as well as meeting YJ and holding hands with Kon... But with my other two ongoing fics as well as starting up school full-time again soon and picking my old comic back up it might not be any time super soon ;; I'll do my best to update it as often as I can though!

[ectonurites]

(In response to your unpopular opinions post) Jason targeting the sidekicks, Tim specifically, is antithetical to his entire mission statement and should be done away with if the text isn’t going to appropriately grapple with those actions. It isn’t an irony, just an oversight. Much more interested in a Red Hood who goes out of his way to avoid endangering the “kids” in the same way he was, while harboring a shit ton of anger towards Bruce for continuing to bring young people into the crusade.

strongly agree | agree | neutral | disagree | strongly disagree

anon im so sorry but tumblr's post editor deleted like half of what i wrote trying to talk about my thoughts in regards to this and i am so fucking frustrated at that and the thought of trying to rewrite it all out makes me want to stab someone (not you. this is not your fault. this is tumblr's fault) so uhm.

the barest bones version of my thoughts i will maybe come back and re-elaborate on at a later date when i'm not as annoyed at this stupid website:

I personally don't think pre-n52 Jason (the era in which he actually did that attacking of Tim & other sidekicks) had a clearly defined enough 'mission statement' to begin with (when it came to kids at least) for him to even defy. When looking at pre-n52 canon, there are far more instances of him harming/endangering/being willing to endanger kids who are involved in hero work than there are instances of him expressing thoughts/taking actions against the idea, which makes it hard for me to agree with the idea of it as something like... antithetical to his morals as shown in canon. If it had been a one time thing when he attacked a sidekick that'd be one thing and I'd maybe feel differently, but this was like, reoccurring.

However, I do think that it all could have been a path that would have made a lot of sense to explore with his situation—to place bigger emphasis on him being frustrated with Bruce about that aspect specifically and making it a more core part of his motivation. I think that could have been cool and I understand why it is an idea expanded on and explored in fan content a lot. I agree that it makes for an interesting and compelling interpretation of Jason! But I think considering that to be like an actual big important part of a 'mission statement' he follows within canon... just isn't a claim that holds up when digging into his pre-n52 content.

And then when it comes to modern Jason... I think all of this is kind of moot at this point. The n52 and later Jason wasn't really shown fighting with/targeting Tim that same way from the start (like. literally one of my big pet peeves in the n52 is how close Tim & Jason got out of fucking nowhere LMAO) so it feels like a non-issue.

IDK if all that makes sense but, uh, yeah.

[Send me UNPOPULAR opinions and I'll rate them]

[sp1tballz]

Hey, it's @strange-slenderverse-aus and I am back on my sea faring bullshit

I think we need to hear more about characters and their relationship with the Kraken

The way I imagine it the Kraken is Alex Kralie's Moby Dick but instead of killing it he wants to stop it from hurting people once and for all, unbeknownst to Alex his crusade is doing nothing but feeding it more souls, he is just giving the Dutchman more crew and eventually joining it .

Tim Wright is tired of running but he will keep doing it since just wants to avoid it and forget about it, and he almost did before the storm but nobody can outrun fate, now he feels cursed, doomed to see the ones he loves fall, he almost believes Alex when he says he's filthy and evil and a curse and it's his fault

Jay Merrick is terrified of it but he is also intrigued, he is writing a journal, he wants to show the world what he found, you look into his notes and you find sketch after sketch of the creature with theories scribbled in messy panicked handwriting, Jay is terrified of the unknown so his way of coping is knowing.

Brian Thomas is also hellbent on taking the thing down but he is smarter than Alex, he is focusing on protecting his crew and waiting for when they have a good opportunity to actually do something, sadly he won't live to see the day and is now actively forced to work with it on the flying Dutchman.

Sorry for the wall of text, give me your opinion, the everyman crew is next

Hihi!! sorry to disappoint, I do think I stated before that this au is pretty canon divergent for most of them?

Anyway- There's not really a "relationship" with the kraken between any of the characters- Alex doesn't care enough about it since he's mostly on land, Tim and Jay think it's just a sea tale, and Brian knows perfectly not to mess with it. Yes, it is wildly feared (even if it was believed to be a tall tale), but it's known to be unkillable, and no one is going to just try to kill it (Asides from Skully, but they couldn't kill it either)

The only man who really has a relationship with the Kraken is Habit himself, and he views it more as a pet to use when sailors don't uphold their ends of deals to him.

[resourcefulsatan]

This article is too good to be lost in the destroyed formatting of the Cracked archive, so I'm reposting it here. source: https://www.cracked.com/article_14990_what-monkeysphere.html

The Monkeysphere

September 30, 2007 Jason Pargin

"One death is a tragedy. One million deaths is a statistic."

-Kevin Federline

What do monkeys have to do with war, oppression, crime, racism and even e-mail spam? You'll see that all of the random ass-headed cruelty of the world will suddenly make perfect sense once we go Inside the Monkeysphere.

"What the Hell is the Monkeysphere?"

First, picture a monkey. A monkey dressed like a little pirate, if that helps you. We'll call him Slappy.

Imagine you have Slappy as a pet. Imagine a personality for him. Maybe you and he have little pirate monkey adventures and maybe even join up to fight crime. Think how sad you'd be if Slappy died.

Now, imagine you get four more monkeys. We'll call them Tito, Bubbles, Marcel and ShitTosser. Imagine personalities for each of them now. Maybe one is aggressive, one is affectionate, one is quiet, the other just throws shit all the time. But they're all your personal monkey friends.

Now imagine a hundred monkeys.

Not so easy now, is it? So how many monkeys would you have to own before you couldn't remember their names? At what point, in your mind, do your beloved pets become just a faceless sea of monkey? Even though each one is every bit the monkey Slappy was, there's a certain point where you will no longer really care if one of them dies.

So how many monkeys would it take before you stopped caring?

That's not a rhetorical question. We actually know the number.

"So this whole thing is your crusade against monkey overpopulation? I'll have my monkey castrated this very day!"

Uh, no. It'll become clear in a moment.

You see, monkey experts performed a monkey study a while back, and discovered that the size of the monkey's monkey brain determined the size of the monkey groups the monkeys formed. The bigger the brain, the bigger the little societies they built.

They cut up so many monkey brains, in fact, that they found they could actually take a brain they had never seen before and from it they could accurately predict what size tribes that species of creature formed.

Most monkeys operate in troupes of 50 or so. But somebody slipped them a slightly larger brain and they estimated the ideal group or society for this particular animal was about 150.

That brain, of course, was human. Probably from a homeless man they snatched off the streets.

"So that's the big news? That humans are God's big-budget sequel to the monkey? Who didn't know that?"

It goes much, much deeper than that. Let's try an example.

Famous news talking guy Tim Russert tells a charming story about his father, in his book Big Russ and Me (the title referring to his on-and-off romance with actor Russell Crowe). Russert's dad used to take half an hour to carefully box up any broken glass before taking it to the trash. Why? Because "The trash guy might cut his hands."

That this was such an unusual thing to do illustrates my monkey point. None of us spend much time worrying about the garbage man's welfare even though he performs a crucial role in not forcing us to live in a cave carved from a mountain of our own filth. We don't usually consider his safety or comfort at all and if we do, it's not in the same way we would worry over our best friend or wife or girlfriend or even our dog.

People toss half-full bottles of drain cleaner right into the barrel, without a second thought of what would happen if the trash man got it splattered into his eyes. Why? Because the trash guy exists outside the Monkeysphere.

"There's that word again..."

The Monkeysphere is the group of people who each of us, using our monkeyish brains, are able to conceptualize as people. If the monkey scientists are monkey right, it's physically impossible for this to be a number much larger than 150.

Most of us do not have room in our Monkeysphere for our friendly neighborhood sanitation worker. So, we don't think of him as a person. We think of him as The Thing That Makes The Trash Go Away.

And even if you happen to know and like your particular garbage man, at one point or another we all have limits to our sphere of monkey concern. It's the way our brains are built. We each have a certain circle of people who we think of as people, usually our own friends and family and neighbors, and then maybe some classmates or coworkers or church or suicide cult.

Those who exist outside that core group of a few dozen people are not people to us. They're sort of one-dimensional bit characters.

Remember the first time, as a kid, you met one of your school teachers outside the classroom? Maybe you saw old Miss Puckerson at Taco Bell eating refried beans through a straw, or saw your principal walking out of a dildo shop. Do you remember that surreal feeling you had when you saw these people actually had lives outside the classroom?

I mean, they're not people. They're teachers.

"So? What difference does all this make?"

Oh, not much. It's just the one single reason society doesn't work.

