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carveredlunds · 4 years ago

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“Obviously, I’m a God”: A meta on Chuck Shurley

Boy, here we go.

At the time of writing this, it’s been 2 months since episode 19 (the episode that marks Chuck’s final appearance) aired, and I am still not over it. Please bear with me as I write out this rambling meta. I know that outspoken, ardent, Chuck fans are a rare breed now, so I feel like I should open by saying that I love Chuck, and this meta will be written from the point of view of a Chuck fan, so, if you don’t mind that he was screwed over from “Moriah” onwards, then this might not be the rant for you.

Ever since the season 14 finale aired, I’ve fluctuated between loving and hating what they did in making Chuck a villain. At first glance, it was an awesome decision. He was a stand-in for the writers, he was God, and the show has had a meta bent since season 4, so he should be the character to close the book, right? There was even foreshadowing that he was a villain way back in season 4, so this wasn’t a total heel-turn for his character, right?

I think one of the major problems with Chuck’s characterisation is one that plagues the whole show. Chuck changed hands several times, and the writers handling him clearly had very different views of what they wanted from the meta aspect of the show, and how they wanted to portray God. (Side note: I actually was inspired to write this meta by this video by Media Buzzkill! I’d strongly recommend checking it out. It delves into the stages of Destiel under different showrunners, and it’s awesome.)

So, I wanted to lay out what each version of Chuck was meant to represent, and how they don’t add up together. Rob did an amazing job playing a character that changed dramatically with his every appearance, but he was fighting a losing battle.

So, get some popcorn, because this is gonna be a long one.

“If he is out there, what’s wrong with him?”: God as an offscreen force; or, the pre season 4 era

In the early seasons of Supernatural, pre season 4, the idea of God as a physical being, sitting and playing a guitar, was ludicrous. Early Supernatural touched on faith with episodes like “Faith” (duh!) and “Houses of the Holy”, but it was grounded in a very gritty reality. The brothers hunted monsters from American folklore, searching for the thing that killed their Dad, and there was no overarching plot with Heaven, or angels, and no hint that they would one day be involved in a Biblical Apocalypse.

Eric Kripke said that he didn’t want to introduce angels into the show, and the idea that there even was a God was up for debate. Sam was the brother with faith, Dean was not. This was explicitly talked about in the season 2 episode “Houses of the Holy”, with this dialogue:

Dean: Okay, all right. You know what? I get it. You've got faith. That's -- hey, good for you. I'm sure it makes things easier. I'll tell you who else had faith like that. Mom. She used to tell me when she tucked me in that angels were watching over us. In fact, that was the last thing she ever said to me.

Sam: You never told me that.

Dean: Well, what's to tell? She was wrong. There was nothing protecting her. There's no higher power, there's no God. I mean, there's just chaos, and violence, and random unpredictable evil that comes out of nowhere, and rips you to shreds.

It was inevitable that the show asked questions about angels and Heaven, since their opposites -- demons and Hell -- canonically existed. At first, these were just theoretical debates, with a belief in God being a personal choice, much like it is in the real world. The writers didn’t say that, canonically, there was a God in their universe (though, interestingly, according to the Supernatural Wiki, God was one of the most talked about beings in the show!)

This allowed them to tackle questions that people ask in the real world. Sam and Dean had suffered so much, even in the early seasons. They lost Mary, they had horrific childhoods, they suffered trauma and injury, and their work as hunters meant that they were constantly in danger, and around people who were suffering. If there was a God, how could he allow the kind of evil that Sam and Dean saw on a regular basis? They were tackling the Problem of Evil without a figure to direct the question at.

And Ben Edlund, half of Carver Edlund’s namesake, didn’t want there to ever be a physical personification of God in the show. He said this, in the Supernatural Official Companion Season 2:

“I don’t believe in a bearded God, or even a shaven God; I don’t believe in a God with a face or limbs.”

But as the show went on, and angels and demons were naturally woven more into the story, and the show got bigger in scope with the season 4 and 5 storylines about Michael and Lucifer, it was revealed that there was a God. This was no longer something up for debate, or a theological question. He was real, and so were archangels, and the Devil, and Heaven.

But he wasn’t a physical character yet. Chuck was introduced in season 4, sure, but he wasn’t canonically God yet. God was a force outside of the show. He put the brothers on the plane at the end of season 4, and he spoke through Joshua in “Dark Side of the Moon”:

Sam: Well, can you at least get him a message for us?

Joshua: Actually, he has a message for you. Back off.

Dean: What?

Joshua: He knows already. Everything you want to tell him.

Dean: But…

Joshua: He knows what the angels are doing. He knows that the Apocalypse has begun. He just doesn’t think it’s his problem.

God was a force that acted for mysterious reasons. He existed, and he had a will, and a Plan, but the brothers weren’t privy to it. Still leaning into the mystery, God didn’t have to answer for the suffering he’d put Sam and Dean through personally, because he was more of a plot mover. He instructed the angels to allow the Apocalypse to go ahead, and saved Castiel at the end of “Swan Song”, but that was it. He was an offscreen presence, threatening and awe-inspiring, and nothing sums this up better than another quote from Joshua, also from “Dark Side of the Moon”:

“You can fire me if you want, but sooner or later he's gonna come back home. And you know how he is with that whole wrath thing.”

He was an undeniable being by this point, but he was the Wizard of Oz behind the curtain, if the Wizard had really been all-powerful. He was able to have this mystique, because he only acted offscreen, and was talked about by the angels and archangels with fear and reverence and anger, which were, at this point, the most powerful beings the audience had seen.

The idea of physically bringing God into the show was clearly a topic the writers discussed as shown in this 2013 interaction between a fan and Adam Glass (who joined the writing staff for season 6, and went on to be co-executive producer for season 7, and executive producer for season 8):

Fan: Will we ever, ever get to see God?

Adam: That’s a good question, ‘will we ever see God?’ Lucky for you I brought Ben Edlund with me. Ben? Will we ever see God? That’s like a Ben Edlund question. Ben would sit in the room and go, we see God all the time, he’s all around us, he’s everywhere.

And then Sera Gamble said this after “Swan Song” aired:

“I love a good God debate, so it's nice to hear we got one going this season. We purposely left a bit of room for interpretation.”

They were clearly making a meta commentary through Chuck, in seasons 4 and 5, but he wasn’t confirmed to be God yet. They heavily suggested it at the end of “Swan Song”, having him wearing all white and looking different, and vanishing in a puff of smoke. But it was still open for debate. Rob Benedict has claimed that Eric Kripke told him at the end of season 5 that he was intended to be God, but that wasn’t explicitly in the text.

At this point, all we knew about God was that he was an absentee father with some seriously shady morals who had a lot to answer for. He wasn’t a villain, because he brought TFW back to life. He was amoral, too large and cosmic to be confined by such human things as good and evil.

“The Chuck Shurley who wrote the Supernatural books?”: Chuck as Eric Kripke; or, the season 4 and 5 era

So, as Rob has said, Chuck was supposed to be Kripke in seasons 4 and 5. He was their way of poking fun at their badly received episodes, like “Bugs” and “Red Sky and Morning”, but he was ultimately a good guy. He helped the brothers out in his first appearance in season 4, and then throughout season 5.

His appearance in the show did roughly coincide with the canonical evidence that God exists, and several inferences were made that he might be God (his first appearance literally had him say “Obviously I’m a God”, he survived Castiel being smote, and his final appearance in “Swan Song”, to name a few), but it still wasn’t canonically confirmed. At best, it was fanon, with the general belief being that he was God in all but name.

At this point, Chuck was obviously a stand-in for the writers. His penname was was a mash up of Jeremy Carver and Ben Edlund, he wrote the Supernatural books, he attended conventions. But God was ultimately on the side of the heroes, even through the veneer of Chuck. He was a likeable dork, who took fan’s questions at conventions, saved those same fans from a ghost, and was an ally to the brothers. Even while God as a force was acting as an amoral divine entity, faceless and unseen, in hindsight, Chuck Shurley was God’s avatar in the show, and he was supposed to be likeable.

This is interesting dissonance. On the one hand, you have Chuck, the nerdy good-guy writer, and on the other, you have God, the cold-hearted chess master, moving pieces behind the scenes. The idea that God isn’t a totally good guy is put forward by Lucifer in “Swan Song”:

Lucifer: Think about it. Dad made everything. Which means he made me who I am! God wanted the Devil. Michael: So? Lucifer: So why? And why make us fight? I just can't figure out the point. Michael: What's your point? Lucifer: We're going to kill each other. And for what? One of Dad's tests. And we don't even know the answer. We're brothers. Let's just walk off the chessboard.

But God wasn’t the clear cut villain of the show. In the end, it was ambiguous. Chuck disappeared, and clearly was willing to let things play out after the planned Apocalypse.

If this had been the true ending of the show, this would have opened the door to fan theories about God being the true Big Bad behind the scenes, sure, but within the text, his villain role was pretty ambiguous. How much of God was that likeable nerd, and how much was he the absentee father, and how much was he the controlling puppet master?

And this was the stance on God for the next five seasons. He wasn’t a bad guy, but he wasn’t a wholly good guy either. He was morally grey, an author stand-in, and a way to make the show meta. But he was still, arguably, supposed to be liked by the audience, because his potential avatar within the show was Chuck, and he was a stand-in for the writers.

When he showed up in season 10′s “Fan Fiction”, that was a nod from the writers to the fans, to show that they hadn’t forgotten Chuck. Marie is seeking approval for her play, and Chuck smiles and says “Not bad”. His approval matters to this fan stand-in, and he’s seen as a benevolent creator, allowing fans to take his story and run with it. Again, we’re supposed to like him, to see him as an ultimately good guy.

At this stage, God is Eric Kripke, the creator of the Supernatural universe, throwing the fanbase a few winks and nudges here and there, allowing the writers to acknowledge their fanbase in the text (in both offensive ways, through Becky, and more kind ways, through Marie).

“Just... Just call me Chuck”: Chuck as God; or, the season 11 era

As people (myself included) have pointed out before, “Don’t Call Me Shurley” is a gift of an episode for a number of reasons. It confirmed the long-held fan theory that Chuck was God, it had a musical number, it was well-written, it was dramatic, and it was Robbie Thompson’s final episode.

Robbie Thompson was clearly aware of the fanbase, and wanted to portray nerd culture in a respectful way. Unlike the Kripke era, where the fans were shown through Becky Rosen (a predatory Wincest shipper who was sexually interested in Sam and creepily obsessive), in later seasons, the fans got fan culture represented with season 8′s “LARP and the Real Girl” (this was more general nerd culture, not Supernatural, but still), and season 10′s “Fan Fiction”, both written by Thompson. He also created the fan favourite characters Eileen and Charlie, a deaf woman and lesbian respectively.

And his final episode just happened to be the episode “Don’t Call Me Shurley”, the episode where Chuck comes out as God. I could talk about this episode forever, because it might just be my favourite episode in the show’s history, so I’m going to stop myself and just focus on what this episode did so well in respects to Chuck being God.

He’s sort of “middle ground” Chuck at this point. He’s not the dorky nerd we knew from the earlier seasons, but he’s not the full Big Bad he’d become later. He’s still funny (”In the beginning, there was me!”) but there’s a new streak of power and darkness to him now, like when he throws Metatron, or is totally fine with Amara destroying the world. He’s the perfect mix of the offscreen God we know from earlier seasons, and the prophet Chuck we’ve met in person.

People have pointed to this as evidence that Chuck was always a bad guy, because he was fine with a second Apocalypse at the hands of the Darkness, but (after thinking about this way too much) I disagree. He has grown cynical, and he’s done with humanity, but his mind is changed by Metatron. He decides to come off the side-lines and help TFW take down his sister, and he’s clearly not the bad guy here.

More things done to endear the audience to God in this episode: His mere existence proves the fan theory that Chuck was God all along, thus validating the fanbase; he sings a song in a show that had, until this point, explicitly said it wouldn’t have canonical song numbers; he brings everyone who died back to life by the end of the episode (also, that town is called Hope Springs, which just makes me think of the phrase “hope springs eternal”, meaning “people will keep hoping no matter the odds”, which turns out to be true for the fans of this show hoping for a good ending, but anyway!) and he saves Sam and Dean from Amara’s fog. (Also worth mentioning, he’s confirmed as bisexual, a fact which was going to play well with the show’s liberal audience who had accused the writers of terrible LGBTQA+ representation.)

