#also just how that is a repeated image with Bart

[sleepyspeedster]

Preston/Bart fic snippet Temporary Title: Sunshine in the Rear View Mirror

I don't know if this bit is staying, but I do love that 'wascally wabbit' bit. And also I've made the personal revelation that Bart should be compared not to the Road Runner because he's fast, but to Bugs Bunny because he's associated with hares, incredibly popular in his school as well as just likable, always managed to get out of trouble/turn things to his favor (like Bugs), and has a penchant for skirts like Bugs Bunny.

EDIT: Finished and on AO3 here!!

[brucewaynehater101]

i'm gonna be real idk if your the right person to go for young justice core four headcanons but you give the best replies by far so heres my own idea idea

I was listening to the Roblox Soundfont remix and now the og Gone Angels and now I'm thinking . . .

Tim became Robin to prevent Batman from ceasing to be the symbol of heroism and good he started off as

The symbol that spiraled into destruction of even the self with Jason Todd's death

imagine a world where Red Robin becomes the very thing he swore to destroy with his own death

he dies along with Bart and Kon. Cassie due to this and maybe other factors fucking looses it, Batman post-Jason's death but pre-Tim becoming Robin style

or maybe instead he dies but the rest of the core four lives. either way Cassie still looses it, by herself or with her other teammates

And maybe, just maybe, they get nobody to be the Third Robin to their Batman, no Third Robin to Tim's Second Robin

likely improbably in canon but the idea of Cassie and maybe even Bart and Kon having a villain arc (maybe Black Silence style) is too good of an idea not to share

(Side note; imagine a Gone Angels cover where the survivor(s) sing and for the itallian lyrics in the midway point the deceased sing)

((extra side note: imagine this is what gets Batman and maybe the other Bats to reflect on the time before and after Tim become robin, post Jason's death; seeing their history repeat with Young Justice))

((hell maybe the Justice League realizes as wells))

"you give the best replies by far." Thank you. Sometimes, it takes a bit to reply to asks cause I'm taking a few hours to really answer the prompts/ideas/questions people pose. I also sleep at random times, so apologizes in advance to any asks that take a while!

My image of YJ is a codependent platonic polycule. They are Young Just Us because they didn't receive proper support from their mentors. This is part of why Cassie and Tim fell apart after Kon and Bart died. This is why, in their own weird ways, both of them tried to get a form of Kon back. Tim tried the scientist cloning avenue, and Cassie tried the cult.

If you want Tim's death to inspire Cassie and YJ to go evil, might I suggest Tim sending proof of Bruce being alive in the timestream and then succumbing to his spleen injury (perhaps an infection)? This would create a delicious amount of angst, anger, and mental breakdowns.

Cassie, the only nonretired YJ member alive at the time, didn't believe Tim about Bruce being alive. This was in part due to the cloning stuff but also in part to trusting Nightwing (or Batman at the time). If Tim didn't make it out of that alive, Cassie may be desperate to find anyone to blame but herself for that. She was a kid, she was lost in her own grief, and Tim should have had the support of literally any other hero.

The entire hero community turned against a teenager in his time of need that he resorted to conspiring with the LoA and ended up losing his life. Whether she chooses to be mad about nobody believing him (Tim's possibly a better detective than Bruce and people have revived before, but his evidence at the time was flimsy), she can be very pissed that not a single hero offered to help him. They didn't even need to trust in Tim's decision. They could have just accompanied Tim until the teen gave up or proved himself right. They could have treated it as a grief road trip while Tim found himself.

Anyways, losing the last nonretired YJ member that way may cause her to just snap. The JL was already on thin ice with the YJ for their lack of support to her generation of heroes. Them failing YJ enough that two children died in the field and one died as a direct result of their actions? She would, rightfully, loathe the JL. On top of that, she does already not trust the government for what they did to Secret. If she can't prosecute the JL, she'll become their enemy.

Cassie lost all of her main polycule. She wants revenge.

After Bart and Kon come back, they see how JL left Cassie and what they did to Tim. Cassie is part of their ride or die, and she has been treated so horribly. Tim has died. They obviously join her.

Now, with Bart there to give evil ideas (Bart is the scariest member of YJ and you can't convince me otherwise), YJ is a force to be reckoned with. Maybe some of the other members come out of retirement, maybe not. They would be unstoppable with Tim helping them, but that's the problem. They don't have Tim. Tim isn't there to help them nor hold them back. That's why they became "evil" anyway.

I like to imagine someone, probably Nightwing, screaming at them from across the battlefield. "This isn't what he would have wanted! He became Robin to stop Batman from destroying everything. This is the antithesis of why he became a hero!"

For a split second, YJ would pause. There's merit in those words, after all. Cassie would recover first as she shakes her head. "He became a hero to be the leash to Batman's rage. He's not here now. He's not here to temper our rage, and you did that. You abandoned a child." She plants her feet more firmly and points her sword at Nightwing. "We won't let you do that again."

It's dealers choice on whether YJ win the battle or not. Also, I do believe YJ would be obsessed with trying to bring Tim back. Perhaps some of their evil deeds truly stem from them trying to find ways to bring back Tim. They are incomplete without him just as they were incomplete without Kon or Bart and would be without Cassie.

Now, is Tim actually alive or does he stay dead? Did Ra's revive him using the Pit? Did Ra's lie or misguide the Bats while keeping Tim hostage? Will Tim come back, either after being brainwashed by Ra's or escaping, to find his platonic polycule has officially lost it and turned evil?

[stargazer1682]

Alternate Flash Ending

Here's an alternative off the top of my head - Team Flash is doing their best against the big baddies Eddie has assembled, but the big bads aren't attacking them, they're attacking the city and the Team Flash are trying to protect the innocents in the path of destruction - you know, being superheroes. But the big bads are speedsters so most of the main Team Flash line-up aren't any real match for them; and Nora can't hardly keep up. Cisco and Wally would 100% be there too; as is Jay.

Ultimately it comes down to Barry. It always comes down to Barry, which is a point of contention for him, especially at a moment when his daughter is about to be born. To give him a boost, Jay shares part of his speed with him, as does Bart and Nora; each keeping enough to still help against the other big bads. So Barry runs, and genuinely runs faster than he ever has. He takes on Eddie by making long approaches, building up speed, landing a punch, then racing off again to build up more speed. Soon Barry's circling the globe within seconds to land another blow; each punch landing quicker than the last - so quick it starts to look like like Barry is coming at him from multiple angles at the same time. Cobalt Blue swings wildly, hoping to hit Barry, but on this approach, Barry ducks and wraps his arms around Eddie, taking him with him around the world and ultimately pulling Eddie into the Speed Force. But of course, Eddie is the negative speed force, or its avatars; and bringing him into the speed force is breaking it down, even as it's eroding Eddie's power. As the negative speed force weakens, Eddie's mind begins to clear. He's the old Eddie again, the man willing to sacrifice himself to save the world. He tells Barry to take him back to that moment, it's the only way to end it. Barry is reluctant, but Eddie pleads his case and Barry agrees, carrying him through time to nine years ago.

This just leaves Barry and the Cobalt crystal. The Crystal and the Speed Force react to each other, destroying one another. Reality begins to bleed into the speed force and Barry sees the death of his mother, but also the time he spent with his parents, the time spent with Joe; he sees Nora and Bart. The fight in Central City, and regular people on the street trying to help, with no powers at all; and he sees Iris in the hospital about to deliver Nora. Iris repeating to herself, "run, Barry, run," as a mantra to focus on between contractions. Lightning crackles in his eyes as he finds his second wind.

He pushes forward through the images he saw, picking up speed. The Crystal and Speed Force are gone, as Barry races through the streets in the midst of the battle. He grabs each of the big bad and drags them through time back to where they came from. In the present he repairs the damage to the city and takes the injured to the hospital. But he doesn't know how to stop at these speeds. Without the speed force to channeling it, stopping could kill him or do a lot of damage wherever he stops.

Jay and Bart both feel weak, but Nora says feels different. Iris is beginning to push, calling for Barry. Adult Nora realizes that she's a walking paradox. This is her birthday, she exists as both a newborn and an adult; and as an adult she's connected to the speed force that exists in the future. Her eyes crackle with energy and she takes off trying to catch up to Barry, but he's just out of reach and pulling away. He's lost in thought, his mind racing, oblivious to the world around him; he just keeps running. Nora puts on a burst of speeds and manages to grab his arm. She can't keep up with him though and ends up being dragged along with him. He turns and recognizes her. Snapping out of his daze, he says her name, then says, "Iris..." A new charge of energy forms around him, and extends to Nora, who finds she's boosted to the point of being able to keep up with him. Through his inner monologue he makes a realization that he can channel the lightning to others. Not just his speed, but the power itself; and in so doing, create a new speed force - or perhaps create it for the first time. The energy around Barry and Nora intensifies, as they both continue to run. On the street, Bart's eyes flash with speed force energy, as does Jay's and they take off running, joining Nora and Barry. Energy builds around all four of them. They begin to see time itself unfold around them - the accident that gave Jay his powers, and incident that made Barry a speedster. Other moments of speedsters, past and present; the lightning pours from each of them, creating speedsters throughout history and the speed force reforms all around them. One by one, the others drop back; Jay returning to the present city street, Bart to the future; leaving only Barry and Nora again. Nora says, "it's time. I need to go back." Barry says, "I know." He takes her hand and gives it squeezes; he tells her he loves her and she rushes off, exiting to her place in the future. Barry races forward.

Cut back to Iris in labor, giving the final push; her hand reaches out and makes contact with another - Barry's, who's arrived just in time for the birth of his daughter.

[melonlthawne]

Cookie Jar

Pairing: Meloni Thawne x Don Allen

Characters: Meloni Thawne, Don Allen, Bart Allen

Universe: AU

She just needed 15 minutes to rest. A little slither of time to refresh her constantly depleting energy. Taking care of a toddler was a lot of work. Taking care of a superpowered one was even harder. Impossible, even. She grossly underestimated her son’s ability to cause trouble and now she had a problem in her hands. 

Find it on Archive Of Our Own

---

Bart had kept both Don and Meloni up all night. He adamantly 

to go to bed at 8:00 pm, having to be chased down by Don and practically wrestled up the stairs to even get him ready for sleep. Luckily, Meloni was able to spoil Bart into staying still enough to change into pajamas, only with the help of a chocolate chip cookie. She knew using food as bait was something she’d kick herself for in the future, not wanting to incite bad habits in the kid, but right now, she was battling exhaustion and a hefty headache, so it’d do. Still, it worked, and after a few minutes of fussing and shushing the child, he was pulled into sleep. Meloni and Don both sighed in relief; the couple trudged off to bed themselves. And in a heap, both parents collapsed on the king-sized bed. Meloni first, having no super-speed or extra stamina to keep herself together. Don fixed her position, lifting up the covers and getting her into a more comfortable spot, before he too crawled into bed. He wrapped his arm around her, fixing her hair out of her face, before he pecked her on the cheek, and went off to sleep.

Or so it seemed. 

Throughout the night, Bart had night terrors. It was something that came with being a part of the Flash family and being exposed to the horrors of the World. Don was shocked awake 15 minutes later when he heard Bart wailing at the top of his lungs, screaming bloody murder. He bolted over, afraid there was some sort of attack, only to find his son hunched over in bed, face wet with tears and sweat, still battling visions from his nightmare. 

Getting the little one to calm down was not easy, and Don knew that. His sister and himself had dealt with similar things before, back when Barry was still alive. Nightmares almost every week, over whether or not his dad would return home or survive the next adventure. If a villain would find out a secret identity. Something of the sort. He wished it didn’t plague his own son’s life. But it seemed like it was too late for that. 

Regardless, Don sat with him and tried to soothe the boy, in any way he knew how. After 10 minutes or so, he could get Bart back to laying down, staying close by his side, holding the kid’s tiny hand in his own. How tightly Bart gripped his hand...it made him frown. A bit longer, and Bart was back asleep. Don wiped off more sweat from the kid’s forehead, giving him one more squeeze with his hand before he got up and went back to his room.

But this repeated at least 8  times in one night. Almost every hour and a half, Meloni or Don was awoken by a shrill scream, and they’d have to take turns calming Bart down and lulling him back to sleep. So at the end of it all, neither of them got a good night’s rest, on top of already being exhausted. It was horrible. It was one thing to have a restless night. It was another to have to witness your own child relive the same torture every 45 minutes, knowing there was nothing you could do to actually help him except calm him down. 

--

The morning came, and surprisingly, Bart seemed well-rested, not too shaken by his bouts of nightmares. He seemed chipper after being awoken, even though there were still dried tear-tracks on his chubby cheeks. Don and Meloni weren’t as lucky. Both showed obvious signs of being tired but they had to put it aside for their son’s sake. Meloni helped Bart out of bed and went to start the day, Don sleeping in a little to try and rest it off. 

Meloni sat in the living room, staring down at her cup of coffee. It was untouched. She didn’t even have an appetite, really, too distracted by her exhaustion. But she knew if she didn’t take any measures to stay awake, she’d end up falling asleep and risk Bart being unattended. Bart was in her lap, muttering something, occasionally gazing up at his mother’s pale face and tilting his head, only to refocus on something abstract or nonsensical. Meloni was grateful Bart was easily enamored by toys or other distractions. It made her life a little easier at times, especially now, when she could barely focus on staying awake. She thought if she waited it out a little more, she’d be okay. Maybe the long haul would be best. But slowly, she got lost in her thoughts, and then her eyelids drooped, and within a matter of a minute, she was asleep. 

The drawl of sleep lured her in. And it felt so relieving. She would’ve probably slept the entire day if she was left alone. But after 15 minutes, she was shaken awake by a loud shattering sound. She sat upright in her seat, whipping her head in every direction to try and figure out where the noise had come from. She had no clue, and it wasn’t until she looked down and found Bart was no longer in her lap that it hit her. He probably was messing around and something ended up breaking. Oh god. The image of the broken glass and a possibly injured toddler enveloped her, and she bit the inside of her cheek so hard she could feel blood pooling. But the metallic taste also drew her out of her thoughts and she heard another loud sound from the kitchen. It sounded like someone struggling to open some sort of container. She got up and headed towards the noise, and to her relief, it wasn’t as macabre as she pictured. 

Bart, SOMEHOW, managed to get on top of the counter, knocking a glass container over the edge, and it was left in pieces all over the floor. She wasn’t sure how he accomplished that, considering how tiny he was, but she supposed with enough effort, anything was possible. He was sitting cross legged with a jar in his arms, hugged close to his chest. One arm kept the jar wedged in place. The other was busy trying to pry the lid off. His tongue was stuck out and his eyes all focused in determination, but he just didn’t have the strength to pull it apart. And, evidently, the jar had a very clear label Bart had grown to recognize: Cookies. 

“Bartholomew!” Meloni yelped, voice desperate. She was so exasperated by it all, really, and even though this could’ve been way worse, it was still upsetting. They were so lucky he didn’t end up getting hurt. 

Bart’s eyes widened as he came to terms with the fact he was caught. Damnit! He was so close to eating the entire collection of baked goods inside. Bart’s face paled, and the toddler turned his head to look at his mother, almost terrified but more so guilty. Still, he didn’t speak; Meloni could hear his troubled breathing. She approached, making sure to step over the broken container, and carefully pried the cookie jar out of his hands. 

