#he's exactly what i like in a character

[juodojimirtis]

I always assume the Warrior Nun character on one's icon is their favorite. I've seen Ava, Beatrice, Camila, Lilith, Superion... Meanwhile, I'm here with Adriel's face as a mask, as though I were plotting to become a false prophet myself.

I wonder, does anyone else actually like him? I get my taste is niche, but still.

[juniemunie]

[Abandoned by the Lightners, his heart became cracked with hatred.]

Hitting a lil' too close to home?

[egophiliac]

Hi it's just to let you know that the official romanization of Revaan's name is Raverne ! Also they have romanized Baul's name to Baur !

Twst coming back at us again with the least expected romanization! thank you everybody (oh god my inbox) (no it's great, I literally asked for this and the reactions have been INCREDIBLE, thank you all!)

I do like Raverne though, I think it's got a nice fancy sound to it! (I had kinda suspected it was going to be an R instead of an L, so the fact that it's SO close to Laverne except for that is hilarious to me personally.) and Dragoneye Duke is honestly probably the best translation for his title, I wasn't envying the localizers that one. :') Baur instead of Baul I was NOT expecting, but in retrospect I think his name's supposed to be a reference to the Bauru crocodile, so that actually makes way more sense!

someone else also said Meleanor has become Maleanor, which is the REALLY weird one to me, because I was so surprised it was written as Mel instead of Mal in the first place?! oh god no I can't decide which one I like better. 😭 (I wonder if they might change it to Mal...they have made romanization changes before) (like I remember House of Distraction being corrected to House of Destruction in Playful Land) (I did check and she's still Mel for now, but I dunno, they might Mal her up and some point and save me from having to make a decision about which one to use) (HECK I CAN'T DECIDE)

uhhhh thank you for letting me ramble about anime names, let's just say MONOGRAMMED SWEATERS FOR EVERYONE

[tea-cat-arts]

Shen Yuan getting transported into pidw isn't "the system punishing him for being a lazy internet hater," but instead representative of "step 1 of the creative process: getting so mad at something you decide to go write your own fucking book" in this essay I will

[anghraine]

It's interesting (if often frustrating) to see the renewed Orc Discourse after the last few episodes of ROP. I've seen arguments that orcs have to be personifications of evil rather than people as such or else the ethics of our heroes' approach to them becomes much more fraught. Tolkien's work, as written, seems an odd choice to me for not wrangling with difficult questions, and of course, more diehard fans are going to immediately bring up Shagrat and Gorbag.

If you haven't read LOTR recently, Shagrat and Gorbag are two orcs who briefly have a conversation about how they're being screwed over by Sauron but have no other real options, about their opinions of mistakes that have been made, that they think Sauron himself has made one, but it's not safe to discuss because Sauron has spies in their own ranks. They reminisce about better times when they had more freedom and fantasize about a future when they can go elsewhere and set up a small-scale banditry operation rather than being involved in this huge-scale war. Eventually, however, they end up turning on each other.

Basically any time that someone brings up the "humanity" of this conversation, someone else will point out that they're still bad people. They're not at all guilty about what they're part of. They just resent the dangers to themselves, the pressure from above, failures of competence, the surveillance they're under, and their lack of realistic alternative options. The dream of another life mentioned in the conversation is still one of preying on innocent people, just on a much smaller and more immediate scale, etc.

I think this misses the reason it keeps getting brought up, though. The point is not that Shagrat and Gorbag are good people. The point is that they are people.

There's something very normal and recognizable about their resentment of their superiors, their fears of reprisal and betrayal that ultimately are realized, their dislike of this kind of industrial war machine that erases their individual work and contributions, the tinge of wistfulness in their hope of escape into a different kind of life. Their dialect is deliberately "common"—and there's a lot more to say about that and the fact that it's another commoner, Sam, who outwits them—but one of the main effects is to make them sound familiar and ordinary. And it's interesting that one of the points they specifically raise is that they're not going to get better treatment from "the good guys" so they can't defect, either.

This is self-interested, yes, but it's not the self-interest of some mystical being or spirit or whatnot, but of people.

Tolkien's later remarks tend to back this up. He said that female orcs do exist, but are rarely seen in the story because the characters only interact with the all-male warrior class of orcs. Whatever female orcs "do," it isn't going to war. Maybe they do a lot of the agricultural work that is apparently happening in distant parts of Mordor, maybe they are chiefly responsible for young orcs, maybe both and/or something else, we don't know. But we know they're out there and we know that they reproduce sexually and we know that they're not part of the orcish warrior class.

Regardless of all the problems with this, the idea that orcs have a gender-restricted warrior class at all and we're just not seeing any of their other classes because of where the story is set doesn't sound like automatons of evil. It sounds like an actual culture of people that we only see along the fringes.