It's like this: which would upset you more, your best friend dying, or a dozen kids across town getting killed because their bus collided with a truck hauling killer bees? Which would hit you harder, your Mom dying, or seeing on the news that 15,000 people died in an earthquake in Iran?

They're all humans and they are all equally dead. But the closer to our Monkeysphere they are, the more it means to us. Just as your death won't mean anything to the Chinese or, for that matter, hardly anyone else more than 100 feet or so from where you're sitting right now.

"Why should I feel bad for them? I don't even know those people!"

Exactly. This is so ingrained that to even suggest you should feel their deaths as deeply as that of your best friend sounds a little ridiculous. We are hard-wired to have a drastic double standard for the people inside our Monkeysphere versus the 99.999% of the world's population who are on the outside.

Think about this the next time you get really pissed off in traffic, when you start throwing finger gestures and wedging your head out of the window to scream, "LEARN TO FUCKING DRIVE, FUCKER!!" Try to imagine acting like that in a smaller group. Like if you're standing in an elevator with two friends and a coworker, and the friend goes to hit a button and accidentally punches the wrong one. Would you lean over, your mouth two inches from her ear, and scream "LEARN TO OPERATE THE FUCKING ELEVATOR BUTTONS, SHITCAMEL!!"

They'd think you'd gone insane. We all go a little insane, though, when we get in a group larger than the Monkeysphere. That's why you get that weird feeling of anonymous invincibility when you're sitting in a large crowd, screaming curses at a football player you'd never dare say to his face.

"Well, I'm nice to strangers. Have you considered that maybe you're just an asshole?"

Sure, you probably don't go out of your way to be mean to strangers. You don't go out of your way to be mean to stray dogs, either.

The problem is that eventually, the needs of you or those within your Monkeysphere will require screwing someone outside it (even if that need is just venting some tension and anger via exaggerated insults). This is why most of us wouldn't dream of stealing money from the pocket of the old lady next door, but don't mind stealing cable, adding a shady exemption on our tax return, or quietly celebrating when they forget to charge us for something at the restaurant.

You may have a list of rationalizations long enough to circle the Earth, but the truth is that in our monkey brains the old woman next door is a human being while the cable company is a big, cold, faceless machine. That the company is, in reality, nothing but a group of people every bit as human as the old lady, or that some kind old ladies actually work there and would lose their jobs if enough cable were stolen, rarely occurs to us.

That's one of the ingenious things about the big-time religions, by the way. The old religious writers knew it was easier to put the screws to a stranger, so they taught us to get a personal idea of a God in our heads who says, "No matter who you hurt, you're really hurting me. Also, I can crush you like a grape." You must admit that if they weren't writing words inspired by the Almighty, they at least understood the Monkeysphere.

It's everywhere. Once you grasp the concept, you can see examples all around you. You'll walk the streets in a daze, like Roddy Piper after putting on his X-ray sunglasses in They Live.

But wait, because this gets much bigger and much, much stranger...

"So you're going to tell us that this Monkeysphere thing runs the whole world? Also, They Live sucked."

Go flip on the radio. Listen to the conservative talk about "The Government" as if it were some huge, lurking dragon ready to eat you and your paycheck whole. Never mind that the government is made up of people and that all of that money they take goes into the pockets of human beings. Talk radio's Rush Limbaugh is known to tip 50% at restaurants, but flies into a broadcast tirade if even half that dollar amount is deducted from his paycheck by "The Government." That's despite the fact that the money helps that very same single mom he had no problem tipping in her capacity as a waitress.

Now click over to a liberal show now, listen to them describe "Multinational Corporations" in the same diabolical terms, an evil black force that belches smoke and poisons water and enslaves humanity. Isn't it strange how, say, a lone man who carves and sells children's toys in his basement is a sweetheart who just loves bringing joy at Christmas, but a big-time toy corporation (which brings toys to millions of kids at Christmas) is an inhuman soul-grinding greed machine? Strangely enough, if the kindly lone toy making guy made enough toys and hired enough people and expanded to enough shops, we'd eventually stop seeing it as a toy-making shop and start seeing it as the fiery Orc factories of Mordor.

And if you've just thought, "Well, those talk show hosts are just a bunch of egomaniacal blowhards anyway," you've just done it again, turned real humans into two-word cartoon characters. It's no surprise, you do it with pretty much all six billion human beings outside the Monkeysphere.

"So I'm supposed to suddenly start worrying about six billion strangers? That's not even possible!"

That's right, it isn't possible. That's the point.

What is hard to understand is that it's also impossible for them to care about you.

That's why they don't mind stealing your stereo or vandalizing your house or cutting your wages or raising your taxes or bombing your office building or choking your computer with spam advertising diet and penis drugs they know don't work. You're outside their Monkeysphere. In their mind, you're just a vague shape with a pocket full of money for the taking.

Think of Osama Bin Laden. Did you just picture a camouflaged man hiding in a cave, drawing up suicide missions? Or are you thinking of a man who gets hungry and has a favorite food and who had a childhood crush on a girl and who has athlete's foot and chronic headaches and wakes up in the morning with a boner and loves volleyball?

Something in you, just now, probably was offended by that. You think there's an effort to build sympathy for the murderous fuck. Isn't it strange how simply knowing random human facts about him immediately tugs at your sympathy strings? He comes closer to your Monkeysphere, he takes on dimension.

Now, the cold truth is this Bin Laden is just as desperately in need of a bullet to the skull as the raving four-color caricature on some redneck's T-shirt. The key to understanding people like him, though, is realizing that we are the caricature on his T-shirt.

"So you're using monkeys to claim that we're all a bunch of Osama Bin Ladens?"

Sort of.

Listen to any 16 year-old kid with his first job, going on and on about how the boss is screwing him and the government is screwing him even more ("What's FICA?!?!" he screams as he looks at his first paycheck).

Then watch that same kid at work, as he drops a hamburger patty on the floor, picks it up, and slaps in on a bun and serves it to a customer.

In that one dropped burger he has everything he needs to understand those black-hearted politicians and corporate bosses. They see him in the exact same way he sees the customers lined up at the burger counter. Which is, just barely.

In both cases, for the guy making the burger and the guy running Exxon, getting through the workweek and collecting the paycheck are all that matters. No thought is given to the real human unhappiness being spread by doing it shittily (ever gotten so sick from food poisoning you thought your stomach lining was going to fly out of your mouth?) That many customers or employees just can't fit inside the Monkeysphere.

The kid will protest that he shouldn't have to care for the customers for minimum wage, but the truth is if a man doesn't feel sympathy for his fellow man at $6.00 an hour, he won't feel anything more at $600,000 a year.

Or, to look at it the other way, if we're allowed to be indifferent and even resentful to the masses for $6.00 an hour, just think of how angry some Pakistani man is allowed to be when he's making the equivalent of six dollars a week.

"You've used the word 'monkey' more than 50 times, but the same principle hardly applies. Humans have been to the moon. Let's see the monkeys do that."

It doesn't matter. It's just an issue of degree.

There's a reason why legendary monkeytician Charles Darwin and his assistant, Jeje (pronounced "heyhey") Santiago deduced that humans and chimps were evolutionary cousins. As sophisticated as we are (compare our advanced sewage treatment plants to the chimps' primitive technique of hurling the feces with their bare hands), the inescapable truth is we are just as limited by our mental hardware.

The primary difference is that monkeys are happy to stay in small groups and rarely interact with others outside their monkey gang. This is why they rarely go to war, though when they do it is widely thought to be hilarious. Humans, however, require cars and oil and quality manufactured goods by the fine folks at 3M and Japanese video games and worldwide internets and, most importantly, governments. All of these things take groups larger than 150 people to maintain effectively. Thus, we routinely find ourselves functioning in bunches larger than our primate brains are able to cope with.

This is where the problems begin. Like a fragile naked human pyramid, we are simultaneously supporting and resenting each other. We bitch out loud about our soul-sucking job as an anonymous face on an assembly line, while at the exact same time riding in a car that only an assembly line could have produced. It's a constant contradiction that has left us pissed off and joining informal wrestling clubs in basements.

This is why I think it was with a great burden of sadness that Darwin turned to his assistant and lamented, "Jeje, we're the monkeys."

"Oh, no you didn't."

If you think about it, our entire society has evolved around the limitations of the Monkeysphere. There is a reason why all of the really phat-ass nations with the biggest SUV's with the shiniest 22-inch rims all have some kind of representative democracy (where you vote for people to do the governing for you) and all of them are, to some degree, capitalist (where people actually get to buy property and keep some of what they earn).