“No!” Bart yelped, trying to regain control of the jar, only to fail miserably and look up to his mother with a huge pout and adorably angry eyes. Face beet red, too. He was not happy to get caught, and for his masterpiece of a plan to be foiled so easily!

“Bart, what did I say about climbing on the counter?” Meloni exclaimed, hands on her hips; the cookie jar still in her hold. 

Bart peered down, and unconfidently replied. “Not to?”

“Exactly.” Meloni placed the jar down on another counter top, far enough to where Bart couldn’t scurry past and grab it. 

“I was hungry.” He pitifully argued, kicking a socked-foot in no particular direction, just to express his disappointment. 

“You could’ve gotten hurt. Look at the mess you made!” Meloni pointed to the ceramic pieces all over the floor, to which Bart had seemingly glossed over. Bart panned down and whined, looking away in protest. 

Before Meloni could get another reprimand in, her husband came bolting in, a little too late. Apparently awoken by her screaming and not the commotion of Bart climbing up and causing the chaos. 

“What’s going on?” Don asked in a huff. But after reviewing his wife’s displeased expression and the scene around him, he came to a conclusion and muttered a brief “Oh.” 

“I fell asleep.” Meloni told him, locking eyes with her husband. She was rubbing her opposite arm, feeling like a lousy parent. “If i had been asleep for any longer, he might’ve gotten hurt. Or stepped in those pieces. Or, I don’t know, died of a cookie overdose?” 

“Relax.” Don told her, taking her hands in his own and rubbing them in a soothing manner. “We were up all night. It’s not your fault you got tired.”

“I should've been paying attention, Donny.” Meloni still hung her head, face paling, eyes settled on the floor. Bart stayed silent as he watched this exchange between his parents, unsure how to react. But he felt it necessary to stay out of it. 

“It’s okay, babe.” The eldest speedster pulled his wife in for an embrace. And for a brief moment, Meloni forgot all her stresses and was lured into it, sighing as she pressed her head against her husband’s chest. They stayed there hugging for what felt like an hour, only for it to actually be a minute or so. When Meloni seemed collected enough, they released each other, and both parents turned their attention back to Bart, who was apparently planning on trying to escape. However, he couldn’t do this without making noise, and as he tried to travel down the side of the cupboards, a small foot missed, and he yelped, only to be caught and hoisted into his Dad’s arms. 

“Where do you think you’re going, little man?” Don brought his son up to his height, holding him securely so the little tyke couldn’t squirm away. 

“I wuh-wasn’t going anywhere.” Bart tried, and Don grinned, making his son somewhat nervous. Meloni shook her head, but smiled too, feeling too tired to be harsh about this. 

“Don’t do that again, okay?” Meloni told her son, reaching out and cupping his cheek with her soft hand. Bart leaned into the touch, still frowning and feeling a little crappy from the stunt he pulled. 

“I promise.” The little speedster managed, relaxing a little. 

“See?” Don eyed Meloni, who rolled her eyes. Regardless, a smile was still on his face. “He’s alright. I can clean that up and it’ll be like it never even happened.” 

Don transferred Bart over to Meloni, who took him in earnest, lifting her son in a better position on her hip. The kid leaned against his mother’s chest, peering at the two, wondering what was going on. 

“And when it’s all cleaned up, I think we both deserve a nice 

.” Don called over, purposefully enunciating the last word. 

“Nooo! I’m not tired! No more sleep! Sleep is stupid!” Bart countered, practically rioting in his mom’s arms. Meloni smiled deeply and winked at her husband, before responding, “That sounds like a good idea.” 

[miss-choco-chips]

Put a ring on it 2

Gonna drop this here super quick and then go back to cram for my finals. Who allowed me to schedule six finals in one week? I’m gonna die. Pray for me.

Tagging @jedissica ‘cause they asked me to, and @animemangasoul who I think will like this.

---.---

-Batman, here we are. It’s been a while since you last called an emergency meeting. Is everything okay?

-Were you aware that our children eloped together?

-...what.

-As in, my third kid, your first one, Diana’s second, and Barry’s… grandchild. I’m not exactly sure about who married who, but there was more than one wedding and they have a group chat called ‘hubbies and waifu’. Whatever that means.

-...

-...

-That’s my girl. I always told her, go big or go home.

-Diana, no.

----.----

Cassie’s phone went off again with her specific Diana ringtone, and she gave up, turning it off and throwing it on the pile with Kon’s, Bart’s and Tim’s (the last one had four all by himself, so it was quite a big ‘phone tower’; Hah, pun intended).

-You’re gonna freak out so badly over this when you actually wake up -she informed Tim’s fluffy hair. 

Said vigilante only released a cute little snore, face buried on her lap, legs thrown over Kon’s, one hand that had fallen from the couch resting on Bart’s head where he sat on the floor in front of them.

-Well, they were going to find out one way or another. And this was probably among the best scenarios.

-How? I’m sure this one was top five on Tim’s ‘worst case’ nightmare list.

-I was there and saw their faces. I didn’t even know Batman could express any emotion other than ‘cold’ and ‘overflowing with rage’. That image will bring me joy in future distressing times, I’m sure. My patronus memory, if you will.

-I’m soooooooo jealous, dude.

Cassie snorted, carefully not moving an inch, fingers cradling through Tim’s hair. Over her dead body would he ever cut it, now that it was finally long enough to make itty tiny braids all over it, her favorite therapeutic iddle work.

-We’ll make Tim give us footage when he wakes up. He has to provide for us, after all.

Kon let his arm, resting on the backrest of the couch, fall over Cassie’s shoulders- Be sure to include footage from after we left, too. Nightwing’s  ‘As in more than one?!’ part was solid gold.

-No kidding, I want that as my ringtone for you and Tim -chimed in Bart, carefully moving Tim’s hand back to the couch and then running to the kitchen- Ice cream?

-Do you even need to ask?

---.----

By the time Tim woke up, the hero gossip network had done it’s thing, and almost everyone with a costume was aware of the news. Even Cissie, who was officially retired, and Zachary Zatara, away on his shows and usually out of reach, had called, the first one to offer congratulations and ask if the thing was real emotionally-wise, the second to just laugh at them for full six minutes before hanging up. 

He did text them later, asking when the celebration ceremony would be.

-It’s not a bad idea -mused Cassie, showing them her phone screen with the magician’s text- a party, I mean.

Tim, from his place working a case on the Titan’s main computer, tuted- Batman might actually kill me for that. I think we’ve survived this far only because there are no written records making this official, and a part of him must think it’s all some elaborate prank.

-It’s not -insisted Bart, head poking out of the kitchen- we are family now, officially. No take backs.

Their Robin shifted in place just enough for them to see his smile, a gift on itself- I know, guys, and the sentiment is much appreciated. But from a legal standpoint, it’s not that different from what a few kids on a playground could do while playing family. Only place this could stand against judgement would be the future, some ancient Amazonian tribe, or Krypton.

-Doesn’t matter, as long as it’s true for us. And, I mean, we didn’t want to cut your options if you ever wanted to actually get married the classic way.

This time, their bird actually turned around, a warmth on his expression that he usually reserved for his team. It made them feel special like nothing else.

-Yeah, I know. Thank you for that. It was really considerated.

As if they would drag Tim into something like legal marriage without previous consent. The fact that he even felt the need to thank them for showing him basic human decency was making their blood boil with the need to punch a bat on the face.

Kon flew over, the high chair preventing him from draping himself on his best friend’s back, but not from hugging his neck and messing his hair.

-Back at my point -cleared her throat the amazonian-, your former mentor can suck my metaphorical Freudian dick. We could throw a party, and it would only be different from a normal one because marriage celebrations include gifts, which I’m totally for. I haven’t seen Zatara, Cissie, Greta and Anita in a while, and Miguel, Raven and Gar might murder us for not telling them about our plans and not making it up to them with a party. No ‘adults’ out of the ones on team, or mentors, invited, enough alcohol to re-drown Atlantis, fancy food bought with Bat’s credit card…

-You are right, it does sound kinda nice -hummed Kon, floating just out of Tim’s range when former Wonder Boy tried to slap his hands away. Silly bat, always denying affection.

-All in favor?

-I don’t know -giving up, Tim went back to his case files- I have a lot to do this days, and there’s a lead that might take me to Asia…

-Isn’t Cass there? Ask her to take over it for you, as a marriage present or something. C’mon Tim, do it for the gifts. Imagine what Zatara might get for us. So crash.

-If  it’s a magical object, I won't want it anywhere near me. We bats don’t have the best track record with that stuff, and I swear to god if I get deaged I would use my non-prosecutable age to murder someone. Probably Zatara himself.

-Adorable as that might be, it totally won’t happen.

----.----

-....can you repeat it one more time? Slower, though. I think I’m getting hearing problems.

Raven, through the video call connecting the Cave with the Tower, didn’t seem fazed by Nightwing’s slightly threatening tone.

-I said, the team had a party, everyone got drunk, and it was fine for a while. I was watching over them, but then I needed to use the restroom. When I got back, someone had gotten ahold of Zachary’s gift for Tim, Cassie, Kon and Bart, and…

-Why for those four? -asked Hood, standing right by N’s side. He had came in during Raven’s first explanation, and felt like there was something he was missing.

-It was a marriage gift. Moving on…

-A what?! Since when is Lil Red married? The fuck happened while I was in Russia?!

-...someone had gotten ahold of the gift -Raven kept going, cool as a cucumber. On the background behind her, teen heroes were running back and forth, people were screaming and something was smoking-, which happened to be some sort of magical artifact. Zachary wasn’t really aware of what it did, he just randomly choose it from among his collection of magical tools when he remembered at the last possible time a gift was mandatory for a wedding party. I returned from the bathroom and everything was a mess, the couch was turned upside down, a pipe had burst, the tv was on fire and Tim had been de aged.

There was a battle scream, in a distinctly childish voice, somewhere on the room out of view of the camera, and Raven’s eyes left the screen for a second as if looking at it.

-Was that Red Robin? -Batman, because of course he was listening in, started typing at the console, frantically trying to get a new angle to see what was going on on the Tower.

-He’s unharmed, and everything is under control.

Another scream, this time louder.

-...that didn’t sound under control -mused Dick, apparently still processing the information. Bruce typed faster. Robin gripped his sword tighter, as if readying himself for a war.

Jason still looked utterly lost.

-Marriage? She said marriage? AND YOU ASSHOLES KNEW ‘BOUT THIS?!

-He’s… throwing a tantrum -the woman ignored him, still looking only at her former leader-. Something about using his age to kill Zatara without being convicted. I’ll need to leave now, I only called to ask you to take over Tim’s cases while we solve this issue.

-Wait! Rae, if Timmy’s a kid, he needs to be with us. We are his family, it’s our jurisdiction.

A green bird suddenly landed on her shoulder, halthing whatever response she might give. Gar pecked her on the cheek lightly before turning his beak their direction.

-Husbands and Wives get priority, N, you know that. Cassie, Kon and Bart are looking after him, and keeping him from killing Zachary, while the rest of us research how to turn him back. Zach is actually trying to contact his cousin, maybe the great Zatanna will quicken this process. So, yeah, no Bats allowed on the Tower until then!

-But/!

A loud crash, followed by a wail, made Gar wince and Raven’s head to snap to the side and growl.

-Whelp, gotta go, Tower out! -a ‘Tim!’ could be heard in the background just before the screen went dark.

-...

-...

-...

-...Anyone gonna fill me in?

-Drake eloped thrice over without informing us and has been living in sinful unworthiness with his three partners since last month or so, that we know about. Probably more.

-...Partners?

-You heard her. The speedster, clone and amazonian.

-...

-...

-Dickie, how t’fuck did ya allow’is to happen?!

-IT’S NOT LIKE I WAS ASKED FOR MY BLESSING, JASON!

-B, what the utter hell, ain’t ya supposed to keep track of this kinda shit?!?

-...

-Don’t bother, Father has been broken since learning of Drake’s mistake, and will go unresponsive at the most inconvenient times.

-...

-Fuck, I need a drink. Also, ’m going there.

-You heard Gar, Jay -pointed out Dick- we can’t just walk in there, and the Tower is legally his. We have to be smart about this, plan this through, and/

-Yeah, no, he said ‘no bats’-gesturing at his gun holsters, he started to walk to where his bike was parked-. RIP ya’ll, but I’m different. See ya.

-...

-...

-Tt. Useless. I’ll go back to training. Father, Grayson, should you two, as the plebeians say, ‘snap out of it’ and come with a good plan to get Drake back under our tutelage, I’ll be by the mats waiting.

-...

-...Don’t look at me like that. I raised him for a few months tops, but he’s your kid, not mine. Same with Tim, and Jason’s entirely your fault.

---.---

Meanwhile, back at the Tower, Kon let out a screeching ‘Tim!’ before diving out and catching the baby bird in his arms, halting his fall from the ceiling rafters where he had been climbing. Behind him, Cassie let out a relieved breath.

-God’s above, you almost gave me a heart attack. Okay, new ground rules, this two little feet stay on the ground.

Tim, as proudly as a three year old toddler could, frowned at him.

-Don’t patwonize me, Kon. And lemme go, I havta cacth Zac/ Zat/… Magic-boy.

Bart materialized by their side, arms looping below Tim’s armpints to carry him to the recently put back to its correct place couch. He dropped there, tiny bird in his lap, cooing all the while.

-Aww, you’re precious.

-I could still huwt you -pointed out the toddler, resigning himself at being manhandled.

-I know -replied Bart lovingly, softly stroking his turf of hair.

Somewhere on the side, Cissie clapped her hands, as if getting rid of the dust there.

-Okay, I putted out the fire, so now I’ll be heading home. This magical bullshit is way out of my ‘retired’ comfort zone.

Cassie landed by her side and gave her a quick hug, while Greta walked up to them- I understand, thanks for coming.

-Give us a call when this is solved, we can have a coffee while you complain about your husbands. And… child, now, I guess. God, it was already weird calling Tim your husband, but now he’s a baby and it's doubly weird. Figure this out quickly.

-Will do. See you guys later.

One by one, they all left, some offering their support (appreciated, but not needed, thank you, we’ll manage), some still laughing. In the end, only the Core Four, Gar, Raven and Miguel remained. Zachary probably was there somewhere (if he dared leave without helping them fix this, he was dead meat), but out of the enraged toddler’s sight, which. Wise.

Even if said little human being was pint sized and cow eyed, he was probably still the most dangerous person in the room, unarmed or not (you know what, scratch that; if time with Tim taught them anything, was that no bat was ever unarmed. Even bare handed, their own bodies were weapons).

-...So... What should we do while we wait for Zatara’s solution?

-I vote movie night. It’s not like we can keep on drinking, with a kid in the room/ Auch! Pointy elbows, Tim!

Kon swooped in, picking Tim from Bart’s not invulnerable lap and cuddling to him on the couch by the speedster’s side. Tim knew better than to hit the Boy of Steel without proper equipment, so he let himself fall back against the broad chest. Cassie, talking to the older members of the team on the side, smiled softly at them before returning to her conversation.

As mad as his current situation made him, Tim couldn’t bring himself to pout too much. It had been a fun night, all things considered.

-----.-----

[diddlesanddoodles]

Dumpling ch. 18

Maevis busied himself for the next hour by returning the books to their proper homes while Barnaby gathered Jae and Nenani over to one side of the table. Under a green cloak, was an old wooden trunk. The wood was worn and dark with age. The metal was unpolished, but strong. With difficulty and a bit of help from Jae, Barnaby lifted away the lid to reveal the treasure inside.