And this whole matter of "but if they're people, we have to think about ethics, so they can't be people" is a weird circular argument that cannot account for what's in LOTR or for much of what Tolkien said afterwards. Yes, he struggled with The Problem of Orcs and how to reconcile it with his world building and his ethical system, but "maybe they're not people" is ultimately not a workable solution as far as LOTR goes and can't even account for much of the later evolution of his ideas, including explicit statements in his letters.

And in the end, the real response that comes to mind to that circular argument is "maybe you should think about ethics more."

[thefandomfires]

I think Channing Tatum did great as Gambit and having an actor who loves/will do right by the character is good actually

[canon-gabriel-quotes]

Transcript:

Happy birthday!

I couldn’t quite figure out a gift in time. So take these *cats meowing* they’ve been severed from me.

These are my most trusted possessions- Or they were.

My little light bulbs.

It was decided that I wouldn’t have them anymore.

So I guess you can have them!

Happy birthday! My mascara is running. I have to go.

Goodbye everyone! Thank you!

Audio source

Transcript:

Happy birthday, you bitch.

Audio source

No transcript for this one.

There are noises.

Wear headphones, not because it is suggestive, but so that no one judges you.

Audio source

Transcript:

Happy birthday, Miku! -From your friend, Gabriel.

Audio source

[ohrackham]

what was the point of lila thinking home was a feeling she didn't deserve and could never earn until she found diego. what was the point of them finding deep, meaningful love in each other. what was the point of lila opening her heart and confessing that all she really wanted was a family with him.

what was the point of developing diego and lila over two seasons, creating such a beautiful, chaotic bond, just to destroy it for no reason.

[hinamie]

Yuuji: Bye, im going to the fire nation!

Sukuna: Not dressed like you aren't.

Proceeds to give Yuuji a boob window in his clothes

ngl anon i took this bit way too seriously n got carried away thinking abt what yuuji's fire nation alternate fit would look like ,, then after figuring it out I thought well now I /have/ to draw air as well ....

jjk atla!au with @philosophiums

[formosusiniquis]

When Mike Wheeler, red faced and still faintly tear stained, asks him how he knew he liked both Steve doesn’t know how to tell him it was his sister.

Before Nancy Wheeler it had only been boys. Before Nancy Wheeler Steve had been sure he was gay and knew well enough to keep it to himself; dating around enough to earn himself a protective reputation. Before Nancy Wheeler there’d been Marcus Summers, from the baseball team, during freshman year. Steve had gone to every game, and had been forced to make up excuses about schoolwork and his other commitments when asked why he hadn’t tried out for himself. Before Nancy Wheeler there’d been Tommy Hagan. The summer between seventh and eighth grade had been very kind to Tommy, he was sunkissed and boy next door sweet, Steve had wanted to hold his hand and count the freckles across the bridge of his nose. 

Before Nancy Wheeler there’d been his first love, a boy who only visited one summer, the year Steve turned ten. His name had changed every time they hung out but he’d favored E’s. Eli, Emmett, Elliott, Eric, Excalibur, Excelsior, and once for about an hour Wayne. His hair brushed his chin in pretty brown curls and his big brown eyes were always bright with excitement. He always got storm off mad when any of the other boys they’d played with that summer said he was acting like a girl, E would run off to the woods and Steve would always follow. E always came up with the best games anyway, he didn’t like playing soccer or HORSE or anything else with rules that couldn’t be bent; he preferred imagination games where they were knights or wizards. He didn’t laugh when Steve said he always liked playing house, but never wanted to be the dad because why would he want to be someone who never wanted to spend any time with his kids. E who, while insisting on being called Samwise all day, was his first kiss.

Cause he knows what Mike wants to hear. He’s seen the way Mike and Will have danced around each other since the last portal closed. He’s heard the things Mike has said to and about Will. He’s heard all about the week that Will was in the Upside Down. He’s heard all about the summer of ‘85. He’s heard all about the final off again that seems to officially mark the end of Mike and El romantically. He knows that Mike wants him to say that he’d never even thought about boys before he met Eddie. That there’s just something special about Eddie that makes him want to give up his lady killing ways. That Eddie was different. That it was okay that he was having these scary new thoughts, maybe Will was just an exception.

And Steve doesn’t know how to have that conversation. When he realized he liked both it was a relief, that maybe he could have something normal and wouldn't have to spend his life lying or hiding. 

But Eddie was different. Eddie was special. Eddie was probably it for Steve which is scary in a different way that he’s not ready to touch yet -- not when it’s only been three months.

There’s never been another girl since Nancy Wheeler, not really

There will never be another boy after Eddie Munson.

