#What to do if You Accidentally Activate the Owl Signal

[thatsbelievable]

[redfountainpostin]

Fell in love with your blog, went on a rampage to a friend about Riven/Darcy, came up with ideas, bon appetit! (Is that meme giving away my age?)

Riven who had his head so played with that he straight up doesn't trust his senses, anything he sees could be one of Darcy's illusions, someone calls his name and he ignores it cause he's gotten used to Darcy's voice inside his head pushing him to do x or y

He'll ignore his body's signals, hunger? Thirst? Pain? He can't tell if it's him or Darcy's tricks, so he ignores it just to be sure (meanwhile our boy is severely dehydrated and has 20 broken bones), the squad will have to remind him to eat, or drink or get to the infirmary

Darcy implants fake memories in his head, after, he can't tell his real past from the fake memories

Did he always liked X or Y? Or did Darcy influence him?

He loses some of his memories, there are things that no matter how hard he tries he can't recall

Shitty long term memory! If he's actively thinking about it, he doesn't forget, if he gets distracted, boom! It's gone. Post its all over his room and the kitchenette "you're allergic to strawberries", cause if he stops thinking about it he forgets, eats it and could go into anaphylactic shock. "Helia's mom's name is X" (I stole this one straight from Manacled, I'm not apologising).

The boys include this sort of thing in their conversation Hella will be talking about his mom and goes "my mother, X"

It's a PTSD free for all

Sometimes he'll go through his day convinced that he's in an illusion, that nothing he does it's really happening, and it isn't until he (accidentally) hurts someone that he realises "oh shit, it's been real the whole time"

Someone has to get him a night light for kids, cause now he's kinda terrified of the dark, I feel like Darcy could have him in total darkness for a while, he can't tell where he is, what time it is, what's going on. It makes him extra paranoid.

She could take away all his senses at the same time. After, he's extra sensitive and hyperaware, and will alternate between "Sky is breathing too loud" and ignoring the literal Armageddon outside his window cause "it's just another illusion" or because he can't feel it happening, some of his senses will stop working randomly. (Hello S3 blind Aisha parallels!)

Riven is not really a favourite, but his relationship with Darcy has so much potential! Feel free to use this or discard them all 🩷

Oh my god thank you so much for sending this, I love ALL OF THIS (also, I think Manacled is showing your age more than Bon Appetit, but potato potato XD, god bless us) I've been playing around with Riven having memory issues myself!!! I actually hc he already has those issues from his childhood, there was no head injury that caused it, it was just that he went through something so traumatic his brain just locked down an entire year of memories. Like, from age 10 to 11, it's blank, nada, empty, prazno, kaput. So when Darcy fucks with his head, it makes it even worse!!! What if he gets a (bad) habit of carrying a recorder in his pocket at all times?? In the evening he listens through it on sped up version to make sure everything was real. When someone finds out they're furious and he has to stop, bc it IS violating towards others, but it causes him so much stress. I also actually HCed him to feel much SAFER in the dark, because growing up, dark meant a lot more places to hide; Darcy taking that away from him, basically ruining a safe space, especially if he is a night owl, is just *chef's kiss*. And yea, my boy doesn't eat properly!! He will either forget, or refuse, or have a very specific think he'll eat and nothing else. I actually hc him to not eat bread, mostly bc I don't eat bread, so he bastardizes all sandwiches and just eats the filling and none of the bread, leaving his squadmates mildly disturbed XD Helia's mom definitely had to introduce himself like 3 times before he actually remembered her, but she doesn't hold it against him (I hc that Helia has really nice parents and bc I hc that Saladin got him into RF, and Saladin is Helia's fam, the whole fam kinda wants the best for him, except for Helia when he reaches for a sandwich in the fridge only to bite in and see that someone took out all the fillings) Also, to quote Harley Quinn: everyone else can see this trippy magic stuff yea? He literally has to ask at the end of each season during the obligatory final battle lololololol I really like the idea of the guy just being perma damaged and that's how it is and he has to live with it and his friends will be there for him AND HE HAS TO SEE THE PERSON WHO DID THAT TO HIM EVERY YEARS BC TRIX REFUSE TO FUCK OFF-

[ddarker-dreams]

Want. Yan Risotto x Reader [COMM]

You’ve never taken this long before.

Risotto is acutely aware of your everyday routine. Your shift at this cafe ends at 5:00 P.M., but you’ll chat with your coworkers for a few minutes afterwards. Then you’ll proceed to the staff room to retrieve your bag, check your phone, and leave through the back exit at around 5:10. When it’s a nice day out like this one, you’ll then walk home to your dingy apartment. However, if it’s raining, you’ll set up a carpool with a friend. 

Expecting you to be exactly on time always is unreasonable, yet Risotto prefers to stick to what he knows. This isn’t a small, overlookable delay either. It requires further scrutiny. 

He mulls over his options, all the possibilities that’d offer an explanation for this delay. Knowing that you’re still inside despite it being twenty minutes past the normal time for you to leave, he assumes something must’ve happened. Slipping out front isn’t a possibility either, he keeps watch there too. Calling your boss is a possibility, but a risky one at that. 

Binetti’s voice always quivers in blatant anxiety, never brave (or foolish) enough to ask why exactly a member of Passione has taken such an extreme interest in his employee. Curiosity is still there, as is to be expected. Ultimately, Risotto doesn’t want the weak willed man to mess up his carefully crafted plans, by accidentally revealing something to you.