And then, in the following 2 episodes, when he’s attacked by Amara and slowly dying, this is seen as a sad thing. He gets weak and sick, and we’re supposed to feel sorry for him. We’re supposed to like him, and his death is supposed to be seen as bad, not just because he’s God and his death would mean the end of the world, but because he’s a fan favourite character. and still the likeable dork we know and love from earlier seasons.

This has got away from me a little, so I’m going to drag it back to my point: At this point in the show, there was no plan for Chuck being a bad guy. He was firmly the good sibling, and Amara was the bad one. There was some moral ambiguity still, because he did lock her away in order to create the world, but even that was framed as a sacrifice (Metatron says that “God sacrificed the only thing he ever knew” in order to bring the world into being, and Chuck himself says that Amara kept destroying his creations.) He gave this beautiful speech about creation in “We Happy Few”:

“There's a value, a glory in creation that's greater and truer than my pride or my ego. Call it grace, call it being! Whatever it is, it didn't come from my hands. It was there, waiting to be born. It just is, as you and I just were.”

After his cynicism 2 episodes earlier, he’s been reminded of what he loves about his creation, what he loves about humanity, and he is begging Amara to see it too. He was even willing to sacrifice himself, to let her cage him, to save humanity. According to Rob (sorry, no source for this one! I can’t find the quote anywhere!) there was even an early draft script of the season 11 finale where his suicide mission succeeded, and God died, but the network stepped in and said they couldn’t kill God, so they changed the ending.

Sacrificing yourself for the greater good? Doesn’t that sound like a Winchester (and therefore a heroic) thing to do?

Anyway, if Chuck was a stand-in for anyone at this point, it would probably be Robbie Thompson. His final episode coincides with Chuck’s reveal, after all. Thompson was the first person to write canon God!Chuck. And it’s no coincidence that Thompson created fan favourite characters, and wrote some beloved episodes. And if he’s Chuck, then Chuck is inextricably linked to the introduction of Charlie and Eileen, and the creation of beloved episodes like “Baby”, and all of this ties into the fact that, unquestionably, we were supposed to root for God in season 11. Despite all the moral ambiguity and absentee father stuff of the earlier seasons, they were clearly try to write God as the good guy here.

Besides “Swan Song”, the season 11 finale “Alpha and Omega” was the show’s second attempt at a definitive ending. It was as big as they could get, with God versus Amara, Light versus Darkness, and how was it resolved? With a conversation. Some people see this episode as a cop out, but it was really about Amara and Chuck doing what Chuck talked about in his “Swan Song” monologue. “In the end, they chose family, and isn’t that kind of the point?” This finale came down to a sibling bond, and family winning out, which was always the theme of Supernatural.

So, obviously, at this point, Chuck was still supposed to be a good guy. Yes, he left Sam and Dean to fend for themselves after season 11, but honestly, that was a narrative necessity, because they couldn’t have God on-side all the time, solving all their problems. When the show got renewed, they really had no choice but to keep Chuck off the board, otherwise all the dramatic tension would be sapped from the show. Chuck not being around wasn’t done to show that he was a villain. It was a necessity for the show to carry on.

“Well, from where I sit, it feels like you left us”: Chuck as an absentee father; or, the season 1 to season 11 era

The cards were unfairly stacked against Chuck from season 11 onwards. On the one hand, the writers couldn’t bring him back, because he could solve all of TFW’s problems with a snap of his fingers, but his absence left a gaping hole in the brother’s lives. They knew God was still present somewhere, now. They’d met him personally. They knew his name, and who he was. But when Dean prays to him in the first episode of season 13, he gets no response:

“Okay, Chuck, or God, or whatever. I need your help. See, you... you left us. You left us. You went off [...] ’Cause after everything that you’ve done, you owe us, you son of a bitch! So you get your ass down here and you make this right, right here and right now. Please. Please help us.”

So, narratively, they couldn’t bring him back, but his silence made him look like the absentee father he’d been accused of being for the 10 seasons prior to his appearance in season 11.

Which brings me to the narrative parallel between Chuck and John Winchester, that was only slightly touched upon in season 11, with this exchange between Dean and Chuck:

Dean: Well, from where I sit, it feels like you left us and you're trying to justify it.

Chuck: I know you had a complicated upbringing, Dean, but don't confuse me with your dad.

Chuck is absolutely gaslighting Dean here. Dean’s right. God did abandon them. He was around for the first 5 seasons of the show (sort of) then he just went off and left them to it. And before that, he’d abandoned the angels and Heaven for millennia. But Chuck sidesteps that by saying that Dean is conflating his Daddy Issues with his anger towards God.

Before God was introduced, John was his stand-in in the story. Literally, he played the role of God in the Supernatural universe. John’s decision to hunt Yellow Eyes is what kickstarted the whole show. Sam and Dean were the leads, and they were completely shaped by John, their creator. (You could even go further and say that his name links him to John the Baptist, who paved the way for Jesus, but that might be a stretch). And, like God, John was an absentee father. He was consumed by his hunt for what killed Mary, and he neglected his sons in favour of that goal. Just like God deserted his creation, John left his sons to go on hunting trips alone.

And that’s why Sam and Dean were the perfect vessels for Lucifer and Michael. All four of them were abandoned sons, with Lucifer/Sam being the rebels who tried to go against their father’s plans, and Michael/Dean being the obedient sons who were instruments of their fathers.

He was also an absentee father to Castiel, which is something I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention. This is something they explored so well in earlier seasons, and then dropped later. Castiel was called God’s favourite by Crowley (in “The Man Who Would be King”) Amara (in “The Devil in the Details”) Metatron, and Chuck himself (in “Don’t Call Me Shurley”), not to mention the fact that Castiel was the first character to suggest finding God, way back in season 5, to help deal with the impending Apocalypse. He was sure that God would help them.

And his quest was mentioned by other angels and archangels. Gabriel mentions it in season 5′s “Changing Channels” when he asks Castiel, “How's the search for Daddy going? Let me guess: awful!”

And Raphael mentions it in “Free To Be You And Me”:

Castiel: Where is he?

Raphael: God? Didn't you hear? He's dead, Castiel. Dead.

Castiel’s relationship with God is probably worth a whole meta by itself, so suffice to say, you have the three leads of the show, all with their absent fathers, all losing faith in their fathers in their own way.

And so, narratively, running throughout all the seasons, is this parallel between John (the original absentee father) and Chuck. I’m messing up my timeline a little here, because I wanted to do this chronologically, but the John/Chuck parallel is something that was present since God was characterised as a real being with motivations in the Lucifer/Michael storyline, and it ran all the way up to season 11.

So, to recap, Chuck was several things by this point:

God (a mysterious offscreen force)

Kripke (the ultimate creator of Supernatural)

Thompson (the creator of several fan favourite characters)

John Winchester (the absentee father)

All of these disparate elements came together to form a messy, but ultimately coherent, complex, character. Chuck in season 11 was a culmination of these elements into one being who was at once angry and loving, vengeful and forgiving, dark and funny, all-powerful and relatable. He was perfect (and I loved him).

But then we come to season 14′s finale, “Moriah”, and this is where things went completely off the rails.

“Because we’re your favourite show?”: Chuck as the CW network; or, the season 14 finale

Hark! The end of a 15 season long show is nigh, and the writers therefore can’t go for the “Jack is the next villain” storyline they were clearly setting up! They need a villain worthy of the end of the whole of Supernatural, and a way to wrap things up that feels satisfying for such a long, lore-heavy, meta story. Why not drag God back into it? He fits the bill!

As I said at the beginning of this rant, making God the final Big Bad of Supernatural is not a bad idea. He created the books, and the whole world, and they’ve always been a meta show. It makes sense that he’s the one to wrap it all up. But they botched it horribly.

The reveal that Chuck has been pulling the strings this entire time plays out almost like Sam and Dean are yelling at the network themselves, for not letting them just die years before:

Sam: And every other bad thing we've been killing, been dying over? Where were you? Just sitting back and watching us suffer so we can do this over and over and over again. Fighting, losing people we love? When does it end? Tell me!

And this parallel is the one they really lean into for the final season, at the expense of all the others they’d set up. Chuck is no longer analogous for Kripke (the ultimate creator of the show) or John (the absentee father). He’s certainly not Thompson, or a mysterious offscreen force. Now, he is the CW network itself, determined to drag this story on and on, way past its sell-by date, way past its natural lifespan, for entertainment.

And when Dean doesn’t want to do what is necessary to drag the story along, and shoot Jack? When he literally ignores the script that the show has laid out for him? The network turns on him and cancels him. Of course, the decision to end Supernatural was entirely Jared and Jensen’s, born out of mutual agreement with executives, but the text of the show frames it as a network decision, overheads pulling the plug.

Chuck: Fine! That's the way you want it? Story's over. Welcome to The End.

So ends season 14, leaving the audience to speculate on just what the heck was up with Chuck that episode. Even Rob didn’t know what was going on. He said at Dallas Con 2019 that he’d been portraying Chuck as “done”, but that we would have to wait for the new season for answers as to why his character had seemingly completely transformed into an egomaniacal control freak.

Because surely they wouldn’t say he’d always been that way? Surely they wouldn’t forgo 14 years of both off and onscreen development, references by other characters, and retroactively ruin a fan favourite episode like “Don’t Call Me Shurley”? They wouldn’t prove Lucifer, one of the oldest villains of the show, right in his assessment of God? They wouldn’t throw something like that at Rob Benedict, a man who had poured his heart and soul into his portrayal, who had been with the show for over ten years by this point, without even warning him?

Reader, that is exactly what they did.

“I can do anything... I’m a writer”: Chuck as the Final Big Bad; or, the season 15 era

Going into the final season, there were fan theories abound to explain Chuck’s complete change of character. He had been corrupted by Amara, he wasn’t the real God, but an imposter, something had happened between him and Amara since season 11 that explained everything! And we all waited to see what they were going to do to explain what had happened, and why Chuck had changed from the character we knew to someone who would throw a tantrum because he didn’t get his own way.

But it was never explained, or even mentioned.

The Chuck of season 15 was an egotistical, whiny, control freak. Far from the absent, distant, God who abandoned his creation eons ago, only returning for the final showdown between Michael and Lucifer, according to season 15, God was a controlling puppet master, who saw his creation as nothing more than toys to be played with. He was a sociopath, and he always had been.

The introduction of the multiverse in season 12 was always going to throw a spanner in the works for God. Suddenly, there were multiple worlds out there, some clearly abandoned. As Alternate Michael says in season 14's “Nihilism”:

“And now... now that I'm in here -- now I know why. God -- Chuck -- is a writer, and like all writers, he churns out draft after draft. My world? This world? Nothing but failed drafts. And when he realises that they're flawed, he moves on and tries again.”

But Alternate Michael was a villain himself. This couldn’t be what the writers were going with, because it would contradict the idea of a distant but ultimately loving God that the writers had perfected in season 11. It would go against the beloved character they’d set up in “Don’t Call Me Shurley”. Yes, God was always absent from his creations, but the idea that he’d done this before? It just didn’t add up.

But, as we all know, this was exactly the characterisation they stuck with for the final season.

Gone was the idea of Chuck as an absentee father. Now, it wasn’t personal, the way it had been before. He didn’t just abandon the archangels and angels we’ve met, but all of them, ever. He didn’t just leave this Sam and Dean to their fates, now he’d done this to countless other Winchester brothers, in countless other worlds.

He never got his showdown with Castiel, or even a real conversation with him. The most we got is the “self-hating angel of Thursday” line from Chuck in season 15's “Unity”. Castiel never confronted Chuck face to face, or really reacted to the news that his father had been lying to him, to all of them, since the dawn of time. This is, admittedly, an issue that began in season 11. Cas never processed God’s reveal, but this was front and centre in season 15, when he interacted with Chuck several times, and never even mentioned that he’d been searching for him for years, or that he’d believed in him, or anything. Castiel contributes next to nothing to the scenes he shares with Chuck.

Gone was the memory that Chuck had once been their ally. Sam and Dean never mention the events of season 11, or that they shared the Bunker with God. Sure, Dean had his issues with Chuck in season 11, and he was never really their friend, but nobody brings up... anything? Not their battle with Amara, or Sam’s faith in God (which was a very important theme of early seasons, and still vaguely present in season 11). Dean mentions that he’s angry that God turned out to be a bad guy when they’re down in the crypt in “The Rupture”, (“I’m pissed [at God]”), and that makes sense, but, in the end, Dean was right.