So he tries to help, as best he can. It’s easier with Eddie there, not quite dozing against his shoulder -- the kid’s emergencies always seem to come so late at night these days. “When I was ten, there was a boy whose name kept changing who decided prince charming should get to kiss his faithful knight. And when I was sixteen, your sister-”

Mike’s goodwill diminishes quickly as his sister gets introduced to the conversation.

“Stevie,” Eddie says. It’s not an admonishment for bringing up Nancy. It’s awestruck and watery. “You remember that?”

“Of course I remember the first boy I ever loved," that word catches up with him a second later. Remember. 

Cause there's Eddie with his riot of brown curls and his Bambi eyes. Eddie, who has explained why soft feminine words chafe against his skin leaving him itchy and anxious. Eddie, who has an Uncle in Hawkins. Eddie who moved to town the summer before he entered high school with a buzzed head and his mother's last name. Eddie who finally settled into an E he liked best.

"Wheeler, here's a tip from me to you," Eddie says, his advice is always better received than Steve's anyway, "if you have to ask you probably already know."

"Straight people don't really spend much time wondering if they aren't really straight," Steve agrees.

They don't rush Mike out the door, a crisis is a crisis and even in the wake of new discoveries Mike deserves to be heard out. Deserves a chance to cry and rage and feel those emotions someplace safe from his Reaganite father -- just as much as Will deserves to have someone who knows what they want come to him, deserves better than experimentation.

They cross the bridge from late into early by the time Mike sets off. The sun is creeping up over the horizon and Mike looks solid, certain; the dawn hints at the man he is growing up to be. Though every instinct of Steve's begs him to drive the kid home, Eddie's soft hand lingering at his hip holds him fast. They wave instead, encouraging Mike to go home and to bed before he does anything; knowing his front bike tire is already pointed toward the Byers-Hopper place.

"The first boy you ever loved, huh, Stevie?" Eddie teases before the door has even managed to click shut.

"And the last, I'm hoping, if I play my cards right."

"You were always pretty good at that. You were the only person that summer who called me by my name, except Wayne."

"It was your name." He knows that's too simple. Knows how hard Eddie has had it, continues to have it. But that summer it had been that simple, Eddie trying on names like shirts each one fitting until they didn't. "For what it's worth, I like Eddie a lot more than Excalibur."

"Oh fuck off, I was going through a fantasy knight phase. Which I know you remember."

"Right a phase, and how much longer is this fantasy 'phase' going to last?"

They're the kind of tired that makes you feel drunk, when Eddie tackles Steve and sends them both to the floor and to giggles. Eddie might not have been his bi awakening, but Steve is pretty fine with him being his everything else.

[turtleblogatlast]

Something I love about Leo is that, canonically, he IS capable of cooking, he’s just completely incapable of using a toaster. He’s banned from the kitchen not out of an inability to make edible food, but because being within six feet of a toaster causes the poor appliance to spontaneously combust.

[demonslayedher]

For as long as he was able, Ubuyashiki Kagaya was visiting ailing Corp members.

There he is visiting comatose Tanjirou, though Kagaya himself was very recently busy doing stuff like this:

He presumably also visited comatose Inosuke, who only woke up seven days before Tanjirou did.

According to the Gotou and Sumi report, Zenitsu woke up the day after the battle, and returned to going on missions two days before Tanjirou woke up.

Ergo, it stands to reason that Zenitsu got a chance to meet Kagaya and wakefully enjoy the soothing sound of Kagaya's voice, and that Kagaya in all likelihood praised him for his accomplishments.

[phantom-0-writer]

the case of the serial killer

3476 words (that was not suppose to happen lol - please send help)

ao3

Dick sat in front of his desk, eyes glazing over the same two lines for the nth time. He let out a tired sigh, and massaged his temples as he leaned back in his chair. 

The Bludhaven Police Department had been investigating the recent serial killings for the past month and a half, with Dick heading the case. Not that it was anything too out of left feild for Dick, he handled plenty of cases like this during his long run as Robin and even in his more recent years as Nightwing. Finding the clues, and piecing together the perfect picture came second nature to him at this point. 

The issue Dick was dealing with right now in fact had nothing to do with the case, instead it was something -or someone else. That someone, Danny No-Last-Name-For-You-Officer. 

The first time Dick had run into him he was doing his rounds when he caught some kids getting into a fight. Naturally he stopped in and the kids that had been trying to start a fight ran away at the sight of his uniform and car. Danny had been a little roughed up by then, but mostly unharmed. 

“Are you okay, kid?” Dick asked, kneeling to meet the kid eye-to-eye. 

Danny had looked at him with a defiance he wasn’t used to seeing in someone that wasn’t a cape, “I didn’t do anything.” He said instead of responding, pulling himself up to his feet. 