A representative democracy allows a small group of people to make all of the decisions, while letting us common people feel like we're doing something by going to a polling place every couple of years and pulling a lever that, in reality, has about the same effect as the darkness knob on your toaster. We can simultaneously feel like we're in charge while being contained enough that we can't cause any real monkey mayhem once we fly into one of our screeching, arm-flapping monkey frenzies ("A woman showed her boob at the Super Bowl! We want a boob and football ban immediately!")

Conversely, some people in the distant past naively thought they could sit all of the millions of monkeys down and say, "Okay, everybody go pick the bananas, then bring them here, and we'll distribute them with a complex formula determining banana need! Now go gather bananas for the good of society!" For the monkeys it was a confused, comical, tree-humping disaster.

Later, a far more realistic man sat the monkeys down and said, "You want bananas? Each of you go get your own. I'm taking a nap." That man, of course, was German philosopher Hans Capitalism.

As long as everybody gets their own bananas and shares with the few in their Monkeysphere, the system will thrive even though nobody is even trying to make the system thrive. This is perhaps how Ayn Rand would have put it, had she not been such a hateful bitch.

Then, some time in the Third Century, French philosopher Pierre "Frenchy" LaFrench invented racism.

This was a way of simplifying the too-complex-for-monkeys world by imagining all people of a certain race as being the same person, thinking they all have the same attitudes and mannerisms and tastes in food and clothes and music. It sort of works, as long as we think of that person as being a good person ("Those Asians are so hard-working and precise and well-mannered!") but when we start seeing them as being one, giant, gaping asshole (the French, ironically) our monkey happiness again breaks down.

It's not all the French's fault. The truth is, all of these monkey management schemes only go so far. For instance, today one in four Americans has some kind of mental illness, usually depression. One in four. Watch a basketball game. The odds are at least two of those people on the floor are mentally ill. Look around your house; if everybody else there seems okay, it's you.

Is it any surprise? You turn on the news and see a whole special on the Obesity Epidemic. You've had this worry laid on your shoulders about millions of other people eating too much. What exactly are you supposed to do about the eating habits of 80 million people you don't even know? You've taken on the pork-laden burden of all these people outside the Monkeysphere and you now carry that useless weight of worry like, you know, some kind of animal on your back.

"So what exactly are we supposed to do about all this?"

First, train yourself to get suspicious every time you see simplicity. Any claim that the root of a problem is simple should be treated the same as a claim that the root of a problem is Bigfoot. Simplicity and Bigfoot are found in the real world with about the same frequency.

So reject binary thinking of "good vs. bad" or "us vs. them." Know problems cannot be solved with clever slogans and over-simplified step-by-step programs.

You can do that by following these simple steps. We like to call this plan the T.R.Y. plan:

First, TOTAL MORON. That is, accept the fact THAT YOU ARE ONE. We all are.

That really annoying person you know, the one who's always spouting bullshit, the person who always thinks they're right? Well, the odds are that for somebody else, you're that person. So take the amount you think you know, reduce it by 99.999%, and then you'll have an idea of how much you actually know regarding things outside your Monkeysphere.

Second, UNDERSTAND that there are no Supermonkeys. Just monkeys. Those guys on TV you see, giving the inspirational seminars, teaching you how to reach your potential and become rich and successful like them? You know how they made their money? By giving seminars. For the most part, the only thing they do well is convince others they do everything well.

No, the universal moron principal established in No. 1 above applies here, too. Don't pretend politicians are somehow supposed to be immune to all the backhanded fuckery we all do in our daily lives and don't laugh and point when the preacher gets caught on video snorting cocaine off a prostitute's ass. A good exercise is to picture your hero--whoever it is--passed out on his lawn, naked from the waist down. The odds are it's happened at some point. Even Gandhi may have had hotel rooms and dead hookers in his past.

And don't even think about ignoring advice from a moral teacher just because the source enjoys the ol' Colombian Nose Candy from time to time. We're all members of varying species of hypocrite (or did you tell them at the job interview that you once called in sick to spend a day leveling up on World of Warcraft?) Don't use your heroes' vices as an excuse to let yours run wild.

And finally, DON'T LET ANYBODY simplify it for you. The world cannot be made simple. Anyone who tries to paint a picture of the world in basic comic book colors is most likely trying to use you as a pawn.

So just remember: T-R-Y. Go forth and do likewise, gents. Copies of our book are available in the lobby.

David Wong is the editor of Cracked.com and the author of the dong-filled horror novel John Dies at the End.

[schweeeppess]

Red Robin and Batman walked into a house to gather information on a case. That was it. Their only objective was information gathering.

Bruce cursed the second he heard the whimper, pausing in his rummaging through a filing cabinet and shooting a quick glance at Tim to check if he'd heard, and he prayed his son hadn't.

So of course he had.

Tim was already on his way to the source of the heartbreaking cry across the room and curled tight in the corner of its cage.

"Red Robin," Bruce said in the hard Batman 'boss' voice. Damn it--Tim was more prone to picking up strays than Damian at this point. "We need to finish the objective."

At the command that was his name, Tim froze and stood ramrod straight (Bruce hated that the tone of voice elicited the response it did, but it still worked, even if it stung). He pouted a little, glancing back at the cage, but obeyed and finished setting up the small circular recording devices around the room as Bruce collected the paper evidence.

"But B," Tim whined quietly. "The puppies."

Bruce internally groaned and slammed his head on a wall; outwardly, he barely sighed.

"I know."

When Tim was done with his task, he wasted no time in opening the cage with the puppy inside still cowering, and he offered his open palm to the small dog.

Really, Bruce blamed the bad lighting for missing it. A second puppy's head poked out from behind the first orange-furred one.

The second puppy slowly crawled across the hard floor of its cage to Tim's hand, extending its neck as far as it could to get a sniff or two in, and subsequently hesitantly slipped its head into Tim's hand after giving it a little lick.

Pride bubbling up in his chest for no real reason, Bruce watched his son interact with the terrified puppies patiently.

It took ten minutes for the puppies to warm up fully to Tim, but when they did, they were attatched to him like bees on honey, and Bruce could tell Tim was living for it.

Even though he already had an attention-needy cat, and a beta fish that loved showing off back at his apartment.

"Red Robin, we have to go."

"I'm not leaving them."

"Red Robin..."

"Batman."

They did the stare-battle again, even though Bruce never won them, and he sighed in resignation when Tim handed him the orange puppy, hugging it close as he followed Tim out.

"...you realize we can't take these back with us, right Tim?"

"Names," was Tim's automated response. A second later he hesitated. "Why not?"

"We came on our bikes."

"Call the Batmobile."

"Red Hood is "borrowing" it, remember?"

"B," Tim whined, nuzzling the dirty puppy who licked his cheek. "Come on. The puppies. We need each other, can't you see?"

"Red Robin..."

"Batman. B. Please."

And, damn it, Bruce could tell Tim was giving him those same wide baby blue eyes he had when he was a boy. He sighed, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"We can get them in the morning. Tomorrow."

Tim grinned so wide Bruce had half a mind to test him for Joker gas.

It was a quick walk to the nearest shelter, and the receptionist at the main desk didn't bat an eye to see Red Robin and Batman walk into the establishment, each vigilante carrying a puppy. She just popped her gum and blinked slowly.

"Y'wanna 'dopt 'em?"

Heavy slums accent. Lives around here. Native Gothamite, then.

"No," Bruce responded in the gravelly tone of Batman's. "We removed them from an unsafe home. We're here to drop them off, is all."

She shrugged and looked to Tim, raising a brow. "Y'sure y'don't wanna take 'em?"

Bruce looked at Tim, cooing gently down at the puppy in his arms, and he sighed. The puppy Bruce was holding had fallen asleep on the walk to the shelter, but it appeared Tim's was still awake.

"Red Robin," he sighed again. "We talked about this."

Tim pouted, but nodded.

"Yeah, ma'am. We're just dropping them off." Quiet enough for her not to hear, he whispered to the puppies, "for now. I'll be back for you. I promise."

Glancing back at Bruce, the girl popped her gum again, shrugging. "A'ight."

Fifteen minutes later they were walking out of the shelter. Puppiless.

"First thing tomorrow," Tim started, turning and pointing at Bruce, "we're coming to get Ham and Cheddar."

Bruce blinked. "Who?"

"The puppies!"

"..."

"I'm hungry, alright?"

"...fine. First thing after breakfast."

Tim shook Bruce's hand. "Deal."

And in the morning? Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne and Bruce Thomas Wayne, sweatpants, crocs, and baggy t-shirt and all for Tim, showed up at the exact same shelter Batman and Red Robin had been at the night before.