Books. Human sized and bound in black leather.

He ran his finger along the spines of the top layer, scouring the gilded letters.

“A small miracle these survived,” he said. “But I believe the one I want is...ah, yes this one. My boy, would you mind to clear some room here? Those paint pots are dried so no worry about them spilling.”

Jae obediently made room on the small work table as the older man pulled one book out slowly and with great care before placing it open upon the table. He gestured for Nenani to come look. She had a little learning of letters, but had not been very studious and the years of disuse after her parent’s deaths had left her reading comprehension sorely lacking. “I’m not very good with letters.”

“Oh, well we will have to sort that out in the future. But for now, I will read them to you. These pages list the names of men who were all apart of the Thorn Guard. Listed by family. This page here is where the Family Daelg begins. And as you can see...” he flipped through several pages. “...there are many of them. Your forefathers were all in the guard for many many year. One of the oldest serving families. Protecting the King and kin.”

“Papa guarded the King? Really?” She drew up an image of her father in her mind and had no diffuculties reconciling with image. In her eyes, her father had always held all the qualities of a knight from stories he read her. Brave, selfless, and loyal. It warmed her heart to know she had been right, but it fueled her need to know more.

“No, he was not high enough in rank to be so close to the King himself. Your grandfather would have, yes. Often. In fact I do believe that was his last official post. But here, look.”

The archivist ran his finger along bottom of the page. “This your father’s entry. Hayron. Born to Hayier Daelg by his wife Maudre on the fourth of September in ninth year of King Haeral’s rule. Your Uncle, Halden was born little over a year later in the winter.”

There was not much more about her father or uncle in the book and very little revealed itself in the other tomes. But Barnaby was gracious enough to tell her stories her remembered about them when he was still the archivist for Silvaara. However, she was able to get a better picture of her Grandfather, Hayier. As captain of the Thorn guard, his name repeatably popped up throughout the pages.

“They use to call him Old Ironwood, because he was so straight and unyielding,” he told her. “He was a  fierce fighter, your grandfather.”

“You should come to open call and see Rheil break in the new recruits,” Jae suggested. “It’s in a few days, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“Seeing as she’s got Thorn Guard blood,” Jae grinned at Nenani and poked her with his elbow. “Maybe she’ll pick up a few things.”

Barnaby looked as though he were about to protest, but was cut off by Maevis. “Oh dear. My friends, we may have a problem.”

The three humans looked to see the magician standing near one of the windows with a small stack of books in his arms, one arm still holding one out as he was slipping it into an empty spot on the shelf. He was looking down at something below.

“What’s wrong?” Jae asked.

“Just now, I noticed Hev leave the west side corridor.”

Jae’s face fell. “Oh….oh, that’s bad.”

Nenanmi turned to Jae and asked, “Why is that bad?”

He sighed and rubbed a hand through his hair before giving her a sympathetic glance. “Because that means he’s coming back from the kitchens.”

Nenani felt her insides turn as understanding settled in. “Maybe he was just getting a snack?”

Barnaby placed a hand on Nenani’s shoulders. “I am afraid my dear that the proverbial cat, as they say, is out of the bag.”

“So that means...” She trailed off with a groan.

“Yep,” Jae replied. “Farris knows you lost your marker.”

………………………

They had left the library, saying their goodbyes to Maevis and Barnaby, and made the slow trek back through the tunnels towards the kitchens. Jae tried to reassure her that they could still potentially come upon the marker somewhere along the tunnels in a fortuitous turn of luck. Grateful as she was for his continued optimism, she knew without giving it concrete consideration that it would be a fruitless venture. It was gone forever. Plain and simple. And she felt sure that facing Farris was a much better direction to take. How could she ever explain to Jae or to anyone what she had seen? How could she ever find her way back, even if she wanted to prove that she had not been making the whole thing up?  

The moment they stepped into the dark, she had expected to hear the voices again, to feel dizzy, or to feel anything beyond the norm. But it was as it had been before. Just a tunnel illuminated by Maevis’s orbs. Nothing strange about it. As they moved along the path, she kept a close eye on the light, worried that any second they were disappear and the heat-less flames would come back, beckoning them both towards the catacombs. But they did not.  She decided in that moment that it had never happened and she never needed to waste another thought on what lay deep inside the walls of Vhasshal.  

Jae sensed her anxiety and gave her a cheeky smirk.

“If he’s that mad, you could always stay here in the tunnels with me,” he offered. But his grin faded when he received no reply. “It’ll be OK, y’know. I promise. Farris will yell for a while and maybe make you sweep the kitchen by yourself or something like that. Make a tiny broom for you or something.”

“Yeah,” she replied lowly as they rounded the last corner and could see the door to the kitchen. A faint string of light outlining its shape in the dark. “Maybe.”

Drawing nearer, they could hear Farris hollering nearly twenty feet from the door.

“Oh,” Jae said with a frown. “He’s pissed, alright.”

Nenani grimaced and groaned, not looking forwards to what was to come. She hoped she wouldn’t go deaf. As they approached the tunnel door, Farris’s words became that much more audible. “...COULD YA BE THAT STUPID?! ONE SIMPLE THING!”

“Well, old Hev did mention the request came from Keral,” Yale’s voice, much softer and muffled by the stone, replied. His words were barely heard. “Wouldn’t be shocked if he’s also the reason why.”

Jae glanced over his shoulder and motioned for Nenani to stand behind him and then slowly eased the door open a few inches. It was quite heavy, however and despite his best efforts to make a quite and inconspicuous entry, the hinges creaked. A high pitched shriek of old and oil thirsty metal.  

“I COULDN’T GIVE A..” Farris’s voice abruptly cut off at the sound and Jae froze, eyes wide and mouth grimacing. They both stood silently behind the ajar door, waiting for something to happen. Perhaps the two giants would continue on speaking and not notice anything. However, when Farris’s voice struck up again, it had lost almost all of its previous volume and was replaced by an irritated snark. “Well? Ya just gonna skulk behind the fucking door or ya what?”

With a resigned groan, Jae pushed the door open the remainder of the way. Hesitantly and with an uneasy smile, he stepped through and onto the mantel’s surface. Nenani was on his heals, pressing herself behind him as if to shield her from the sight of the giants. Farris loomed over the pair, a severe scowl plaster upon his face. One hand was clenched at his side while the other was planted firmly on his him.

“Farris, I can explain-” Jae began, but he was completely ignored and without even allowing him to finish, the giant reached out and slammed the door to the tunnel shut. The same hand then turned to grab up the young man and plucked him from the spot where he stood. “WHOA-hey!”

“Yale!” Farris barked while holding Jae out away from his person, never averting his eyes from Nenani. Behind gritted teeth, he hissed, “Find somewhere more fitin’ fer this one to be that ain’t in m’face.”

Yale started, hastily lowering the crock he has been holding onto the table before moving to Farris’s side with alacrity and reaching out for Jae just as Farris’s fingers released their grip. Jae cried out in alarm as he dropped the three feet before landing in Yale’s outreached palms.  

“As ya say, Boss!” Yale replied, giving Jae no time to recover or add his own commentary, and promptly sprinted out the archway and into the courtyard.  

“Saen!” Farris barked, his eyes still not wavering from Nenani. On the other side of the kitchen, Saen was elbows deep in flour. Upon hearing his name, the young giant jumped, sending a small plume of flour up into the air.

“Uh, yeah?” He asked tentatively.

“Leave it be fer th’moment and go see Bart.”

“Aye, will do.” Same as Yale, Saen quickly made his exit through the archway, leaving Farris and Nenani alone. In that moment of silence, she was reminded of just how imposing a figure Farris was and being the focus of his ire was truly a terrifying experience. It was not wholly dissimilar to their first meeting and though she was absolute in her confidence he would not harm her, she could help but shrink away.

“Don’t suppose ya have some shit of a’reason fer not having yer marker, eh?” he began sternly. His voice strained as he struggled to maintain his tone. He waved a hand at her before crossing both arms and staring at her expectantly. “Well then, let’s have it.”

Her tongue felt twice its normal size and all she managed was a few false starts and stutters.

“Yer gonna just gap at me like a fucking lipper or is that all ya got?”

“N-no...” she managed to mumble out quietly.

“Gonna have t’be doin’ better than that, Dumplin,” said the spice master. He opened one palm to reveal a small scrap of leather at the end of which dangled a piece of struck metal. Her new maker. “You remember at all why these are important?”

“So...so other Vhasshalans leave me alone,” she replied, swallowing thickly against the growing tightness in her throat.

“NO!” Farris roared. “ITS SO THEY DONT FUCKIN’ EAT YA!”

Nenani jumped, stumbling back until her shoulders hit the wall and she stared wide eyed up at the giant. Hot tears fell rolled down her cheeks. Farris was red in the face and snarling, his anger open and on show. It was too hard to meet his gaze and she averted her eyes to stare at her feet.

“Thrist aint’ th’only fucker that would try t’gut n’ roast ya if he thought he could get away with it. Are ya soft in the brain t’ave forgotten that?”

“No, I-I just...I’m sorry...” Nenani whimpered.

“And ya’d be even sorrier if...”

“Farris,” said a voice from the archway, cutting his words short. Farris turned to glance over his shoulder, giving Nenani a clear view of the doorway. Captain Rheil, dressed in his red boiled leather armor stood under the entryway, and wearing a somber and serious expression. “Forgive my interruption, but I need to speak with you.”

“Can’t ya see I’m busy?” Farris growled in annoyance, but the gray haired giant’s steel gaze never wavered.

“Believe me, you will want to make time for this,” he replied. “This matter concerns the humans.”

Farris turned fully face Rheil, head tilted in interest. “Alright, on with ya then. What other trouble have these wee brats managed?”

“Nothing like that,” the captain replied, taking Farris’s affirmative response as invitation to enter, and he stepped into the kitchen proper. “This matter involves all the humans on castle grounds, I am afriad. There have been several troubling reports.”

“Reports? What reports?”

“You’re familiar with Queen Rosanna’s personal guard, Creag, correct?” Rheil asked. When Farris grunted an affirmation, he continued. “I’ve also been fielding complaints about him since the Ibronian procession arrived last month. Harassing wait staff and some of my men for the most part, but he has also made several threats against both Sawyer and Connar. There has been a sharp uptake in his behavior and the Ibronian has been outright violent since the wedding, but today both Maevis and Keral came to me about him explicitly trying to kill Jae near the Royal apartments. Your ward was reportedly with him at the time of the incident.”

Though she could not see his face, Nenani watched the muscles of Faris’s back pull taught and his fits ball up.

“That fish nosed fuck tried t’murder two children right under the King nose?” Farris’s demanded. It was a tone Nenani had not heard him use and it felt much more dangerous than his normal level of anger. A deep, guttural growl with real vehemence behind it. He fixed the captain with a razor edged glare. “Rheil, yer lot better be doin’ somethin’ ‘bout this fucker. ‘Cause I can’t be promisin’ ya that me and my boys won’t.”

The captain seemed to have anticipated this reaction and held up a placating hand. “My men are escorting him to an audience with the King as we speak and I have plenty of witnesses to attest to the event. My main mission in coming to you was to let you know to keep a short leash on the lil’un for a while. Keep her down here and out of sight while things are taken care of upstairs.”

“Aye.”

“And since the brat’s already down here as well, that makes my task all the simpler. The King requests the same of Jae. Don’t allow him to squirrel away some place of his own choosing. The King has ordered him to remain down here and under your supervision until his Majesty comes to collect him in person.”

Farris cursed and shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “Gods piss on it all. It’s fuckin’ Baynor all over again.”

“Luckily for us, the Ibronian does not posses nearly the political currency as my predecessor,” Rheil replied. “However, the Queen has an ample supply and my observations have been that she is heavily reliant on him.”

“Ya expectin’ any trouble?”

“No,” Rheil replied. “Nothing so bad as when Baynor was ousted. But I would rather be prepared in any case and his Majesty was very clear. Jae is to remain here.”

For a long moment, no one said anything and Nenani wondered if she had been forgotten entirely.

“Aye,” Farris said finally and nodded. “They’ll be watched well and good.”

Rheil hummed in approval and tilted his head to the side to look passed Farris to fix Nenani with a warm smile. “Haven’t see ya in a good long while, lass. Hope that walking boulder didn’t hurt ya none.”

Nenani shook her head. “No. He wasn’t really going after me.”

“So I’ve been told,” Rheil said. “Jae does seemed to have been th’ main target, but I have no doubt he’d have just as well treated ya to the same had he caught ya. Keral mentioned he found ya wanderin’ ‘round by yerself. Lost in the halls without yer marker.”

There was a teasing nature to Rheil’s words.

“S’that how ya lost it then, eh?” Farris asked, pinning her with one green eye.

She shrugged meekly. “I don’t remember it falling off. I had it and then I didn’t. I was running a lot.”

Farris sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, before turning to her and walking up to the mantel. He held her new marker aloft between two fingers and as she reached out to take it, he told her firmly, “Best be learnin’ to take better care of it, Dumplin’. ‘Cause if yer ever needin’ another anytime in the next ten years, I’ll be tying one end of a short lead to ya and th’ other to a lipper barrel and ya can live in the yard.”

She stared and then nodded fervently before quickly clipped the leather around her neck. The metal was almost hot from being clenched in Farris’s fist for so long, but there was a measure of comfort with the now familiar weight being back along her collar bone. She peeked up at the kitchen master, cautiously optimistic.

“So...does this mean I’m not in trouble anymore?”

[bartseq-fanzine-2019]

Announcement

Greetings humans, 

This is the official announcement for Millennia, the Bartimaeus Sequence Fanzine! In this announcement, you will find instructions on how to sign up and learn more about the zine details! 

Deadlines: 

Applicant Deadline: Application period until September 10. (If we get messages for late applications, we can open till September 30th at the latest.)

 Submission Deadline:

Creative period! (Now to November 30th) 

Check in- November 1st. (Tell us your progress/completion status!) 

Deadline- November 30th. 

Zine publication date: Zine organizers will format and put out the finished PDF by December 20th if possible. (Dec 31 at the latest.) 

Zine Information: 

The zine will be titled Millennia, with the theme of time continually passing... 

It will be separated into sections for each individual book in the sequence 

To expand on the theme, the majority of the zine will be filled with memorable scenes from the books in chronological order. 

These scenes can be depicted with imagery, writing, or a mix. Ideally each scene will include a memorable quote either in the piece (fake screenshot) or on the side in extra white space (Sign up for scenes in the “ideas sign-up” google excel sheets)

However, we want the zine to read like a film concept art book, in honor of the new upcoming (hopefully?) movie. 

So it will also scatter in images of: 

Character designs 

Setting concept art (landscapes etc) 

Storyboards 

Magical artifacts/rune/spell designs (Gladstone’s staff, the amulet, pentacles (specifically named pentacles in the sequence), denotations, rosemary, etc.)

 Miscellaneous bonus images (Bart’s various forms..) 

Some example art (not ours, credits go to original artists) 

These are only examples, you do not have to draw like this! You can add quotes/scene excerpts anywhere, not just like shown in the examples.

Concept art: Character Sheet Example 

Concept art: Landscape example 

Scene art: example (this example is missing a quote) 

Scene art: cinematic style example (this example is missing a quote)

Scene art: quote/excerpt on side example

Scene art: quote/excerpt on top example

Scene art: Fake screenshot example (add a quote in white on the bottom black bar) 

(Check out the “inspiration” channel on our discord, if you want some more ideas of what kind of art we are looking for.) 