So that leaves learning the reason for your absence to his discretion. 

Metallica gives him the ability to freely observe you to his heart’s content, but it doesn’t entirely erase him from existence. Under normal conditions he’d follow behind someone entering the cafe to avoid suspicion, since to anyone else, it’d appear as if a door was opening for no reason had he interacted with it. Dispelling the iron around him, he cautiously approaches the door that leads into the back of the building.

He’ll be able to use his Stand to hide his presence once he’s inside, but quietly opening the door will be the main hurdle. None of the windows are an option since they’re locked, and breaking them would be counterproductive to his plan. All of this trouble to ensure your safety. A few feet lay between him and his destination, his approach methodical. 

Only for you to open it before he even gets the chance.

Headphones in your ears as they usually are, you’re too busy picking out a new song while humming to notice Risotto’s presence at first. When you finally sense a shadow looming, it catches your attention, earning a small gasp. Risotto’s expression betrays his conflicting inner feelings, a calm facade already set in place to avoid further suspicion. He’s aware of his frightening appearance, but other than your initial astonishment, you don’t seem concerned.

Tugging the headphone out of your ear, you look up at him curiously. “Oh, uh, hello. I’m not sure if you’re lost, but the door to get into the cafe is--” you pause, pointing towards the corner that leads to the street. “--that way. I can show you, if you like.” 

Voice saccharine like sugar, he entertains the thought of how much better it’ll sound when you speak his name.

“I’m friends with the owner.” Risotto lies with practiced ease, his deep voice causing a shiver to travel down your spine. It’s a small experience, but it’s overwhelmingly thrilling to finally interact with the object of his affection. This isn’t what he planned originally, but Risotto is able to adapt in any situation without breaking a sweat. 

Letting out a hum of understanding, you offer him a beaming smile as if he’s your longtime friend. Muscles going taut at the endearing sight, he closes his eyes momentarily to regain himself. It’s nonsensical, how his heart remains steady when he takes the lives of others, but you render him weak at the knees by simply fluttering your eyelashes. Despite the lack of control it brings, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t savor it. 

Interaction with others is understandably limited for Risotto. He speaks with his squad, but tries to maintain a business-like relationship for their sake. It’s a lonely lifestyle, even if it’s what he chose for himself. The less traces of an assassin the better. It won’t always be this way, you filling the gaps in his heart he never knew existed. He just needs a little more time… 

“I’m glad you’re here then. I don’t want to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong, but Mr. Binetti has seemed on edge lately,” you sigh, crossing your arms with a worried frown. “Please cheer him up if you can, okay? He’s a bit of a skittish man, but he’s always been kind to me.” 

The news doesn’t come as a surprise to Risotto. Binetti can hardly stop sweating when he comes to check in on you, ensuring that you’re being treated well and no coworkers are giving you any flack. Still, it’s a detail he isn’t willing to overlook. If Binetti mentioned something to you -- whether it’s on purpose or not -- it’ll make things more complicated than they need to be.

Wanting more information to be safe, he prompts you to speak further. “Oh? Really? Has he said anything to you?” 

Risotto’s vermilion eyes admire how your soft lips move to the side while you think, how you  place a delicate hand to your chin. He’s seen and memorized your usual body language, but being on the receiving end of it feels different. Surreal. Now he’s this close to you, able to take in every aspect that makes you unique. Not to mention hearing the small flairs of your accent seeping through, it’s all too precious.

“Now that you mention it…” you trail off, eyes narrowing as memories come flooding back. “He did say something out of the ordinary the other day. Kinda like, be wary of everything? I didn’t think much of it. Maybe he’s just been paranoid lately. There is a lot of criminal activity in this area at times… though it never seems to affect us directly.” 

So his concerns weren’t unfounded. Your boss was attempting to signal you in his own, covert way. Irksome as it is, all problems have a solution.

Clasping your hands together, you attempt to alleviate his worries, still believing that Risotto is emotionally invested in this person’s well being. It doesn’t come as a shock. You may be naive, but you have a good, compassionate heart. It’s what drew Risotto to you initially, like a moth to a flame. 

“I know it sounds ominous, but I’m sure it isn’t anything that bad. Don’t worry too much, okay?” you reassure, eyes softening with empathy. Risotto’s owl-like stare observes as you reach out to him, the height difference not stopping you. Placing a considerate hand to his shoulder, you give a comforting squeeze. “You have to think of your own well being too.”

From all the immoral things he’s done in his lifetime, does he really deserve this? To have your attention for this long, to feel your heavenly touch. He isn’t normally a sentimental person, however, your caring actions touch him deeply. But as sweet as this little interaction is, it isn’t enough to placate a deeper hunger within. To know what you’d be like as a lover, his lover. All attention directed at no one other than him. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” 

His monotonous response doesn’t reflect overwhelming emotions within, all of his strength being used to keep his composure in front of you. How he desperately longs to take you with him. Your future shared bedroom is already waiting, he’s nothing if not prepared. Risotto amuses the thought, wondering if he should throw caution to the wind.

But it’s not the time for that. Not here, not now. Patience is a necessity in his field of work, and it applies here as well. There are still loose ends that need to be removed, more arrangements that need to be made. Seeing you in front of him, so tangible and real, reignites a fire beneath him. It won’t hurt to speed up the process a bit. 