In season 4, episode 2, “Are You There, God? It’s Me, Dean Winchester”, Sam and Dean have this interaction:

Dean: See, this is why I can't get behind God. Sam: What are you talking about? Dean: If he doesn't exist, fine. Bad crap happens to good people. That's how it is. There's no rhyme or reason -- just random, horrible, evil -- I get it, okay. I can roll with that. But if he is out there, what's wrong with him? Where the hell is he while all these decent people are getting torn to shreds? How does he live with himself? You know, why doesn't he help?

Way back in season 4, before we got a physical, confirmed, representation of God, Dean called it. But this is not foreshadowing. Dean might have been right back then, but that was before season 11, before they knew what God would become with the narrative. Their representation of God had grown beyond an uncaring jerk who stood away from his creation. By the time season 14 aired, from the season 11 three part finale alone, they had a complex, multifaceted God.

But that was scrapped in favour of what we got. Now, Chuck didn’t have space to be what he had once been: a father, a weird ally, a stand-in for the show’s creator. They only had 20 episodes to wrap this up, so he needed to become a one dimensional villain with black and white morals. So the writers did something that seems smart at first, but is actually incredibly stupid the more you think about it.

They made the final enemy of the show bad writing. The same Chuck who had canonically written the beautiful monologue about family in “Swan Song”, who was a representation of Kripke, and a meta nod to the fans, suddenly became a terrible writer, who liked the panned ending of Game of Thrones, and didn’t seem to understand or care that sometimes characters grow beyond what their creators intended for them. Chuck, who was able to point out to Dean that maybe he was conflating his issues with God with his issues with John in season 11, now apparently wanted to force Dean back into his earlier seasons self and make him romantically involved with Lilith.

By the way, they used incredibly lazy ways to make the audience unite against Chuck. They had to replace this fan favourite character with an irredeemable bastard, and fast. Within the first half of season 15,they retroactively made him send Kevin to Hell in season 11, just... because, I guess. They had him resurrect Lilith and use her to do a job he could easily have done himself, because she was a recognisable past villain, so having God ally himself with her showed up that he really was the Bad Guy now, nothing more to it.

Week to week, they systematically erased all nuance and depth from this character. Was he a fun villain? Sure. Rob clearly enjoyed playing this role, and he chewed the heck out of the scenery and stole every scene he was in. Having him take hits from Dean and Sam and not react, and then having him mess them up as punishment was hilarious. I’ve already written a meta on the use of shots in “The Trap” to make him seem more intimidating, so I won’t harp on too much, but Rob did a brilliant job with the material they gave him. But that material was a betrayal of the character of God.

This new God is egomaniacal, treating his creations as entertainment and nothing else. This is exemplified in his speech to the clerk in the Radio Shed in “Galaxy Brain”:

“Dean says I’m not gonna get the ending I want. I don’t know. Maybe I mean, that shouldn’t matter, right? I’ve gotten what I want from hundreds of Sam’s and Dean’s. I could get what I want from a hundred more. And I don’t care. Those other toys, they don’t... spark joy. But Sam and Dean… the real Sam and Dean… they do.”

A far cry from the distant but loving God of seasons past, this guy is an all out Bad Guy, a one note villain with none of the nuance he had before. He’s fine with torturing Sam in “The Trap”, but he apparently can’t stand doing it himself because he’s squeamish (a fact that is dropped in “Inherit the Earth” when he beats up the brothers.) He’s selfish, arrogant, sociopathic, devoid of empathy, and childish. Any shreds of the old Chuck that remain are down to Rob’s acting choices, not actual characterisation.

And all those meta nods from before? They’re about a TV show now, not a series of books. Chuck literally watches TV in the Radio Shed, and in that same episode, he says “All the other worlds, alternate realities, the subplots... the failed spin-offs... it’s time to start cancelling shows.” This is still a fourth wall break to the fans, because the show is literally ending, but Chuck has changed. He’s no longer the author of the Supernatural books. Now he’s... the network, who kept this show going against Sam and Dean’s will? Or maybe he’s Jared and Jensen, who are responsible for this being the final season? It’s honestly not clear who he represents at this point.

There’s another fourth wall break in “Inherit the Earth”, where Chuck says to the brothers, “You know, eternal suffering sounds good on paper, but as a viewing experience, it's just kind of... eh. So we're done. I'm cancelling your show.” And Dean all but stares right at the camera with a come on expression.

I could complain forever about the ridiculous choices the writers made with Chuck, so I’ll try to keep this succinct. The writers really shot themselves in the foot here. They blamed some of their bad narrative choices on Chuck (like in “Our Father Who Aren't in Heaven”, when Lilith explained how he’d planned the story to go) while also having him say that he wasn’t controlling the narrative in season 11 when Amara and Dean got into a non-consensual relationship. So he was in control... sometimes. He was micromanaging their lives... sometimes.

I can’t put it more clearly than this: The writers made the final Big Bad of the show bad writing. It wasn’t just that Chuck had control over the story, and wanted one brother to kill the other, and didn’t seem to want Castiel in the show anymore, and didn’t want the brothers to have a happy ending. It was that he was a bad writer, who didn’t seem to understand narrative themes and character development and satisfying finales. The same guy who wrote “Swan Song” apparently didn’t know what good writing was anymore, because he enjoyed the ending of Game of Thrones. Sure.

So, now they had thoroughly stomped on the legacy of Kripke’s avatar, and made God a flat villain, they couldn’t have him win, right? That would be stupid, right?

“What kind of an ending is this?”: Chuck as the so-called dead author; or, that horrific finale

I’ve already written a meta on why Jack being the new God is hypocritical and ignores Sam and Dean’s problems with Chuck, so I won’t dwell on that too much. Instead, I want to talk about what the writers were clearly going for with this finale, and the point they were trying to make through Chuck, and why it didn’t work.

So, Chuck is brought down by his own arrogance in “Inherit the Earth”, and when he is left lying in the dirt, he looks at his Death Book, and it’s blank. The author is looking at a blank book.

Everyone has called this the death of the author, and it is to some degree -- the creator of the Supernatural universe is rendered powerless. But there’s still an author. He’s just new to the role. Jack has taken the reigns of power, and he’s going to make the same mistakes as Chuck. He literally tells the brothers that he’s going to abandon the earth and let them fend for themselves, and go be in the drops of rain, or whatever.

Anyway. Chuck is apparently not in control anymore. He’s a human. The writers of the show were trying to say that the brothers were free of his influence now, that the author was dead, and they could live their lives. And, because they were free, Dean is accidentally impaled on a nail and dies, because they’re susceptible to accidents now, and sometimes stuff like that happens. That’s the message they were going for. Sure, Chuck wasn’t in control, but Sam and Dean were still living the hunter life, and thus at risk of death.

The ending that Chuck wanted for the show, with one brother dead and the other left alone, with no mention of Cas, and some generic hunts, was explicitly spelled out for us by Becky in “Atomic Monsters”:

“The jeopardy, Chuck. It’s feeling a little... thin? Low stakes? It’s fun to hear the boys’ voices, but a story is only as good as its villain, and these villains are just not feeling very... dangerous? Not to mention, there’s no classic rock. No one even mentions Cas. The climax is a little stale. Boys tied up again while we get the villain’s monologue, which, frankly, isn’t one of your best. A little originality wouldn’t... hurt.”

So why would they lay this out for us, and then give us exactly that?

I’m not the first person to point out this parallel, so I won’t go on about it too much. But if we look at the horrific finale through the lens that the season 15 writing team clearly wanted us to, it starts to make sense.

The Chuck we thought we knew from seasons 4 to 11 was a lie. The complex, likeable, guy was actually a sociopathic puppet master. We, the audience, had no idea, but he was behind the scenes the whole time, writing the tragedies of the brother’s lives. He was responsible for every bad thing that happened to them. That is Chuck, according to the final season.

I hate that, for all the reasons I’ve just talked about, but if we take it as truth, then it’s clear to see that the finale played out exactly the way he wanted it to because he’s still in charge. We got the anticlimactic villains, the lack of Castiel mentions, the lack of classic rock, the “one brother dying while the other lives” plot. It all played out exactly like Chuck wanted.

There are other, awesome, theories that suggest that Chuck is possessing Jack, or somehow managed to trick the brothers in another way. However you look at it, when you step back, and look at the characterisation of God as a whole, then it’s easy to see how he clearly orchestrated the terrible finale.

As much as I hate what they did to Chuck, one constant aspect of his character, even from the pre season 11 era, was his manipulative streak. Lucifer pointed it out in season 5, and Metatron called him a master manipulator later down the line. Chuck might have been turned into a flat villain for the final season, but even when he was still a complex character, he was a master chess player, and the world was his board.

Ergo, somehow, whether through Jack or some other way, God was still God at the end of the show. He got the ending he wanted.

I’m not going to flatter the writers and say they did that intentionally. I don’t think Dabb knew what he was doing. But he accidentally stumbled into not taking down his final Big Bad after all, because, like Chuck himself said in “Unity”:

“What part of omniscient do you people not understand? So I can't read my Death Book. So what? I control space and time.”

This has gotten ridiculously long, so I am going to wrap it up here.

In closing, I will never not love every iteration of Chuck. Rob did an amazing job with a character that was constantly changing. He worked with what they gave him, and he was perfect, whether he was a dorky prophet or an evil omniscient God. It’s a real shame that the fandom turned on Chuck Shurley like a pack of dogs, when he was the victim of exactly the same thing Sam and Dean were, in the end: bad and inconsistent writing.

#supernatural #supernatural meta #spn #spn meta #chuck shurley #chuck won #sophie speaks #sophie metas #sophie talks about spn #this got so long i had to just post it

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agentnico · 4 years ago

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The Mandalorian - Season 2 (2020) Review

People are all going crazy wondering when the PS5 will finally come back to stock, and I’m here like “when are Hasbro releasing that Mando helmet?”. What, I’m no geek, I simply want to walk around in my helmet saying “this is the way” to random strangers, okay? Nothing weird or geeky about that. Nothing at all.

Plot: Bounty hunter is on a search through the galaxy to return The Child (who happens to have an uncanny resemblance to a certain Yoda, only it’s an adorable baby!!) to his kind - the Jedi.

Recently the father of my lovely never-gonna-stop-gushing-about-her girlfriend has allowed me to take advantage of his Disney+ account, so I immediately went and watched all of The Mandalorian series following such rave reviews from both critics and fans of the Star Wars franchise. Okay, that’s a lie, upon gaining access to Disney+ my immediate course of action was to binge through all of Phineas and Ferb because that show is amazing and Perry the Platypus is a badass and what, I’m allowed to like a kids show, its called nostalgia!! Anyway, following that, I did go and watch The Mandalorian...well, I did after also rewatching some Marvel films and checking out other things that Disney+ had to offer first and yes, okay, I didn’t immediately watch The Mandalorian, and when I finally did get to it I took my sweet butt-cheek time with it, but here we are, I finished it, so let’s talk about it now before I move onto WandaVision that’s coming out soon!

Easily put, The Mandalorian is the best thing to come out from the Star Wars franchise since Disney acquired the rights to Lucasfilm. Yes, the new trilogy is divisive and many can argue that it’s both good and bad, but in reality let’s face it - Disney botched those films completely by not having a clear cut plan and as such making up things as they went along and the result is a mess with so many plot holes it actually makes Tenet make sense! Okay, not true, I still don’t get what in the heavens Tenet was about, look, Christopher Nolan is a cool guy and I’ll happily have a coffee with him on some random Saturday morning one day in the future at his villa overseeing his million dollar Warner Bros fortune as we discuss his antics on Interstellar and acting like I know just as much about science and astronomy as he does, but when it comes to Tenet, I have no clue what was going on! So I take it back, at least the new Star Wars trilogy makes more sense than Tenet, but is good? Not really. And The Rise of Skywalker is prime example of that, as it emphasised how disorganised the writing and ideas for these new films have been, by forcing in Palpatine for the sake of it and also Rey and Kylo having a very very VERY awkward smooch at the end of the movie, which I guess meant they became girlfriend and boyfriend momentarily before Kylo went and snuffed it. What a way to get out of a relationship! But I digress, my point is that the new trilogy overall is a mess, even though there are good parts to those films respectively.

