#i regret agreeing to do this

[mizzzzz]

guys did I cook

[greenglowinspooks]

(DCxDP) The obligations of a rogue versus those of a parent (Pt. 3)

—

Tw: Vivisection mention, torture mention (GiW agent receiving), me not actually knowing how telegram works

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually.

(Pt. 1 here) (Pt. 2 here) - (Pt. 4 here)

(Masterlist/subscription post)

—

It’s an average, ordinary afternoon in Gotham, and Jason is in hell.

Specifically, Jason is in hell because he’s been researching the GiW for the last week or so, ever since a cryptic message from Scarecrow of all people.

He still hasn’t gotten anything substantial out of it that Scarecrow hadn’t already provided. Most location data had been previously scrubbed from the database, weaponry details were apparently all stored physically, and the experiment logs seemed to be only accessible from within one of the bases, whose locations Jason did not have.

Apparently Babs and Tim were having similar issues with gathering information. He had sent a copy of the files over to them in a moment of weakness, but they were having the exact same results as him.

To make things worse, the GiW was more active than they had been previously, combing through Crime Alley and the rest of Gotham tirelessly. At least they weren’t harassing him anymore, he thought, but now he had even less of a clue what they wanted.

And to top it all off, the Joker had escaped Arkham a few days prior to Jason receiving Scarecrow’s note, and he still hadn’t done anything. That could only mean that he was planning something big, which meant more grief for Jason, because the clown was obsessed with him.

So yes, Jason wasn’t having the best week.

He got up from his computer, stretched, and walked over to the window.

The sky was Gotham’s usual grey, clouded with a toxic miasma made up of traditional pollutants and the aftermath of gas attacks both, which could generously be called ‘smog.’

The streets seemed busier than usual, or maybe that was just because Jason was having a hard time keeping his eyes focused.

With blurry vision and a dull ache in the back of his head, Jason paced through his apartment, going through everything he knew.

The GiW, or Ghost Investigation Ward, were part of a secret government project having to do with ‘ecto-entities,’ which were mostly made up of ghosts.

The GiW was able to kidnap and steal away anyone who was ‘ecto-contaminated’ to be dissected, and it was completely legal.

According to the non-censored patrol reports he was given, Jason himself was considered ecto-contaminated. So were Bruce, Damian, Steph, and Cass.

There were also several rogues that were in the same boat, but their names had been redacted, presumably by Scarecrow. He wasn’t entirely sure why, but he guessed it was either for leverage or privacy. Knowing Crane, it could be both.

Anything useful about the GiW seemed to be stored physically within their compounds, or on an operating system that couldn’t be accessed outside of certain areas.

Anything useful about ghosts was conveniently removed by Scarecrow.

And, lastly, he knew from capture logs that they had numerous captive ghosts which were definitely being experimented on. One of these ghosts was named Daniel, last name redacted, and had been turned over by his parents in return for allowing them to run their own experiments on the boy.

From what he could tell, it had been around fifty two days since he had been turned in.

Fifty two days of experimentation and dissection.

Jason had to find him.

But first, he had to find the locations of the GiW bases, and plan his entrance carefully. He couldn’t let them get away because of a simple mistake.

The only location data he had been able to find was on a picture of the boy, Daniel, a picture of a vigilante in a red suit, and a quick note left about Daniel which hadn’t been transferred into the main database.

The note was…

Jason had been around crime for a very, very long time. He understood it intimately, in a way most people would never hope to achieve.

He understood hatred, too.

And yet, the words in that note were almost incomprehensible to him.

They were mockery of a child in pain. A child that was not seen as human. A child that was seen as a threat, a monster.

The man had detailed the security surrounding the child being cut back. Apparently, the kid had some sort of sonic scream. They were removing the muzzle that inhibited it because he had screamed himself hoarse, and he couldn’t make a sound anymore.

He also mentioned that the kid was cut open at least once a day, sometimes multiple times. He was opened up, played with, and sewn back shut.

The man joked that they should just put a zipper on him, so they wouldn’t keep wasting their stitches.

Jason really, really wanted to kill that guy.