The girl was the same one from the night before, and she was still chewing gum.

Her perpetual gum-chewing was concerning.

"We're here to adopt," Bruce said after offering a grade-A Brucie greeting. "For my son."

She looked to Tim disinterestedly. Popped her gum again.

He smiled a little and waved, clearly not embarrassed, and she shrugged.

"'kay. Dog or cat?"

"Dogs," Tim quickly replied. "We're here for some pups, actually."

The pups comment made the girl--Farah was her nametag--frown.

"Right. Follow me then."

Bruce was hardly concerned about Tim adopting more dogs than the ones he'd already bonded with as they walked past well-kept cages of puppies and kittens. It would have been worse with Damian.

They stopped in front of a large cage, and Farah gestured to the dogs inside. "'ese guys came in last night," she said. "The Batman and Red Robin brought 'em."

Leaning forward to see over Tim, Bruce saw the two puppies from last night--corgis, from the paper on their cage--and they were huddled in a corner, asleep.

"We'll take them," Bruce said.

Farrah nodded.

"They all?"

Just as Bruce opened his mouth to say that, yes, they were only getting the two corgi puppies, Tim spoke up.

"No, actally."

Farah seemed to perk up. "Oh?"

"Yeah--there was an older pitbull back there...?"

Bruce was stunned silent, but at Tim's choice Farah seemed to radiate joy as she popped her gum again and smiled.

She smiled, for the first time since they'd met her.

"Ya int'rest'd in 'im?"

Tim nodded and next thing Bruce knew, he was being led back two aisles to a large enclosure. Inside a mean-looking white and tan pitbull paced its space. When they stopped outside the gate, the pitbull bared its teeth and started growling, backing away slowly with its ears flat on its skull.

Bruce sighed. An abused dog, then.

"Tim?" he asked. "You're sure?"

Warmth and affection glinted in Tim's eyes as he watched the dog, and Bruce didn't need the verbal affirmation. "Yeah."

"Okay." Looking up at Farah, Bruce said, "We'll take him too."

She grinned, nodding. "I suggest you get in there with him. He'll need to warm up to you. He acts all tough," she said, looking back at the growling dog, a tad sadly, "but he's just scared. He's got a great heart. It's just been broken too many times."

Bruce looked to the dog again. He didn't meet gazes with it, but he could see the pain and fear in its body, and it broke his heart a little.

"Okay," he said. Tim was already slowly slipping inside, and Bruce went to follow him.

Farah watched them, and said, "I'll bring the papers."

Once Tim and Bruce were immediately inside the small enclosure, Tim closed the gate behind him and sat down right where he was. Bruce mimicked him.

When his son started talking to him about work, it surprised him, but Bruce endulged him, figuring Tim knew what he was doing. Tim looked at Bruce as they spoke, and Bruce held Tim's gaze.

Even being Batman he didn't notice the dog's approach until twenty minutes later and it sniffed at his palm.

Surprised but unafraid, Bruce opened his hand more and held it out to the dog, the way he'd seen Tim do it the night before with the corgis.

As the pitbull sniffed at his palm, Bruce noticed all the scars the dog sported. Jagged cuts along its side and flanks, smaller ones on its muzzle, a curving one over an eye, and a chipped ear.

Rage threatened to build but the dog sensed it and froze, so Bruce forced it down for the dog. He earned a hesitant lick to the palm for his efforts and the dog switched to smell Tim's palm, tail slowly starting to wag in tentative hope.

Farrah appeared with the papers in hand, apologizing for the wait, when the pitbull's tail was wagging carefully and Tim was scratching at the dog's head. She smiled at the scene again, and asked what they wanted to name the dogs.

"Ceddar and Ham for the corgis," Tim said with a little blush, "and I think I'll name him... Jay."

Bruce met Tim's gaze and raised a brow at the choice.

"Jay?" he asked.

Tim nodded once, firmly. "Yes."

Farah scribbled the names down, then told them they could pick the dogs up in three days. The wait seemed to disappoint Tim, but they agreed, thanked Farah, and stood to go.

As they opened the gate to leave, Jay's tail wagged a little more and he tilted his head as if to ask where they were going.

"I'll be back," Tim promised the dog, crouching to pet him again and making sure the dog saw where his hand went. "I promise. We're springing you from this joint."

Bruce snorted, lips quirking up.

Three days later they walked into the shelter dogless and walked out with Ham, Cheddar, and Jay.

"I'm gonna keep Jay at the apartment," Tim said as they entered the car with the dogs. "Because I don't think Titus would like him very much."

Bruce nodded, starting the car. Jay sat in the passenger side, sniffing at everything, pawing at the odd surfaces. In the backseats Tim was being smothered by his corgi puppies.

A minute passed in silence.

"Bruce, I think I'm gonna need a bigger apartment soon," Tim's muffled voice spoke up from under his corgis.

Bruce silently agreed as he drove to Tim's apartment. At the rate he was going...

"Don't tell Jason you named the pitbull after him."

His muffled voice spoke up again. "Why not? They both pretend to be mean, and they're both sweet deep down. Pitbull Jay has lots of scars, Jason has lots of scars--the parallels are too obvious! Jay is Jason in dog form."

Bruce's lips twitched and he shook his head.

"You know I'm right!"

"No comment."

"That proves it!"

@belovedbratwonder there you go.

[legends-live-in-memories]

Why Now?

AYO its ya girl back with more biodad!bruce wayne. I bring you all day 4! I highly recommending reading this after day 1 cuz it takes place right after it.

Maribat Masterlist   AO3 @maribat-bdbwm

Day 1

Word count: 1.2k words

Summary:

She was… she was so beautiful. Bruce could only wish she was truly his.

But why now? Why keep it a secret for years?

The aftermath of 'First Impressions' from Bruce's perspective.

BD!Bruce Wayne Month Day 4- Bonding

without further ado:

Bruce had always thought that his crusade for justice would leave him lonely, removed from the world, protecting it from the shadows. Taking on the fate of the world, his focus primarily condensed to just his city, did not create opportunities to form meaningful connections. Yet he made them anyway. Finding camaraderie in the Justice League and family in his children. Yes, his children. His very stupid children whom he loves very much. Who were keeling over themselves laughing at him.

All except his youngest son. He was caught between staring at Bruce, glaring at his brothers, and glaring at the new guests. Ignoring them, Bruce focused his attention back on Sabine. He remembered her well and he thought, hoped, that he would never see her again. She was a part of his past that he wasn’t proud of but she was here, claiming to have brought him his ten-year-old child, and all Bruce had wished for in that moment was for the women he slept with to stop hiding his children from him. If he had a nickel for every time that happened… he would have two nickels. Not a lot, but it was weird and depressing that it had happened twice now.

He wasn’t even planning on denying any paternity. There was no need, no want to do so. He would take in the little girl in a heartbeat if that was what Sabine wished. How could he not? Her pout was the same as Damian’s and she had his mother’s button nose. Her eyes were as blue as his father’s and as his own but her glare— when she could not understand why his idiot children were suddenly doing their best hyena impressions— was entirely her mother’s. She was… she was so beautiful. Bruce could only wish she was truly his.

But why now? Why keep it a secret for years? Bruce stared at the two of them, having flashbacks to two years ago, to his introduction to his youngest son and could only think of the worst.

Something must have happened. She must have been in danger for Sabine to have brought her to him. But what?

“Why are you really here, Sabine?” He needed to get to the bottom of this. He needed to prepare. “Certainly not just for a friendly visit.”

“Actually there is no ulterior motive.” Her voice was as cool as ever. Her passive expression that used to piss him off, her posture unreadable, drove him up a wall. He both missed and resented it. “We don’t need your help with anything. I just believed Marinette needed an opportunity to meet her father.”

Marinette. His baby’s name was Marinette. It was perfect.

“But why now?” At this point his sons’ laughter had died down and they were paying close attention to the exchange.

“She deserves to know who her father is and she’s old enough to understand why you can’t be in her life.” Her tone left no room for questions, as if the notion that he wouldn’t— couldn’t— be a part of his own daughter’s upbringing was set in stone. His blood was starting to run hot at that. He had been deprived of raising his children not once but twice, missing important milestones and not being able to form a bond he so desperately yearned for. It’s one thing to take in children, ones who already had been taught with a set of worldviews for the first few years, and had to combat with different ideals. It was a completely different thing, however, to be there from birth, to hold them, to coddle them, and to raise them and watch them become their own individuals.

“And who decided I can’t be in her life?” His frustration was well hidden but it still tasted bitter on his tongue.