“Okay,” Dick nodded calmly, not wanting to frighten the kid. He stood up slowly, with his hands in view, “Are you hurt? I could patch you up, real quick, make sure nothing gets infected.” Danny wore ratty clothes, they had been nice once upon a time, but their time had long passed. 

Danny eyed him suspiciously, “No, I’m fine.” He said more calmly now. Roughly around the age of 15 to 17. Older than Damian, but younger than Tim.

Taking his chance, “You got a name kid?” 

“Danny.” 

“No last name?” Dick asked with a knowing smirk, letting himself appear more playful. 

“Not for you.” Danny gave him a mischievous smirk. Dick could tell the kid could clean up nice, but circumstances seemed unfortunate. 

Dick laughed at his response, to let him know that he wasn’t in any hot water. Danny watched him, waiting for his next move. “You hungry, Danny?” Dick asked casually, trying not to stare at the way the hoodie he was wearing sagged on his shoulders. 

“I’m a growing boy, I’m always hungry.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes. Dick laughed again, more genuine this time. 

“Alright, my treat. Let’s go.” Dick said, gesturing as he led the boy to his car. 

“What?” He asked, surprised, Dick turned around to look at him when he didn’t follow. “Why?”

“You’re a growing boy.” Dick echoed. Danny snorted, but followed after him nonetheless. Dick put on the GPS on his phone, even though he knew the way as Danny sat in the passenger seat. 

They spent the next hour together, falling into a steady rhythm of conversation and joking. After their first meeting, Danny and Dick ran into each other more. The grocery store, playground, library, school, so on. For the first 2 weeks it had been coincidental, but slowly Dick found himself looking forward to their random meetings, happy to see that the kid was doing alright. 

That had been until the first murder had happened. 

It had been raining, colder than the weather usually was around this time of year, the streets mostly empty. Dick had been doing his usual rounds on patrol, wondering how Danny was doing like he always did. 

The world has a strange way of giving you what you want. 

As Dick turned around the corner, he slammed his brakes hard at the figure who had been standing in the middle of the road. Dick got out of his car, leaving it on the side of the road when the person didn’t move. As he got closer dread filled Dick’s gutt as he made out the figure to be a cold, drenched Danny clenching his chest. 

“Danny!” Dick called, rushing over to the boy. As Dick got closer he noticed the boy looked pale and his lips were turning blue. 

“Dick.” Danny said hollowly, his voice barely audible over the loud rain. Danny turned to look at him with a shaken and horrified expression. 

Dick held his shoulder firmly, leading him to the car and out of the rain. Danny allowed it without protest, which only caused Dick to worry more. “What happened?” He asked once the boy had huddled himself under the blanket Dick kept in his car (he had gotten it after the second time he met Danny during patrol, the boy always seemed cold). 

Danny turned to him, “He’s dead.” He answered morbidly.

“Who?” Dick asked concerned, he didn’t think the boy had a father or brother present, at least not one that he had mentioned. 

“I dunno. Just some guy.” No one he knew then. 

“Danny, buddy. Can you explain what you saw.” Dick tried again. 

Danny took a shaky breath, “I was just heading home, y’know, from the library. And I heard a scream, so I went to go check it out. And it was a guy just laying there in a pool of blood.” Danny looked down at his own hands, his fingers stained in red. 

“Can you tell me where?” 

“Around the corner, across from Susan’s.” Danny said quietly. He must have been really shaken up seeing it, it wasn’t exactly normal to see a bloodied body during your regularly scheduled activities. 

Dick could go there later as Nightwing to investigate, but right now he had bigger things to deal with. “Alright, put your seatbelt on.” Dick said, putting the car in drive. Danny, not fully there, quietly did as Dick asked. At the next redlight, Dick called the Chief and let her know about the potential murder case and that he would be calling off for the night. He’d probably have to bring Danny in for his testimony, but that was later. 

As the light turned green Dick looked over at his passenger again to find Danny already fast asleep, heater blaring in his face. Dick smiled softly at the sight as he drove them to his apartment. 

After Dick parked his car he hesitated for a moment before deciding to wake Danny up so he could shower and maybe eat something. He could borrow some of Tim’s clothes. 

“Hm.” Danny blinked barely at Dick, “We're are we?” He asked looking around at the parking garage. 

“My place. C’mon lets get you cleaned up.”  Dick unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car. 

Danny blinked at him in surprise, “What? Why are we at your place?” 

“Well considering I don’t know where you live, I had to take you somewhere.” Dick shrugged casually, letting the kid think Dick didn’t know he was homeless was better than him thinking Dick was pitying him. Danny would not appreciate pity. 

Danny didn’t retort, a true sign of how weary he was.