The metadata on the note traced back to a newly-bought building in Gotham’s financial district, while the photos both came from Amity Park, Illinois.

Amity Park, Illinois did not exist in any official capacity.

Tim, who had taken the Batplane to check the precise location listed in the metadata, had reported that there was a town there after all, and it was on complete media lockdown from the rest of the world. He hadn’t even been able to use Bat, Justice League, or Young Justice channels to message anyone outside of the city until he left.

Jason had checked the building in the financial district firsthand, and found that the man who had submitted the note had done so while resting on a patrol of the city. He seemed to go there often to avoid his superiors, and Jason found it easy enough to get the drop on him the third time around.

His advanced interrogation techniques hadn’t been enough to get the man to name any locations. Worse, the man definitely recognized Red Hood, and would definitely tell the rest of the GiW about what had happened as soon as he left.

So, Jason did something about that. He couldn’t kill him, unfortunately, so he did the next best thing.

The GiW sent him to a public hospital within a few hours of finding him with shattered hand bones, broken arms, and a throat with near-permanent damage. The man wouldn’t be able to speak for a month at least.

He might never write again.

Jason, having read the note over and over until the words stained the backs of his eyes, thought it was the least he deserved.

Jason sighed, stopping his pacing. He wasn’t getting anywhere with this. If anything, working himself up was only going to lower the chances of him magically coming to a realization about where the kid was or what in the hell was going on.

He walked into the kitchen, popped some leftovers into the microwave, and started them up.

Once they were done, he brought them out to his desk, intending to eat as he continued to work on the GiW case.

When he saw his screen, he froze.

Telegram had been opened to a new chat with someone he had never messaged before.

TooFine: who are you?

TooFine: why are you looking into the giw?

The messages were a couple of minutes old, probably sent while Jason was spiraling pacing. He just stared at the screen, dumbstruck.

Shakily, he responded.

RedDead: How the hell did you get my contact info

Whoever was on the other side of the screen paused for a second. Jason considered sending a quick text to Babs to tell her what was going on, but he decided that he could handle this by himself.

TooFine: got it from the backdoor I put into the giw system.

RedDead: Shit

TooFine: ok your turn

TooFine: why r u looking into the giw? seriously man

RedDead: I don’t have a single reason to tell you. Give me one and I might answer your questions

TooFine paused again. Clearly they both had issues trusting someone over the internet, and rightfully so. What they had both admitted to doing was incredibly illegal, and if someone turned them in, they would be in deep shit.

TooFine: ive been trying to take down the giw since it was created. I can help u if ur honest with me

RedDead: Oh yeah, because no one has ever lied to another person on the internet before

RedDead: But fine

RedDead: I’m looking into them because they’ve been shadowing me for over a month at this point, among other reasons

TooFine: other reasons?

Jason sighed. He shouldn’t have added that. He knew that the other guy would ask, but he said something anyways.

RedDead: They’ve got a kid. I don’t like it when people hurt kids

TooFine: Danny? he’s alive?

RedDead: From what I can tell

So he knew the kid. Or, at least, he was pretending to. It would make sense for him to be cagey about his intentions, and for him to be desperate enough to reach out.

TooFine: oh my god

TooFine: do you know what city? fuck

TooFine: fuck fuck fuck

TooFine: I need to find him man please

RedDead: He’s somewhere in Gotham

RedDead: I’ve been trying to find him for a week now but no dice. They keep everything important on separate servers

TooFine: listen man you’re a good hacker but you’re not as good as me. you need my help if we’re gonna find Danny

RedDead: Okay, what are you trying to get me to agree to?

TooFine: i’m coming to gotham and we’re going to meet up

RedDead: Hell no

RedDead: Stranger danger

TooFine: if I tell u who I am will you say yes

RedDead: ?? How am I supposed to verify if you’re telling the truth

TooFine then sent him what seemed to be a selfie. Jason’s jaw dropped at the kid’s sheer audacity.

RedDead: There’s something seriously wrong with you

TooFine: my name is Tucker Foley. i live in amity park. i’m in 10th grade

RedDead: ???????? WHAT THE HELL

TooFine: i can send u my address too

RedDead: PLEASE DON’T??