Information for artists: 

(Psst: People can sign up to illustrate a cover for a book!) 

Image resolution: 300 dpi 

Dimensions: 8.5x11 inches or pixels: 2550x3300 is ideal. (Only use 1063x1375 if 2550x3300 is too large for your art program to handle) 

Traditional artists please scan your works at 300 dpi and size 8.5x11 inches or pixels: 2550x3300. 

Other dimensions are okay if the artist wants a certain ratio (etc. landscape or vertical) but the smallest dimensions must be at least 8.5’’ 

Note: (Recommend not putting really important details on edges of drawing) 

Send in character/other designs with a plain white background so that we can uniformly add a brown paper texture behind it. (If you have issues or questions about this, we can work something else out too, just message us!) 

Fake screenshots meaning adding  a black bar above and below your artwork and write white text in that bar (like a real movie would have text at the bottom if captions were included) so it would be nice to have the text in a standard font with white lettering.

Information for writers: 

Writing focused on Bartimaeus or the other main characters would be great. Whether that involves filling in missing scenes (Like what happened between GE and PG, case of the curiously heavy trunk etc.) or writing your own headcanons about the characters, it would all work. 

(Note that they have to fit and make sense within the canonical universe and cannot be alternate universe. Etc. “superheroes AU would not be allowed since superheroes aren’t canon) 

Writing has a lot of freedom but cinematic writing (dramatic, movie-like scenes) or dramatic language is encouraged.

Putting more focus on imagery and mood is also great but optional. 

An example idea would be to write out how you imagine a scene would happen in the movie. 

How do I sign up?

Register first on this google form: https://forms.gle/2HPAon3G8fdKZQ4Q7 

Write what you are planning to do in this ideas sign up google sheets: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1QAkMcMKEpcPIwgDu9zo5iolGx-MOk0oMbXnS79gtlrg/edit?usp=sharing

The sections are: 

Plot ideas dump → AOS/GE/PG/ROS 

Art ideas dump → Artbook art 

Writing 

For example: 

If I were signing up to illustrate an AoS scene, I would first put the idea in “plot ideas dump”, cross the idea out (so we don’t get repeats), then I would go to “AOS” and sign up for it. 

If I were signing up for a concept art, I would first put the idea in ‘Art ideas dump”, cross it out and then I would go and sign up in “art book art” 

If I were signing up for writing, I would go straight to “writing” and sign up. (I do not have to pick a idea from the scenes and concept art ideas tabs (those are for artists))  

3. Join our discord to interact with other members or alternatively follow our tumblr to keep updated as we might be posting further instructions!

4. Remember to “check in” before or on Nov 1st to let us know where you are/if you cannot finish it in time/if you have completed it/ (There is a section on the “ideas sign-up” sheet where you can fill out. (we might add additional check in days if needed so keep updated ^^)

Where and when do I submit the piece when I am done? 

You can submit at anytime! 

You can either: 

post it in the discord “submissions” channel 

message us on tumblr 

Ask us for an email address

How many pieces can I submit? 

You can have multiple submissions, however you need to let us know by adding what else you are submitting in the “ideas-up” google sheets. 

Can I submit old art or writing? 

We are looking for new content created especially for the zine, but any content is always good so if there is an old art that few or nobody has seen and fits the dimensions and theme requirements, ask us and we might accept it! 

Can I promote this on social media? 

Go ahead and thank you for supporting this zine! 

What if I cannot make the deadline? 

If you are sure you cannot make the deadline, please tell us ASAP so that we can open up the idea again for someone else to take. 

If you are going to be a few days late or just need a small extension of a few days, shoot us a message and it’s probably going to be okay. 

If you are backing out of the zine, it’s okay, don’t worry and let us know before Nov 1st!

What if I have an idea I want to sign up but it has already been taken? 

If the idea is a book scene, then you have to find another one 

However, if the idea is concept art, then feel free to do your own version of it. (Seeing multiple takes on the same designs and characters is great!)

What do I do if I have questions or want clarification?

 If you have any questions, feel free to message us on discord or tumblr! (On discord, we have a channel called “ask questions here” specifically for this purpose!) 

Our discord: https://discord.gg/Rn2F6Tq 

Our tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/tbtfanzine

[june2734]

So I've been seeing a lot of the “Blazing Saddles could never be made today because of the PC police” Discourse today. Okay, fine. Let’s go ahead and dignify this with a ~ * ~ thread ~ * ~ Could BLAZING SADDLES or something similar be made today? NO. Here's why. Rather, it’s not that BLAZING SADDLES could not be made today - you could make it, it would just land with a deafening thud. Because the observations are tired and the execution is gratuitous and crass - but importantly, it is gratuitous and crass in a way it was not in 1974. As we have discussed before, comedy is a tricky genre because it is the quickest to age and the most likely to age poorly. A comedy’s success depends just as much on when it hits as the quality of the writing. The same applies to genre - Westerns were in their Twilight in 1974, and one of the most pervasive genres in all of film. So the film is just as much a sendup of the dying Western as it is commentary about race. Also, people seem to forget that BLAZING SADDLES was released LESS THAN A DECADE after the Voting Rights Act was passed. The United States had just gone through a very rapid shift with its relationship to race. Moreover, Hollywood did not really know how to approach portrayals of racial hostility in film, even though it was topical af. This very rapid shift in social mores lead to a broad sort of discomfort in Hollywood, which happened to coincide with the collapse of the studio system.   That collapse and the failure of multiple big budget projects (looking at you, DOCTOR DOOLITTLE) was a major reason why you didn't see movies like SADDLES before the mid-1960's - experimentation in film transgression was only allowed after the "mainstream" began to fail. The highest profile example of a high profile "let's talk about race" film before BLAZING SADDLES that actually FEATURED a Black protagonist (we’re ignoring TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD for several reasons) was IN THE HEAT OF THE NIGHT. IN THE HEAT OF THE NIGHT… it’s like, you know, it’s fine. But it’s a very, straightforward, borderline “racists and Blacks learn to get along” narrative in the vein of GREEN BOOK. It is a Drama that has Serious Things to Say About Race. (also BONNIE AND CLYDE was robbed). So reason #1 BLAZING SADDLES would fail today: comedy about race was only just hitting the mainstream. As we observed in the video about Mel Brooks and THE PRODUCERS, farceur is sometimes necessary to really cut to the bone of difficult issues-that is BLAZING SADDLES’ innovation. And it is never portrayed as a harmless kind of absurd, but just fundamentally illogical, stratified, and shameless in its exploitative nature. Like the goofy Nazis in “Springtime for Hitler”, racism in SADDLES is neither cool nor aspirational. (And because I have to tediously acknowledge this every time I talk about BLAZING SADDLES, yes I KNOW it is extremely tone deaf with regard to women and gay people. Stop "educating" me that every time I talk about this movie. I'm talking about its portrayal of race chrissake) The joke in this scene is that the “simple” white folks of Rock Ridge are willing to accept Sheriff Bart, but only after he eliminates a major threat, and only if no one else sees them doing it. (CW: this clip has racial slurs). This is just one example of the sort of “Truth to power” humor in SADDLES - the joke is at the expense of the white audience, not only pointing out the woman's hypocrisy but making a joke out of it. 

That was a fresh take in 1974 - not so fresh today. So Brooks is correct in that good comedy speaks truth to power, but the power in this case is white hegemony. This film DOES state an uncomfortable truth, very explicitly, in a way that drama cannot - and that transgression made the film more honest.  In this scene, Taggart’s explicit statement of genocide against all non-whites is the JOKE, but not one at the expense of the people being killed. That it is comedy allows it to be blunt in a way that dramas couldn't be. (CW: this clip has several racial slurs). The observation that “Blazing Saddles couldn’t be made today” is the most tired, unoriginal thing and I’ve been hearing it ad nauseam since the 90’s. It is the sort of thing espoused by people who believe the real problem is the PC police, not the structure of white supremacy. It ignores the many complex contexts and trends the film came in the midst of that made it feel fresh at the time. Yes, I am aware that Brooks himself has oft repeated this line. And I do think he doesn’t realize he’s contradicting himself. In the most recent regurgitation of this line in 2017, he calls the culture “stupidly politically correct,” but then immediately contradicts himself by making a list of topics that he thinks are not funny and never will be and he will never joke about. Even in the example of BLAZING SADDLES, he's made it clear in multiple interviews that the image of a black man being lynched was a line he would never cross. Even something as subtle as the “Bart almost gets lynched” scene - note that every man in line behind him is white. So the idea that “oh, no, now there are tribes we will no longer offend!” while immediately going on to list lines he would never cross is contradictory and, yes, hypocritical. @PFTompkins outlines why on a thread embedded in the Variety article.  

 So the mindless regurgitation of the line about how “The PC Police say we can’t do movies like BLAZING SADDLES anymore” is so disheartening because it shows that the only lesson these people took from the film is “white people yelling the N-word is funny.” Spike Lee has criticized the film for that - less the intent or even the execution, but what audiences (especially white audiences) take from it. That audiences take it not as a critique of white hegemony but as a free pass to say the N-word and laugh about it. Because, let's be real, when people like Rob Lowe bemoan that we would NEVER see a movie like Blazing Saddles today, what they mean is "boy I do miss the days when you could cram your movie full of the N-word with reckless abandon for literally any reason".  But that era of film never existed. The vast majority of the history of race in film before BLAZING SADDLES centers white characters, and betrays extreme discomfort with white culpability. Noteworthy also that BLAZING SADDLES did not start a trend, because it couldn't.  And I never wanted to admit it before but honestly? Spike Lee was right. Clearly, way too many people didn't "get" the object of ridicule in SADDLES, and just use it as yet another cudgel of oppression. But don't worry, it's just a joke. Anyway, BLAZING SADDLES has always been and will always be one of my favorite movies, but it does get really tedious that it's been twenty years of people boo-hooing that we can't make the film today like it's some kind of fresh take. Good lord, it is not.

— Lindsay Ellis Twitter Thread on why people misunderstand why Mel Brooks couldn’t be made today in essay form. Link 

— Mel Brooks, The Producers and the Ethics of Satire about N@zis:

[dresupi]

burst your bubble

Rated: T

For: @tarticawhat

Pairing: Molly Hooper/Sherlock Holmes \ Characters:  Mike Stamford, Philip Anderson, Molly Hooper, Sherlock Holmes, John Watson Tags: Alternate Universe - Retail; Drug Store; Cashier Molly Hooper; Sherlock Holmes has Feelings; Philip Anderson being a Dick; Mutual Pining; Bad Flirting; Shampoo; Deserves its own tag because it's practically a character, One Shot

ao3

Summary:

He always comes through her queue. And he always makes the most random purchases. In her heart of hearts, she hopes for a reason.

But when has anyone described Sherlock Holmes as reasonable?

Retail AU

Notes:

Prompt was: "I'm a cashier and you're buying some really random products, I'm trying not to judge, but…wtf dude?"

"Your bloke is here again," Mike called from the chemist's counter in the back of the store.

Molly felt her face flush scarlet as her fingers closed around the collar of her blouse. Had she put her hand there? She couldn't remember doing it, but here it was, all the same. If she had pearls, she'd be clutching them.

Sherlock Holmes wasn't her bloke. Not that she would throw him out of bed… but that was beside the point.

The point was, he wasn't hers.

Even though he always seemed to come through her queue. And with the oddest, most mind-boggling purchases, too.

On one particular occasion, he'd walked out of Bart's Pharmacy with every red lipstick they carried. "For a case," he'd said in way of explanation. What red lipstick could tell him about a crime wasn't clear, but Molly didn't make a habit of arguing with the self-proclaimed consulting detective.

"I wonder if he's here to buy all the lippy again…" Philip Anderson muttered, but not so quietly he couldn't be heard. He shifted his weight and peered out the front windows at the man in the Belstaff who was currently walking toward the store.

"That was only a few months back," Molly said absently. "I doubt he could have used them all up by now."

"If he found a favorite shade, he might have done," was Anderson's snide retort.

Rolling her eyes, she smoothed down the front of her smock and checked her image in the security feed. She'd worn comfortable clothing, as per usual, since she was on her feet for most of the day, but now she'd wished she'd put forth a bit more effort.

The doors slid open and the man himself walked into the shop. This time, he wasn't alone. John Watson, that doctor who lived with him, was just now exiting the car and hurrying to keep up.

Molly's heart sank.

It wasn't that she didn't like Dr. Watson, she simply preferred it when Sherlock came alone.

Sherlock's eyes scanned the store, finding what he was looking for in an instant, and taking off in the direction of the hair care products.

John entered a few moments later, eyes searching for and finding Sherlock. Once he had, he turned to nod in Molly's direction. "Ms. Hooper…"

"Dr. Watson," she returned, watching as John made his way back to where his flatmate was currently perusing the bottles of hair wash. He'd selected a few different brands, and proceeded to dump all of these into John's arms.

"I'll get a trolley, then?" John asked, looking very put upon when he got no response from Sherlock.

"It's a specific brand, John. We find the brand, we find the killer."

John huffed out some sort of rude reply and walked up to the front of the store where the trolleys were kept. He was about to walk toward one when Anderson stopped him, shaking his head. "Afraid you can't go past the queues with products you haven't purchased, sir."

John shot Anderson a look of pure disbelief. "You think I'm nicking twelve bottles of shampoo? What, do you think I'm mad?"

Anderson glanced back at Sherlock before returning his gaze to John. He shrugged. "Can't let you through, Dr. Watson."

"Oh for goodness' sake…" Molly groaned, walking out from behind her register to procure a trolley for the poor doctor. "Anderson, you're the worst sort of human."

"Oy!" her coworker protested as she pushed the trolley towards John, who shot her a grateful look as he dumped the contents of his arms into it, and then pushed it back towards the hair care aisle where Sherlock already had more bottles at the ready.

"Just because you fancy that looney doesn't mean we all do, Hooper…" Anderson hissed. Again, not so under-his-breath that everyone in the bloody shop couldn't hear him.

"I don't fancy him," Molly mumbled, blushing like mad as she made her way back round to her cash register. "I don't."

It took them a few minutes longer, but soon Holmes and Watson had chosen a bottle  in every brand and fragrance. There were dozens of bottles that they began unloading at Molly's queue, much to the amusement of the troll-like Anderson.

She rang them all up; some bottles didn't even cost an entire pound and then there were others that cost nearly forty each.

Sherlock stood there, looking at Molly in that unnerving way he had. She felt her shoulders tense up, sensing an impending deduction.

Those deductions were the reason Anderson hated Sherlock Holmes, and while Molly could understand Philip's negative reaction--Sherlock's deductions were often brutally honest to the point of cruel--she also held them in high regard.

Not many people spoke their minds nowadays.

Sherlock was an old soul, she could feel it.

Alright, he was also quite rude. And unpleasant on his best days. And manipulative. But he was an old soul as well. And very fit, if his tailored clothing was any indication.

Not that she'd noticed.

"Anderson, do cease with your glowering and go earn your meager paycheque… There's a clean-up needed on aisle seven," Sherlock said, his voice low but terse. "Honestly, how you people can't smell the spilt perfume is beyond me. It's giving me a headache… John… could you go fetch me something for my head?"

"I think you need a prescription for the sort of thing that'd fix your head," was John's retort.