Looking down at the time on your phone, you let out a quiet curse at how late it is. He knows it’s unusual for you to not be home by now. Troublesome as it is, he won’t be able to watch over you while you walk back either, but he’ll know when you arrive home. The motion sensors ensure that. 

“I’ve held you here long enough. Have a good day, alright?” you smile, placing your headphones back. He dismisses you with a nod of his head, eyes tracking your retreating form with interest. Heading off in the direction you normally do, you shoot him a final look. Giving a cheeky thumbs up and wave, you return on your way. 

A light scent of coffee mixed with your normal perfume stays even when he can no longer see you. He makes a mental note to buy this perfume late, recalling how it typically sits on your bathroom sink; making it difficult to gain access to when you’re home. 

There’ll be time to reflect on this pleasant experience, but for now, he has business to attend to. A talk with Binetti is in order. 

-- 

So it’s leftovers from Tuesday tonight. 

It’s disappointing, as watching you cook is always a sight to behold. From the way you carefully place uncooked pasta into a boiling pot so as not to burn yourself, or how you hum when chopping vegetables. It’s a domestic task, but one that Risotto has grown familiar to seeing. He hopes that you'll make dinner for him one day with the same enthusiasm. Take out and microwave meals just aren’t the same.

Seasoning your dish more to your liking, you stick it in the microwave with a satisfactory click. A low hum fills the cramped room, Risotto taking note of how you begin to sway in rhythm. He knows what that means, his heart fluttering in excitement for what’s to come.

Lips parting, the room is filled with your singing. A song he doesn’t recognize, but he’s never been musically inclined. Singing only for yourself, you get distracted in your song and forget what it was you were doing originally. Your voice is heavenly enough, but it transforms into something else entirely when you sing. There isn’t a satisfactory enough way to describe it, but he settles on the word stunning. 

The lyrics of the song are in English, your native tongue. He only picks up a few common phrases, but your talent transcends language. It’s a special privilege to be able to see you like this, entirely vulnerable and acting as your true self. Where you can apologetically be who you are, unaware of Risotto’s looming presence. Many sleepless nights he closes his eyes, picturing your voice serenading him with loving lullabies. 

How intimate. Beeping from the microwave causes you to jump, laughter soon following after. Risotto hasn’t ever tasted your cooking, but by how fast you consume it, assumes it must be good. Taking note of the time, he knows he’ll have to leave soon, a job needing his attention tonight. Wanting to spend more time in your presence is tempting, but work is work. 

‘Another thirty minutes.’

When you’re relaxing from a day at work, you spend time on social media or your other hobbies. Interchanging between them until sleep takes ahold of you. In the winter, blankets are warmed in the dryer at night for extra warmth. It’s a small detail, significant all the same. Observation is a vital part of his occupation. 

You’re not a target, in the traditional sense. A target of his affections, nothing purely malicious with killing intent. Methods from years of tracking and stalking for the purpose of murdering gave Risotto all the tools he needs to effectively keep watch over you. It was for peace of mind at first, but it evolved into something more. A calling to be the person closest to you. From the color of your toothbrush to the time you wake up in the morning, Risotto knows it all, which brings him pride. 

This knowledge will help ease the transition, once Risotto kidnaps you. He isn’t delusional, he knows the sudden change in lifestyle will be jarring. There’ll be exchanges of cruel words, tears shed, and possibly blood spilled. That’s why extra care is put into the villa you’ll soon live in with him. He still needs to find your favorite perfume to put on your bedside table.

Placing dishes in the sink, you dry your hands before venturing to your tiny bathroom. Risotto hears water running, faucet squeaking in protest. Frowning, Risotto reassures himself. Where you will live in the future is what you truly deserve, not this dingy studio apartment. He helps himself to the crevices of your room, running his fingers over your discarded clothes with interest.

‘These colors, hm?’

Shirts and dresses consisting of your favorite color and patterns are gently caressed, mind wandering to what you look like when wearing them. Casual is the style you’re fond of, wanting to be comfortable outside of your usual work clothes. Moving on, he looks at your phone which you had flung onto your bed prior.

Shower still running, he swiftly checks the screen while he’s still able to. A few text messages from your friends, and some from your parents in English. Scrolling further, Risotto’s eyes narrow in concentration at a new name. Marco. The text itself can be interpreted in a variety of ways, Risotto’s mind favoring the unsavory ones. 

From the lock screen, all he’s able to see an out of context message. 

I hope you’ll see it my way.

What were the two of you talking about? It’s a risk to steal your phone now, not wanting to alert you to any foul play. If only Melone were here, he’s more skilled with electronics. It sounds like this individual wants something from you, but what exactly? Now that he thinks about it, Binetti had mentioned that this coworker of yours is what caused the hold up earlier. Though the fickle man insisted that he’s unsure what words were exchanged, swearing on his life. 

‘How troublesome.’

If it weren’t for the looming assignment he has tonight, he’d personally give this Marco a visit. There’s always an option to ask one of the members of La Squadra to do it for him, but he prefers not to intertangle business and pleasure unless it’s unavoidable. Reading the text another time, he hears you turning the faucet off and knows his time is short.

Placing the phone back to its original spot with care, he reactivates Metallica and heads for an unlocked window. Venturing down the fire escape, Risotto considers what methods will be used on this unfortunate soul. Razors, perhaps? Or maybe scissors? Death from iron deficiency? He has time to give it some thought.

--

Finally gaining the opportunity to speak to you was a blessing, and a curse. 