RedDead: WHAT’S YOUR FUCKING DAMAGE? DON’T DOXX YOURSELF TO ME

RedDead: WHAT IF I WANTED TO KILL YOU OR SOMETHING? WHAT IF I WAS A FED

TooFine: i have to take that chance.

TooFine: Danny is my best friend. they’ve had him for over a month and no one’s doing anything to help. mr. Lancer was the only one who cared and he gave up after they blackmailed him

TooFine: they’ve had him for OVER A MONTH. I THOUGHT HE WAS DEAD.

TooFine: Sam and Jazz and I are coming to gotham and we’re going to find him no matter what it takes

TooFine: you have to help us

Jason considered, for a second, the choices he’d made in his life that had led up to this moment. He also considered, if he was in this kid’s position at his age, if he would be doing the same.

He decided to throw the kid a bone.

RedDead: [4735.jpg]

TooFine: HUH

RedDead: I’m guessing you know me

TooFine: RED HOOD??????

RedDead: No I’m just a very dedicated LARPer

TooFine: am i gonna die for Danny right now

RedDead: If I were literally anyone else, probably

RedDead: But no, you’re not. I’m gonna help you find your friend

TooFine: your username is red dead and you’re. yeah ok

RedDead: Oh come on, it’s funny

TooFine: Danny would love you

RedDead: So Danny clearly has great taste in jokes

TooFine: nope. literally loves puns and wordplay

RedDead: Nevermind

They both paused for a second. Then, Jason had a thought.

RedDead: Wait you’re in the 10th grade and you’re hacking into government databases?

TooFine: please don’t tell my parents.

RedDead: And how are you supposed to explain a sudden vacation to Gotham to your parents?

TooFine: wait so you’ll help me?

RedDead: I really hate to say it but I’m not the best at hacking, and my usual help is busy trying to track down the Joker. So, yep, we’re teaming up

TooFine: LET’S GOOOOOO

RedDead: God. I’m asking a 16 year old to help me take down a government agency and save another 16 year old

RedDead: I feel like the bat

TooFine: oh my god this is awesome. Danny is gonna flip when the actual real-life Red Hood comes to save him.

RedDead: I already regret this

TooFine: too late.

TooFine: btw do u have any place for 2 teenagers and 1 adult teenager to stay in gotham? preferably without dying but yknow.

Jason groaned. He was really, really gonna regret this, and he knew it.

Still, the alternative was some overeager kid dragging two other idiots to Gotham to find their friend and getting themselves killed. At least this way he’d have help, and damn good help at that.

He really was turning into the Bat, wasn’t he?

—

[modmad]

gotta say out of all the titles of chapters so far Turnaround is the MOST FITTING FOR ITS CONTENTS. EVERY DAMN PAGE!!! WHAT THE FUCK!!!!

HEEEHEHEEHEHEHEHEHEE

[flufflecat]

bill cipher deconstructed, a cosplay

[freakinator]

i need to get crazier about zamdoons i think

[moldy-flowers]

The interesting experience of being pro Sasuke, anti konoha, pro tobirama, anti Naruto ending, pro Sasusaku, anti Itachi, pro Sakura, anti SasuNaru, pro Tobirama×Izuna, anti Madara, pro karin, anti Orochimaru, pro Uchiha and anti Hashirama. And also as much as I hate the guy danzo was kind of hot when he was younger...

[tchaikovskaya]

🥴

[raillue]

Crow from Destiny 2 as Omori

/In the style of the game OMORI

hmmm, something something two amnesiac video game characters that have done a terrible act in their past and then have to regain their memories and forgive themselves

:]

I’m so normal about these two games, can’t you tell?

[vellichorom]

so i may or may not start posting my art onto my TWITTER...

terrifying, i know... BUT REST ASSURED, if you don't want to be anywhere NEAR that slogfest, you're not missing ANYTHING staying here; i'm NOT moving over there, just branching out a little bit & maybe making use of that account beyond general retweeting.

come see how hard i get harassed for making birds kiss or being " too woke " or something

[chiarrara]

I don't know I just feel like....