With The Mandalorian Disney took a different approach, by stepping away from the main Skywalker plot-line, and simply making a show that happens to be set in the same universe as the films, but that tells its own self contained story, however still with enough fan service and cameos to make the show feel like it is Star Wars. The first season I enjoyed overall, though I did feel like it dragged a bit and there were a few episodes were you could tell were filler and the writers were wasting a bit of time to fill up the episode count for the season. Now in season 2, that’s where things really picked up!

Season 2 still suffers from a couple of episodes that are obvious filler, and in those episodes you sit slightly frustrated as you await the story to actually make any kind of sufficient progression, however for the most part season 2 is an absolute joy for any Star Wars fan to watch. Central to this of course is the performance of Pedro Pascal as the titular character himself, and taking into account you don’t see his face for the most part, though this season they did really try to accommodate Pascal by showing off his dashing handsome Prince Charming face a bit too often even though it went against what the Mandalorian code stood for. But nevertheless, for the most part you don’t see his face, and so it comes to both great directing and Pascal’s superb voice work to make the Mandalorian character show so much emotion without actually seeing the emotion. In this season we get to see him become even more of a father figure to Baby Yoda, and their relationship is at the heart of this show, so much so that I kept wanting to hear Cat Stevens at the end of each episode! To be honest, it is indeed the well written characters that make this show work. Giancarlo Esposito is really menacing as Moff Gideon whilst still sticking to his signature soft-spoken tone, however I do also wish they made his villain feel more powerful. It never really proves too major of a challenge to beat him, so I wish the writers allowed the character to have more power in a way to fit in with Esposito’s performance. Gina Carano (regardless of her controversial social media presence) works really well as the Rebel side-kick to Mando and as a character in the series is quite empowering for women. There are also special appearances from characters from other Star Wars shows/films that make surprising appearances in this season (that will lead into their own spin-offs naturally) and everyone is extremely well cast!

From a technical aspect the show looks great, and we need to talk about Ludwig Goransson’s music score! The show never really uses the original John Williams’ tunes, yet Goransson manages to make his soundtrack feel both really different yet still befit to the Star Wars lore, with the addition of a cowboy western tang to it. I’d also suggest looking up the behind-the-scenes featurette to how Goransson scored the show, as it’s really cool to see all the random equipment and instruments he used to create such unique sounds.

Also, I typically do not spoil and films or TV shows in my reviews, so I won’t here either, but by holy Moses I wish I could tell you about the season finale! It’s every Star Wars fan’s wet dream! I just imagine when THAT moment happened in the finale the entire Star Wars fan base pissed their pants in orgasmic unison, and I’m sure it made quite a mess, but that again that’s not the point, the point is that the finale is epic. From the cameos to the action to a certain very emotional goodbye, it felt so wholesome and was so fitting to what this season was building up towards. However the ending does make me question where the writers are planning to take this series next season seeing as how this one ended, but nevertheless that’s a talk for another time. All I have to say is that though The Mandalorian is not perfect and has its rough edges, it is still really pretty darn awesome and is easily the best thing to come out of Star Wars in a long while This is, indeed, the way!

Overall score: 7/10

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imagination-is-key-in-my-world · 5 years ago

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Chime

Authors Note: I am 100% a big fan of A Cinderella Story which is what had inspired me to write this piece. I know it has been a long time since I had written anything but a lot has been going on in my life. This story is inspired by my own mental health issues as well as my ultimate dream that Tom Holland would sweep me off my feet. [Do not tell my Fiancé that I told you guys that!] Also, I got a brand-new laptop that has made writing so much more efficient than my iPad. Hopefully, I will be more active on my page. Please feel free to contact me to share your thoughts.

Summary: So, you are currently struggling with anxiety which is not easy as a high school student. Things are not getting easier now that your best friend is leaving to go to another school, leaving you behind to deal with your senior year alone. That is how you feel every day – alone. But your life suddenly changes when you stumble across an app that allows people to chat anonymously with people who share similar interests without sharing too much. Only you did not expect that this new app would take over your life and provide you with someone who you no longer think you could cope without. But who is on the other end of the phone?

Warning: Possible swearing and mental health triggers.

Pairing: Reader x Tom Holland

Word Count: 6,758

Counting the dew drops on the window was getting completely tedious at this point. There you sat in complete silence for what must have been a couple of minutes. But to you, it had felt like hours, if not days. Not that you were being dramatic at all.

You are not exactly the type of person who many people would typically associate with the nature of popularity. You did not have that many followers on your social media accounts. Therefore, it should not have been that surprising that your phone was not “blowing” up with notifications at this time of day.

Your best friend Cleo always told you that if you wanted to make something of your life, you needed to leave the house for more than just school.

“But!” You would always protest, “everything I need is right here.” Cleo was one member of a small social group that you bothered with both in and outside of school. When it came to forming groups in class, all your teachers knew that you needed to be put with a friend or you would be catastrophically unresponsive with a slight hint of a mini meltdown beginning to form.

The thing is you suffer with a high level of anxiety when it comes to meeting and conversing with people outside of your friendship circle. To make matters worse, the whole school was aware of this problem and would constantly tease and mimic the blubbering mess you turned into when you had to answer a question in the middle of class. There would be pointing as well as laughing as you would literally shake and break a sweat in front of everyone. Let us just say, this may have been one of the many reasons that your group only had 5 members and that includes you and queen Cleo.

The phone chimed and it shook you from your thoughts. When you finally unlocked it, you noticed that it was only Cleo cancelling on you yet again. Earlier that evening you had asked Cleo to come over and discuss the nature of Cleo moving schools in the fall. Both of you were meant to discuss how you personally were going to cope with the everyday torment and painful endeavours that was a big part of school life. But from that disappointed look on your face, it was obvious that Cleo was only blowing you off to spend more time with her new boyfriend.

“Knock knock” Your mother stated as she blatantly barged into your room. “Hey baby, I’m going to the store do you need anything at all?” As per usual you would shake your head and try not to make any eye contact with your mother at all. “Okay, well make sure that you feed the dog for me while I am gone and try and get some sun, you’re looking a little pale, baby.”

It was typical of your mother to attempt to force you out of your comfort zone. It was getting quite embarrassing for her at the teacher/parent evenings when she was called in to discuss another “issue.” It is not like you do not want to make more of an effort in class and with people, it just does not come as easy to you as it may for everyone else. The idea of people hearing you call out an answer in class and have it been wrong is absolutely devastating and crucifying for you.

You picked up your phone and decided that Facebook was worth one last scroll through before you decide that it was worthless and throw your phone back onto the bed for the 14th time that day. You were scrolling away half-heartedly, not really reading through the posts that people had shared as it was probably the same drama that it always was. It was as you thought, but suddenly your mind decided to switch back on when it reached a pop up that you would typically ignore. “Attention all Introverts.” Obviously, this caught your attention, it was in freaking bold print. You cannot ignore anything when it is in bold print! Clicking on the link, you decided to curiously read on.

“Attention all Introverts,

Have you ever felt lonely and isolated? Well this is the app for you. Become anyone you want to be, talk to anyone you would like – with total anonymity.

[This app gives you the confidence to express yourself to total strangers without the fear of judgements. If you are terrified of being vulnerable around other people while being your true self, then this is the app for you]”

Of course, you were sceptical at first but that was when you remembered how difficult it was to be your friend, relative and even teacher. Then before you could even stop yourself, you clicked onto the app and the download began. Nothing happened at all, other than the app appearing onto your phone’s home screen amongst other apps like Tumblr and Facebook. But you just thought there was going to be a sudden flash of lightning and you would be overwhelmed with confidence like you see in the movies. However, this was not the movies, this was your life and there you sat on the edge of your bed still shaking like a leaf.

It took you about half an hour to install all of your relevant information into the app. Mostly because you were trying to convince yourself that it was a stupid idea and that you should just delete it straight away. Although there was a faint voice in the back of your head telling you to do it. Part of it sounded like Cleo, while another part of the voice sounded like a stranger to you.

Once you had finished setting up the app, you left your phone on your dresser and walked into the lounge to watch that new episode of Ru Paul’s drag race that you had missed on Netflix. You managed to get through two episodes, a giant bag of Cheetos and a litre of Dr Pepper before crashing out on the sofa.

A loud chime from the bedroom woke you from your slumber. Your mother was sat on the edge of the sofa watching one of her true crime documentaries when she noticed you becoming startled.

“You okay honey?” You wipe your eyes and nod. “Do you want anything to eat or are you all set for bed?”

“Bed.” You mumble as you pick up the rubbish that had surrounded you on your makeshift bed for the afternoon.

“Okay, love you honey.” She called back as you threw away the rubbish into the trash and made your way into your bedroom. You practically fell onto your bed before you remembered the chime that had woken you in the first place. Grasping your phone, you unlocked it hesitantly, shielding your eyes from the brightness behind it to reveal a message from an unknown number. One word, one syllable and one emotion, fear.

‘Hey’

In your head these words kept rolling through your mind. What do I do now? Do I message back or do I leave it alone? Will they think I am ignoring them if I do not reply? Well of course they would, the app has probably notified them that it has been read. You started pacing in your bedroom chanting the words over and over in your head ‘What do I do? What do I do?’

It was almost like a reflex after a while as your fingers typed away.

‘HEY’ Too eager

‘Hiya’ Too girly

‘Hi’ Too blunt

Sup’ Too weird

Each message you typed your anxiety took over and criticised it, controlling your fingers to delete and retype.

‘Hey’ Was the message that you had settled for. It had been almost an hour and a half since you had received the message from Lonerboy101 and you had not even pressed send yet. The message was still sitting in your text box with the curser bouncing away at the end of the sentence.

There was a knock at your door which startled you, causing your fingers to slide across the phone’s screen. “I’m going to bed now Hun, goodnight.”

“Night.” You tried hard to sound cheery but as per usual failed to do so as your mother closed your bedroom door. ‘No, no, no’ you repeated in a small murmur. Fear washed over you as you regretted every minute that it took to write that message and the one milli second that it took to get sent out through the universe to reach this Lonerboy101.

You dropped the phone into your duvet and grabbed the pillow next to you. Bringing the plush cushion up to your face, burying it to let out a light scream.

*Chime*

Lonerboy101 - ‘How long did it take you to write that message. Mine took about 2 hours.’

You reread the message a couple of times because you couldn’t believe that although this person knew you were somewhat ignoring him off when you had initially received his message, he still replied to yours. Not only that but he had made a joke about how long it had taken to send a reply.

It took you a couple of minutes to decide whether you were going to go through with it and message this person back. Or whether you should just back out now and forget that this ever happened.

But that was your phone in your hand and those were your fingers typing a reply.

Hidingintheshadows - ‘About an hour and a half.’

You sent the reply off and almost felt a sudden pang of relief. That this was not as bad as you had originally perceived it to be. That it was almost the same as talking to Cleo or any of the other girls.

*Chime*

Lonerboy101 - ‘So, this is weird right?’

Before you knew it, the delays between the messages decreased quite significantly. There was the standard 3 minutes to think of a response and then another 5 to send the message but the conversation had felt a little less risky compared to how it did at the very start.

Hidingintheshadows - ‘It is a bit weird, I guess.’

Lonerboy101 - ‘So, are you an old creepy guy like me?

Hidingintheshadows - ‘That is a joke, right?’

Lonerboy101 - ‘Yeah it is a joke, sorry very dry sense of humour. Don’t have that many people to try my jokes out on.’

Hidingintheshadows - ‘That’s a relief.’

Lonerboy101 - ‘It’s a relief that I do not have many friends?’

Hidingintheshadows - ‘No! I did not mean that! I am so sorry.’

Lonerboy101 - ‘Another joke. Sorry when I am nervous, I tell bad jokes. I forget that I am not really good at them and text form is really hard to tell tone.’

Hidingintheshadows - ‘Sorry for not being able to tell when you’re joking.’

Lonerboy101 - ‘Don’t worry, you wouldn’t be the first. Although you probably are, I only just downloaded this app today.’

Hidingintheshadows - ‘Same.’

Lonerboy101 - ‘You don’t say [type] much do you?’

Hidingintheshadows - ‘Not really, sorry.’

Lonerboy101 - ‘You know you don’t have to keep apologising to me all the time, right?’