Dick made a quick dinner. You can’t go wrong with pasta and air fried chicken. While the food finished cooking Dick busied himself in random mundane activities, not wantong Danny to find him looking over a case when he got out of the shower. Dick pulled out an old cookbook he’d gotten for his highschool graduation, a gag gift from Wally, when something between the pages fell out. 

Picking it up Dick saw an old photo, one of him standing between his parents proudly after one of their performances. Sometimes Dick would feel a deep sadness when he looked at pictures of his parents and realized he had forgotten their faces, their mannerisms and their laughs. But this time, when Dick looked at the picture and saw his dad smiling at the camera next to his mom, he remembered Danny. It was strange how Danny had the same cowlick as his mom, same nose arch as his dad, a jawline that looked like his almost, before his larger muscle definition came into play. At the time that line of thought had been disturbed by Danny walking back into the living room and stubbing his tie on the foot of Dick’s sofa. 

After that Dick had made sure they had each other’s numbers. He called Danny anytime the weather was bad, or it was cold, or there was too much food at his house or whatever random reason he could come up with. 

After about a week of Dick calling Danny over, Danny came over on his own one night. 

Dick was dressed in his Nightwing suit about to head out for the night when he heard the front door rattling. Realizing someone was trying to break into his apartment and knowing that it wasn’t his siblings (they would’ve used the window) Dick quickly threw his domino under his blanket and threw on the first pair of sweats he could find, just in time for the door to open. Slipping a small pocket knife into his hands, Dick positioned himself to get a good view of the living room where the trespasser still was. 

Getting ready to get the jump on the trespasser Dick happened to get a good look at and noticed the familiar mop of black hair, and overfilled school bag by the door. Coming into view, letting his hands relax by his side, “Danny?” he breathed confused and relieved. 

“‘Sup.” He nodded casually before noticing Dick’s appearance. “Your pants are backwards.” He commented candidly. Dick could feel himself flush in embarrassment, but that seemed to send the wrong impression on Danny, The younger boy leaned in to whisper to him, “You got a special friend over?” He raised an intrigued brow at Dick. 

“What?” Dick spluttered “No.” 

“Sad.” Danny shook his head in disappointment, making his way to the dining table and plopped his stuff on a chair and pulled out a few well-used notebooks. “The library closed early today, so I thought why not break into the local cop's place. I got a paper due tomorrow.” He explained half serious, half joking. “You don’t have to worry about me if you were about to head out somewhere.” How had he known? 

“Uh, yeah I was just going-” Think, Dick. “-Get groceries.” Dick internally winced at the suspicious brow Danny gave him. 

“At 10:30 PM?” 

“Yes.” All that Bat training, and for what? 

Danny blinked, “Cool.” he said dismissively, turning back to his homework. 

Not looking a gift horse in the mouth Dick left his apartment stuffing his weapons into an old travel bag he had on hand and changing in the empty elevator. 

When he got home from his patrol (earlier than he normally would’ve) remembering to buy the aforementioned groceries for some semblance of a cover story he found Danny fast asleep over scattered papers on the dining table. Putting away the perishables, Dick picked Danny up (who snuggled into his chest at the contact - yes, Dick was definitely completely okay after that) and laid him on the spare bed he kept on hand for his siblings. 

The next few times Danny snuck into his house (Dick had offered him a key, but Danny had refused) things had gone similarly if not slightly more smoothly until the completely predictable and unavoidable happened. 

Dick was halfway through his usual route as Nightwing, stopping a few muggings, and investigating the serial killer case some more. There were almost 9 different murders at this point with seemingly no similarities between the victims, other than the method of death. After going through the most recent crime scene Dick’s heard his phone go off. It surprised him slightly since he usually keeps it on silent, but he was alone so no harm no foul. 

It was a message from Danny, it was probably a meme or funny video he had found. Dick could use a pick me up after another crime scene bust so he opened it. The message was not what he had been expecting. 

Danno: sos?  Danno: im at ur place

Fearing the worst, Dick dialed his number. Danny hung up before the first ring, which did nothing for his nerves. Rushing in the direction of his apartment, not even bothering to do anything about the costume he was wearing, the worst scenarios rushed through Dick’s mind. 

When his apartment was in view the first thing Dick noticed was the open window that he most certainly had not left open. Quietly slipping onto the fire escape Dick peered through to see the scene. The only light that was still on was the living room light, likely where Danny was, but Dick easily noticed the hulking figure in the kitchen. He was easily too tall, and too muscular to be Danny. The figure moved slightly and the shape of a gun could be seen in his hands. 

Not wasting any time, Dick expertly slipped through the open window and tackled the figure to the floor, arm held at his back and escrima stick at his assailant's neck. 