We just watched a man self-immolate in his military uniform. And I don't want to sound like an idiot, because it's much more than this but, couldn't you say that was a very extreme form of conscientious objection?

He could not be complicit anymore, but there is literally no way out of being complicit in this genocide if you live in America. For him especially, being trapped in military service. But for all of us. All of us are trapped in complicity in some way, and we can try to counteract that sin with as much meaningful direct action as we can possibly do, but all of that action comes with some proportional level of risk.

So, a man burned himself alive in an extreme form of conscientious objection (the only form available to him - one of great violence)

And people are still on here telling people to suck it up and vote for Biden.

I just... maybe I'm really stupid and I just can't see the logic y'all are putting forward. Because the way you lay it out it all seems to make so much sense to you. I understand we're trapped in a two party system. I understand the Republicans don't have the same consciences we do and are gonna vote en masse for Trump. I understand Trump is a danger globally and domestically. I understand all that, and I don't want his second term to come to pass. I'm not ignorant of how dangerous he is.

But a man self-immolated to object to the system of complicity he's trapped in, and the most logical response y'all have to a bunch of people wanting to opt out of complicity in this election, and the next four years of horrors that will be done in their name is to tell them, you just have to suck it up and be complicit. Your only tool is to make a phone call. You can try to protest, but there's a non-zero chance you'll be beaten and arrested and have your life ruined, by the way. You can donate to try and put a bandaid on the horrors you're seeing through your phone screen everyday (and you should, but God it's sure not stopping anything). But you're not allowed to object to being complicit in the selection of the Genocider-In-Chief.

It's not going to stop the genocide. We know this. It's not going to stop the election. We know this. It's not going to change anything directly, and Trump is going to get elected (which he will either way. most people who would vote against him are doing it anyway, y'all are fighting a very very small online minority).

But a man self-immolated in his military uniform. He didn't think that act was going to directly stop aid from going to Israel, or stop the genocide, or destroy the US military industrial complex. He didn't think his one small (but extremely brave and impactful) act was going to solve everything. Everything that was going to happen is still going to happen just with one less man in uniform.

But it wasn't nothing. It didn't do nothing. It's not his fault that the military will keep on chugging. It's not his fault that things are getting worse in Gaza every day. But he's not complicit anymore and he sent a message. And he had to die to achieve that.

And y'all are telling us we can't even do the very small act of not being complicit in the presidency. It's a less effective act of protest, but I also don't have to die for it.

It's not a boycott (I've seen this strawman, i don't know why you think we think that). It's not going to "send a message to the government" (obviously, we're not ignorant). It's to the Party that runs these candidates, and makes money off of "pick us because we're not the other guy" then commits crimes against humanity. I don't want to roll over and be fucking complicit in that.

Parties and candidates look at those numbers. they see how many people voted for them last time and how many people this time.

They don't care about our voices, and our protests, and our emails. They care about donations, and they care about votes. That's it. That's all they look at. If the emails and the phone calls and the protests don't result in a drop in one of those two things, they don't fucking care.

I don't know. This is a long ass ramble, but I'm trying to work out my feelings about this. Because we can't opt out of paying taxes, we can't really opt out of the benefits of living and being born in the Global North, we can't opt out of work, we can't opt out of the military, we can't opt out of following the law without extreme violence being brought against us. We can't do a whole fucking lot besides call, email, donate, and protest in a way that doesn't get us beaten and arrested, and if you do get beaten and arrested, you'll be dealing with the legal consequences for years or potentially the rest of your life.

And a man burned himself to death to object but I can't withhold my vote???

[mellotronmkll]

Autism will have you googling "What to say to a friend" before meeting up with a friend

[wildflowercryptid]

florian's such a nice kid who has such a kind heart and tries his best to not hurt ppl he cares about— *shoves what happened between him and ortega behind my back* ignore that.

[goldenpinof]

.