"Your sarcasm is tiresome. For my headache, please."

John's eyes rolled skyward as he trudged back towards where the painkillers were kept. "Any specific requests?"

"You're the doctor," Sherlock replied impatiently, his eyes never leaving Molly as she rang out the rest of their purchases. "Ms. Hooper. You look lovely this--"

"Save it Sherlock, what do you want?" she asked, meeting his gaze and hoping like hell she didn't look as nervous as she felt.

His lips curled into a smile, she believed a genuine one. "I do believe your personality is coming along nicely, Molly. What time are you finished with your… proletariat nightmare?"

"My shift's over in thirty," she replied.

"Smashing," he said with a grin. "Fancy a visit to mine?"

"That depends… what for?" she asked as she started placing the shampoo bottles into bags, ringing up each at a five pence as she did.

"Oh, wait, don't do that. I have my own in the car… John will get them," Sherlock said, batting her hand away. His fingers brushed hers and she couldn't help but shiver a little at the contact.

She took off the bag charges and drummed her short fingernails on the counter as they waited for John to meander back up to the front, dropping a bottle of paracetamol on the counter and jamming his hands in his pockets.

"Could you go fetch the bags from the boot?" Sherlock asked.

"You go get them, "John said. "I won't flirt with your Molly while you're gone, I swear it."

Molly's eyebrows shot up off her forehead as Sherlock glared daggers at the good doctor.

But then, he was gone in a flourish of Belstaff, stalking out to the parking lot for his bags.

John smirked in Molly's direction. "Don't look so surprised, Ms. Hooper. There are approximately two Superdrugs and a Tesco within walking distance of our flat and he always chooses to come here. Except on Tuesday. Because you're-"

"Off on Tuesday…" Molly finished for him.

John winked. "Yea, you know."

"I most certainly didn't know."

"Now you know," he amended, pulling out his wallet. "I'm sure I'm supposed to foot the bill for all this. Most expensive obsession he's ever had, you."

Molly's face flushed all shades of red when Sherlock bustled back through the doors, reusable shopping bags in tow.

"I'll see you at yours, Sherlock?" she asked hopefully, seeing something akin to the same in his eyes when he met hers.

The corners of his mouth twitched upward slightly before he replied. "Yes. I'm at 221B. Baker Street. Ms. Hudson will let you in"

"She's not a housekeeper," John reminded him as Molly handed him the receipt.

"She'll let you in," Sherlock repeated.

[covtocov]

Cornflake Girl

Let’s talk about Cornflake Girl, shall we? This was the song that started it all and inspired this blog and we're gonna get into WHY (kind of, don't expect anything too deep, this is gonna get goofy).

If you don't know this song, it's fuckin great.

Cornflake Girl - Tori Amos (1994)

Tori Amos, a legend out of North Carolina (and somewhat honorary citizen of the UK), released the song "Cornflake Girl" in 1994. The song was released as a single, then later featured as the eighth track on her second studio album, Under the Pink.

Influenced in part by a recent exposure to reggae music, discussions of female genital mutilation, and Alice Walker's novel, Possessing the Secret of Joy, this song addresses the concept of the "cornflake girl," women who would hurt other women despite a close personal relationship, often to appease some patriarchal construct. This referred, in part, to the fact that the ratio of raisins to cornflakes in breakfast cereal is much lower, making "raisin girls" harder to find - "Thought it was a good solution/Hanging with the raisin girls."

(Fun bonus fact, she is not saying "rabbi," but "Rabbit," the name of her friend, a "fantastic, magical creature" who lives in the woods with their partner, Fox.)

"Cornflake Girl" reached #4 on the UK singles charts, paving the way for later hits off Under the Pink including "God," "Pretty Good Year," and "Past the Mission." A lovely video discussing more about these ideas can be found here. Amos released both an American and a UK version of the music videos, both which are definitely worth seeing if you haven't.

Now...let's talk about some covers.

Cornflake Girl - Florence and the Machine (2018)

This is the cover I heard this radio on the morning. The intro came on and, not seeing what the song was, I was like '...uh...who stole the intro to Cornflake Girl?"

The answer to that question would be Florence Welch, who covered the song in September 2018 as an exclusive release for Spotify.

So let's get into the nitty gritty.

(All of these qualities are being measured in comparison to the original song, and are my opinions, so with that disclaimer out of the way, come with me and we'll be in a land of PURE IMAGINATION.)

Listenability: 4/5

It's a good cover. This version is much smoother and less choppy than the original...though whether that's a plus or a minus is completely up to the listener's discretion. As a fan of Tori's ability to really fuck you up mid-song (wait, this was just in a fucking 4/4 and now it's in 3/4?! Or maybe it's 2/3, I don't know shit about time keeping, I just know I'm distressed), I would say...not quite as good as the original. Sorry, Flo.

Originality: 2/5

Ahhhhhhh it's just pretty much a nice, safe homage to Tori. The instruments are all pretty evocative of the original song, Florence's vocals are absolutely beautiful, but she really does follow the same cadences as Amos does. Nice use of the occasional drum, though.

Integrity to Original: 4/5

I mean, it's hard to say anything else when this is almost a direct copy of the original. To my knowledge, Welch hasn't gone on the record saying anything about this particular cover, but as an artist who was almost certainly influenced by Amos (this is a total uninformed claim on my part, but like...fuck, they are both redheaded indie mythical wood deities in their own right, so they've probably consorted in the moonlight at least once), I would say she was probably well aware of the intention of this song. What I really appreciate about this version is the clarity of the lyrics - Amos is notoriously tricksy with her pronounciations - which allows this truly haunting song to be brought home even more.

Does this Cover Not Bum Me Out: 5/5

Not bummed out. Love Florence. Love Tori. They are both magical. This cover did make me want to make this blog to explicitly talk about covers that had more theoretical potential, so ironically, it got me more hyped.

Overall: 4/5

Good cover. Good Song. Could have done more with it, but only because we've come to expect so much more from you, Florence.

Cornflake Girl - Jawbox (1996)

In 1996, Jawbox, an alternative rock band from Washington, D.C., released their cover of "Cornflake Girl" on their fourth and final self-titled album, Jawbox.

Originally, the band didn't take the song particularly seriously in their repertoire. In an 2015 article from AV club, frontman J. Robbins admitted that the cover had started as a goof, but became serious enough that the group made a music video of the cover (see above).

Listenability: 3.5/5

I actually like this cover a lot. It's got some of the 90s/2000s grunge rock, wall-of-sound element, while still being recognizable as the song we know and love. It's a jam (a slow-jam, but a jam nonetheless). I do feel as though it lose a bit of the fun instrumentality of the original in the cover, but overall, would definitely make the roadtrip mix.

Originality: 4/5

Jawbox does a lot of very cool things with this. It definitely leans more alt-rock than indie-pop, which I think gives those drops in the song a real kick. The stutter-step rhythm is a really good addition, and I think it makes a nice homage to Tori's style, which often plays around with rhythm in similar ways.

Integrity to Original: 3/5

I'm gonna play this card: I don't think it has quite the same impact coming from a dude. He does not know what it means to be a cornflake, nor a raisin girl. The music video mostly seems like a series of bizarre images that seem to - probably jokingly - take the "cornflake" imagery pretty literally, with someone being force-fed milk from a tube and someone's soft tummy being poked with a spoon (also, a dude with his mouth full of pennies, so who the fuck knows). Not all covers have to say the same thing the original was saying, or anything at all for that matter, but for this one, I'm gonna land right in the middle for ?????

Does this Cover Not Bum Me Out: 4/5

Nah, not really! Besides the fact men are involved (always a bummer) (jk) (or am I?), I enjoyed the change of pace.

Overall: 3.5/5

Solid cover. Loud. Wall of music. Still couldn't dance to it. Nice level of angst. Too many men involved.

Cornflake Girl - Imogen Heap (2010)

A one time, live performance! In 2010, Imogen Heap covered "Cornflake Girl" in Melbourne, Australia. The performance was an auction item for the charity Concern Worldwide; the winning bidder got a chance to meet Heap and receive "A Song Just for You." Heap offers her own unique interpretation of the song, which can be seen in the video aboce.

Listenability: 2/5

This is due MAINLY to the fact that this is a live performance. A more polished, recorded version would probably actually be pretty killer. Still probably not a 'have it on in the background, good for the party mix' kind of song, but definitely a get kinda stoned and listen to it on repeat a couple times song.

Originality: 5/5

Amazing range of sounds and instruments she's able to play with since she's performing electronically/has an array of instruments on stage. Fantastic use of double tracking and creating her own vocal loops on the spot. She really makes the song her own in this performance.

Integrity to Original: 3/5

I do really think this is in the spirit of the original, and she plays with an similar set of instruments that Amos herself uses while incorperating her own flair. The lyrics feel a little bit throwaway, which is kind of a shame, because honestly, Tori Amos is nothing if not an incredible lyricist. That being said, most electoric music (in my experience) is more about the instrumentation/sampling, so this makes some sense from Heap, I think.

Does this Cover Not Bum Me Out: 4/5

Yeah, it's cool. She takes some real risks with this cover, and I think for the most part, they pay off.

Overall: 4/5

You do you, Imogen. It's a cool cover. It's neat. I dig it. Do your dance. Do some fun looping things. Wear your hair like Bart from Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (jk, she wears her hair like you). Dig it.

Cornflake Girl - Noah Hawley & Jeff Russo (2018)

Legion, an FX series based on the Marvel character David Haller (aka Legion) (surprise surprise) first debuted in February 2017. The show revolves around David, who is diagnosed with schizophrenia at a young age, only to find out in his thirties that there may be much more to his mental illness than he'd previously thought.

This cover of "Cornflake Girl" was featured in the finale of Legion Season 2. I have not personally gotten this far in the show yet (it's good, but a little exhausting and hard to binge for me, so much withholding information), but I watched the clip and it makes no sense to me, so that's a start!

Listenability: 3/5

It pretty much sounds exactly like a Coldplay song, so depending on how you feel about Coldplay, this could go either way. I'm mid-road.

Originality: 2/5

I mean, eh. They make the chorus a minor key and put in some synths. It would play well over the trailer. I bet it will in the future.

Integrity to Original: 2/5

I feel like this is one of those many cases where people just take the lines This is not real/This is not really happening/You bet your life it is and they're like THAT COULD APPLY TO THIS FUCKED UP SITUATION and you know what you're right it does well done gold star for you.

Does this Cover Not Bum Me Out: 1/5

Definitely a bummer. Bumming hard listening to this on repeat.

Overall: 2/5

Is it BAD? No. You know what it is? Meh. Just meh.

[queenofangrymoths]

How To Identify A Newsie - Warning! This is really, really long.

How do you do it?? Spend the last four hours looking up every name in Tumblr and google then find good images and soak in every detail you can. That's how.

This'll be in Alphabetical order more or less. You can use this to get details for drawings or, in my case, stories. This is just the Newsies, none of the adults or Katherine. 

Albert Dasilva : -hat looks backward -the hat has a dark plaid pattern -stripped shirt with three buttons closed -no sleeves -shirt is open -wears open vest -pants are rolled up to his knees -Socks are mid-calf/crew. -Color is either dark blue or black or dark brown with two yellow??? stripes of medium thickness. Sorry, it's hard to get details off a moving gif. -steals Race's cigar -Played by Sky Flaherty

Bart: -From Brooklyn -Arrives in Brooklyn's Here -Spot does a little hug thing with him. Draws him in close -On Spot's left??? -red and grey striped shirt -THICK stripes. -no sleeves -the hat is kind of smooshed -suspenders are blue, red, then blue again. -Pants are rolled up to the knees -stripped pattern -played by Andrew Wilson

Buttons Davenport: -Legit. BUTTONS. -Dark grey plaid shirt -three buttons are buttoned but then it opens -to slightly reveal another shirt under it that looks like it has black stripes. thin lines. not thick. -Sleeves are rolled up to his elbows -Wears his pants high -Pants are plaid. colors are dark brown then light brown. -Suspenders colors are light grey, then brown, then light grey again -Socks are mid-calf/crew. -are dark blue with two thick stripes of a lighter blue at the top -played by Chaz Wolcott

Crutchie Morris -hat is backward -the hat is also low on the head, not quite sure how it stays on. -color is dark brown -wearing two shirts -the over shirt is a light grey color -it's polka dots. Outline of circles is black and the inside is the same color as the rest of the shirt -This shirt is rolled up to his elbows -the other shirt is a darker light grey -it's long sleeved going to his wrists. -polka dot shirt has three buttons buttoned then it's open -undershirt has all buttons but one buttoned -the vest is completely open -it is a light brown with a plaid pattern -has five buttons -pants are light grey with a faint plaid pattern -pants stop right below the knee -socks are mid-calf/crew -dark brown/black with a thick stripe of blue at the top -has a crutch. Obviously. -played by  Andrew Keenan-Bolger

Davey Jacobs: -I nearly forgot to do this guy. Jesus me. -Has two outfits -Act one and act two. -ACT ONE outfit: -a grey hat, the dill tipped up -a white dress shirt with lines of blue -it's long sleeved -he has his cufflinks buttoned -collar down nice and proper -wearing a freaking tie. A TIE -which is grey with stripes of white and dark blue -a pinchbeck patterned vest -it's brown -it's closed -six buttons -black striped pants -can't see his socks -black shoes -ACT TWO: -shirt is different -the shirt is now gingham with blue and white -has one button open -THE VEST IS OPEN -same black pants and shoes -played by Ben Fankhauser

Elmer: -the hat is slightly pushed up in the front -grey in color? depends on lighting. -dark green striped shirt -short sleeves -has two buttons - closed -thin dark stripes -open, brown vest -has pockets on both side -five buttons -blue striped pants - socks go past his pants estimations would be to the knee -black with a diamond pattern that's blue -Also one of the Brooklyn boys -during that, he wears a red striped shirt -two buttons -both closed -grey pants -with brown suspenders with intercepting blue lines

-played by Anthony Zas

Finch Cortes: -a hat is a plaid pattern. -grey colored -the bill of the cap is flipped up -Two outfits -outfit #1 prestrike -plaid overshirt, -has two buttons closed -pale greenish color -black and white striped undershirt -suspenders are dark blue, red, then dark blue -brown striped pants -stop at knees -a button on a knee with pockets on either side -blue socks -the second outfit, during the strike -grey shirt -no sleeves -three buttons -only one closed -suspenders are dark brown then white then dark brown -dark brown pants -same socks -slingshot. emphasize on a slingshot. -played by Iain Young  

Henry: -grey hat -has a dot a the top of it -wears two shirts -undershirt is striped -dark blue and white -has three buttons, only one is closed -overshirt is a checkered pattern -kind of reddish in color? -sleeves are rolled up to his elbows -the vest is a brown plaid pattern -open -six buttons -pants are dark brown, -also a checkered pattern -rolled below the knew -socks are black with blue at the top with three stripes of white -played by Michael Rios

Hot Shot: -One of Brooklyn's boys -grey plaid hat -wears two shirts -overshirt is a red plaid shirt with lines of white and blue -has three buttons -none are closed -no sleeves -the undershirt is stripes of black and white -suspenders are just dark blue -light grey pants that are stripped -a smudge of dirt on the right cheek -carries the Brooklyn sign -played by J.P. Ferreri

Ike: -twin brother to Mike -maybe describing Mike but I can't fucking tell them apart. -has a dark grey hat -the bill is tilted up slightly -a dark blue shirt striped with thin lines of white -three buttons, all closed -short sleeves -a dark grey vest -has three buttons -dark grey pants -striped with black lines -a smudge of dirt on the right side of the face -played by David Guzman

Jack Kelly: -literally the main guy -like. This is so easy -so many references. -The outfit at the beginning of the movie. The Santa Fe prologue: -grey hat with a diverse pattern -white shirt with stripes of light blue, dark blue, light orange, dark orange, olive green, dark green. -Has two buttons. None are closed. -red suspenders with white lines on the edges then white dots -three in a row then another line. -same gray, striped pants -probably no shoes yet. -smudges of dirt on the face -Normal outfit. -two shirts -the upper shirt is the bright blue shirt -sleeves rolled up to elbows -collar is open -undershirt is grey -similar to the upper shirt, the collar is open -striped grey vest -it's, shocking, closed. -three buttons -underneath the vest are his red suspenders. -same pants. -black shoes -played by Jeremy Jordan

Jojo: -grey plaid hat -wears two shirts -the upper shirt is light blue and tucked in but open -undershirt is a grey button up shirt -at the top, there are three open buttons -sleeves are rolled up to his elbows -plain brown suspenders -brown checkered pants -stop below the knee -just plain blue socks -smudges of dirt or grime on the cheekbones -played by Joshua Burrage

Kid Blink: -wears a checkered light brown hat -the hat is on backward -wears two shirts -the undershirt is a faded white striped shirt with black. -the upper shirt is pale red. -it's a checkered pattern. -rolled up to his elbows. -an open pin check brown vest -five buttons -brown, striped (?) pants -stop below the knee -black and white socks that go to mid-calf -played by Andy Richardson.