As if he had tasted the forbidden fruit, knowledge of how euphoric it is to experience your attention firsthand leaving him wanting more. Watching you from afar is no longer enough to satisfy his deepest yearnings. For months he could tolerate never exchange a single word with you, harrowing as it was. Not anymore.

Everything is falling into place as he pictured it. The house the two of you were to share together fit your image well, furnishings put in place with your taste in mind. A wardrobe of your current clothing set up, normal toiletries, and the like. Even little, thoughtful gifts that Melone showed him from your wishlists. No detail is overlooked, Risotto wanting nothing more than to please you.

All that’s missing is the most important centerpiece to tie it all together, you. 

Stepping inside your workplace without using Metallica to conceal his presence, Risotto ignores the few stares that are shot his way. It’s par for the course, he’s well aware of his daunting appearance. Coffee and pastry aromas hit his nostrils, along with distant sounds of silverware clinking and muted chatter. People don’t stare at him for too long, whispers dying out after a few seconds.

He spots you speaking to a male customer, an incandescent smile on your face. His stomach churns as the customer returns your smile, firmly believing no one else deserves to witness such a beautiful sight. It feels like a knife being twisted in his gut, having to share you with the rest of the world.

Risotto isn’t sure what he’s doing here. Maybe it’s the anticipation for tonight, or the distaste his conversation with Marco instilled; that gave him the drive to speak to you in person again. This might be the last time for a while that you don’t perceive him as a monster, Risotto not looking forward to the inevitable animosity you’ll soon express. 

“Oh, I remember you!” you exclaim as Risotto approaches the counter, eyes lighting up in recognition. Binetti took notice of him, pretending to occupy himself with cleaning a spotless coffee filter. Risotto notices how his hands shake, yesterday’s confrontation still in mind. Not that Binetti’s behavior around you will matter much longer.

“I guess I should ask for your order first. What can I get for you today?” you inquire, leaning forward with a spring in your step. Risotto glances over the menu, before settling on a simple drink.

“A small red eye,” he answers without further thought. Remembering that he’s talking to you, continues. “Please.” 

Nodding your head with a concentrated look, you input his order before exchanging the required amount. Risotto shakes his head when you go to return his change, motioning towards the tip jar. Every concern in his mind melts away at the bright grin you flash him, gratefully tucking the extra money in with eager thanks. 

You move with practiced grace, working the silver machines with ease. He hears you humming a song you’ve sung in the past, recognizing it after the first few notes. Deft fingers measuring the required amounts for his drink, you set to work with the press of a button. 

After a few minutes, you hand over a steaming hot cup. Fingers lightly brushing over his own, his breath hitches. The first time you’ve ever touched him, and surely not the last.

“Is it alright if I go ahead and take my break now?” you call back to Binetti, who startles at the sudden sound of your voice. The middle aged man props his glasses up, eyes briefly flickering to Risotto’s imposing form before looking at you. 

“O-of course. Take your time.” 

Smoothing out your wrinkled apron, you walk over to Risotto who has taken a seat in the furthest corner of the store. “Mind if I hang out with you for a bit? My feet are killing me, and all the other seats are full.” 

Risotto feels his body erupt in warmth, knowing that you actively sought him out. Even if it’s only because there are no other options, the means to an end don’t concern him. Not wanting to seem overly eager by responding right away, he pretends to consider your proposition despite having already known the answer.

“Help yourself.” 

Taking another sip of his drink, the bitter flavor pacifies his dry mouth. Hot liquid running down his throat, he maintains a stoic expression in spite of his hammering heart. It could be pure luck that you came to sit here with him, or it could be fate. He’s grateful for it nonetheless. 

Chair groaning against the floor, you smooth out your skirt once you take your seat; thinking of how to start conversation. “It’s amazing that you can drink coffee without any cream or sugar. I know I never could.” 

Risotto’s lips quip upwards as he places the cup down onto the wooden table, well aware of your preference for sweets. “You get used to it.” 

“That could be true. I’ve never been brave enough to try it more than once, so I wouldn’t know,” you respond, a light laugh leaving your lips. “I don’t normally have caffeine this late in the day. It would be too hard to sleep, ya know? There was this time I saw a special that was only lasting one more day, and I didn’t want to miss trying the drink. So, idiot that I was, I went ahead and ordered it despite it being six o’clock in the evening.” 

Shaking your head with distant regret, you continue your story. “What a mistake that was! I was awake all night. My hands were so jittery I could’ve sworn they’d fall off. Not to mention I had a test the next morning… you know you messed up when you look out the window and the sun’s rising.” 

If it were anyone else, Risotto would find this chatter bothersome and pointless. However, since it’s you, every word matters to him. Fully appreciating even the most benign things you have to say, Risotto closes his eyes in contentment. Casual conversation doesn’t come easily, contemplating what a satisfactory response would be. 

“Was the drink good at the very least?” he wonders, watching as your jaw tightens and nose scrunches up. 

“Not at all! It was six dollars though, so you bet I drank the entire thing like it was ambrosia from the gods. A few days later I even saw articles of people making fun of how bad the drink was. It looked appealing enough, bright colors and all. But the taste… way too sweet, way too syrupy. A crime to the tastebuds.” 

“The person who invented it would’ve been locked away in the stocks if it were medieval times. Or is that the dark ages? One of the two. Anyways, if you ever see a bright purple and blue drink, run like your life depends on it.” you continue with apparent disdain, before snickering. 