[lauronk]

was planning to tackle some more ficlets today but i woke up feeling not that great and my brain doesn’t wanna engage quite yet so there might be a wait on the others sitting in my inbox

or maybe i’ll finally make myself get up and go eat and then my brain will work

[holmesandwhatson]

is it really that weird that i don't like being approached and asked out by random guys in public

(also it's super rare in my culture so it's usually Americans or foreigners and I'm so unused to such situations I never know how to handle them well and not appear rude ;/)

[burnsopale]

Childermass & Segundus - it sounds very well

So one day the York Society of Magicians receives a new member, and Childermass is like okay, no big deal, those guys never do anything interesting anyway.

But then, right, then the new guy and one of the old guys writes to Mr Norrell and asks if they may have the pleasure of waiting on him sometime, and Mr Norrell is like "No" but Childermass is like "Actually yes" because he's intrigued, or because the cards have told him something is about to happen, or because Mr Norrell is years overdue to go to London and revive English magic and Childermass figures this might jostle him into doing something. We don't know what exactly happened, but it seems likely that it was Childermass who made the visit possible, because the idea of Mr Norrell ever wanting visitors is impossible to accept.

So these two theoretical magicians come to Hurtfew Abbey, and Childermass is in the library waiting for the visit to end and Norrell to show up and tell him what the men wanted, but instead, when the door opens, there they are, the visitors, having been invited to see the library and what the fuck did they say to old Gilbert to make that happen?? Not that it matters, they're not gonna remember anything by the time they get home, the enchantments will see to that.

Mr Norrell introduces Childermass, and the new guy gives him a look like Childermass facinates him, but Childermass is used to that. He figures he'll just hang out until they leave.

Except the new guy, who is a dark, timid-looking little man named John Segundus, keeps looking around like he can sense the spells lighting the room, keeps looking out the window like he's not happy with the orientation of the walls, keeps blinking like the magic is making him a little dizzy. John Segundus is clearly magic sensitive. No one in the York Society is magic sensitive, Childermass knows that for a fact. This is suddenly intriguing.

So Childermass ends up keeping half an eye on Mr Segundus as he explores, until Mr Segundus notices, sensitive as he is, and their eyes meet. Childermass reads longing, need, delight and confusion on the man's face, but Childermass is without pity; by the time Mr Segundus gets home, he won't remember what he's seen. It doesn't matter; no one in the York Society ever did anything interesting anyway.

But then later, the letter from Dr Foxcastle comes, and Mr Norrell is Upset and Offended, and Childermass realises that the Revival is about to start at last. And because Mr Norrell is fearful and Childermass is pitiless, they send a lawyer with their demands.

Mr Robinson the lawyer returns to Hurtfew a little perplexed. Oh yes, they all signed, just like you said they would, every one of them ... except ... except one. Childermass is a little surprised to discover that the timid little man had a spine after all. Mr Norrell wants Mr Robinson to go back and demand the last signature, but Childermass says "Wait". And at this point, we do not know what he is thinking. Perhaps he simply thinks that they will need someone to write to London once the miracle has been done, and Mr Segundus is more likely to be amiable if he has not just been deprived of his calling. But then, Mr Honeyfoot, the other visitor, would definitely be happy to write, even though he WILL be deprived of that same calling. Perhaps, Childermass thinks that this is a strangely fateful twist, that the one member of the York Society who has an actual talent for magic is the one person who refused to give it up. Maybe he remembers a time when he himself was full of longing for magic, when he could sense it all around him but was unable to grasp it, when he too would get dizzy in Mr Norrell's library. He may not feel pity, but he can be intrigued. He convinces Mr Norrell to let Mr Segundus be.

Childermass laughs inside when John Segundus doesn't recognise him outside the cathedral, but then startles when the man almost recalls after all. He is not supposed to be able to break the enchantment. Thankfully, the moment passes, and after the magic is done, Mr Segundus turns out to be exactly as easy to manipulate as Childermass thought he would be. The polite ones are easy, especially when they are full of need and longing, and keep looking at Childermass like he has the answers they are searching for. Maybe Childermass uses a little bit of magic to persuade the man to write to London, or maybe he just smiles, and waits, and lets John Segundus come to him of his own accord.

Childermass returns to Hurtfew Abbey and says to his master "Go to London. Go now." and because Childermass knows about these things, they go.