Hidingintheshadows - ‘Oh sorry.’

Lonerboy101 - ‘[insert face palm emoji]’

The last message made you smile. Cleo had always been telling you that you apologise way too much and that it can get annoying. It would get to the point where you would apologise for things you did not do just because it sounded like the right thing to say.

Hidingintheshadows - ‘I will work on it.’

Lonerboy101 - ‘So what brings you to Introverted Conversions?’

Hidingintheshadows - ‘Fear of the world and everyone in it, basically.’

Lonerboy101 - ‘Oh my gosh same!’

Hidingintheshadows - ‘Really?’

Lonerboy101 - ‘No, but I am touched that you still cannot sense my sarcasm.’

Hidingintheshadows - ‘I’ll work on that too.’

Lonerboy101 - ‘Promise?’

Hidingintheshadows - ‘Promise!’

It had almost become a routine for you and Lonerboy101 to talk during the late afternoon and evening. Occasionally, you would get notified in the middle of the day, but he knew that you were not ignoring him and that you had school obligations. No one really knows about him at all, you have done well at keeping this away from Cleo as you knew she would only judge you for it.

‘You’re talking to a stranger online who had admitted he was an old creepy man.’ Even the thought made you laugh. Since the first night, you had discovered a lot about Lonerboy101. Nothing like names and addresses. But more personal stuff like how it feels having crippling anxiety and not having someone who really understands.

***

It was the last day before Cleo left for her new school and you woke up feeling quite comfortable for the first time in a long time. It was almost as if your body has finally gotten used to the idea that the day was going to come that you would need to stand up on your own. It was not a good feeling per say, but it was slightly empowering to know that you could become your own person, instead of being Cleo’s weird friend.

*Chime*

Your heart began to beat rapidly in your chest as you practically dove for the phone on your bed. Only to have it violently shoot back down when the name on your lock screen did not read Lonerboy101.

Cleo – ‘Hey, I am downstairs! Snag me a piece of toast considering you are not exactly going to eat it!’

Every morning your mum would make pancakes, French toast, and scrambled eggs that you could choose from to snack on during your walk to school. Only you are not exactly a French toast and scrambled eggs kind of person and she knows that. It is just her way of trying to make a connection with you early in the day.

You – ‘Be right down, pancakes or French toast?’

You replied as you waved to your mum who was sliding through her emails while nursing a hot mug of coffee. “Hey, Baby! Have a great day at school, okay?” The last part of this routine she does every morning always feels like she is questioning you, making sure that you are aware that a ‘great day at school’ depends 100% on you alone.

*Chime*

Lonerboy101 – ‘Pancakes please. Although, I don’t think they will be any good by the time I receive them!’

‘Oh no!’ You thought. You did not think really think to check the contact that you were on when you sent the message out. You had simply read the lock screen and the most recent person you were chatting to was the person that appeared on the screen.

Quickly you grabbed a pancake and your bags and sulked out the door.

Hidingintheshadows – ‘I am so sorry, that was meant for my friend.’

Lonerboy101 – ‘Are we not friends? I am offended’

Hidingintheshadows – ‘Wait no I mean yes you are, but I do not really know you. God I am sorry…’

Lonerboy101 – ‘Wow! What did I say about the apologising? And what about the whole sarcasm thing? You should now know when I am pulling your chain.’

Hidingintheshadows – ‘Sorry’

Lonerboy101 – ‘No. More. Sorry.’

Hidingintheshadows – ‘Damn, I didn’t mean to I swear.’

Lonerboy101 – ‘Calm, it is okay. Chain. Pulling. But going back to this pancake…’

Hidingintheshadows – ‘What about it?’

Lonerboy101 – ‘You have made me hungry. And now I need to go out and find me a pancake to soothe this carb craving I have going on.’

Hidingintheshadows – ‘Good luck with that.’

Lonerboy101 – ‘Good Luck with school today! Speak to you later! X’

What the heck is that? Fear washed over your face as you met Cleo at the bottom of the stairs to your apartment building.

“Y/N? Are you okay? You look a little pale?” It took everything you had to not blurt out every little secret that you had been keeping about Lonerboy101 to Cleo. To almost get some advice on how to handle this newfound “boy drama” in your life. You open your mouth to begin to spill the beans. “Oh, I know!” Cleo interrupted, “it is because today is my last day and you have no idea how you will survive without me!”

Not quite on the nose but nice to see that your friend really does care about you, while she makes every drama about herself. This was just another typical response from Cleo. One you have put up with for an exceptionally long time. Instead of arguing with your best friend on the beginning of her last day, you decide to just bite your lip and nod.

“It will be okay, sunshine!” A little nickname she gave you when you were both little and in Kindergarten. “We will still have Facetime and we can still meet up during the holidays.” Suddenly you were pulled into a tight embrace as an overexaggerated sigh left her lips. “Now come on mopey.” Yet another nickname that you were given because of your constant state of enthusiasm caused by your mental condition. “Let’s get to school before people forget that they will never see this face walk those halls again.”

Meanwhile in your head the little “X” at the end of Lonerboy101’s latest reply repeatedly flashed across your mind as Cleo droned on about how annoying packing up her extensive collection of shoes and makeup has been for her.

***

It did not matter what lesson you were in, if you were having “a moment” as your mother likes to call it, everything just seems to become pointless. Science was one of your favourite subjects mainly because of the unpredictable experiments that you can perform. But today it just seemed as though someone had placed a weighted scarf on top of your shoulders and told you to “deal with it.”

“Can anyone tell me their findings from their group’s chemical reaction?” All eyes went to you as everyone in the class knew that you were Mr King’s favourite pupil. Mr King was the only teacher that managed to get a response out of you in class. But today, he might as well have been talking to a brick wall.

“Y/N?” This would later be explained to you after class that it was the fifth attempt Mr King had made to pry your attention away from your notebook where you had been filling in the margins with your pen.

When you looked up, there were people gossiping and snickering about what they had just witnessed. “Can I see you after class?” Mr King had asked once he regained the focus of the class.

This was not the first time that a teacher had asked to speak with you after class. Especially Mr King. Not that he made a habit to discipline you outside of lesson, but because he was always concerned about how you were feeling after you had one of you “moments.”

“What is going on, Y/N? Do I need to call your mother?” He did not say it in a stern way that other teachers would have. But for him, it was more of a genuine question for your own personal well-being. “Some of the other teacher’s approached me today in the teacher’s lounge to discuss you. They said that you have been unresponsive all day. I heard that Cleo is leaving today, does that have anything to do with how you’re coping with today?”

You shook your head. “Cleo has nothing to do with it!” You snapped, and you never snap which startled Mr King. “I’m sorry.” You whispered when you saw how set back, he was from your reply. “I just do not know what to do anymore.”

“With what?” He perched on the edge of his desk. Holding his hand up to stop the next class from entering the classroom. “What is getting to you? I can see if I can help?” While most teachers would just shrug you off, Mr King tried to get down to the root problem to help you resolve any issue that you may be having during the day. This was because Mr King had made you aware that his daughter too suffers from major anxiety issues as well.

“It’s stupid, I should not have said anything. I will be okay, Mr King.” You gathered your books from the table and stuffed them into the oversized backpack that was now slung over your shoulder. “Can you quickly write me a note for Mrs Bateman? I do not want the teachers to have more of a reason to talk about me.”

Mr King picked up a pad and pen and began to write a note excusing you for your lateness. “It will get better, Y/N. I am here whenever you need a chat, okay?” He handed you the note and you basically bolted out of the room.

Although you felt bad for being short with Mr King, you could not quite help it. It was not as if you could simply come out and tell him that you were not upset because your best friend for 16 years was now leaving you behind. But it was all down to an “X” placed on the end of a text message from a boy you have not met but have been talking to for 3 weeks non-stop!

***

You slowly approached the lunch table that you and your friends sat at during every lunch since you had started at the school. They were all laughing and joking which did slightly lift your spirits. Cleo had turned to look over her shoulder and noticed your arrival. The smile on her face had sank and the laughing at the table had died along with it.

“Hey Y/N!” Cleo tried to sound pleased to see you but you knew something was up. Since when was Cleo being false with you? She normally reserved that type of “hey” for the girls that talk about how amazing they are.

Sinking down into the spare chair that has been yours for years at the table you tried to force a smile. “So, we were all thinking…” Instantly you hated where this was going. “That it would be really fun to all go to the dance tonight as a final farewell to Cleo!” The girls shrieked as Hannah finished her sentence. A dance was the last place you wanted to be. Today of all days.

The girls all looked at you for your response. “A dance?” The girls all squealed again in unison, practically bouncing in their seats.

“Don’t you think it would be fun.” Hannah stated rather than asked.

“Dances aren’t really my thing.” You said hesitantly. The last thing you wanted to do was to annoy any of the friends that you had left. Especially considering how they were going to be the ones you would now have to rely on once Cleo had left.

“Nothing is really your thing!” Elizabeth snickered. Cleo’s death stare shot over to Liz and her head instantly fell. So that’s why Cleo was so weird when you came over. It was because she knew that you were not exactly going to be over the moon with the new plan for Cleo’s last day celebration. Before lunch, the plan was to go bowling and then get pizza. A less daunting but still hard to stomach plan. This new plan involved dressing up and trying to socialise with people who were not exactly the nicest to you.

“Y/N, it is completely up to you. We can go to the dance and party it up like it is the last day we are going to be alive. Or we can just go and get pizza and knock over a couple of pins with an over weighted bowling ball.” When Cleo said it like that, neither sounded appealing. But it was obvious the way that she laid it out that the dance was the one event she was going to be happy attending tonight.

“Can I think about it?” The girls all sighed and Callum shook you by the shoulders. Literally shook you as if physically moving your body was somehow going to make you change your mind. “Ow!”

“Callum! Do not do that!” Cleo yelled at her boyfriend. At least she was still defending you even if she was trying to push you to do something that made you uncomfortable. It was almost as if she defended you to make you reconsider. “Just one little dance? We can go whenever you want and stay however long you want.” Her puppy dog eyes were out and her hands were clasped in front of her.

Along with your crippling fear of being around other people, your anxiety also made you hate disappointing those that you care about. “Fine.” Was all you managed to say before all the girls and Callum began to cheer. At least he did not try to shake you again otherwise you thought you may physically puke from excessive unwanted physical contact.

While all the others were discussing what they were going to wear, you reached for your phone and began to contact the only person on the planet who didn’t make you feel like you were wrong for feeling this type of way.

Hidingintheshadows – ‘Have you ever been forced to do something you don’t really want do because your friends want you to?’

You debated for a couple of seconds before adding your own “X” onto the end of your text.

Your phone vibrated in your hand. Thank God you had turned the volume off when you got to school. Cleo would not have left you alone for one second if she knew you were texting a guy.

Lonerboy101 – ‘Who is making you do something? What something? Is it illegal? X’

Hidingintheshadows – ‘1. Nothing illegal. 2. Friends and 3. Go to a stupid high school dance where I will be uncomfortable for the entire evening. X’

Lonerboy101 – ‘That wasn’t the order that I put my questions in. X’

Hidingintheshadows – ‘I thought I would start with the one that could get me in a jail cell! X’

Lonerboy101 – ‘I’ve got this feeling that you’d rock an orange jumpsuit so you would be fine. Although the lack of our communication would be quite unsettling. X’

Hidingintheshadows – ‘I think I will cope. X’

Lonerboy101 – ‘I was talking about me! I look forward to my Chime every day. X’

You could not help but blush when you read that last part of his message. You could not bring yourself to message him back stating that it was also your highlight of the day too. Lonerboy101 has become a big part of your life and that was quite hard to admit considering you did not know his name or what he even looked like. You barely even knew the boy and yet it felt as though you knew everything there was to know about him.