“What the fuck-” The figure said startled at Dick’s unexpected attack, 

Now with a better view Dick was able to see the familiar red helmet and leather jacket the assailant wore, “Jason?” Dick asked, surprised. 

“I thought we were past this. Y’know let bygones be bygones, or whatever.” Jason joked easily, wiggling his way out Dick’s slacking grip. 

The situation finally unfolded in front of Dick. Danny had been in his apartment and Jason as Red Hood had also come to his apartment. Danny thought someone had broken in, and Jason also thought someone had broken in. Was Jason about to shoot Danny? Where was Danny? 

Quickly getting up, and ignoring Jason’s earlier remark he walked through the kitchen and into the living room, “Danny?” He called, not wanting to scare the kid. 

Jason gave him a confused look, but came to an understanding on his own when the familiar teenager peeped out from behind the couch holding a knife in his hands. His expression only became more shocked after he saw Dick, and it took Dick a second too long to remember that he was still wearing his Nightwing costume. 

“Aw shit.” 

Danny blinked at him, regaining his composure and pointing the knife at Jason, “Friend of yours?” 

After all the explanations had been explained they all sat around the couch, a stack of empty pizza boxes between them. 

“You saw me with a gun and you decided you could take me with a knife?” Jason scoffed at Danny, helmet left forgotten under the table. 

“I could take you without the knife.” Danny rolled his eyes, taking the last slice of pizza. 

“Big talk.” Jason puffed out his chest in some strange show of alpha male behavior. 

“Are you askin’ for a fight?” Danny challenged. 

Fearing the direction the conversation was taking Dick stepped in “Alright, you’re both pretty. Let’s break it up.” 

That had just been last week. 

Two days ago Dick had gotten a call from Danny. Danny usually didn’t call, preferring to text, but would usually answer when Dick called, 

“Hey, Dickface.” Danny greeted snottily. Dick noticed he was out of breath. 

“Hey, Danny. What’s up?” 

“You got the night shift today?” Night Shift was what Danny had taken to calling his vigilant duties. There was a lot of movement on Danny’s end of the phone, but Danny was always moving around so Dick hadn’t thought it was weird. 

“Yup. Whatcha’ up to?” Dick asked curiously, cleaning up his mess from dinner, leaving Danny’s portion in the fridge for later. The fridge was more stocked than it had been since Dick had moved in, he had purposely bought food that Danny would like, and the boy had finally begun filling out his skeleton. 

“Oh y’know, cardio. Getting those steps in.” He let out a winded chuckle, “When you get the chance, check out the warehouse on 12th street later tonight. The one with the cracked pavement outside.” 

“You got a lead?” Dick asked surprised, “From where?” He was suspicious, just curious. 

“A friend of mine told me. Thought you should know.” There was a thud in the background, like something hit metal. 

“You okay?” Dick asked concerned. 

“Yeah, it was a cat.” He said easily, Danny let out a hiss of annoyance, “Gotta go, Later.” He hung up before Dick could say anything else. 

Dick let out a tired sigh. The kid had grown on him like fungus. Though not entirely unappreciated, Dick was not ready to hear his siblings' inevitable comments on how he took after Bruce. Didn’t help that Danny happened to fit the profile. 

The warehouse had given them a few clues, but they still weren’t any closer to finding the serial killer. 

Danny hadn’t come by the apartment after that phone call. Or responded to any of Dick’s texts. 

This morning when he was getting dressed he got a call from the precinct. It was still 30 minutes before his shift. 

“Grayson, this is Officer Gomez, the Chief wants you in as earliest as you can get here,” Officer Gomez spoke urgently. 

“I can be there in 15.” He reported, slipping on his shoes and grabbing his keys. 

“Alright.” Gomez hung up. 

As soon as he got in the doors the Chief was waiting for him by the entrance. “Took your sweet time, huh Grayson.” she chided. 

“Dunno what you mean, Chief. I’m 15 minutes early.” He gave her a charming smile, and the Chief rolled her eyes. 

“There’s been a development in your case.” The Chief started as they walked together, Dick nodded at her in acknowledgement. But the Chief hesitated, before speaking again. That was unlike her. “There was another murder victim found, in the east district. Our night crew got an alert.” 

Most of the victims had been in the west district, based on the location south may have been a more appropriate transition. It could be a coincidence or it meant the killer had a personal vendetta against these people, or maybe just the victim from the east district. It felt like all the pieces Dick had managed to put together were falling apart again. 

“Our latest victim was a male, caucasian potential of mixed descent, age estimated around 15 to 17,” that was younger than the other had been, “black hair, blue eyes, roughly 5’ 5”.” The chief turned to look at him now, “goes to Westwood High School, prefers juice to soft drinks, always feels cold to touch,” 

Dick looked at Chief in confusion, these were incredibly specific descriptions, and they sounded awfully familiar. 