Les: -wears a totally different hat than everyone else -Is it like a brown bowler hat? -probably is his dad's. -a white, checkered pattern shirt -with lines of red and green -it has eight buttons on the front -suspenders that are colored black, white, black -grey pants that stop below the knee -red diamond pattern socks -his left arm is in a sling after the first rally of the strike -played by Ethan Steiner

Mike: -Or Ike. -Might be describing the wrong twin but I can't tell them apart. -brown hat -checkered blue and white shirt -three buttons are open -light tan vest -it's open -has four buttons -plain light brown pants -played by Jacob Guzman -I GUESSED THEM RIGHT WHOO

Mush: -grey hat -the bill is in an arc shape -wearing a white, awning pattern button up shirt -colors are red, blue, and green -three buttons are open -wears a black striped undershirt -the stripes are white -brown pants with lines that are dark shades of red and green -stop below the knees -suspenders colors are brown, white, brown, white. -plain white socks -played by Nicholas Masson

Myron: -One of the Brooklyn boys -grey hat, dill is fully up -has this blue scarf tied around his neck -wearing a red striped shirt -stripes are a darker red -two out of the three buttons are open -suspenders are white, blue, white -out of everyone, his pants look more like jeans -dark blue jeans -played by Stephen Hernandez

Race Higgins: -My favorite -I love this boy -always has a cigar -Race has two outfits -first outfit: -He has an undershirt on. -It's black and white striped -has three open buttons -then the shirt on top is gingham -it's colors are blue, pale green, and white. -Sleeves are rolled up to short sleeves. -out of those six buttons, only one (maybe two) are buttoned -it's tucked in though -vest is brown and a checkered pattern -five buttons -it's open -pants are light brown  and a checkered pattern -they stop right below the knee -his socks are crew and they're blue with red at the top -second outfit: -his shirt is just now his undershirt -it has short sleeves -nothing else changes -except he has some bruises -played by Ben Cook

Romeo: -wears a dark grey cap -his shirt is striped -blue then white -has short sleeves -his vest is dark brown -pockets on either side -does that folded like look? -has four buttons -I honestly can't tell if he has suspenders or not. -pants are a dark grey and striped -wears said pants high -his pants stop right below the knees -socks go to his knees -they are blue and red, striped -Played by Joshua Burrage

Spot Conlon: -King of Brooklyn -5'4. -grey cap -wears a red shirt -no sleeves -it's striped -dark red followed by a lighter red -it's dirty. Sweat? blood? Grime?? IDK -Suspenders are stripes of black and white -dark jeans -played by Tommy Bracco

Smalls: -She's short -From the Bronx! -ONLY GIRL NEWSIE -I REPEAT, ONLY GIRL NEWSIE -wears her hat backwards -it's brown -wears a green, striped shirt -sleeves are rolled up to her elbows -pants are worn high -vest is open, brown -has a checkered pattern -has three buttons -wears brown suspenders -green socks that are mid-calf -carries the Bronx sign -played by Julian DeGuzman

Specs: -wears glasses. Hence the name. Shorten version of spectacles. Which I actually kind of like better than glasses. -lost his shoe -grey hat -wears a sleeveless shirt -it's a faded black and white striped -over that, he wears another shirt it's like a dress shirt, with stripes -the sleeves stop at the elbows -it's white with faded black stripes -his vest is a brown, plaid pattern. -it's open -has approximately five buttons -suspenders are brown with a pale streak of brown then back to the dark brown -stripped pants that stop at the knee -red socks that you can see slightly -played by Jordan Samuels

Sniper: -wears his hat backward -it's brown -wears a black undershirt -over it, he wears a blue plaid shirt -shirt probably has five buttons -only one of them is open -sleeves are rolled past his elbows -light brown vest -has about five buttons -it's open -dark blue suspenders -brown pants that stop mid-calf -blue striped socks -dark blue than bright blue -played by Daniel Switzer

Tommy Boy: -hat is brown -shirt is faded white with stripes of yellow -shirt has three buttons -two are open -a light, light brown plaid vest -it's open -probably has four buttons -suspenders are white with a hint of red -pants are a light black -striped -worn high -played by  Michael Dameski

Vince: -See Myron

Willie: -See Bart

[dirkgentlyheadcanons]

Okay, so about those S2 E1 spoilers

Notice: I did not watch the episode. The lovely thats-entirely-to-much-tuna in the DGHDA discord chat did. So these spoilers are secondhand.

(And under the cut)

All of these are copied and pasted from the chat itself, and then occasionally paraphrased my me

Omg so much blackwing angst

Friedkin is a huge shit 

There's like this montage of Dirk doing all these tests and for one of them

if he gets it wrong, he gets electrocuted

And it happens like 12 times 

And another one smacks his face with paintballs if he gets it wrong (which explains why dirk has paint on his face in the trailer)

One of them (the tests)  is guess the correct image

One is guess which jar the ball will fall into

One of them is press the button to disarm the machine or something like that

The last one is the paintball one

There's a convo where Dirk is like "I'm not psychic" and Friedkin is like "yes you are" and Dirk is like "no I'm not" and Friedkin is like "yes you are" and it keeps going until Dirk is like "look, saying it faster doesn't make it true"

Omg Todd is losing his damn mind

Imagine S1 Dirk and multiply it by 10

Farah helps, yeah, but she thinks he's going crazy

He ends up being right though

But he does seem insane

He has one attack in front of Hobbs where insects are like flying out of his mouth

And Farah scoops him away but he drops the pill bottle on the ground and Hobbs finds it and obvs it has Amanda's name on it

And she's a wanted person

So that's trouble

Hobbes and Tina are amazing

Hobbs is hysterical. 

He pulls up behind Todd and tells him he can't park there and then just like monologues to Todd in a friendly way for ages

Tina shows up high and drunk

The interaction between Bart and Suzie is amazing

We know about project Moloch

And also Mona Wilder

Lots of parallels between Todd and Suzie

One convo between her and her son that mirrors Dorian's first convo with Todd

Bart is confirmed Marzanna

Ken is Project Alpha

No Mr Priest in e1

A lot of Mage tho

There's one part where the Blackwing dudes are shoving Dirk into a room and he gets all mad and goes "Hands off, I'm not a shopping cart!"

He gets so mad at Friedkin he starts like SLAMMING on the glass screaming "I'M NOT PSYCHIC" and he has to get dragged out of Moloch's room and the last thing he says is "THIS ISN'T HOW IT WORKS" and he's almost in angry tears

Ken inadvertently gave Friedkin the idea that he might get more results if he exposed the projects to each other

Moloch is in a coma

Moloch was Dirk's first assistant

He's really upset to see him so frail and skinny because he had a stroke when they moved him

He's all "What have they done to you?"

He says Moloch is the nicest person he's ever met because he let him talk and never interrupted him

So he's talking to Moloch and telling him he has friends now and he talks about how amazing Farah is

And then

He's like "I'm sorry, I have a new assistant now..."

And then his face goes ALL SOFT 

and he says

"His name is Todd, and he's...perfect" 

There are some Todd/Farah hand-holding moments though, so I wouldn't get high Brotzly hopes

But still

It was gorgeous 

It seemed like Moloch has always been in a coma and Dirk talked at him when he was little 

Freidkin doesn't have the squeaky toy anymore 

Hold on lol it's insane 

So Friedkin leaves the toy on his desk 

And then it starts to move 

And it falls off the desk and turns into a mouse

And the mouse skitters towards the door 

And turns into a piece of paper 

And floats under the door 

And turns into like a bubble that floats down the hall

And then into a Blackwing employee 

And then a little butterfly that ends up in Dirk's room 

And Dirk wakes up and sees it

And then the butterfly goes under Dirk's bed so we can't see it and turns into Mona 

And Dirk's all pleasantly surprised to see her and like almost paternal 

And he goes "What are you doing here?"

All soft 

And she tells him to find the boy 

And he's like ???? 

And she repeats it I think? And takes a cup of something and throws it at him and he literally dissolves into the bed in like 0.1 second

And that was it 

The car falls out of the tree in this episode too 

Right in front of Farah and Todd

Farah is literally losing it at Todd telling him he's not Dirk and the universe doesn't take sides and connectedness won't work for him and there's this creaking

And they turn

And this car falls out of a tree and nose-dives like BOOM 

Ooh also Suzie had some sort of accident and walks with a cane 

But I'm wondering, purely because of the Todd parallels (complete with her crawling through her own window), she might be faking the limp? 

The first time you see Bart, I'm pretty sure Suzie is driving and you see Bart like bike past her super quickly? I think she's on a bike? It's blink and you miss it. And then later, after the Mage has killed Suzie's boss (interesting Mr. Palacius mirror), and his henchman are taking Suzie outside to kill her, Bart rolls up and kills all of them and points the gun at Suzie and asks, "Do you know Ken?" 

And Suzie is freaking out but clearly doesn't know Ken, and Bart has this great speech about like "Normally i would kill you, but I think people don't like it when they're killed and it makes them sad, and dead, so I'm not gonna kill you, to make you happy"

And Suzie's like "okay..." 

Hahaha exactly! And Bart's like "Are you happy now that I'm not gonna kill you?" And Suzie's like "Yes..." And Bart's like "Well then why aren't you smiling? When people are happy, they should be smiling, like this..." And she like pulls this demented smile and Suzie tries to mirror it and Bart is satisfied and asks Suzie if she wants to come with her and be best friends

And Suzie is like "No, thank you..."

And Bart gets really upset and threatens to kill her anyway and then starts screaming at the universe and Suzie randomly blasts her backwards with magic and Bart tumbles into this huge hole in the ground 

Suzie did not know she could do this

The henchmen were trying to use this spell book and wand to kill her and it wasn't working

It fell on the ground when Bart killed them

And then this feeling overtook Suzie while Bart was freaking out

And I feel like maybe the wand like flew through the air to her? It all happened very quickly.  

But there's one scene where Amanda and Vogel are in this sort of wooded area by some water and Amanda is having confusing visions and promising Vogel that they'll find the rest of the Rowdies

And then security rolls up and tells them they're trespassing and Amanda is holding her ground like "We're the Rowdy 3!" And he's like "But there are only two of you." And she goes, "Ugh, shut up, math!" And they run towards him threateningly.

[ruminativerabbi]

Farewell to Appelfeld

Contextualization is the tool many, even perhaps most, authors who write about the Shoah use to make their stories believable. The first truly great novel rooted in the Shoah, André Schwarz Bart’s The Last of the Just, sought to set the Shoah into the context of Jewish history itself. Vasily Grossman’s monumental book, Life and Fate, which covers a huge amount of territory including both Stalingrad and the fate of the Jews of German-occupied Russia and Ukraine, sets the horror into the context of the Red Army’s war against the Soviet Union’s German invaders. Even works like Herman Wouk’s The Winds of War and War and Remembrance sought to explain the Holocaust by attempting to see it as part of the larger context of the Second World War itself. I could mention a dozen other books in this vein as well, all works that sought to make fathomable something by its nature essentially unfathomable by setting it in a larger frame and then by attempting to provide some of the other pieces of the puzzle that fit into that frame, somewhat in the same way that you can take a single piece of a jigsaw puzzle that doesn’t look like anything at all and grant it meaning by providing the other puzzle pieces that together with it create an image you actually can recognize easily.

But the work of Aharon Appelfeld, who died last week at the age of eighty-five, took the precise opposite tack and attempted to explain the Shoah through the exquisite contemplation, not of the whole, but of single ones of its pieces…and the tinier the piece the better. Such a minimalist approach risks being treated dismissively by people trained from childhood to seek understanding through the studied contemplation of “the big picture,” by people who want to explain any smaller thing in terms of whatever larger thing it is a part of.  But such people would be wrong: Appelfeld, in his forty-odd novels, was not just successful in laying the foundation for a truly meaningful sense of what the Shoah “meant,” but remarkably so. Of all his books, only one, The Ice Mine, is actually set in a Nazi camp. The rest are set either before, during, or after the Shoah…but none attempts to describe anything like the big picture and all focus instead on the experiences of single families or, in more instances than not, of single children facing a world that they cannot even begin slightly to fathom. And that child, of course, is Appelfeld himself, whose entirely literary oeuvre he himself once characterized as a life-long effort to understand his own story.

The stories he tells are both amazing (because they feature children surviving more or less totally on their own against unimaginable odds) and familiar (because so many pieces of so many of his stories will remind readers of incidents in the lives of survivors they know personally). But even readers unaccustomed to the kind of spare prose that says everything by saying almost nothing will find his books to be moving comments not solely on the Jewish experience during the Second World War, but on life itself, on what it means to be alive at all.

Appelfeld was born in Czernowitz, today part of Ukraine. When the fascists invaded in 1941, his mother was murdered in front of his eyes, and he and his father were deported to a camp from which he somehow managed to escape almost immediately upon arrival despite the fact that he was all of eight years old in 1941. And he survived that way too, somehow managing to survive in the forest for three long years. (This part of his story is told through a child’s eyes in one of his last works, the children’s book Adam and Thomas which I just finished reading last week.) Eventually, he was “rescued” by some partisans who handed him over to the Red Army, where—because eleven-year-olds could not actually serve as soldiers—he was sent to the kitchen to work as one of his unit’s cooks. And then, when the war finally ended, Appelfeld—still not bar-mitzvah age—was interned on his own in a displaced persons camp in Italy. In 1946, he immigrated to Palestine, where he learned—but only eventually—that his father too had somehow survived. That reunion, between a fifteen-year-old who had basically raised himself and a father whom he assumed had been murdered years earlier, was the defining moment in Appelfeld’s life, albeit one not recounted in any of his books, not even in his 2003 autobiography, The Story of a Life.