Lonerboy101 – ‘Sorry was that weird? Let us get back to the problem at hand… A party was not it? X’

Hidingintheshadows – ‘No and my friend is leaving and I do not want to be mean and not turn up to her “leaving do” but I do not think I will be able to cope with that many people. Especially because they all think that I am a freak. X’

Lonerboy101 – ‘When is the party? You are not a freak by the way. Might I just add that is the longest text you have ever sent. X’

Hidingintheshadows – ‘Tonight, at school. I do not want to go and be the joke of the party. X’

Lonerboy101 – ‘This is a tough one. I can be there if you want. For moral support. X’

Hidingintheshadows – ‘You can’t obviously turn up to a school that you don’t go to just to attend a stupid dance. X’

Lonerboy101 – ‘I’ll be a virtual guest. You can text me whenever you think that it is getting too much and I will use my powers of persuasion to lift those spirits and put a smile on your beautiful face. X’

Hidingintheshadows – ‘How can you say I am beautiful. You have never even seen me? X’

Lonerboy101 – ‘I see the beauty in everything. But you, you are something much more. X’

***

“You cannot wear that!” Cleo snapped when she saw the outdated and over worn outfit that you were wearing on your body. “No this will not do.” Lucky enough for her, your mother and Cleo are quite close. Closer than you are to your own mother. “Leanne! Come and tell your daughter that this is terrible and that she cannot wear this to a school dance.”

Within seconds your mother was in your room judging the clothes that she paid for that you were wearing. “No baby girl, this is your first dance. There is no way in hell I am going to let you leave this apartment building wearing that.”

Your mother’s hand was now grasped around your wrist and you were being dragged into your mother’s bedroom. “Now try this on.” In her hand she was holding a long black dress with a sequin detail at the top of the bust. She could tell that you were resistant so she pulled you in front of the wall length mirror and placed the garment up to your neck.

You could not deny that it was a very pretty dress. One that you would love to wear in a different circumstance. The whole idea of you attending a dance had still not sunk in yet. “Mum I couldn’t pull this off!” You exclaimed. Jeans and a tea shirt were more your speed.

“No Sunshine, you are most definitely wearing this now that I have seen it.” Cleo was practically foaming at the mouth the minute she saw this dress. You were sure that if your mother had not offered it to you first that she would have snagged the dress up for herself. “Right now, hair and makeup.” She slapped her hands together and both your mother and best friend stared at you with excitement in their eyes. Which only put the fear of God into yours.

***

The dance was as horrible as you thought it was going to be. There was loads of people staring at you. One of the girls from your English class even asked a friend of hers if you were a new student at the school. Shows how invisible you were before your boobs were pushed up to your neck and eyeliner was thickly applied to your eyes.

Although this was a new experience for you, to have all eyes on you for a different reason that being the weird girl from school. It was not an experience that you enjoyed at all. High school was nothing but a gossip forum where girls pick on other girls for being themselves or for being slightly different than them. For caring less about how much their bag cost and caring more about why their grade in English was lower than French.

Your friends were all on the dance floor which sadly left you on your lonesome at the back of the decked-out gym.

*Chime*

Lonerboy101 – ‘Please tell me you are having fun now? X’

You smiled. Seeing his name pop up on your screen was possibly the only thing that made you smile tonight.

Hidingintheshadows – ‘Nope. Everyone is staring at me. X’

Lonerboy101 – ‘They are only staring because they are jealous. X’

Hidingintheshadows – ‘What could they possibly be jealous of? X’

Lonerboy101 – ‘Well I bet you look absolutely beautiful tonight. X’

Hidingintheshadows – ‘You couldn’t possibly know that? X’

There had been a couple of minutes since Lonerboy101 had messaged back and that smile you had previously been wearing was starting to fade. You glanced down to look at the time on your phone, 22:14. You let out a relieved sigh, at least you stuck around for over 2 hours.

Grabbing your bag, you began to sculk about the dance floor to try and find Cleo and the other girls to deliver the “bad news.” Cleo was locked onto Callum as they shared a slow dance to one of the most upbeat songs you have ever heard. This immediately made finding Cleo a hell of a lot easier.

“I am going to head off now.” You detached Cleo from her boyfriend which left him both grumpy and a little annoyed at you. Cleo gave you a less than enthusiastic hug before quickly turning back to Callum. “Bye then.” You said when she did not say anything back to you.

It was cold outside which instantly made you regret the dress and the heels made the idea of walking all the way home even more thrilling than you could imagine. Glancing down to check the time once again, you noticed a message featuring on your lock screen. You must have not heard it with all the music when you were saying goodbye to Cleo and the girls.

Lonerboy101 – ‘Wanna bet? X’

Everyone outside the gym began to suddenly gasp. All of them were looking in a similar direction. For once all the eyes were off you and that made you feel a hell of a lot better than you had all night.

Hidingintheshadows – ‘I will take that bet. You cannot comment on something you cannot see. X’

“Then maybe you should step out of the shadows and see what I can see right now.” This voice was strangely familiar but not familiar in a way that you had heard Mr King’s voice almost every day. It was familiar because you had heard it from somewhere, but you were unsure of where. “Because what I see is 100% beautiful just like I had predicted.”

The crowd of people started to open as the voice got nearer and nearer. There were girls practically peeing their pants with excitement. Cleo had appeared with the girls and practically everyone from whom were inside the gym. Suddenly, this voice had become the talk of the whole dance and now all the attention was right back on you again.

There was now a stunning familiar face to match the familiar voice standing right in front of you. One that you would never have believed to have been stood there. It was his smile that you caught first when he looked at you in that long black dress. His eyes lingered on you for a while before you both realised that it had been quite some time that slipped away since either one of you had spoken.

“Lonerboy101?” You asked quietly. Not really wanting anyone to hear how speechless you really were.

“Guilty.” There in front of you stood the one and only Tom Holland. The freaking man who brought you Spiderman, Ian Lightfoot, and Lucas in the movie The Impossible. He was Lonerboy101, how was that even possible?

It suddenly dawned on you that everyone and that honestly was everyone was now staring at the pair of you who were staring at one another. “Maybe we should go over there?” Tom had suggested to get away from prying eyes.

Once you were both certain that there were not any lingering eyes, your protection walls started to drop ever so slightly. “You’re the person I have been talking to for 3 weeks? You’re Lonerboy101?”

“Yes. I am Lonerboy101, but if I am being quite honest, Tom will do fine.” He joked which did make you feel only a small degree better. For all this time you had been talking to Tom Holland and you had no inclination that it was happening. “I wanted to tell you who I was, but it was so amazing to have someone to talk to who didn’t see me as this guy who acts for a living and attends red carpet events, you know?”

You did not know of course. “I am not mad. But why would you tell me you have anxiety issues when you do not?” You sighed and started to look at the shine from the diamonds reflecting from your heels. “Was it a way to make fun of me?”

Quickly Tom grasped your hands without thinking. “No!” He spoke urgently but delicately as if he did not want to put his foot in his mouth and make the situation worse. Truth be told Tom was expecting this whole revelation to go a little differently. The sombre look on your face was not the result that he had wanted from showing up at your school. “I never did it to make fun of you or anyone who suffers with anxiety. Truth be told I do suffer with it. Not as bad as most people, but I have days where I wonder if my friends are my true friends because they like me or because they like what I can give them.”

“I want you to know that every message that I ever sent you, I was being the real me. None of it was an act or fake for me.” Tom’s head was not facing down, almost defeated. “From talking to you I knew that you were the most honest and kindest person that I could possibly ever get to know.”

“Can I ask you something?” Your voice was soft and shaky as if you were afraid of the response that you were going to receive.

“Anything.” He was almost pleading. His voice as shaky as your own.

“How did you know who I was and what I looked like?” Tom looked you dead in the eyes. You could see the sincerity in his eyes and how much he wanted this to go right. “You knew to come right up to me, out of all the girls in the world. You knew to come to my school and then up to me, how?”

Tom let out a little smile. “Well, you know that section on the app right at the beginning?” You nod keeping eye contact as he continued to speak. “Well when it asks you for a name, you can keep it blank and then put in a username instead. You actually put in all of your details and made them public.”

“Oh!” You stated feeling stupid for doing so. This entire time he knew exactly who you were while you had no clue that you were talking to a celebrity.

“No, it was a good thing.”

“How?” You question. Doubting that knowing who you were was ever a “good thing.”

“Because, I felt really lucky to be talking to you. I saw how beautiful you were and how smart you are as well as how kind you can be.” You were quiet. You were not used to guys calling you beautiful, and here he was saying it for what must have been the 3rd time since you met him. “If it makes you feel any better, I only looked you up yesterday. I was worried when you did not answer my message and temptation got the best of me and I peaked. Are you mad?”

“No. I am not mad.”

“Would it help if I said sorry?”

“What did you say about saying sorry?” You smiled which made the flash of panic rush from his face. The corners of his mouth started to turn up and his eyes sparkled.

“Yeah but on me it looks cute.” Both of you allow yourselves to laugh at the situation. Remembering some of your earlier messages. “Would it be too much to ask for a hug?” He looked down at your hands which were no longer scrunched into fists which proved that you were no longer as uncomfortable as you may have been from the first encounter.

You allow yourself to smile as he pulls you into his arms. “It is exactly how I imagined it.” Tom said into your hair as he held you close to him.

“What is?” You questioned

“That I would be only just taller than you when you’re wearing heels.” Both of you let out a controlled laugh at his terrible attempt at a joke. “You don’t actually want to go back in there do you?” Tom gestured towards the gym that probably did not hold any students inside due to his arrival.

“I am not going back inside there! But thanks for wearing a suit for me.” You pull away slightly to admire the suit that Tom was pulling off handsomely.

“Anything for my girl.”

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krenbotvt · 5 years ago

Text

What The Fans Of (Almost) Every Scarecrow Design Are Like Just by Surveying Rogue Tumblr for Approx: 5 Months. (Not in any particular order. Also this is a meme.)