And nine years pass in London.

But occasionally during those nine years, Childermass turns his attention to York, to see what timid little John Segundus is up to. Mostly it's not much.

Until Jonathan Strange happens. That he happens at all is rather extraordinary, but how interesting that he should come to seek Mr Norrell on the advice of John Segundus? For sure there are many people with an affinity for magic in England, but how many of them are magicians? Too few, thinks Childermass. How likely is it that two of them should meet at random? He wonders if this is another fated twist.

So he continues to keep half an eye on York, just in case Mr Segundus should discover how to actually grasp the magic that surrounds him. But when Strange returns from the war in Spain, his conversation tells Childermass that even with the learning, even with actual spells to hand, their timid little man in York cannot make the magic work.

John Segundus begins taking on pupils. Childermass keeps it from Mr Norrell. Childermass has been the instrument of many a theoretical magician's destruction, Childermass reads the hearts of men and feels no pity for them, and yet Childermass keeps John Segundus hidden from Mr Norrell. Maybe, just maybe, John Childermass is beginning to feel a little bit of pity after all. He was once the one longing to master the powers that often overpowered him. He too loves magic so much, enough to endure servitude and secrecy to be near it.

But then John Segundus wants to start a school. Well, if he is going to be that silly, then Childermass cannot help him. Mr Norrell finds out, Mr Norrell panics, and he dispatches Childermass to York to put a stop to this evil plan. Business as usual in other words.

Childermass sits quite comfortably on the steps of Starecross when John Segundus comes home. Childermass delivers his message.

"You know me, Sir," he says, completely forgetting that while he has always had half an eye on John Segundus, John Segundus has not seen Childermass for nine years. Maybe, just maybe, Childermass is a little embarrassed at his mistake. But the errand is completed, and Mr Segundus is easy to manipulate, because he is so very gentle and polite.

Childermass may or may not have noticed that he has been manipulated in turn, because he, who has no pity for any man, lets Mr Segundus know that he regrets that the school cannot be, and he is willing to do what he can to keep Mr Segundus' dream from failing entirely. Although of course, he knows that a regular school is not at all the same as a school of magic.

Childermass knows what it's like to long, but he has found, if not the answers to his questions, then at least the tools by which to hunt them down. He can do the magic.

Then Mr Strange and Mr Norrell quarrel.

And then Lady Pole tries to shoot Mr Norrel. The lady walks with one foot in Faerie and one in London, and for a while, so does Childermass. Something is not right with the lady, but Mr Norrell won't tell him what magic he employed to bring her back from the dead. She'll be sent away somewhere where Childermass will have no chance to discover the truth. Unless of course he decides where she goes. Perhaps for instance to one whom Childermass knows will feel the Faerie winds blowing about the lady, someone who will be able to carry on the search for the truth, whether he knows that he's doing Childermass' work or not. Mr Segundus is easy to manipulate.

Childermass recommends to Sir Walter that he send his wife to Starecross in Yorkshire. How fortuitous that the master of that hall has just decided to open a madhouse there. Surely the visions that gave him the idea were entirely coincidental.

Mr Norrell and Childermass quarrel.

Jonathan Strange Returns magic to England. The Raven King returns to England and rewrites his book.

Mr Norrell and Mr Strange disappear into Faerie.

Suddenly, Childermass is the most experienced magician in England. No one has read as much, has practiced as much, or knows the spells he knows.

But he thinks that there is one man who will not be far behind him in achieving similar results. And maybe Childermass wonders sometimes if it was not all meant to be this way, that it was fate, that he himself was meant to come out on the other side as a student of the two great modern magicians of the age, and that he was meant to bring with him, sheltered under his wing, a dark, timid little man with an extraordinary sensitivity to magic. The books may be gone, but through his instruments, the Raven King has made sure that the new generation of magicians are both capable of and eager to read the magic written on the sky. It will take sensitive men, full of longing, and isn't it fortuitous then, that all those years ago, in the library at Hurtfew Abbey, Childermass recognised another like himself in John Segundus, and decided to keep half an eye on him.