“I wouldn’t try a drink like that.” he answers honestly, preferring bitter coffee over sugary flavors. 

“I wish I had thought the same. Would’ve saved me a lot of strife,” you sigh with exaggerated melancholy. “Enough about my myriad of dumb mistakes. How have you been lately? Mr. Binetti seems to be feeling better, so I think whatever you said to him cheered him up.” 

‘I don’t believe cheered up is the term I’d use.’

Risotto drums his fingers against the table. “I’m glad to hear that.” 

“I feel so dumb,” you suddenly proclaim, lightly hitting your forehead. “I just realized! We’ve been talking all this time, and I never bothered introducing myself.” 

Risotto points to your name tag with amusement. Looking down, you let out a quiet “ooh” at the sight. “How about you then? I don’t see any name tags on you.” 

It can’t hurt to tell you his name now, it’s far too late for you to do anything if you even did discover who he is. Sitting there obliviously, you’re unaware of the web the stranger in front of you has tied you in. 

“Risotto.” 

Goosebumps dot his skin as you repeat his name back to him, rolling off your tongue beautifully. Nodding your head in approval, you’re completely ignorant of the effect you have on him. He lightly clears this throat in hopes of regaining control of himself, excitement budding. 

“It’s a unique name,” you comment. “I like it though. My break’s just about ready to end, so I should get going. Thanks for letting me chat with you for a bit. You’re a good listener.” 

Bidding one another goodbye, you return to your job with a renewed vigor. Risotto finishes his coffee, tossing the cup before leaving the cafe. Everything he’s worked hard for is within reach, a small bag of sleep medicine in his pocket. One more visit to your apartment to gather some more essential belongings, and then he only needs to wait.

Unknown to you, this’ll be the last shift you’ll ever work.

-- 

It’s pitch black.

Everything feels heavy, an imaginary weight on your chest that you’ve never experienced. Head throbbing violently, a displeased groan leaves your lips. Fatigue has set in to every corner of your body, all of your strength required for the measly action of lifting your head. Blinking rapidly, the blurry surroundings start to come into focus.

‘This... this isn’t my room? Where the hell am I?’

You’re set upon a canopy bed, curtains obscuring where the door must be. Panic begins to set in at the unknown surroundings, shooting up only to hear a metallic clink. Hissing at a pain on your wrist, you look to see that you’ve been handcuffed to the bedpost. 

It feels as if your heart will burst from how rapidly it beats, adrenaline overtaking you. Thrashing in hopes of freeing yourself, it does nothing but irritate your skin. Swallowing doesn’t come easy, mouth too dry with primal fear to produce saliva. What options are there? You’ve been kidnapped, no doubt, but why? Money can’t be the motivation, you scrape by every month. 

Neither do you belong to any important family, who could assist in bailing you out. The motivations are murky, not that it matters now. All that matters is finding a way out of this nightmare of a situation. 

‘Think, [First], think!’

Calling help for help could be detrimental, who knows what your captor (or captors) might do once you’re awake. It’ll be wiser to utilize this time where you’re alone, hopefully gaining your freedom in the process. Who knows what demands could be made of you if you’re no longer alone. 

Glancing down at your body, you check to make sure everything is in order. You’ve read news stories in the past of people who traffic organs -- could that be what this is? With your free hand, you pull up your shirt, letting out a sigh of relief at the lack of tampering. No stitches, no pain. At least that’s off the table.

All the pain you feel comes from your wrist, and your head. Maybe you were knocked out somehow, most likely drugs; the pain not severe enough to have been bludgeoning. 

The handcuffs are the biggest issue here. It’s skin tight, leaving no room or hope of wiggling free. If you can find something to dislocate your wrist with, maybe it’ll allow you to pull free? Looking around further for anything that might be of assistance, you frown at the barren room.

Everything that could be of use to you is out of reach. Bed creaking underneath your weight as you shift forward, you curse silently. Was that loud enough to alert whoever is holding you captive? Staying perfectly still, you will yourself to silence your uneven breathing, listening closely for approaching footsteps.

Nothing.

A shiver goes down your spine as you return to your previous task. It doesn’t make sense, but you don’t feel like you’re alone. Someone is watching you, somewhere. It’s an uneasy feeling, not being able to see the furthest corners of the room due to how dark it is. 

Looking to your left reveals windows that are barred off. This person thought of everything. The door that you can see most likely leads to the bathroom, so even if you get free that won’t be an option. Maybe locking yourself inside?

Frustration and lethargy mix together, taking any semblance of logical thinking from you. This is too much, the fear of the unknown plaguing you with unshakable anxiety. Squeezing your eyes shut, you feel tears escaping down your face.

Sniffling softly as you can, you all but jump when a glass is placed down next to you. Head snapping in the direction of the noise, you’re able to make out a liquid that looks like water just within your reach.

“W-who’s there,” you shakily demand, searching around the room once more. Nothing. “I don’t have anything. Please.” 

“You must be thirsty. Drink.” 

It’s a terribly deep voice, that’s obscured by darkness. Bringing with it a sense of familiarity, you feel as if you know this man. That you’ve spoken with him in the past, but who could it be? And what does he want? 

Grabbing the glass, you carefully inspect the liquid. Your mouth does feel dry and achy, you’re too leery of the contents to trust it. What if it’s drugged? Grimacing, you throw the glass in the direction the voice last came from. It shatters against the wall from the force, not hitting your intended target.