Year One: You probably needed a childhood to relate to/needed a justifiable reason to stan one of Gotham’s biggest criminals. (but if your childhood involves being half-eaten by crows i am VERY concerned) BTAS: The gateway drug Scarecrow. You’re probably a gremlin, and also really like the Dork Squad(tm) TNBA: He’s under-appreciated, and you know this very well, but you’re also thankful that you get some of the coolest artwork of your favorite spooky boy. (Also the voice. 11/10 you want him to read sleepy hollow to you.) TAOB: You are one of the only 3 living fans of Adventures Of Batman Scarecrow, but you give absolutely no shit. You love that uncanny valley, near on clown-like scarecrow, and i feel bad for you, because you’ll probably never get art of them. Super Friends: I...Wow. Y’all really do exist... Galactic Guardians: YOU GUYS ACTUALLY EXIST TOO??? BATB: JAZZY. You like his hat, and his voice. You also probably enjoy a lot of older scarecrow designs as well. You get sad because you wish there were more content. The Batman (TV series): PFFT HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA (But seriously though, you poor, poor things...There, There...) Assault On Arkham: AA Scarecrow in an otherwise good movie. Basically, you’re sad he didn’t get more screen-time. At this point, just stan: Arkham Asylum: ABSOLUTE GOBLIN OF A HUMAN. One of the gateway drug Scarecrows that lead you to The Rogues fanbase in the first place. You either love the serious artwork of him, love him drawn/written as a gremlin, or are STILL offended by his lack of footwear. Either way, you adore him and will remind everyone of it. Arkham Knight: OH FUCKING BOY. This can go one of two ways. 1.You love his writing (or don’t, but still stan), his poetic dialogue and his voice, and you also love how much he hams up the fear factor. You probably adore every artwork of him you see, and you REALLY love reading any fan-written material of him. You have many headcanons, and probably have googled A LOT of stuff to make them more genuine. Or 2. You are very, VERY horny... (But as a good friend once said, “these are not mutually exclusive.”) Nightwing And Robin: Aw, y’all are so cute! Here, have some tea with the SF AND GG Fans, I think they have Earl Grey over in the CORNER OF IRRELEVANCY. (But I feel bad for y’all too.) Unlimited: BEEF BOY. You’re either in the group of people that love Scarecrow designs that use scythes, or you like how strange, yet fun his appearance is. Most art of him is super colorful too. There aren’t very many of you, but the amount of you that I’ve seen seem like super cool people. You all probably also enjoy the next one: Batman/TMNT: You knew the movie was a wild ride from start to finish, but you love it. You probably also like birds (I know, really obvious.) There aren’t many of you, but you like the idea of a corvid-like Scarecrow, and you wish for more. Or...You may be a furry that also likes DC stuff, and that’s ok too! We too also oddly love that weird ass cobra joker anyways. Salecrow: You love his rhyming (which is arguably the best thing about him), but are also annoyed by the fact that most content of him use the same 3 images every time. You’re probably in the same boat as all the other scarecrow fans that genuinely want a proper medieval themed version of him. If you write/draw him, you’ve googled endless nursery rhymes. Its like Dr.Seuss up in this bitch. Also, them hands. Blackest Night: Chances are you’re still amazed that your favorite bag-headed master of fear even HAS that thing. You REALLY want him to wear that damn ring again, and will probably pay an arm and a leg to see it happen in a form of animated media. You also have very interesting artwork/writings of him. And your head canons are outlandish, but in the most fun way. (Seriously though, Hatter with a ring, huh...) Injustice: You either love the concept of The ScareBeast, or you’re here for the fact that hes voice by FREAKING ROBERT ENGLUND. Admittedly, you probably aren’t all too good at fighting games, but you still insta-lock him despite that. The Dark Knight: Cillian Murphy portrays the character rather well, but you either are unnerved by his strangely dreamboyish face, or would wish for a slightly older actor. But!!! Despite all that!!! You love him, and probably still quote “WaNnA sEe My MaSK???” (Although I see some of you get absolutely tired of that lol) I don’t see any loyal fans of him, but everyone seems to agree that he’s not too shabby (heheh... shabby...) Gotham (Tv Series): ...Hello? Where are you guys? I KNOW you exist! Show yourselves! Jokes aside, you either love him or hate him. Live action scarecrows seem to be a hit or miss for some. Harley Quinn (Tv Series): Softies. You adore everything about him. His dialogue, his humor, his very surprising accent, and his, albeit a stretch, questionable sexuality implications. Most art of him is very wholesome and good, probably because you’re STILL not over...Well... Maybe its better if I not mention it (all fans of him are the “If I see anything happen to them I’ll kill everyone in this room and then myself” meme.). Detective Comics: Hroo Hraa, my friends. Hroo Hraa. Whether it’s his “Queer grasshopper leaps” or his strange laughter onomatopoeia, you can’t get enough of his antics. Nothing beats a classic, and the fact that there are still many of you that are fans of him makes me smile. New 52/Prime Earth: One of the few scarecrows that greatly changes his childhood, but you welcome the idea of it. He’s a very unsettling looking guy, but you’ll remind everyone that his writing makes up for it. He’s mostly treated like a semi-C tier villain in the continuity, but every time you see him you’re like “!!!!!!!”.You most likely have a list of every issue he appears in so you don’t have to suffer, and your heart still breaks when you read the scene with him and that one girl. (He said he was sorry, guys.) Batman:Hush: 2 and a half sweet and savory minutes of this guy, only for him to get kicked in the face? Nay, Nay, you say! A crime, you holler! You go to your keyboard to tell your friend about how good his character design is, and how well animated he was, but alas they say “that’s nice, bud.” Blast it all... The Lego Batman Movie/Lego in general: Our boy at his most gremlin. Sure, you know this is a 99% children’s medium, but that doesn’t stop you from smiling like a dummy every time you see him. He’s funny, he’s delightful, and he has... a weird obsession with planes? What is it with them and putting him in planes? Maybe he got a pilot’s license before he attended university? What a smart little block person! Obviously, I left out quite a few here, but these seem to be the most popular. There are SO many comic renditions of him, so It’d take my forever. (My poor fingies already hurt!) But please enjoy this silly little thing :’]

#tube says something #scarecrow #jonathan crane #gotham rogues

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dwestfieldblog · 4 years ago

Text

A VERY REMOTE ENGLISH TEACHER

Where meditations, rants, reverie and absent seizures cross over... closer to one gun with one bullet, the rose of ruby and the cross of gold...uff, and MENTACIDE IN THE TIME OF MASQUES. Although I have never suffered from the guilty masochistic torture of ‘pleasure anxiety’, Bacchus hath indeed drowned more men than Neptune. So I stopped drinking for 18 days to fool myself I was doing something positive and threw away enough things to be minimalist again. Arf. Beauty and/or function uber alles.

Been treading water for three years and trying not to drown...big round of one hand clapping for the former poet. Meanwhile, in this temporary world and perception I have created of it, I am looking at a very possible exile one way or the other...my ‘plan’...a long phased withdrawal or hasty retreat. My wish is to stay, but once I leave, it might well be very hard to return. Read as many metaphors as you want into that but in spite of my dislike of the conservatively minded Aristotle’s ‘either/or’ nonsense, there do indeed appear to be only two this time. And appear is the operative word. Appearances can be deceptive and emotions (unless raised and focused) cloud over what should be clear. Pain has a tendency to breed worry and fear too but let’s draw a veil over that for now eh? Suppress, suppress, release comes later...breathe deep and try not to cough, onward we go where the game gets rough...Just like Tom Thumbs Blues 65.

Remember Roman Protasevich...As Lukasenko himself said...‘Belarus stood at the edge of an abyss and I helped it take a step forward’. Look good on your tombstone that will Al. Fecking outrageous the Indian PM only admitted in May that covid was transmitted in the air. He needs removing... as do two thirds of all the other world leaders East and West. Hello Bollsanaro. People are very easy to manipulate when they’re are scared or angry...and right now the world majority are both. But, ‘there is a crack in everything... that’s how the light gets in’... and ‘things could change’, doesn’t have to be for the worse. It can take decades to realise this as actual truth, but still nice to read and try internalise the following last week.’The odds actually favour the optimists, since dissipate structures are more likely to evolve into more information rich (intelligent?) forms than into primitive or chaotic forms.’ All my friends bar my best one are optimists..Hello you:-)

Ever onward deeper downward with Orban in Hungary and his mission of ‘Christian values’, which involves a familiar routine of arresting, beating and disappearing dissenters in the name of Christ and taking over the universities to replace professors with those who understand on which side their bread is buttered. Decent judges long gone. Nice fascist communism...and ex soldiers in France and the Czech republic warning of civil war...

And now spiraling we go into the black hole vortex of Disaster capitalism, ‘Let the bodies pile high’. There’s gold in them thar ills....ISLAND PARANOIA and PERFIDIOUS ALBION! A country which demands a contract, agrees, signs to it and then refuses to honour it. We look worse than ridiculous, we look deceitful. Gentlemen, your places please. Boris Johnson is a clumsy, inept, disgraceful charlatan, con merchant and LIAR. A blustering master bullshit artist, the only decent thing about his recent secret wedding is that now he legally has one less bastard child.

Recently I read that British people are displaying signs of Stockholm syndrome...in that they dislike those who hold power over them and make the rules but during the time of pandemic, they are the ones who will release the saviour vaccine and get everything moving again. So rather than rocking the boat and daring to express dissent at the DIABOLICAL handling of the last 18 months, they have mostly kept quiet and voted for the same endlessly failing, corrupt and venal politicians who made a bad situation far worse. (That said, it bears repeating that there are a few million in the UK who didn’t quite understand that that the spread of a highly contagious airborne virus can be slowed by the wearing of masks/applying basic hygiene and even took offence at being told what should have made sense to any adult homo SAPIENS half capable of cogitating for themselves. Morons and scum. Same where you are?

By the way BBC...the colossal dearth of stories about the endless government failures in relation to Covid, death, corruption and the NHS...ever since they blackmailed you with threats of revoking the TV licence fee and got you to change Directors has been noted. Long may Have I Got News For You continue the satire and balance needed in a DEMOCRACY. Obey your public servants? Why, when they do not serve few but themselves? Power OF the people? Which ones...the mob? The same bleating pricks who follow populists?

Four eyed beanpole fop Rees Mogg, with his wonderful line that the benefits of Brexit will be seen ‘over the next fifty years’...well yes, that is why most people vote in democratic elections eh?...So they will be dead or ancient before the change they hoped for comes...and the politicians who lead them now, will have all long moved on to revolving door chairman of the board offshore limited liability company paradise. Bread today jam tomorrow fairytales. What I tell you three times is true.

O, but the English do so love to be told what to do by dumb posh boys who treat them like dirt. Some are forelock tugging and some are self flagellating middle class upper class wannabes who will never get there but still feel proud they are not street level proles. Doby the house elf alien hamster Michael Gove found guilty of breaking the law. Nothing. Internal inquiries run by those connected to the money changing hands find nothing illegal. Corruption for all to see...and ignore. ‘Well, what can we do?’ The uselessly inept serial failure Dido Harding to be in charge of the National Health Service? (she of the collapsed Woolworths, Talk Talk and the 22 BILLION pound loss of the Covid Track and Trace program where non working consultants/insultants, were paid 1000 pounds a day). American style privatisation is coming where only the wealthy or criminal can afford to be repaired and well. Sick.

Meanwhile, All our imported nurses out, and all the lobster red fat Spanish costa de la sol criminals back in. Great exchange, fair trade and forward thinking. The Kremlin are manipulating/supporting Scottish independence... I read years ago about their base in Edinburgh for Russia Today (the foul insert in The Daily Telegraph) and they were already encouraging it. Rees Smug has accelerated and supported their freedom with his snobbish utterances on countries in the UK other than England and their ‘foreign languages’. With every patronising, arrogant pronouncement, the Eton trifles fuel the fire in Scotland which has a long bitter history of being tortured, murdered and subjugated by their southern masters. Perhaps the chumocracy in Downing Street believe the Celts to be as easily cowed as the middle and working classes down south. Here’s hoping not. ‘Rebellious Scots to crush’? Not this time pal.

As for the future of Britain? A dystopian open prison where the lower social classes toil only at the pleasure of their masters. The higher caste getting richer and all others cast into a living Hell of debt, crime, and sickness. Serve until you die and be thankful we allow you to exist. Increasing in utter irrelevance to the world, other than as an example of how wrong a former democracy can go. This future started decades ago...its baobab roots truly deep now. Better education and critical thinking for the masses in the UK (or anywhere else) is highly unlikely now. Optimism huh? As long as I am not in England, I will still be able to tap into it, but once enclosed long term in the group mind there...trapped in a grey quagmire. Keep smiling...

Several weeks ago, I watched a video on YT of apparently English protestors running after the police in London, some attacking and throwing things, one pulling off the pandemic mask of an officer and all shouting abuse at the outnumbered cops who had to keep pulling back. As always, to get my caffeine rush of fury going, I read the comments and was surprised to see two or three from Chinese names. Almost all comments were against the government (fair enough) and dumb against the lock down, masks, vaccinations etc. Checking again, I saw the video had been posted by CGTN...a media company owned and run by the communist party in Beijing...and not one author of diatribes had mentioned this, nor speculated with a critical thought as to why such an organisation might enjoy turning people against their own democratically elected government (however mind rippingly foul and corrupt they are).

I copy pasted the Wikipedia paragraph about the company onto the page and hoped someone else would make the connection. I wouldn’t mind so much IF there were a credible and decent alternative other than the diseased populist poison for which the demonstrating goons chant. China really cares about the standard of democracy in Britain eh? Persuade your enemies to weaken themselves. Destroying countries by encouraging their ‘patriots’.

(That was written on the anniversary of Tienanmen Square...a few days later Xi Jinping gave a speech saying ‘...a lovable and respectable’ China must be presented to the world and must ‘expand its circle of friends’. Tell that to your teenage ‘dissidents’, Muslims, Falun Gong and Tibetans being tortured and brainwashed in prisons or being used for organ harvesting. Tell it to Hong Kong and Taiwan.)

Unholy America...against abortion and the pill, sex education’s not Gods will and in the Name of Christ they kill...if truth be known, we’ve failed the test...but Jesus was a Socialist and Republican conservatives hate them. The founding fathers of America were Very clear about separation of church and state with damn good Reason. Another part time Christian, Mike Pompeo wants to be president. Q Onan deepstorm morons/Kremlin stool pigeons aka POLEZNYYE IDIOTY continue to push for Trump and his Big Lie...He with the brain where ‘In the left, nothing is right and in the right, nothing’s left.’ Arf.

Over the last two decades, the dumb have been finding their voice and are now louder and prouder of their dumbass ignorance. 74 million in the US alone, their egos unable to retreat in the face of endless evidence to the contrary, they all double down. Like children sticking their fingers in their grimy ears sing songing ‘la la la can’t hear you’. 74 million versions of Eric Cartman, loud, proud and wrong. And uuff, Megan Markle, Majorie Taylor Greene, walking Picasso collage (bad car driver) Caitlin Jenner and Ivana Trump in politics...not exactly holding a proud lantern for women eh? I’d like to buy them for what they are worth and sell them for what they think they are worth. Not very PC?

That was the point. Could easily been written about all of the men written about here too. Next examples follow...