She continued, “He lets his hot chocolate get cold before he drinks it,” Danny had done that once when Dick had brought him in for his testimony. “And he plucks the marshmallows out of it with a fork, and called it a snowman.” 

No.

“You keep extra snacks for him in the glove box of your car even though it’s against protocol,” 

No,

Dick hands were clammy when he pulled out his phone from his pocket. Personal use of devices was strictly against the rules. Chief said nothing. Dick found Danny’s contact easily in his recents tab. He held it up to his ear waiting for the kid on the other side to answer with his usual “What can I do ya’ for officer.” or some iteration of the classic “Hey, Dickface.” 

It went to voicemail. 

Danny always answered his phone, and when he didn’t he would text Dick a reason within the next five minutes. So he waited. 

It had been 10 minutes already. Why wasn’t he responding? 

Dick called him again. Voicemail. 

Nononono. Not again. 

How was it that Dick was always too slow. 

Too slow to save his parents. 

Too slow to get to Jason in time. 

And now too slow to solve this case.  

Dick Grayson was a failure in every way that mattered. 

He looked at the familiar body ready to be put into an ice chamber for further examination in the morgue. 

“Go home for the day, Grayson.” 

Go home and do what? 

Danny’s notes were still sprawled over the coffee table. He said he had a test next week. Danny’s food was still in the fridge. His bed was still a mess, and his clothes were on the floor. 

“Give me the case files. I’ll look over them again.” He didn’t recognize his voice when he spoke, he wasn’t even sure it was his. Chief didn’t argue, handing over the files. 

The day had gone by and Dick was still stuck in front of his double monitor desk, pictures and words blurring together in nonsensical smudges on the screen. 

“Grayson.” Chief called him. Dick looked up, catching a glimpse of the dark night sky from the glass doors. How long had he been here? 

“Yeah?” He responded dryly. 

“Head home.” 

Dick wasn’t sure when he had gotten to the front of his apartment, only realizing he had when the keys jiggled loudly missing the keyhole on the door. 

When he got inside he found Jason sitting casually on the couch, reading a book. “Oh Honey, you’re home.” He joked. 

Dick couldn’t find it in himself to laugh. 

Danny’s papers flew from the wind of the open window. Dick closed it. When he didn’t pick up the papers, Jason bent down to do it. “Anyways, where’s the kid? Didn’t you want me to help him with his homework or someshit. I need to beat it into his head that I’m better at him.” Jason said the last part loudly, letting it echo through the house in case Danny was hiding in its crevices. 

Dick turned to him, Jason looked back at him for a long moment before the mischievous look slipped from his eyes. “Dick, where’s the kid?” 

There was a deafening silence in the apartment. 

“He’s dead.” The table under Jason’s hands let out a loud crunch, as his face darkened. 

Before Jason could breathe an air of the threat of murder that was definitely ready to roll from his tongue, there was a quiet clatter in the kitchen. 

“Who’s dead?” Danny asked, appearing in the living room with a large bowl of cereal he was shoveling into his mouth.

------------

table of contents

[bigskydreaming]

Imagine looking at a character whose entire premise is that in every stage of his life, he's made every version of himself into someone that inspires people to such a degree that EVERY SINGLE VERSION OF HIM has people wanting to literally follow in his footsteps in some way or another.....

And coming to the conclusion that like.....the most important things about him are the sum of all his trappings. His entirely homemade developed from scratch could not exist if not for what he already was and brought with him BEFORE crafting this newest version of himself trappings, with his greatest trait throughout all of it being his adaptability; his ability and willingness to roll with the punches and not try to simply weather any opposition or changes to his life but instead reshape himself as needed to better fit INTO whatever new shape his life and the world around him takes. All while managing to carry the most innate, fundamental and necessary aspects of himself from one version to the next. Thus every single version of himself is different but simultaneously every single version of himself is also undeniably the same person.

The strength of this character, to me, will always be that he can be so many versions of himself, he can become so many things, all without ever actually losing or discarding any of the aspects of himself he considers most essential, the things he's not willing to lose or give up just to keep going. Finding that road not taken by most, usually because most never even think to look for it as an option. But one that he's always able to find because the one trick he's mastered in his tumultuous life is threading that needle of not just digging in his heels in an unproductive way but rather being selective about when and where he makes a stand and decides "this is not a thing I'm willing to compromise about" but here are places and ways I can and will change and evolve and adapt in order to make it possible for me to hold onto these parts and keep them as they are.

And that's why its always so mind-boggling to me that so many writers can't seem to think of anything else to do with Dick Grayson other than invent some new reason for him to just....not be that person, or to like just take the character whose most basic fundamental trait he's NOT about to compromise on is willingly giving up his spot in the driver's seat of his own life.....and make him just a passenger in his own life and stories.