Somewhere else in the room, you hear a disappointed sigh. “Already acting up?” 

Lips twitching downward, you sneer at this derisive comment. What the hell was he expecting? For you to lap it up gratefully like a dog? No, whatever is going on -- you resolve yourself to be a pain in the ass. There’s no way you’ll roll over for this fucked up monster, doing as he pleases.

“I-I don’t know who you are, but the police are searching for me. I always text my friends at night, they’ll report me missing if I don’t!” 

A single chuckle resonates throughout the room, coming from another direction yet again. How can you not hear any footsteps? Or even see a slight shadow of this person? The moonlight streaming in from the window should serve to give you some information, but it does nothing for you. The voice is not coming from a microphone either, being too clear for that.

“Who are you?” 

It’s all you can bring yourself to ask at this point, throat constricting and head growing dizzier by the second. Adrenaline is starting to wear off, all your energy being dedicated to staying awake out of fear. You’re not expecting a response, but he gives you one after a few minutes. 

“You’ll know soon enough. Sleep, I won’t harm you.” he tells you, voice commanding. It’ll be pointless to argue, as much as you want to. You need your strength back, whatever you ingested earlier still remaining strong in your body.

“Though you may not believe me... this is for the best, [First].” 

[bigskydreaming]

I'm not sure if you got my request because i didn't had internet when i sent it, so i'll write it again xd Do you think Dick (and the batboys in general) are famouse like Bruce? Because in the comics there's not any clue about it, i've never seen anyone say something like "oh look! Its Dick Grayson!, y'know, Wayne's first ward/son And its a shame, because reporters would make such a hard life to all of them, it would maka a good narrative tool

Honestly, this is a prime example of that inconsistency I rant about, and also DC’s refusal to just COMMIT on even the most basic aspects of their universe like….uh…how many kids does Batman have. 

afhsahfklahsklfhal

Like, you would think that would meet the MINIMUM requirements of “shit you should probably have figured out and make sure everybody’s on the same page with” but DC’s like….nah, that’s not important.

So I mean…..I’m reasonably certain - like this is just my personal belief, but I’d put money on it being right, lol - but I think the primary reason there’s so little mention in the comics of how Bruce’s kids are viewed in the public eye/how much the public are aware of them (in the New 52, at least, as pre-Flashpoint there was a lot more plot around that kind of thing, especially back in the 80s and 90s)……

…is because 90% of the writers and editors have no clue either, and nobody wants to be the one to ask, and like, open that can of worms. I 100% think you could ask five different writers at DC which kids Bruce has OFFICIALLY adopted in this current continuity, and get five different answers, lol.

There’s been so much handwaving about Dick’s status ever since Spyral, and again - I think its because nobody bothered to think through the logistics of the Hypnos/global-mindwipe machine BEFORE writing it into the story, and then once it did occur to any of them to like….wonder just how specifically it worked, they were like, fuck it, better just be as vague as possible. So, according to Grayson, everyone Helena didn’t program into the exclusion list before the satellite was activated should have no recollection of Dick Grayson, which is why he was able to ‘go back to his old life’ and be Nightwing again, without worrying about his secret identity having been unmasked…..

But what does that mean for his official identity as adopted son or even just ward of billionaire Bruce Wayne? People can’t have NO memory of Dick Grayson and still remember that Bruce Wayne took in a kid named Dick Grayson. I mean, as far as I can tell, the overall consensus in the comics seems to be that after the satellite was activated, Dick just kinda started from scratch as ‘Dick Grayson’ like, he was free to be himself again, but it was like he was a blank slate/came out of nowhere as far as everyone else was concerned. But again, that means as far as anyone outside of their close circle of family and friends know….Dick Grayson is a non-entity to Bruce Wayne and the two have no history. 

Which I mean, is fairly shitty and you’d think if nothing else, there’d be massive story potential there for delving into Dick’s character and his relationship with Bruce and examining how he felt about ‘having his old life/identity back’….except with the caveat that as far as the world is concerned, his life and identity don’t and have never included his father.

Cut to DC: Naaaaaaaah.

But even WITH that, plot holes persist, and abound, because…..why didn’t the satellite erase the Court of Owls’ knowledge/memory of Dick? Even before Luthor gave Cobb those goggles and files to help him with bringing Ric into the fold, Cobb clearly was already stalking Ric and knew exactly who he was….the Court obviously already had that doctor in place while he was still in recovery…so, whoops. I mean, you could probably come up with an explanation about the Court, via their own tech and resources, having had some protections in place 24/7 that kept the satellite from affecting them even though they weren’t on guard for it specifically…..but again, Occam’s Razor….I feel like the real answer is DC just didn’t care enough to think things that far through. Especially since the average Bludhaven citizen, like Bea, at least didn’t seem totally blown away when Ric revealed to her that amnesia aside, he was supposedly some rich billionaire’s adopted kid….which again suggests that as far as the writers were thinking, people in general are familiar with the idea that Bruce Wayne has more than one kid.

Then you’ve got Jason’s whole situation, and to be honest….I really only have the vaguest idea what’s going on there, because reading Lobdell books is against my religion, and I am a devout and deeply spiritual person, as you all probably can tell. I mean, I know that there’s something going on where like, Jason had himself legally resurrected in the public eye and is openly referring to himself as Bruce Wayne’s formerly-assumed dead foster kid……but like, is that the official official word, or would other writers if you asked them say they’d been operating under the assumption Bruce had adopted Jason too at some point in the Rebirth timeline, or….idek, man.