As noted, his books are almost all—at least in part—about children. And so, when read as a complete oeuvre—and I believe that I have now read all of Appelfeld’s books either in Hebrew or in English—the experience is like peering through some sort of semi-opaque scrim at a world that looks like our own but in which no one seems to realize that its appurtenances are made of papier-mâché that is destined by its very nature to dissolve once it starts raining in earnest…and that its people are merely tethered to the world rather than truly anchored in it.

We read about parents telling their children—and this scene repeats over and over and over—telling them that they’re going to have to hide in the woods (or in an attic or in a brothel or in a farmer’s barn somewhere) until someone comes to retrieve them, which almost never actually happens, and softening the blow of separation with a slew of hopeful promises. The war will soon be over. The deportations will end. The neighbors will surely protect us. The war just a passing disturbance that has nothing really to do with us at all, a nightmare we will soon barely be able to remember. These same promises reverberate through every book.

I wrote several years ago about Blooms of Darkness, the novel that won him the 2012 Independent Foreign Fiction Prize, one of the U.K.’s most prestigious literary prizes, and the book that I think almost more than any says the most about the Shoah by saying so little. The story of a little boy stashed by his panicked parents in a local brothel that they clearly do not realize is patronized almost exclusively by German soldiers, the book describes how the givens of the world can alter in a twinkling as an entire civilization vanishes in the mist and a child wakes up suddenly to find himself living in an entirely different universe. The book itself is harrowing, and in a million different ways. But the end of the book really comes as close as anything I’ve read to creating a context for understanding the Shoah, and that’s what I thought I’d write about today as a way of saying farewell to one of the truly great authors of our day.

At the end of the book, the Germans withdraw and the brothel closes. For a moment, we think that the danger has passed, but now a new horror presents itself: Mariana, the prostitute, now risks being condemned by her countrymen as a traitor, as someone who spent the years of the occupation giving comfort to the enemy. They flee into the forest together, but Mariana is quickly found and arrested. Hugo, like his creator, is now all alone in the forest. He sees no way out, no solution. And so he voluntarily leaves the forest and finds his way to the jail in which his protector is being kept. And there he waits…for something. For justice. For Mariana. For his mother. For someone to watch over him. But nothing at all happens. Days come and go. He eats at a local soup kitchen, then returns to his post outside the jail lest he be absent when she exits the prison gates.

Eventually, the scales fall from his eyes and he realizes—to his amazement—that he is in his own city, in the city in which he was raised. It’s just a provincial city, not too big…and he somehow figures out in which direction lies the neighborhood in which his parents’ house stood and presumably still stands. And so he leaves the jail, leaves Mariana (she has already been executed, but he doesn’t know that), leaves the fragile platform life has offered him to stand on for as long as he can.

He begins to walk home. The city’s residents ignore him. He has no real way to know if he is going in the right direction. Somehow he perseveres, walking slowly and purposefully. But when he gets to his own street…everything is different. The shops are still where he recalled them being, but they all have different names. The synagogue has vanished. The Jewish people have all been replaced by Gentiles. He peers through the window of his own home and sees a different family with different children sitting down to dinner at his parent’s dining room table. He cannot fathom what has happened, cannot explain it, can only wait for his parents to return. And then, when he eventually tires of waiting, he turns his back on the past and walks away.

I haven’t even begun to do the passage justice. But that sense that everything is different, that nothing will ever be the same, that the world is illusory at best and malign and dangerous at worst, that the only safety rests within the confines of the human heart where remembering and forgetting can coalesce into some version of hope in the future—that is the core idea of which the book itself reads like so much extended midrash.

Appelfeld himself ended up in a D.P. camp in Italy, then found a new life in Israel. He ended up reasonably well—his found his father, and he also found the courage to marry, to become a father of three, to thrive in Israel, and to live and work productively into old age. But he remains—to myself and to many—the symbol not of the accomplished author and family man, but of the little boy in the forest attempting to fathom the unfathomable…and somehow to remain safe in the domain of wild beasts. May Aharon Appelfeld rest in peace and may his memory be a blessing for us all.

[whenthemarshmallowmettheslayer]

Coffee and one more Joker to kill.

Fandoms: Red Robin comics, Batman comics, Death Note anime. 

Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Ryuk (mentioned), Ra’s Al Gul (mentioned), and Alfred Pennyworth (mentioned). 

Rated: Teen. (I only use the f word once.)

Summary: "Bruce couldn't protect me or Barbara from one. Now it turns out there had been three of those f*ckers?" Tim finally gave in and laid his head against Jason who was surprisingly a good pillow. A much better pillow than Tim's arm for sure.

"You're helping me find the third one tomorrow morning so I can find out his name," Jason ordered Tim who was slowing falling asleep once again.

Tim hummed. "You buy me coffee and it will be a date," he answered before closing his eyes and finally went back to sleep. Notes:

Tim groaned as he slipped back into consciousness.

His body ached and it's not from falling asleep in a chair while working on a speech he was going to have to give -

Tim paused his thought.

He drew his elbow back that a few minutes ago he had been using as a improvised pillow and swiped his finger to turn his laptop screen back on.

It was two in the morning.

Tim groaned again though this time it was from dismay instead of pain.

Okay he had six hours to finish his speech for the board of Wayne Enterprise, catch a few more zzz, have a shower, get dressed, and find those crutches that Tim had began to hate using.

Subconsciously Tim squinted his tired eyes at the glowing screen of his laptop, the only light in the dark vast room, which made his eyes hurt even more as he tried to remember if he left his crutches at his room at the Manor or here at the safe-house that had slowly became Tim's residence after his fight with Bruce about Captain Boomerang.

Suddenly Tim was jostle from his thoughts as he heard a loud banging on a door.

Tim winced at the loud sound that did nothing but cause his lack of coffee induced migraine to hurt further before letting out a menacing growl.

WHAT IN THE ACTUALLY FRACK, Tim thought murderously before stumbling as he tried to start walking towards the door that was still being heavily pounded on.

There were only two people who knew his current base of residency. Alfred who Tim swore had the super power of omnipresence and Ra's al Ghul.

Ra's al Ghul plus however many minions he had watching over Tim who the Demon's Head had dubbed "the detective" after Tim had out smarted him.

But neither option made sense.

Alfred knew that Tim was on coffee withdraw since it had been the "kindly" grandfatherly butler who had Tim cold turkey the caffeinated beverage. So it was unlikely that Alfred would disturb him, especially at two in the morning, instead of giving Tim a wide berth.

Ra's al Ghul also knew not to disturb Tim unless he wanted several of his main bases of operations to "accidentally" blow up because of mysterious and utterly coincidental gas leaks.

(Timothy Drake was never someone you should piss off and that's a fact without even adding his utter ruthlessness from being deprived of caffeine that even made demon-brat wary to test Tim.)

Hell, Ra's minions knew better than to disturb him when he was without caffeine unless they wanted Tim's metal bo-staff in their faces!

Maybe Ra's was here to attempt another speech that basically consisted of "join me in the dark side Tim we could rule the galaxy."

Tim paused at the front door.

For a second, only a second because Tim was not weak minded even without coffee in his system, Tim was tempted to say yes if caffeine was offered instead of cookies.

He opened the door not giving a damn to look out of the door's peephole.

He wasn't scared.

Tim Drake was actually itching to fight, an outlet for his lack of caffeine induced anger. He may not look like it but Tim was badass despite demon-brat's loudly voiced opinions.

Google "look like th' innocent flower, but be the serpent under 't," and you'll see his, Timothy Drake-Wayne's face because Tim had hacked google search engine and images out of boredom with Bart and Kon's encouragement. Or had they dared him? Tim mused as his eyes fell on a not so familiar face.

Tim blinked at the sight before him then blinked again.

It was true that whenever Tim was deprived from coffee (Caffeinated coffee mind you - Tim didn't drink the blasphemy that shall-not-be-named for its lack of caffeine.) he wasn't... how shall he put it?

Maximum warped speed Mr. Sulu.

...Or you know. He's most sane; apparently drinking the amount of coffee, which was a necessity for Tim as much as air was, Tim took everyday and than doing a cold turkey per Alfred's worried request - no, actually it was more like polite command caused several effects.

Migraines, sleepiness, irritability, lethargy, constipation, depression, muscle pain, stiffness and last but not by far the least hallucinations that could put Doctor Johnathan Crane's work to shame.

However an inebriated Jason Todd with freaky red eyes was not what Tim would have excepted.

"What the hell did you do or piss off?"

While Tim and Jason's relationship with one and another had improved dramatically Tim was on his third day (But whose counting?) without coffee. He had enough problems in his life (main one: coffee withdraws) without adding a drunk Jason with glowing red eyes.

"May I come in pretender?" Jason, ever the polite gentlemen, asked.

Tim fought the urge of slamming the door at his resurrected brother's face because Jason had asked a question instead of answering Tim's.

Didn't the great Red Hood know the rules on pseudo-interrogation?

Whoever asked first is suppose to be answered first.

Honestly was he and Alfred the only members of their family that knew common sense?

"Sure," Tim answered despite the annoyance he felt.

"Why haven't you tur- turned on the lights?" Jason asked with a slur in his speech.

Tim narrowed his eyes threateningly. "I'll answer when you answer my question," Tim answered with all but a snarl.

"I found a notebook in an abandoned warehouse that was suppose to contain some sex traders."

Tim raised a perfectly plucked ebony eyebrow.

"It's title was called Death Note," Jason said as though that explained why Jason had red eyes instead of Lazarus green.

"Oh?" Tim commented as he practically dragged Jason towards his couch. It was a miracle they didn't trip or break anything.

"It had all the rules about killing a person; as if I need a black, morbidly named diary to kill people."

Tim snorted his agreement.

"So a five days later I saw this thing."

"Thing?" Tim repeated the non-descriptive word back to Jason as they finally collapsed onto Tim's couch.

"His name is Ryuk. He's a Shinigami," Jason told Tim. The older man's breathe reeked of cheap beer.

"A Japanese god of death," the words came out of Tim's mouth unbidden; he winced, not meaning to interrupt Jason's explanation. Who knew how long Jason would stay conscious with all the alcohol he had consumed and smelled of.

"Always was the smart one replacement. That's why I wanted you as my Robin," Jason complemented him and Tim blinked owlishly. He was unsure how to process that statement. He filed it for later.

"He gave me the gist of the diary that can legitimately kill people if you have seen they're faces and know they're real names. Or if I made a deal for Shinigami eyes I could just kill by seeing an asshole's face."

"What was the cost of the deal Jason?" Anger crept in to Tim's tone. Yes, he's deductive reasoning was low without caffeine but he hadn't lost his common sense.

"Half of my life," Jason told Tim before Tim slapped Jason upside the head for stupidity.

"Why the hell would you do that?!" Tim shouted in anger before wincing.

Ow.

That hurt; that really hurt.

He had forgotten about his migraine because of Jason's story.

"Cause if a person's correct name is written in the Death Note and you've seen his face he can't come back."

Tim knew immediately the he Jason had referred to.

"What was his name?" Tim croaked curious even though he still wasn't over the fact Jason had made deal with the devil, actually a Japanese death god.

Jason let out a miserable sounding groan. "Not he Tim. Them. Why do you think I came by your place drunk off my ass replacement?"

Tim straightened up from the shock of the reveal but Jason pulled him into his arms. If Tim didn't already know that Jason was drunk he would of now.

Dick was the cuddlier of Tim's older brothers. Not Jason.

"Bruce couldn't protect me or Barbara from one. Now it turns out there had been three of those fuckers?"

Tim finally gave in and laid his head against Jason who was surprisingly a good pillow. A much better pillow than Tim's arm for sure.

"You're helping me find the third one tomorrow morning so I can find out his name," Jason ordered Tim who was slowing falling asleep once again.

Tim hummed. "You buy me coffee and it will be a date," he answered before closing his eyes and finally went back to sleep.

A/N: I have a perfectly good reason why I haven't update my any of my fics. I finally got around to watching Death Note. I'm not finished with the series but I'm getting there.One of the several things that inspired this fic was Coffee House Rules by chibi_nightowl. I would recommended reading it (it's a series of hilarious drabbles about Tim, coffee, and the batfamily) if you love Tim Drake or just the batfamily.

[strivingscribe]

Salt of the Earth ~ 002

Salt of the Earth by MsMoon

Chapter 2 ~ Inquiring Minds

Chapters: 2/?

Chapter Navigation: 1, 2,

Fandom: Young Justice

Rating: ExplicitWarnings: Angst, Feeling? Violence?

Relationships: Maybe I was a little hasty in my last post...but no. She’s still 14, and this is Gen.

Summary: After responding to an incident, members of the team are saved by an unknown metahuman. But no protocols are in place to deal with the series of unfortunate events that assail Anitia Moore. What exactly should the team do when a someone with powers needs training but doesn’t want to be a member of the team?

The Warehouse that Nightwing had jokingly hoped would become more of a warehome didn't pan out, but it did serve a purpose. It was now the perfect front for Zeta tube convergence, and the team often met there before returning to their new HQ. With the League fully operational, space had been made for them. Technically, they were still in Mount Justice, albeit several levels underground. The perfect place for a new secret bass was beneath the bones of the old one. 

Conner stood at a comfortable distance behind Robin, partially amazed at the consistent clacking blips and bloops the boy's fingers made as they pianoed their way across the screen.

Tim was even more of a technology buff than Dick had been…. and that's saying something.

Most of the others had filed out after the initial report had been filed... Kaldur had left Tim to his own investigative processes.

Robin had leapt immediately into scanning the crystal and data mining for additional images to pull from. Conner stayed behind because he was invested. La'gaan as well, though he was pacing, arms crossed, staring at his own feet. Dick, Jaime, and Bart had joined them, all three of them staring intently at the computer screen as Tim typed.

Thanks to traffic cams on the bridge, Tim had managed to get several awkward camera angles of the fight… not that it helped to identify the freak with the masks and the staff. He was well and truly covered. That meant they had to look at details for him.

"What's that on his staff?" Jaime asked, pointing to a single slip of orange on the edge of his staff.

Tim's eyes flick to the screen before even more furious typing. The shot is mostly static, he's walking. Nothing more. The computer freezes the image and zooms in, but it blurs.

"Impossible to say at this resolution." Robin muttered. "Something inlaid into the wood, maybe." A minute shake of his head accompanied that inquiry before he moved on entirely. The query had been cataloged, but there was too much to consider to waste time on it.

"What have you gotten so far?" Nightwing asked.

"Computer puts him at 6ft 4." Robin reported. "Around… 250 pounds, give or take." He sighed heavily. "Due to multiple masks, we can't even hope for a facial recognition. And every bit of his skin is covered… Superboy says his eyes were green."

"So, no distinguishable marks, but he has green eyes."

"Exactly."

"The woman?"

"Anyone else think she looks like Milla Jovovich?" Jaime asked, tilting his head to the side. "I mean, she's tan, but… in the face and all.."

"I see it." Bart said, his head also tilted to the side. "The white hair's a bit much."

"Computer has her around 130 pounds, and she's…" he squinted, looking a little more closely at the readout. "... 5 foot 9?... a little under."

"Damn. That's tall." Impulse rattled. "And not just because I'm short. Don't say it's cause I'm short. That's tall."

"It's above average." Superboy said with a shrug. "It's really light for so tall…"

Robin muttered under his breath, frustrated by the lack of data. "We have a clear shot of her face, but no matching facial recognition."