“Don’t kid yourself,” she scoffed. “You and I both know she has no place in Batman’s crusade.”

The silence was damning. He didn’t say anything to that. What could he say? He never wished this life for his children but everyone he had taken in had fallen victim to his mission. He didn’t want to think about whether or not the young girl before him could keep up. She probably could; knowing her mother, she was probably well-trained and highly skilled. But Gotham was cruel, it was brutal and vile and wouldn’t hesitate to remind anyone of their own mortality and Bruce never wanted to bury one of his children again. His mind made up, he reached for his cowl and pulled it down.

Face and heart bare, he kneeled before his daughter. She looked at him with the same scrutiny she had since she greeted him.

“Hello, Marinette,” he said. He saw out of his periphery his boys drop from their perch. They made no step closer, but that was fine. This was between him and the child in front of him. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, father.” Her smile was brilliant and if he wasn’t already set in his convictions, he would be now. He’s known her for ten minutes and he never wanted that smile to disappear.

“I know your mother said that you don’t need me,” he breathed out, more tenderly than he thought he was capable of, “but if you ever— and I mean ever — need me, don’t hesitate to reach out.”

He saw in her eyes that she didn’t fully understand his earnest but her head bobbled in agreement all the same. Sabine’s hand rested on her shoulder, drawing her into her side. He looked at her face and saw a compassion he hadn’t seen in years.

“We’ll be in contact,” was her closing remark. Not giving him a chance to respond, she steered the little girl away from him, back to the car. He rose to his full height, cowl still by his shoulders, hung down by the weight of his decision. His sons still haven’t said anything, leaving him to have this moment for himself. His gaze was transfixed on his daughter. The daughter he never got to know. He watched as she made it to the car, holding the door open but not getting in. From what he could see of her face, she was contemplating something. Before he could hazard a guess, she turned and ran to him, colliding into his legs with full force.

She was hugging him. Bruce’s arms came to rest on her shoulders then to pet at the back of her head. He couldn’t feel how soft her hair was with his glove in the way.  

“Goodbye, father,” her ocean eyes were shining up at him, his father’s kind smile etched into her features. “I hope to see you again someday.”

“Me too, Marinette.” He would never tire of saying his children’s names, hers was no different.

Then she was off, back to the seclusion of the car that didn’t hesitate to reverse out the way it came. Just like that, as silently as they arrived, they left.

“Well that was something,” Tim’s voice cut into the air. “Care to explain?”

No, not really.

“Later,” he said; hopefully never, he prayed. “Back to patrol, all of you.”

He was hoping, foolishly, that his sons would just accept this as just a moment in their lives, no explanations needed. But he knew he had to, he owed them answers.

But that was for later.

Later.

[ariel-seagull-wings]

TOP 12 WICKED QUEEN PORTRAYALS

@sunlit-music​ @mademoiselle-princesse​ @princesssarisa​ @superkingofpriderock​ @metropolitan-mutant-of-ark​ @amalthea9​ @theancientvaleofsoulmaking​ @astrangechoiceoffavourites​ @giuliettaluce​ 

Alongside the Big Bad Wolf, Cinderella’s Stepmother, The Giant from Jack and The Beanstalk, The Witch from Hansel and Gretel and Bluebeard, The Wicked Queen from Snow White is one of the most iconic fairy tale villains of all time. A lot of people come to consider her the real protagonist of the fairy tale, since is her desire to be considered the Fairest of All and her actions to keep that title what puts the narrative in motion. And today, i will rank my favorite portrayals of this fascinatingly nasty foe.

12º Miranda Richardson as Queen Elspeth in Snow White: The Fairest of Them All (2001)

Talk about being typecast: before that turn as Snow White’s Evil Queen, Richardson had portrayed an Evil Sorceress Queen and Stepmother in Jim Henson’s The Storyteller (’The Three Ravens’ episode) and she was a wicked Sorceress Stepmother in Tim Burton’s Sleep Hollow. So it was neat for her to be called for the role of the most famous Evil Sorceress Queen and Stepmother in this Hallmark TV Movie. Elspeth is the sister of a strange, mysteryous creature known as the Granter of Wishes. Having been recently released from his freezing prison, the Granter of Wishes makes a spell to make her look beautifull for human standards, and marries her to the newly crowned and widowed King John. At first she looks content with the prospect, but as time passes, she grows more and more unsatisfied. Her source of joy is the Magic Mirror that praises her beauty, and casting spells to turn gnomes into garden statues. But when the Magic Mirror says that Snow White’s beauty surpasses hers, the unsatisfaction gets mixed with paranoia, and Elspeth slowly abuses her power in constantly harming other people, until there is no magic enough...

11º Herta Kravina in Schneewitchen (1971)

This german TV Movie is the most faithfull adaptation of the Grimm’s tale original edition, not only keeping the three murder attempts by ribbon/lace/corset, hair comb and apple, but also being the only one to show the Queen dancing to death with hot iron shoes in Snow White’s wedding. This is enough to make it worth a checkout. The other reason i find this version interesting is how the Queen comunicates with the Magic Mirror: they sing to each other. And Kravina has a really good voice (no wonder she was a voice actress for Peggy Lee in the first german/dutch dub of Disney’s Lady and The Tramp). Sometimes that is enough to get a spot in a ranking.

10º Mari Yokoo/Caterina Rochiara/Regina Reagan/Carol Jacobanis as Queen Crystal in The Legend of Snow White (1994)

From the outside, Queen Chrystal appears to be calm, regal, and sophisticated, but in reality, this collected and stately facade hides an extremely sadistic, hateful, cold and sinister person. She is ruthless, jealous and obsessive and wants nothing more than to be the fairest in the land. She also has an extreme vanity that made her utterly intolerant of rivals. Being solely focused on the idea of becoming the fairest of all, Queen Chrystal does not appear to be significantly involved in governing her husband's kingdom, though the skeletal remains of prisoners in her dungeon point to her being a villainous ruler. In the end, her mad vanity and jealousy of her stepdaughter Snow White drove her to murderous insanity. Later is revealed that Queen Chrystal is not unredeamably evil as everyone thins, but an actually kind and gentle person who is possessed by an Evil Spirit. 

09º Diana Rigg as the Queen in Canon Movie Tales: Snow White (1987)

This lady is the personification of paranoia multiplied by the double. Why? Because the Magic Mirror didn’t needed to say that the little child Snow White was the fairest, this queen just feared so much that the princess’s beauty would outgrow hers that she ordered the huntsman to kill her. Basically: run, she is bad news.

08º Jeri Arredondo as Sly Fox in Happily Ever After: Fairy Tales For Every Child (1995)

Sly Fox... What a cunning diva. People try to counsel to not use alone a Magic Mirror that is a portal to the spirit world, but who says she listens? She is just there to hear the singing of her praises, and will try to eliminate anyone who gets on her way. She even goes so far as taking the appearance of the kind hearted nurse Sage Flower to lure her stepdaughter White Snow to eat the poisoned appled. What is not to love about that bastard?

07º Kazue Komiya/Arlene Banas as the Queen in Grimm’s Fairy Tale Classics (1989)

Interestingly this encarnation starts naturally cold, calm and collected, ocasionally at the princess Snow White to see if she can ever grow more beautifull than her, and dismissing the girl with contempt. It is years later that she lets go of acting calm and collected, because after hearing some gossips in the palace, she asks Snow White if she thinks of herself as more beautifull than the Queen, and her stepdaughter reacts by exclaiming that the Queen is vain and cruel, and to her eyes that makes her ugly. So besides the desire of being considered the most beautifull, you get the feeling that this Queen pursues Snow White as a way to shut a person that dares to rebell against her, wich ads new interesting dimentions to their antagonism.

06º Dorothy Cumming as Queen Brangomar in Snow White (1916)

Brangomar was once a lady in waiting of the palace. But one day, she met the powerfull Witch Rex, who offered to give Brangomar anything she wanted. And what Brangomar wanted was to become a beautifull Queen. Wich was achieved by a faustian deal where Witch Rex would cast a spell that killed Imogene, the previous Queen, while in return Brangomar would have to find a way of getting Snow White’s heart for the Witch. Years have passed, and now Brangomar  must kill the princess to pay her debt, or else everything she got will be lost. Hey, here is a way of making a villain tragic, almost simpathetic and complex while keeping clear that she is still a villain!

05º Vanessa Redgrave as the Queen in Faerie Tale Theatre (1984)

The most loud and bombastic portrayal of the Wicked Queen ever put on screen. Bringing to television her sperience from stage, that allows some more over the top emotional reactions, Redgrave had the time of her life in that role, indulging in twirling, preening and screening as much as she could, and his Queen is all the most fun for it.