I…..honestly don’t have the faintest fucking clue what to make of the many back-and-forth retcons about Tim and his parents and his official place in the Batfam/relationship with Bruce, and am actually slightly terrified of even trying to make sense of that clusterfuck of a Gordian knot, so my official stance on Tim is to just like….back sloooooowly away from the anthropomorphic-migraine-masquerading-as-a-backstory, without like….agitating it and accidentally setting off another multiverse Crisis birthed wholly from just that one all-consuming black hole of a retcon.

I mean, there’s a reason I basically just shoehorn all the kids’ official pre-Flashpoint family statuses into anything I write in Rebirth continuity, and that’s not just stubbornness and my refusal to play the “now this kid is adopted…now he’s not…now he is again….except he’s not….oh he’s adopted again…..oh wait now he’s not again" game. 

Its like. Also for the sake of my sanity and stuff.

(And also hahahahaha fuck you DC times infinity, every time you use the words “blood son,” or “real family” in a comic, or have one of Bruce’s other kids refer to Bruce as “your father” when talking to Damian, as if that’s not an utterly bizarre and roundabout way for any sibling to refer to their mutual parent and thus I j’ete REFUSE to acknowledge it as valid….ahem, anyway, my point is, every time they do that in a comic, I double down and headcanon Bruce throwing a random as fuck gala for literally no other purpose than to remind all of Gotham that he has half a dozen kids and they’re all better than everyone else’s. Ugh. Kill it. Kill the “blood son” nonsense with fire and lightning and also lots of stabbing maybe).

Anyway, that’s my official stance on DC’s stance on Damian in the books.

Then as far as Cass goes….ugh, her origins were pretty much utterly butchered by the New 52, which IMO has also failed to give us Cass and Bruce bonding and dynamics sufficient to Sate Mine Ire™, sooooooo…..I mean, my perception of the current canon is that Cassandra’s official status is “secret mystery foster child that nobody really knows about,” but because I do not care for that and there’s the whole not sufficiently sated ire thing I mentioned, I officially reject this canon and willfully replace it with pre-Flashpoint Bruce and Cass love and adoption. DC’s welcome to kiss my critically acclaimed hiney if I’m doing it wrong.

Which brings us last, but certainly not least, as its only this way because I go sequentially and Duke is still Shiny and New comparative to the others and will be until the next inevitable fostering/adoption/clone hi-jinks bumps him up the sequential ladder (except I randomly switched Damian and Cass around this time because LOOK I DONT MAKE THE RULES, THERE ARE NO RULES i hvea Adhd hiccup sob leavem e aloooone soooooob)…..

Duke’s official status, much like the rest of the Batkids, can be summed up as Honestly, I Really Don’t Have A Fucking Clue And Am Just Winging This Whole Thing.

I mean, there’s less inconsistency with him, due mostly to the fact that so few writers other than Snyder use him (boo, hiss, and not just because I hate having to give Snyder credit for stuff - look, I love his Duke, but I loathe how he writes Dami, its a thing, I just…don’t get me started). But what inconsistencies there are….well….they’re a bit glaring.

Basically one major storyline showed Duke as being an official foster kid/ward of Bruce’s and living out of the Manor with Bruce and Damian and occasionally Tim when he’s not off road-tripping around the multiverse….and then Batman and the Signal had Duke in the care of his uncle, who was stated to be his legal guardian and Duke was constantly sneaking out in order to meet Bruce in the special Signal-cave he built specifically for Duke to operate out of so he didn’t have to like, drive all the way out to the Manor to change just so he could then drive back into the city and patrol. And then Batman and the Outsiders just said fuck all that, here’s Duke and Cass hopping hemispheres with the Outsiders every other issue, so apparently nobody’s making unscheduled visits anywhere back in Gotham to make sure these two are where they’re legally assumed to be, which again, for the record is…..*error, source not found*

LOLOL and the really fun thing about this little back and forth is I’m pretty sure allllll these conflicting takes are all the work of the same writer. Like. GET ON YOUR OWN PAGE, DUDE.

Also, again I have to assume the “Can’t Be Bothered To Give A Shit, Or Maybe They’re All Just Really Bad At Logic” curse has struck again, because….uhhhh…..

….at no point anywhere in Duke’s stories have I seen Bruce or literally anyone else express concern about the fact that Duke living with Bruce as his official foster, like he definitely and clearly was at some point at least…..means that literally every single one of his We Are Robin friends who knows that he was taken in by the Batfam (and there’s several of them who know this)….like, by the transcendent properties of You Can’t Honestly Think They’re That Dumb, that’s a good five or six civilians out there who probably took all of five seconds to play connect the dots and figure out the Wayne family, having officially taken Duke in on paper…..is pretty likely the Batfamily.

I mean, I like all of Duke’s friends and would definitely headcanon/write them as all being trustworthy and able to keep this knowledge to themselves for Duke’s sake, if nothing else, but I mean, its pretty unprecedented for Bruce to out himself and all of his kids/allies by extension, to like, that many civilian teenagers all in one swoop….

…sooooooo, you’d think, AGAIN, logically, maybe, perhaps, this is the kind of thing that should be brought up in a narrative somewhere as a plot point worth delving into, y’know, just for shits and giggles and maybe a little bit of that whatchamacallit - oh right, character development, but.

Cut to DC: Naaaaaaah.