Conner stares at the shot Robin's referring to, the one of her suspended in mid air... Her face is open, unobscured, and utterly surprised. He remembers that face, and how quickly it shifted to fear... fear that she was hurting him.

"Nothing in the DMV database?" Nightwing asked, his voice reflecting shock.

"Nothing."

Nightwing turned to Superboy. "You were closest to her. Did she sound international?"

Superboy shook his head. "No. She definitely sounded American."

"Hey, look at this." Robin hunkered down, enlarging a camera on top of the bridge.

The angle was awkward due to a previous strike. It was tilted downward, but the angle suddenly became perfect when the masked freak jumped up there… the bottom of his staff was directly in front of the camera. Robin froze the image and flipped it to reveal bright orange letters that spelled out the word…..

"Virgin?" La'gaan asked.

"Virgil." Nightwing corrected.

"Did that asshole steal that staff from some guy named Virgil?" Jaime asked.

Robin shrugged, typing 'Virgil' above the guy's figure.

"Dude… really?" Bart asked.

"We've already got a Virgil…" Jaime reminds.

"It's the only name we have to go with at this point." Robin said with a shrug. His attention snapped to a popup screen to his right as the computer flashed the words 'Possible Match' and '98%'. "Fingerprints!"

"What now?" Conner asked.

"The rock? The clear Kryptonite? It had three fingerprints on it!" he said as he tapped the link under the word 'match'. "The computer's found a viable…"

They all stared as the image of a tiny, mousy-haired girl came up in sharp contrast next to the woman it had matched her to.

"No way…" La'gaan murmured, his eyes drifting between the two, his arms hanging listlessly at his sides.

"She's like… four feet tall!" Bart yelped, trying hard not to laugh (and failing).

"Who is she?" Nightwing asked.

"Anita Lilian Moore." Robin recited the words in a more robotic monotone than Red Tornado.

Nightwing stared at the images. They all stared at them. "Uh… go back to the security footage and… see if you can find this girl anywhere on, near, or around the bridge around the time of the incident."

Robin's fingers sprung to life, entering in new search parameters into the recognition software.

"What are you thinking?" Conner asked.

Dick shrugged, reaching for his cell phone. "We know that the other one could turn invisible…" he sighed as Superboy's eyes narrowed. Even he could see that Dick felt like he was reaching.

"Transformation, maybe?" Jaime ventures.

"Maybe…" Nightwing scoffed. "Stranger things have happened."

"Recognized, Batman 02." The imminent arrival of the Dark Knight was immediately followed by, "What do you have so far?"

"Fingerprints from the woman, but… they belong to this girl." Nightwing reported.

"We have confirmation." Robin announced. He pointed to an area where pedestrians could walk on the bridge. While her frame was slight, she was certainly there. Taking photos of the view over the water before the attack.

Kaldur joined them. "That is always good to hear." Dick repeated Robin's findings to Kaldur, while Batman glared at the images on the screen.

The puzzle pieces were clearer, but...but he still wasn't entirely sure how they all fit together. They needed more intel.

[nightingveilxo]

When is Richard Brook, Not Richard Brook? When The Doctor is In

As most of my mutuals know by now, I think we’re somewhere still in S2, with 3 and 4 being in various character’s minds. But, this discussion from @waitedforgarridebs prompted more research on my end (even though the question at the end was a joke), added new elements about Mary and Molly, and worked in the upcoming con in LA. It does get into the scheme of Dr. Who overlaps though, which we already have many instances of all through Sherlock. So, this is a bit crack theory, a bit not.

TRF

SHERLOCK: Tell me what you want from me. (The man stares at him wide-eyed but doesn’t speak. Sherlock moves the gun’s muzzle closer to him.) SHERLOCK: Tell me. ASSASSIN: He left it at your flat. (AGRA/Mary/Ajay) SHERLOCK: Who? ASSASSIN: Moriarty. SHERLOCK: What? (All three of them start to get to their feet, Sherlock still holding the gun on the other man.) ASSASSIN: The computer keycode. SHERLOCK: Of course. He’s selling it – the programme he used to break into the Tower. He planted it when he came around. (Just like “Faith” will later plant a note in Sherlock’s possession in TLD.) (Three gunshots ring out and the assassin reels and drops to the ground. Sherlock stares up in the direction the bullets came from, then swings around and he and John race off. As police sirens approach again, they duck into an open doorway and yet another police car drives past the end of the road. They take a moment to catch their breath.) SHERLOCK: It’s a game-changer. It’s a key – it can break into any system and it’s sitting in our flat right now. That’s why he left that message telling everyone where to come. “Get Sherlock.” We need to get back into the flat and search. JOHN: CID’ll be camped out. Why plant it on you? SHERLOCK: It’s another subtle way of smearing my name. Now I’m best pals with all those criminals. (John has spotted a pile of newspapers nearby and he picks up the top copy.) JOHN: Yeah, well, have you seen this? (It’s a copy of “The Sun” – the same edition that Mycroft had at the Diogenes Club that morning, telling of the upcoming exposé by Kitty Riley. John shows it to Sherlock.) JOHN: A kiss and tell. Some bloke called Rich Brook. (Sherlock slowly turns his head – clearly the name means something to him. John is still looking at the paper and doesn’t see his expression.) JOHN: Who is he?

Fast forward...

KITTY: Oh I’ll ... I’ll be doing the explaining – in print. (She hands John a folder.) It’s all here – conclusive proof. (John looks at an early typed sheet of her upcoming article, then turns to the proof copy showing the layout of how it will appear in the newspaper, with spaces left for photographs. The headline reads, “Sherlock’s a fake!” with the strapline, “He invented all the crimes”.) KITTY (looking at Sherlock): You invented James Moriarty, your nemesis. JOHN (upset): Invented him? KITTY: Mmm-hmm. Invented all the crimes, actually – and to cap it all, you made up a master villain. JOHN: Oh, don’t be ridiculous! 

So now, John and Sherloch both have the concept of inventing a master villain in their minds, which might explain why the villains after Moriarty are all progressively worse than the one before.

Remember the video ‘Richard Brook is real’ from 2012? Linking in below, for those that never saw it. What if Brook the actor was an actual person, but the man we knew as Moriarty wasn’t him, and The Doctor ended up in 221B to help Sherlock resolve the matter, because he knew the world at the time needed Sherlock Holmes? The Final Problem: The world will always need Sherlock Holmes, and fans won’t let him die.

Richard Brook - 5′ 10″    Andrew Scott - 5′ 8″

Possible John didn’t notice or that Moriarty is meant to be taller, and it could be a hint of how John didn’t recognize something physiologically important, which then resurfaced with the bones and skull in TFP. Easy to overlook the first time, but John actually reviews the printouts a second time, out in the street after he and Sherlock try to follow Moriarty. Also, Moriarty’s CV only has the height, no mention of weight or hair color, which is unusual for an actor’s CV--even one including a photo. The photo is credited to Arwel, from 2010.

Kitty shows John all the evidence, and says it’s conclusive, but it’s all printouts from off a computer or photocopies. One image doesn’t even have the image of Brook, just an X in a box.

When Sherlock goes to visit Molly, his questions to her are almost the same remarks John will later make in TLD. Molly counts, and don’t ever think otherwise.

BART’S. Molly comes out of a small side room in a lab, switches off the lights and walks across the darkened lab, sighing tiredly. As she reaches the door to the corridor, Sherlock is standing in the darkness behind her with his face turned away from her. She doesn’t see him and reaches for the door handle. SHERLOCK: You’re wrong, you know. (She gasps and jumps, spinning around towards him.) SHERLOCK: You do count. You’ve always counted and I’ve always trusted you. (He turns his head towards her.) SHERLOCK: But you were right. I’m not okay. MOLLY: Tell me what’s wrong. SHERLOCK (slowly walking towards her): Molly, I think I’m going to die. MOLLY: What do you need? SHERLOCK (still slowly approaching her): If I wasn’t everything that you think I am – everything that I think I am – would you still want to help me? (She gazes up at him as he stops close to her.) MOLLY: What do you need? (He steps even closer, his expression intense.) SHERLOCK: You.

TLD

JOHN: She thought that if you put yourself in harm’s way I’d ... I’d rescue you or something.  But I didn’t – not ’til she told me to.  (He briefly glances towards Mary as he says ‘she.’)  And that’s how this works.  That’s what you’re missing. (He points towards Mary.)  She taught me to be the man she already thought I was.  Get yourself a piece of that. SHERLOCK: Forgive me, but you are doing yourself a disservice.  I have known many people in this world but made few friends, and I can safely say ... JOHN: I cheated on her. (Sherlock stops.  Mary straightens up from where she was leaning on the back of the chair, looking shocked.  John gestures towards Sherlock.) JOHN: No clever comeback? (Immediately he turns to directly face the ghost of his wife.) JOHN: I cheated on you, Mary. (Sherlock blinks, perhaps realising what’s happening, but he stays silent as he turns his head towards where John is looking.) JOHN: There was a woman on the bus, and I had a plastic daisy in my hair.  I’d been playing with Rosie.  (He pauses for a moment then raises his eyes.)  And this girl just smiled at me. (Mary gazes back at him.  There is no condemnation on her face.) JOHN: That’s all it was; it was a smile. (Sherlock’s eyes turn back to John.) JOHN (to Mary): We texted constantly.  You wanna know when?  Every time you left the room, that’s when.  When you were feeding our daughter; when you were stopping her from crying – that’s when. (Mary lowers her eyes and gives a small smile.  John swallows, his eyes starting to fill with tears.) JOHN: That’s all it was, just texting. (Sherlock has lowered his eyes and is gazing into the distance.) JOHN: But I wanted more. (Sherlock lifts his head and his eyes to John again.  Mary is smiling tearfully at her man.) JOHN: And d’you know something?  I still do.  I’m not the man you thought I was; I’m not that guy.  I never could be.  But that’s the point.  (He sniffs, then looks at her as his eyes fill with more tears.  He bites his lip and speaks tearfully.)  That’s the whole point. (Again he bites his lip.  Mary looks back at him, her own eyes filled with tears.  She smiles at him as he speaks again.) JOHN: Who you thought I was ... (she nods at him) ... is the man who I want to be. (He swallows, fighting off his tears.  She smiles gently back at him.) MARY (softly): Well, then ... John Watson ... (She raises her head and smiles widely and fondly at him.  He stares back at her.  She looks at him for a long moment.) MARY: Get the hell on with it. (She nods at him and smiles through her tears.  The perspective changes and she has gone.  John stares ahead of himself for a long moment, then gradually lowers his head into his left hand and starts to cry.   Sherlock quietly puts his mug onto the table beside him, then stands up.  John sobs, tears pouring from his face and falling to the floor.   Slowly Sherlock walks across to him.) SHERLOCK (softly): It’s okay. (He tentatively raises his arms, perhaps hesitating momentarily for fear of being rejected again, then slowly puts his left hand onto John’s arm and his right hand onto his back before sliding it upwards to gently cradle his neck.  He moves closer, sliding his left arm up to hold John’s shoulder.) JOHN (tearfully): It’s not okay. SHERLOCK (softly): No. (He lowers his cheek onto the top of John’s head.) SHERLOCK (softly): But it is what it is.

We’ve already seen that the hug is done much the same as when John hugs Sherlock in TSoT. It’s all coming from memory, and trickling into S4.

Speaking of memory... TD12. Lots of speculation on that one, and I’ve written a meta of my own talking about the levels of personality aberration in psychiatrics, and TD12 also being a data storage system that would have been in use during HOB (if Sherlock was concerned his Mind Palace might be damaged or altered).

But, what if TD12 was a callback to TRF and a Mary connection? Look again at the photo of Kitty above, and these...Look at her tailored clothing, blue, gold neck chain. What happens in S4? Everyone is wearing tailored clothing, and blue, except for Molly. 

Now, notice the photo from Rachel’s recent well wishes to Amanda. When I first looked at it, I thought her hair was pulled back in a low bun. She’s wearing a gold chain necklace, which I mention the instances of seeing in this short discussion.

And this one from pre S4, of Amanda in a red wig (which we never saw in S4.)

And Elizabeth from TLD. We’re just repeating redheads everywhere by S4.

T...D...D...12...12...Tattooed Disillusioned Dem Size 12 12

Molly ends up in the same (completely buttoned) cherry sweater she was wearing in TGG when she introduced Moriarty to Sherlock and John...

TRF (partially unbuttoned) when she helps Sherlock before and after the Richard Brook revelation...

and finishes out TFP montage wearing an upbuttoned version of the same sweater and slacks. (She also wears one very Molly-style dress in T6T, a tailored outfit with striped shirt in TLD, and the same sweater she wore when helping fill in/mirror for John during TEH.)

If you think maybe that’s all coincidental, just know that the striped shirt mentioned above, was a callback to this shirt in TBB, but in T6T it’s buttoned up all the way to her chin, and gone is her relaxed manner.

They’re all instances of when Sherlock turned to Molly for help or communication. Also, same tailored style as Kitty, but very much in a Molly way. John also has his own version in TBB and TRF. Sherlock loses his Belstaff Armor during TFP, but is miraculously given it back during the episode. Molly has her own versions, because she’s the one person on which Sherlock always relies (even when it’s all in someone’s mind.)

Overlook...

Now, what if The Doctor did get involved in the events of TRF, and changed the game? Before you scoff, just know that Moffat and group did that via a special in Dr. Who, and it altered seven seasons of how viewers saw The Doctor’s story. The books on the shelves of 221B from S4, are even linked to what goes on the lab during HOB.

Which brings us back to... ( x )

Also, remember this happened...

Moffat in 2015 on Possible Sherlock/Dr. Who Crossover

Collider: Are you surprised that people seem to always want to know about the possibility of a cross-over between Doctor Who and Sherlock?

Moffat: That’s a question that I get asked so often, and I can’t keep answering it. It’s all right for Doctor Who. That’s fine. But it would change Sherlock’s life, if he met the Doctor and knew that time travel was possible. He’d have to factor that into every crime he solved. And do we really think that Sherlock Holmes lived through a Dalek invasion? I don’t think he did. I think he’d have mentioned it by now. It’s not going to happen. That’s just the truth of it. ( x )

What was it again that Kitty said during TRF? Oh, yes...

KITTY: Mmm-hmm. Invented all the crimes, actually – and to cap it all, you made up a master villain. JOHN: Oh, don’t be ridiculous!  

Sherlock, S4: Premonitions, repeating cases, predicting behavior two weeks in advance of the actual events, childhood Eurus telling Mycroft he looks funny as a grown-up/materializes in 221B for a few moments, etc

Side Note: In 2014, Moffat said he had a photo of Sherlock and John in the TARDIS, but it was never shown.

The most recent element might have just gone into place for Sherlock Event in LA. Amanda was scheduled to be there, and a topic for questions was Marvelous Mary Morstan.

Except, then Andrew was confirmed, and Jonathan was added/confirmed (maybe was going to be there anyway, but we don’t know for sure). A few other things changed, too.

From Sherlock To Sci-Fi. Every Good Fairytale Needs a Villain was already in place.

Moriarty’s Pool Party

Up On The Roof.

Transcripts ( x )

@waitedforgarridebs @tjlcisthenewsexy @monikakrasnorada @may-shepard @smoljohnlock @swimmingfeelsinajohnlockianpool @sherlockians-get-bored @princess-of-fireflies @darlingtonsubstitution @justshadethings @loveteaelephants @shadow3214 @devoursjohnlock @gosherlocked @marathecactupus