04º Gudrun Landgrebe as the Queen in Schneewittchen (1992)

What i live about Landgrebe’s Queen is her range: at first she acts all humble, discreet, cold and mysteryous. Then her husband leaves to fight in a Crusade, and she trows the white veil and gray clothing of humility to show a diva red hair and orange dress, as to say “Hey, the King leaved, i have all the power here now and you must do as i say”. Later, a knight comes, offering a magical crystal ball that connected to a mirror says all the truth, and the Queen takes posession of it to ask about her beauty. When Mirror says that the most beautifull woman in the kingdom is Snow White, she gets infuriated, than goes to carefully plan ways to eliminate the princess once and for all. The highlight is when she takes the disguise of a russian male doctor to offer the apple (where she injects poison into with her ring) to Snow White.

03º Maria Antonieta de Las Nieves in El Chapulin Colorado: Blancanieves y los Siete Churín Churín Fun Flais (1978)

This three part episode of the mexican comedy superheroe show is a loving parody of the Disney version, that stands out as an enjoyable retelling of the classic fairy tale in its own right. Interestingly, while most of the comedy in the episode is delivered in the form of over the top slapistick, de Las Nieves’s delivers a straight faced, contained performance. Wich makes her answers to the absurd situations in the story all the more funny.

02º Patricia Medina as the Queen in Snow White And The Three Stooges (1961)

This lady was a hell of a foe: she not only antagonizes Snow White for the title of the Most Beautifull, going so far as to lock the princess in a dungeon for no crime at all, but also, alongside her partner in crime Count Oga, ordered a murder attempt aggainst Prince Charming when he was a child, to prevent him from marrying Snow White, and this way she could become ruller of the kingdoms of Fortunia and Bravuria. Troughout the film, you think that she could win, since she has powerfull magic, spy and a mighty army at her comand, wich makes the viewer get all the more excited on the seat, that is how enjoyable Medina’s Queen is.

And my Number One Portrayal of the Wicked Queen is...

01º Lucille La Verne as the Queen in Disney’s Snow White and The Seven Dwarfs (1937)

The first encarnation of the character that i ever saw in my childhood, and the one that still sends chills/shivers to my spine. As a young Queen, she rarely smiles, acting cold and calculating, intidimidating who is subordinate to her with the expression of her eyes and highbrows. And as a Crone, she lowdly indulges in her cruelty, offering the poisoned apple to her pet raven to scare him, and mocking the dead skeleton of a prisoner inside the castle’s dungeons. That balance between cold calculism and loud cruelty, where both are equally unsetling and scary, is something very hard to achieve, but i think this encarnation did a very good job in achieving that balance, that every other  portrayal that camed tried to draw influence from it ever since. And that’s why Disney’s Wicked Queen is my Number One portrayal.

HONORABLE MENTIONS: Addi Adamets in Schneewittchen (1955), Marianne Christina Schiling in Schneewittchen (1961) and Sonja Kirchberger in Sechs Auf Einen Streich (2009)

[beholdme]

All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 15

Chapters: 15/19

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Library AU, Librarian Jon, Artist Gerry, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Ace Subtype - Sex Positive, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Falling In Love, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, Demisexual Gerard Keay, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Canon-Typical Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Flirting, Minor Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Adventures in Hair Dying, Happy Ending, Banter, Gerry has a lot of sass, Gerard Keay is Morticia Adams, Jon is a very grumpy Librarian, Martin adores them anyway.

Summary: In which Gerry is a kaleidoscope and Jon and Martin can’t help falling in love with him.

He happens to love them back.

Find it on Ao3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14]

Almost a year into their relationship, Martin's lease comes up.

There's brief romantic talk of them all moving in together, but they're all attached to their own spaces, especially with Gerry needing to keep his art studio, and it trails off without any real resolution.

When Martin's landlord doesn't want to renew and he essentially has no choice but to find a new place to live, he panics.

Jon is with him when he opens the letter, and witnesses the heartbreak on his face, a look far more appropriate to the death of a loved one than to having to move house.

He understands though. This is Martin's first home. The first rent he paid, the first freedom he claimed. The first place he had whispered 'I love you' to Jon, and the first place Gerry had pressed his lips to Martin's.

Jon is settled in his own flat in a more practical way. It's close to the library, Gerry's bar and also to Martin's bookstore, but he still understands Martin's heartache, even if it is detached from his scope of personal attachment.

As Jon takes the time to think things through, he knows they're being silly. When was the last time he had commuted to work from his own flat? And if Martin had to move anyway, why shouldn't the three of them be living together? Gerry would happily spend every spare second with them and frequently tells them so.

At their knock, Gerry opens the door in a pair of leather pants and not much else, hair faded out from navy to a soft violet.

He physically reacts to see Martin tear-stained and Jon frowning intensely at his side.

"Why tears? Who do I need to murder?" Gerry mutters darkly as he draws Martin inside and into his arms.

"He has to move out of his flat," Jon tells him angrily, still standing in the doorway.

"Oh, love." He whispers, rocking Martin gently.

"It's so stupid to cry about it. It's just a shitty little flat." He hiccups into Gerry's chest.

"Fuck that. We all know better than that. That flat was important to you," Gerry retreats further into the studio, dragging his weepy partner with him and leaving Jon to shut the door. "And you're important to us, so here's the plan. Gertrude and I are gonna dig up some dirt, we're gonna have a little chat with your landlord, and he's gonna agree to sell you your flat. Problem solved."

Martin laughs wetly as he is deposited in the cushion pile and Gerry follows him down to sit in front of him and take his hands.

Jon strips his jacket and scarf off and tosses them on the couch (the biggest indication of his upset, really, as he normally always meticulously hangs things up), before flopping down on the floor with them. Martin and Gerry offer a hand each, and they sit in a triangle, connected.

"Gerry, you can't blackmail my landlord into selling me my flat." Martin starts, voice still choked with tears, "Not least of all because I can't afford to buy it anyway. I already have a business loan, not to mention all the debt from before my mother died."

Apparently able to sense any great excess of emotion, Luna and Saturn wander in and both attempt to curl up in Martin's lap. Jon takes Saturn, leaving Luna to her tearful human. Martin smiles gratefully and disentangles his hands to pet behind her ears.

There's silence for a moment as they consider Martin's words. Gerry opens his mouth, closes it, then decides to say what he wants to anyway. "I could lend you the money. Or give it to you. Whichever you prefer."

The look on his face could be accurately described as casually angelic, and he reaches out a hand to stroke Saturn benevolently.

Martin and Jon stare at him, stunned.

"What do you mean?" Jon eventually prods him, incredulously.

Gerry opens his mouth to respond, but Jon senses the sass coming and adds, "A real answer please," rather firmly.

"Fine then," Gerry mutters, rolling his pretty teal eyes. "I have some money in savings. And in investments and stuff, I'm not actually irresponsible, despite what my appearance might imply. And the years I spent galivanting about the county. And Europe." He shrugs, rambling on, "Okay, maybe I am irresponsible."

His partners stare at him for a moment, then exchange a look.

“Define some money?” Jon says, poking him in the ribs. Gerry tells them.

“What!?” At Jon’s exclamation, Gerry blushes from the roots of his hair, and all the way down his bare chest.

"Where did you get it?" Martin finally asks.

"From selling my paintings?" Gerry responds, but it comes out as a question, and he rubs his burning neck in embarrassment.

"And," Jon says, voice carefully neutral; having regained some sense of composure, "why do you keep your job at the bar if you have enough money to casually offer to buy Martin a flat?"

"Don't feel left out Jon, I'll buy your flat too." Gerry offers, smiling at him beatifically.

"Gerry…" Martin lets out his name in the significant tone of voice that lets him know this is a 'serious conversation'™ and to get his shit together.

"Okay, okay," Gerry flaps his hands uncomfortably. "At first it was just because I was convinced that the painting money was gonna dry up and I didn't want to be left in the lurch. I've always operated anonymously and that made it hard to make money as an artist, it was only when Gertrude joined the crusade that I found any success. She insisted that people would buy prints online, and she was right. The digital art and prints were really popular, and it led to people wanting the originals." Gerry pauses and shakes his head in disbelief. "And Gertrude always has to be extra about everything, so she sold them at fucking auction instead of pricing them, which made me seem edgy and exclusive."

"You are edgy and exclusive," Jon interrupts to insist, a slight petulant edge staining his voice.