 *throws up hands and does the I Can’t Even Shuffle all the way home*

In conclusion:

DC is a mess. The official/public status of each and every Batkid is a mess. Except for Damian, the blood son, but we have that pencilled in on the schedule to be killed with fire and also stabbing, so he can get filed under ‘just a fucking mess’ with the rest of his siblings. Hashtag Solidarity.

I mean, I say just write or headcanon their official status however you damn well please, and it’ll STILL be more effort than I believe DC has put into organizing and staying consistent with all of this, and thus STILL make more sense than what we currently have to work with.

*Shrugs* If they don’t care enough to provide a clear canon blueprint to follow when mapping the Bat Family Tree, I can’t be bothered to care if the one I make up myself happens to contradict one single mention of one kid’s official status as claimed by one issue of one book.

Especially if it was written by Lobdell.

Jason’s just a foster son my ass. grumble mumble bitter vengeful swears and a pox on all DC’s houses. WHY DO YOU PEOPLE HATE ADOPTION SO MUCH, INQUIRING MINDS WANT TO KNOW AND ALSO FUCK YOU.

[gaijinhunter]

[PAX South] Dauntless Hands-On Impressions

My excitement for the game is NOT just “wishful thinking”! I was given a special opportunity to try the PAX South build of Dauntless; it's currently in pre-alpha with open beta in the Fall and a closed alpha demo sometime before that. The game was a blast to play despite still being in an early stage.

In the demo I got to slay 2 monsters: Shrike (the owl bear) and Pangar. Both were unique and fun.

Weapon impressions:

I really loved all 3 weapons, despite thinking I was going to gravitate to one of them. The sword was fast and furious and had at least 2 major combos (triggered by a different button so the controls were not complicated at all), so it was nice to choose which one depending on the situation. You charge up energy as you hit the behemoth and once your gauge is full you can activate it and for a limited period of time you are super-powered. It’s nice to have these elements of big chance and it’s great you can choose when to activate it, so you can wait until someone knocks over the monsters first then go ham on it. Very fun!

For Hammer, I really like the interpretation of the weapon they have. It’s quite agile and has nice wide strikes. Best of all, and I’m sure you’ve seen video of this, is the super jump you can do. Basically it’s a Gun Hammer and you have a few ammo slots of aether energy. You can activate a jump by pressing a button then do an air attack. It’s satisfying to jump in and smash the head of a behemoth when it turns around. Very different than how you think of hammer in a game like Monster Hunter. Another thing worth noting is once you run out of aether shots, you can reload the weapon and currently they use a system like Gears of War with the “perfect reload” which felt super satisfying to pull off.

Axe is the big hitter that is slow but does massive damage. Stamina management is really crucial but numerous times I was able to get the behemoth to flinch with a well-timed hit. I like that there is a walking charge attack so you aren’t necessarily committed to a position (which there was a fixed position strong charge as well). After doing enough damage you can unleash a super slam that raises your base attack power, think of it like a great sword in Monster Hunter that has the Long Sword spirit system.

Overall I like the way aether plays a big roll in this game, from the weapons and how they deal out bigger damage, health pools you can heal from on the field, and elemental attacks the Behemoths do especially when enraged.

Behemoth Impressions:

Shrike was fun - I think it’s going to be an earlier monster but that doesn’t mean it was easy. It’s one of those fights where you can find yourself getting greedy and are punished for it. There are generous i-frames for evasion if you can time it well but even that won’t help you if the behemoth is in your face!

Pangar is really a good example of where this game shines and proved to me they know what they are doing when it comes to monsters design. Its moves had personality and it felt very different from the Shrike hunt. It also had a good variety of attacks: clawing, tail swipes, charging at you, ice attacks, you name it. In my demo I was able to utilize one of the sword combos that ends in a nice upward slice to sever its tail, which felt good! Some media had some gameplay footage but it doesn't really do it justice - when you are in there close and fighting it, the action is well-paced and exciting.

Gameplay Notes: When an fellow slayer is down you can run over to revive them (not at full health or anything) and you really want to since the longer they are down and out the closer you get to a quest fail. It’s really well implemented and will be something you just have to try out, but I found it kept the team really thinking about each other, and once we ran out of heal items it really raised the stakes. Absolutely love this idea. Not being sent back to camp keeps the action heavy and makes you move as a team but is never a pain in the butt. Lots of “omg dude I’m down quick someone help” “thanks!” and accidentally dying as you try to revive a fellow slayer is funny.

I also think the flare system is cool. Since there are no loading times, if you run and spot the behemoth you can throw a flare into the air to signal other slayers in a way that is integrated into the game world.

Overall: The game is really showing promise and I can see and most importantly *feel* what its going to be like later and it’s exciting. It takes from Monster Hunter some of the core things we like but doesn't feel like a clone--it feels different and in a good way.

The developer is super open, funny, and interacts with the community. Also worth noting is while we don’t know the details, they are adamant that the F2P will not be pay-to-win. These are a bunch of guys who love the same games we do and are trying to do this right—they have my support not only because they are cool but the game is also frankly just shaping up to be a lot of fun.

Can’t wait to see more as the game development continues. I knew that I wanted to cover this game closely but after having a hands-on demo with the game, I am now fully committed to covering it. It's going to be free to play so if you have a PC it won't cost a thing to give it a try. I really think you guys will enjoy this game so put it on your radar!

Until next time...happy slaying!

[saltingthecookingwine]

Aw fuck.