Dick Grayson at age nine....at age nineteen...at age twenty nine....the one core thread running through all versions of him is the only way he's standing back and letting you call the shots for him or putting him on the sidelines in some way is over his dead body.

HOW he goes about that, what that looks like, who he becomes and what aspects of himself he plays up at some times and what traits he lets fall by the wayside at other times when they offer less in service to his primary goal here....that changes constantly. He changes constantly.

But those changes are almost always (or at least they used to be/should be IN MY OPINION) made with the intention of keeping certain things about him or his life as consistent as possible.

That's the duality of Dick Grayson that I'm here for. The inherent contradiction of him that COULD allow for endless conflict and breaking new narrative ground in all sorts of ways if mined properly:

His eternal willingness to compromise....but only ever in pursuit of doubling down on the ways he's not willing to compromise.

Forever walking that tightrope in ways that only a kid born and raised in a circus could ever hope to.

[skrunksthatwunk]

thinking about how eiji's a pole vaulter and how ash talks about eiji "flying" and how eiji's associated with bird imagery and how eiji's free (unlike ash) and how eiji comes in on a plane and leaves on a plane and how ash cannot fly, ash cannot be free, how nyc is ash's prison, and how ash is the leopard who dies climbing the mountain, unable to live at such elevation, how he was trying to reach the sky and be free but was always stuck to the earth, how he chose to die instead of climbing back down, how he chose to die where he could see the sky and hope and freedom almost like a bird with eiji's letter right in front of him rather than letting everything go wrong and ruin it once again, how eiji's a failed pole vaulter anyway, how a bad fall ruined his career and grounded him (physically and emotionally), how it took flying to america and meeting ash and needing to save him and skip for him to try flying again, how he landed hard and harsh and still the thought of that escape compelled ash to protect eiji at all costs because if he could fly that means something to him, even if he doesn't think he can fly, how eiji is the manifestation of his hope and how when he breaks and asks eiji to stay with him a while he folds himself over his legs and weighs him down and traps him and grounds him, how ash fights like hell to keep eiji alive not because he thinks he can be like him (hopeful, flying, innocent), but because he makes him forget the gravity of his situation, and so he can see eiji fly again. how he wants to see him escape. how eiji is a bird and ash is a wildcat and how ash never once saw eiji as prey. how eiji never saw ash as a predator. how it is eiji's naivete that first endears ash to him, how it is his freedom and flight and removal from darkness and his ability to leave that darkness that really roots eiji in ash's blood as something essential to him keeping on living in this hell of nyc. how it is that distance from the violence and that hope for the future that ash chooses to surround himself in as he dies. how ash dies in a dream because he feels more than anything that he can't fly like eiji, that he can never leave. how his violence is a part of him and will be forever, how it weighs him down. how he wants to enjoy the view from the mountainside rather than looking up from the ground below. as if they can both fly. as if he is with him up there and not grounded. eye-to-eye with what he can't have, seeing eiji's homeland: the sky. how he dies trying to reach the top because he couldn't take retreating and trying again. how ash, tired and tired and tired and convinced it will go on forever if he crawls back down the mountain, chooses to close his life deluged in eiji, in eiji's insistence that they can fly together, in eiji's hope for him and for them, in eiji's beautiful dream. how ash dies without trying to realize that dream. how ash, in dying, destroys it.

[latinoperce]

rick riordan you became the thing you swore so much to destroy. why change some of these things in the show??? the thing im most angry about is that the changes are either purely nonsensical or just done poorly

theyve completely eliminated the books sense of urgency, like theres no stakes on anything. you can miss the deadline and everythings fixed with a little talk with zeus. you recognize medusa and crusty and the lotus hotel right out of the gate, and obviously the only conclusion is that kronos is behind everything even though hes supposed to be locked in the deepest part of tartarus and youre a 12yo who just got thrown into this life and is just learning that monsters are real. fights are over in 30 seconds and theres no injuries or consequences except for an off screen comment on how you lost your bag or maybe a new stain on your shirt. theyre 12 but also they know everything there is to know about the greek myths.

in the books they learn and realize things as they go! its the experiences that change percy and grover and annabeth and things are supposed to be HARD because theyre kids!!! and they were sent on a mission they shouldnt have been sent on, but they get through it with each other and with a sense of comedy because theyre fucking kids! yea theyre gonna almost die and then say hello to gladiola the pink poodle, and play hacky sack on the bus stop, and stuff themselves with cheeseburgers every chance they get bc kids arent supposed all knowing and mature all the time

you cant promise a faithful adaptation of a book and then change the basic things that made the book be loved in the first place