"Thanks," Gerry mutters, still blushing. "Anyway, so then I had all this money, but I was convinced it wouldn't last and now it's been years and it's only gotten worse and I was panicking so Gertrude took half the money and helped me put it into investments, which have mostly been pretty successful too, so now I have all this fucking money that I don't know what to do with, so Martin, would you like a flat?" Gerry ends his monologue slightly hysterical and Martin laughs out loud at the slight desperation in his voice.

"Do you even own this flat? I've been wondering how you could possibly afford it." Martin asks him, gesturing around at the massive space in one of the most up-and-coming parts of London.

"Yes, it's one of the only significant things I've ever actually paid for with the art money. You know, to do art in."

"And were you ever planning to mention this?" Jon queries, sounding slightly put out. He frowns down at the cat, instead of his ridiculous boyfriend. Saturn decides at that moment that he's had enough belly-rubs, and without warning, sinks his claws in, bites Jon's hand and then scurries off. Jon glares at his fluffy black tail as it disappears up the stairs and Gerry tries very hard not to laugh at him.

"Jonathan!" Martin scolds him, pushing his shoulder gently to regain his attention. "Gerry doesn't have to tell us about his finances."

Jon pouts even harder.

"Jon's right, I should have said something. I just didn't want it to be a big deal." Gerry responds, voice quiet and unusually reserved. He looks a little adrift and helpless, and they can see just how uncomfortable the money talk has made him.

Jon sighs and dislodges the stick from up his ass. "It's not a big deal, love, I'm only surprised. I'm glad it's out the way now." He collects Gerry's hand and presses a kiss to his knuckles.

Gerry relaxes and tugs Jon closer to kiss him, before offering the same to Martin.

They all sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, digesting the day's many revelations.

“Not that I’m not incandescently happy to see you both, but why did you actually come over?” Gerry asks eventually.

“Oh,” Martin sits up straighter, remembering their original objective. He looks down at the cat in his lap, stroking its back in an effort to distract himself. “It’s a little awkward actually.”

Gerry raises his eyebrows, thinking of what could make Martin feel awkward after all the things they’ve done together, occasionally right where they are currently sitting.

"Do tell." Gerry urges him. Martin and Jon share a look. Gerry rolls his eyes at the pair of them. "Come on, guys, whatever it is, just tell me. It can't possibly be that bad. Unless you're breaking up with me? Because fuck that."

"No, Gerry," Jon says, sounding amused. "The opposite."

"The opposite?" Gerry asks, frowning.

"Yes, the opposite," Jon tells him more firmly. "We were thinking," Martin makes a small nose at this, "that is, I was thinking, that since Martin has to move anyway, the three of us should finally take the plunge."

"You know," Gerry mutters peevishly, "I love riddles as much as the next overdramatic goth with a young adult book obsession, but could you please spit it the fuck out."

"Jonthinksweshouldallmoveintogetherhere." Martin finally rushes out, breathlessly.

"Martin, baby, those are separate words."

He takes a deep breath and tries again. "Jon thinks we should all move in together, here, with you."

Gerry sits up taller abruptly, a wide grin spreading over his handsome face. "What, really? You actually want to."

"Well, yes," Jon says, although his voice still sounds nervous.

"Okay great. Luna and Saturn are gonna love this." Gerry jumps up excitedly. "So I know you guys like having your own personal space, and I always have my art shit everywhere, but I've been thinking and I think we can make you both comfortable here too."

Martin and Jon share a perplexed look at Gerry's sudden frenetic burst of energy.

"We'll be comfortable here no matter what," Martin rushes to reassure him.

"Hush," Gerry speaks over him. "We both know you're just saying that because you feel like an inconvenience. But you're not and we all have to make this our home. Come, come on, I want to show you."

Gerry grabs a hand from each of them and drags them behind him and around and under the wide stairs that lead up to the loft space.

He leads them to two doors under the stairs, leading them into one. It's a large storeroom, technically, and Gerry has filled it with extra paint, canvases of many different sizes, and a plethora of other painting supplies. There aren't any windows, and the industrial light makes the space look stark. The scent of oil paint and turpentine is pervasive, but homey since those are things they associate heavily with Gerry himself.

"They're both the same. I've been thinking that if you two ever did want to move in here, you could take one each. A creative space just for yourselves, or your own bedrooms if you need some space once in a while. If you want them." His typical self-confidence is slightly lacking, the nervous twist of his fingers belaying his nerves at the admission.

"Oh Gerry," Martin says with something akin to wonder in his voice.

"But aren't you using them?" Jon asks, never one to let romanticism come in the way of practicality.

Gerry shrugs, "I've been thinking of having cupboards installed in the studio space and moving all this in there anyway. It will be more convenient for me when I'm working and it will be worth it to have you here all the time."

Gerry pauses, brow furrowing. "I've also considered moving the art studio in here so you two don't have to trip over my art stuff all the time."

Martin and Jon both understand the significance of that offer, knowing that Gerry's favourite things about this place are the high ceilings, giant windows, and natural lighting at most times of the day and even at night.

"You would be willing to give up your art space for us?" Martin asks in some wonder.

"Well yeah, of course," Gerry says as if it's obvious. "We'll all have to share the bedroom then, but the living space will be bigger. Whatever you would prefer."

"Just like that?" Jon's blunt incredulity finally tips Gerry off to their shock.

"Oh come on. I obviously haven't been a very good boyfriend if you two don't already know that you're more important to me than painting." It was the most romantic thing Gerry could say to anyone, really.

Martin kisses him, tearing up again.

"What did I say? Don't cry, love." He reaches up to wipe the tears away, and Martin offers him a wobbly smile.

Jon goes over to kiss him too. "You love us more than art."

"We're going in circles here. Yes, I love you both more than literally anything." Gerry is starting to wonder if they're being obtuse on purpose.

"We love you too," Jon tells him emphatically.

"Of course you do. I'm delightful." They all dissolve into laughter at that, the weighty mood breaking with it.

"So do you think you'll both be happy here?" Gerry asks when the laughter has faded.

Even standing in the mildly dusty storeroom and breathing in paint fumes, Jon knows the answer already. "I think we might be able to make it work."

[solsticetm]

━━ ◤ ( LONELINESS THAT GROWS HEAVIER TO CARRY WITH EACH DAY, BATS FLYING AGAINST THE NIGHT SKY, FIGHTING FOR JUSTICE,  AND JET BLACK ) welcome, BRUCE WAYNE, HE/HIM. before you move in, tell us what you remember: RICHARD BECOMING ROBIN FOR THE FIRST TIME SHORTLY AFTER ADOPTING HIM AS YOUR WARD. excellent, now we are pleased to accept your offer to live HUNTING DOG CABINS, and your new job as ORTHOPEDIC SURGEON at ST. MIRACULOUS GENERAL HOSPITAL is waiting for you to begin. 

THE BASICS

NAME: Bruce Thomas Wayne

NICKNAMES: Batman, The Dark Knight, The Caped Crusader, World's Greatest Detective, The Defender of Gotham

BIRTHDAY: February 19th

AGE: 31

PRONOUNS: He/Him/His

LAST KNOWN MEMORY: Richard becoming Robin for the first time shortly after adopting him as his ward.

ORIGINATION: DC Comics

FACECLAIM: Jake Gyllenhaal

THE DETAILS

FAMILY: Thomas Wayne (father, deceased), Martha Wayne (mother, deceased), Thomas Wayne Jr. (brother, deceased), Kate Kane (cousin), Richard Grayson (adopted son), Mary Elizabeth Kane (cousin), Ace (pet dog), Alfred Pennyworth (foster father, deceased), Damian Wayne (son), Jason Todd (adopted son), Tim Drake (adopted son), Cassandra Cain (adopted daughter), Stephanie Brown (daughter figure), Duke Thomas (son figure) ⇢ I’m writing Bruce from an earlier point in his canon, where Dick was his only child at the given time, but I’m including everyone on the list because I want to plot with them all!

THREE FAVORITE THINGS: Mulligatawny soup, obtaining knowledge, and solitude.

EDUCATION: ⇢ BS in Biology ⇢ Doctor of Medicine (M.D.) ⇢ Five years of residency in Orthopedic Surgery. ⇢ One year of the Spine Fellowship Program to specialize in spinal problems. ⇢ One year of the Hand & Upper Limb Fellowship to specialize in problems affecting the hand, shoulder and elbow.

SKILLS: Acrobatics, Indomitable Will, Intimidation, Interrogation, Peak Human Condition, Master of every known Martial Art, Weaponry, Stick Fighting, Swordsmanship, Stealth, Meditation, Marksmanship, Genius Level Intellect, Eidetic Memory, Forensic Science, Multilingualism (fluent in over twenty languages),  Leadership, Tactical Analysis, Escapology, Tracking, Disguise, Aviation,  Mechanical Engineering, Business Management, Mastered the skill of compressing a full night’s sleep into three hours, Survival, Computer Hacking, Lock Picking, Medical Science

HEADCANONS: Bruce used to apply black makeup around his eyes as part of the suit when starting out as Batman, but that’s no longer part of his routine after redesigning the cowl. He also has a slight accent due to growing up in New Jersey!

WHAT THEY’RE PLANNING TO DO IN DECIMATION: These ‘waking dreams’ that appear to Bruce at night keep him awake, often finding himself sitting up in bed to avoid them. It couldn’t be true, right? These visions of what happened to his parents in the alley just feels cruel. He has memories of growing up with them so why would his mind play this trick? Bruce chalks it up to guilt about moving away from home and settling in Decimation. It’s a long way from New Jersey, used to the finer things due to being born into a wealthy family. His father was a gifted surgeon and this inspired Bruce to follow in his footsteps — eventually falling in love with orthopedics for his own journey in the medical field, now a successful surgeon in his own right. He likes to think that the name doesn’t have anything to do with it. On his time off he likes to take Ace on a walk around town, especially Founder’s Park.

[thecrimsonlion]

Yuuna

The sudden force of something jumping on top of the crusader made him startle awake as he panicked for a moment, his mind working overtime to process what just happened.

"Lulu itz moorin tim!" A excited little voice squeaks happily. Lucian peers down at the child bundled up in the blankets he was using moments ago. Azure eyes stare curiously at him for a moment before pouncing into his chest, snuggling him. Little horns poked into his chest causing the man to wince in pain but it didn't deter him from returning the affection with a hug.

"Morning my little gem~. Ready for breakfast?" Lucian smiles contently as he peered down at the draenei child he called his daughter. With Yuuna in his arms he would get up, swirling her about before setting her down. Giggles escaped the girl as she stares up at him, joy filled the warmth of her expression." More spin!!" She made grabby hands to him, wanting to be swirled about once more." One day I'm going to be too old for this " He chuckles out softly, once more spinning the child about.

" Now let's make you breakfast. How did you like last night?" He'd carry Yuuna downstairs before setting her down. The soft clicking of hooves sounded as she ran about, pausing only when the question was brought up. Her brows scrunch together in thought." I like the colorz! Big explozins! Ploos the Flower Knight zhowed oop! He waz nice." She coos out, flashing a toothy grin.

Lucian grins as he entered the kitchen." I'm glad you enjoyed the fireworks...ah. That flower knight was Falcaerion. He's a good friend of mine that I work along side quite often. Remember his daughter is going to help you learn magic." A loud squeal came from the other room." Reely? I can't wait! Moor lezzonz!" She cheers. A loud bang came from the other room.

Lucian's ears flicker as he peaks out to see what it was." What did you do... oh Yuuna." He chuckles out as he shakes his head. Yuuna was sprawled out over the arm of the crouch that she ran into, a bit dazed and confused. A kitten jumped onto the couch, licking her cheek. Yuuna giggles, petting the feline." Good moofin." Since she was fine Lucian would go back with making breakfast.

Pulling out flour, baking powder,salt and sugar, Lucian would grab a bowl and sift together the dry ingredients; the flour, baking powder, salt, and sugar. Using 2 forks he'd cut in the butter to coat the pieces with the flour. He'd start mixing the ingredients up with the butter, turning the mix into a crumb like texture. Tossing the blueberries into the batter lastly, making sure not to bruise the delicate fruit. Making a well in the center of the dough, he would pour in heavy cream. Lucian made sure not to smash the dough as he folded it over, pressing lightly to spread the dough out before cutting it into rectangular pieces.

Lucian hums softly to himself as he put the dough onto a tray before playing it over a rack on the fire. He'd idly watch as the dough rises. " Breakfast will be done soon, Yuuna. " He calls out. The patter of click clacks soon filled the air as she ran into the kitchen. " Smellz good! Blooberry?" She gasps, running up to hug the man's leg. A hand lightly ruffles her hair." Of course, I know how much you love them. Now go wash up." He shoos the little girl off as he grabbed mitts to pull the tray out, setting it upon the counter. He'd fetch a plate, piling the blueberry scones onto it.

Lucian would take the plate of scones out to the dining room, setting them onto the table where Yuuna was impatiently waiting for the delicious food." Blooberriez!" She squeals happily, stuffing her face full of the creamy treat. A soft chuckle escapes him as he sat down, munching on a scone himself. Hearing the giggles and squeals of this child Lucian feel content with life. She was a blessing in his life that he cherished greatly. He'd do anything to keep her smiling, happy, and most importantly safe.

I finally got around to writing a little snippet of this dorks life. @the-warbound-seraph @lumealblackstrider @wallywhitesun ))

[goddessofroyalty]

Fandom: DC Comics, Batman Ninja

So after the fourth time watching the Batman Ninja movie, and me, my sister, and my fiancé all convinced the reason the monkeys didn’t come with them into the future despite the horses doing so is Tim putting his foot down I wrote this.

Yeah I made Damian compliant with this comic personality not the movie one. Worked better for the idea.

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16726509

“Bruce you’re not seriously letting him take the monkeys?” Tim asks as Damian walks by organising his things to go back to their own time. Mokichi and Monmi on his shoulders as he does.

Bruce doesn’t even get a chance to contemplate the question before Damian is cutting in. “Of course they are coming back with us Drake. Monkichi and Monmi have proven themselves competent allies. Which is more than I can say for you.”

“Bruce. That is a breeding pair of monkeys,” Tim says as if it is a more compelling reason for his argument. And in a lot of ways it is. There is little doubt that if they brought the two moneys back with them they would, at least eventually, have baby monkeys on their hands.

Damian clicks his tongue at his brother and Bruce feels a headache forming. Weren’t the two of them getting along just hours ago? How was it that the mere promise of returning to their own time had them bickering again. “And how is that relevant to whether they return with us Drake?”

“We just saw the damage an army of monkeys’ can do. I don’t particularly want you to have one under your control.”

The two monkeys cling to Damian’s neck as Bruce’s youngest looks ready to lunge at his brother.

“Enough,” Bruce says to stop a fight from actually breaking out. “The monkeys stay here.”

“What!? Why!?” Damian demands his ire turning onto Bruce while Tim has smug satisfaction. “We’re taking the horses!”

Yes but the horses are easy enough to explain away and the Wayne property already equipped with a stable even if it hadn’t been used in decades. It would be a lot harder to explain two monkeys without really looking like eccentric rich so out of touch of reality that they take wild animals as pets. Not that Bruce thinks Damian will accept those reasons.

“We just can’t,” he settles on, hoping that just maybe this time his son will listen to him.

Of course Damian goes to argue it but thankfully Dick brings himself into the conversation by casually leaning down to hug his youngest brother.

“They have families here Damian. We can’t take them away from that into a completely different time period and continent,” Dick says and Damian’s mask of stoicism breaks for a moment making Bruce fear he will have to deal with the circumstances of Damian joining Bruce’s family and crusade while still in feudal-era Japan.

Damian collects himself fast enough though and gives a nod. “You are right Grayson it would be cruel. Mokichi, Monmi, you have to stay here.”

The two monkeys look sad at the new but Tim mutters an oh thank god from behind Bruce. And Bruce does know it is the right call. Still he also knows how sad leaving the two monkeys behind will make Damian. A testament to how much Damian had grown as a person since joining them. Something that normally would make Bruce buckle to Damian’s wants.

Still. Tim is right – the monkeys have to stay in this time period and cannot come with them.

[theblotsays]

“My Uncles Favorite” 1989 Edition Batman Vinyl Figure by Chris RWK x Strangecat Toys

This Saturday, Strangecat Toys will be releasing the second colorway of Chris RWK’s epic Batman inspired vinyl figure, “My Uncles Favorite”! This figure is a fantastic 3D representation of Chris RWK’s unique take on DC Comics’ Dark Knight as seen in many of the artist’s paintings. For its second colorway, the 1989 Edition My Uncles Favorite pays homage to Tim Burton’s iconic Batman feature film and comes wearing an all black costume with yellow accents. This Batman also comes with a pet cat and a bird paying tribute to the Caped Crusader’s partner, Robin, and nemeses / lover, Catwoman! Produced by Strangecat Toys, “My Uncles Favorite” 1989 Edition Batman Vinyl Figure by Chris RWK stands 8” tall and is limited to just 100 pieces. It will go on sale at 12pm ET on Friday, September 17th, at StrangecatToys.com. http://dlvr.it/SYGZkf