Tucker Carlson and Alex Jones compete for who can be as mentally ill as trump. The Miami school where the husband and wife directors told teachers not to return if they had HAD their vaccine shots because their proximity to students was interfering with menstrual cycles and uuuufff...The sickness of utter mind buggering stupidity. I had my first shot, now waiting to turn reptilian when the 5G masts triangulate my position. Fnord. Covid appears to be killing more overweight meat eating males than females...perhaps testosterone is not useful for the coming Race of non binary mutant hermaphrodites...and look out for the end of the Y chromosome, coming to a temporary universe near you...in 4.6 million years. Yes, really.

Glad Netanyahu is out at last, smug corruption is never a good look unless one is a rich criminal. Ha. The Promised land of Israel...If I was in court for serial murder, breaking, entering and stealing and then defended my actions by saying that God had told me to do it, would the Judge; A. Call for a psychiatric report, B. Disregard the statement as unprovable and pass the appropriate sentence, C, say Ok mate, you’re free to go, good luck to you. ? Moses had a good schtick.

The law is only to punish the poor, do you feel as if you suffer from empathy? Once you know, you no longer need to believe. What does ‘reality’ seem to be? The more certain you are, the stupider you get and belief is the death of intelligence. The machine is running the engineers. What is the definition of rationality...the quality of being based on or in accordance with reason or logic.

Nothing is, but thinking makes it so. Epicurus.

EVERYTHING NOT COMPULSORY IS FORBIDDEN.

The glamour illusion of the mass of pointless hot influencers needs a constant renewing of the Banishing Ritual as much as all the pigslop bile coming from Fox News and Sky. Bloody long haired commie liberal faggot they cry against any not identical to them. Some days I have only flamethrowers of hatred for these idiots. Other days...not exactly self doubt, just questions...most of us seem to believe our opinions are more valid when there are emotions connected to them. Including me. Again, this seems like a very weak version of ‘truth’, unless disciplined, channeled and focused to a certain end.

Life appears to exist in order to become via chaos.

Most of us are working only not to be homeless, some because of the joy in our chosen work regardless of finances. Until ‘reality’ kicks in the door...the bondage gets tighter when you struggle. How much hardship is the individual willing to endure these days by choice? Surrounded by a universe of distraction and destruction, Maya mewling for our attention. Five years of Trump, rampant populism and Brexit doing a Hexagram 23 on democracy, compounded by the pandemic...all on top of ‘normal’ daily life. The ego feeds and the immune system breaks down. Hard to ignore without being on a mountain or in a parallel dimension and emotion free other than compassion. But BY GODDESS IT CAN AND WILL BE DONE. Ladies of Life Nin Khursag, Isis, Kali, Aradia...Love one, Love ALL. At very least have respect for thyself but be not thou proud of thine arrogance nor thy suffering.

Or just Remember where you came from, what you were, seem to be and will become.

Heal, heal, more work to do, more love to give, more love to feel, Heal. Stay in drugs, eat your school and don’t do vegetables. Impose your own reality upon and through yourself, breathe, exhale, repeat, and continue, LOVE UNDER WILL. Experience and absorb but ‘It’s a house of tricks, ignore the world’’.

Stay well, be seeing you:-)

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aion-rsa · 3 years ago

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How Ted Lasso Sneakily Crafted its Empire Strikes Back Season

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This article contains Ted Lasso spoilers through season 2 episode 8.

Perhaps you’ve heard, but Apple TV+ series Ted Lasso was the subject of some dreaded Discourse recently.

Since the Internet is infinite and we privileged few in the media have nothing but time, a handful of features came out weeks ago essentially questioning what Ted Lasso season 2 was even all about. Many of these features were well-written, well-argued, and fair, but when filtered through Twitter’s anti-nuance machine (i.e. Twitter itself), every feature boiled down to the same reductive take: Ted Lasso season 2 doesn’t have a conflict.

In some respects, this take was the inevitable reaction to the metanarrative surrounding Ted Lasso in the first place. Despite drawing its inspiration from a series of somewhat cynical NBC Sports Premier League commercials, the first season of Ted Lasso was all about the transformative power of kindness.

Or at least that’s what we critics declared it to be. And I don’t blame us. Awash in a flood of screeners about antiheroes, dystopias, and the end of the world, the simple kindness of Ted Lasso seemed revolutionary. They made a TV show about a guy who is…nice? They can do that? But the inherent goodness of its lead character was always Ted Lasso’s elevator pitch, not its thesis.

There’s been a darkness at the center of Ted Lasso since its very first moment, when an American man got on a flight to London in a doomed attempt to save his marriage. And, as season 2’s brilliant eighth episode rolls around, it’s become clear that that darkness is what the show has really been “about” this whole time.

Season 2 episode 8 “Man City” (the title is referring to AFC Richmond’s FA Cup match against opponent Manchester City but also stealthily reveals that this installment will be all about men and their respective traumas) is quite simply the best episode of Ted Lasso yet. It also might be the best episode of television this year. Near the episode’s end, right before AFC Richmond plays a crucial FA Cup match against the mighty Manchester City, coach Ted Lasso (Jason Sudeikis) finally comes clean with his coaching staff. He’s been suffering from panic attacks of late. His assistant coaches hear him, accept him, and then head off to the pitch where Man City absolutely obliterates their team.

Man City destroys AFC Richmond. They annihilate them. Embarrass them. Stuff them into a locker and steal their lunch money. The final score is 4-0 but it might as well be 400-0. The coaching staff is rattled but the players are hit even harder. Richmond’s star striker and former Man City player Jamie Tartt (Phil Dunster) is forced to endure watching his scumbag father cheer for his hometown team from the Wembley Stadium stands at the expense of his son.

After the game, Jamie’s father, James (Kieran O’Brien), enters the locker room where he drunkenly accosts him for being a loser and demands that Jamie grant access to the Wembley Stadium pitch for him and his scumbag friends to run around on. When Jamie refuses, his father pushes him, so Jamie reflexively punches him right in the face. James is dragged out of the locker room by Coach Beard (Brendan Hunt), leading a stunned and traumatized Jamie Tartt standing in the middle of the room, as if in a spotlight of pure pain, surrounded by teammates too afraid to even approach him. And then something amazing happens…

Here’s the dirty secret about television: there’s a lot of it. Due to the sheer number of TV shows released each year, even the best of them are destined to become little more than memories long-term. Sometimes all you can ask from multiple episodes and seasons of television is to provide you with one moment, one line, or one warm feeling to carry with you into the future. I don’t know how much I’ll remember from Ted Lasso 30-40 years from now when I’m immobile and reclined in my floating entertainment unit, Wall-E style. But I know I’ll at least remember the moment that Roy hugs Jamie.

The great Roy Kent (Brett Goldstein) – a character so disconnected from his own emotions that some fans are convinced he’s CGI – embraces the one person in the world he is least likely to embrace. As Roy and Jamie wordlessly hug, it’s hard to tell which man is more shocked by the moment. Ultimately, however, it might be Ted Lasso himself who is hit hardest. Shortly after seeing Roy play father to the younger Jamie, Ted quickly exits the locker room and calls sports psychologist Dr. Sharon Fieldstone (Sarah Niles) on his Apple TV+-apporved iPhone.

“My father killed himself when I was 16. That happened. To me and to my mom,” Ted says, weeping.

And that, my friends, is what Ted Lasso is all about. Pain. And dads. But mostly pain.

None of us can say that Ted Lasso didn’t warn us it was coming. To go back to the discourse of it all real quick – I don’t blame anyone for not picking up on the direction that this show was so clearly heading in. Ted Lasso is, first and foremost, a sitcom. The beauty of sitcoms is that you welcome them into your home to watch at your own pace and your own terms. If having Ted Lasso on in the background so you can occasionally see the handsome mustache man who smiles while you fold your laundry is the way you’ve chosen to engage with the show, then great! Just know that season 2 has been operating on a deeper level this whole time as well.

Let’s take things all the way back to the beginning – back to before season 2 even began. You’ve likely heard the old philosophical thought experiment “if a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?” Well Jason Sudeikis’s interviews leading up the season 2 premiere beg an equally as interesting hypothetical “how many times can one man mention The Empire Strikes Back before someone notices??”

Sudeikis referred to Ted Lasso season 2 as the show’s “Empire Strikes Back” multiple times before the premiere including in his local Kansas City Star and his technically local USA Today. The show even explicitly mentions the second Star Wars film in this season’s first episode when Richmond general manager Higgins (Jeremy Swyft) tells Ted that his kids are watching the trilogy for the first time. Sudeikis (who co-created and produces the show) and showrunner Bill Lawrence clearly want us to take the idea that Ted Lasso season 2 is The Empire Strikes Back seriously. And why would that be?

Think of how ESB differs from its two Star Wars siblings in the original trilogy. This is the story that features arguably the series most iconic moment when Luke Skywalker discovers his dad is a dick on a literal universal level. It also has the only unambiguously downer ending of any original trilogy Star Wars film. Luke is thoroughly defeated in this installment. Having one’s hand chopped off by their father and barely escaping with their life is definitely the Star Wars version of a 4-0 defeat.

The Empire Strikes Back can safely be boiled down into two concepts:

Dads are complicated.

Everything sucks.

When viewed through those two conceptual prisms, so much of Ted Lasso season 2 begins to make more sense.

Episode 1 opens with the death of a dog and then leads into a classic Ted Lasso speech that could serve as this season’s mission statemetn. After recounting the story of how he cared for his sick neighbor’s dog, Ted concludes with: “It’s funny to think about the things in your life that can make you cry knowing that they existed then become the same thing that can make you cry knowing that they’re now gone. Those things come into our lives to help us get from one place to a better one.”

Things like…a father who you didn’t have nearly enough time with? Following episode 1 (and following just about every episode this season), Bill Lawrence took to Twitter to assuage viewers’ fears about a lack of central conflict this season. He had this to say about Ted’s big speech.

Look, Merrill. It was thought out, but the speech he gives after (Written by Jason himself – I loved it) is the core of the season, but we knew some people might bum out.

— Bill Lawrence (@VDOOZER) July 27, 2021

Sorry, truly. Ted’s speech after (which I love, but am obviously biased) is a big part of the season. But it sounds like you had a crappy thing happen recently.

— Bill Lawrence (@VDOOZER) July 28, 2021

It’s not. But Ted’s speech has big relevance. Stick around!

— Bill Lawrence (@VDOOZER) July 26, 2021

He also had this to say about dads.

Effin Dads, man. Love mine so, but he’s struggling a bit.

— Bill Lawrence (@VDOOZER) July 27, 2021

“Effin dads” and our complicated relationships with them are all over Ted Lasso season 2. In the very next episode, Sam Obisanya (Toheeb Jimoh) tells Ted “You know, my father says that every time you’re on TV, he’s very happy that I’m here. That I’m in safe hands with you.”

Ted smiles at this bit of info but not as warmly as you might expect. Because to Ted, a dad isn’t a reassuring presence but rather someone you love who will just leave when you need him the most. That’s why he’s been trying to be the perfect father figure this whole time. That’s why he did something as extreme as leaving his family behind in Kansas while he heads off to London. If giving his wife space was the only way to preserve the family and remain a good dad, then he was going to give her a whole ocean of space.

Moreover, Ted hasn’t just been trying to serve as a father figure to his son this whole time but to everyone else as well. Sam’s comment to Ted reminds him that not everyone has a good dad, which encourages him to bring Jamie into the fold in the first place.

As time goes on, however, the stress of being the consummate father to everyone in his orbit begins to wear on Ted. Throughout the entirety of this season, Ted Lasso appears to be trying to be Ted Lasso just a bit too hard. His energy levels are too high. His jokes go on too long. The same life lessons that worked last year aren’t working this year. AFC Richmond opens with an embarrassing streak of draws before Jamie’s immense talents set things straight.

It all culminates in this season’s sixth episode when Ted has his second panic attack in as many years. This time it’s in public during an important game. The experience sends Ted running through the concourse of the stadium until he somehow ends up in the dark on Dr. Fieldstone’s couch, instinctively, like a wounded animal.

It’s certainly no coincidence that this panic attack occurs on the same day that Ted received a call from his son’s school asking him to pick him up, not realizing that he’s an ocean away. In that moment, Ted can’t help but remember what it’s like to be left behind by his own father and subconsciously wonder if he’s doing the same.

Though the shallow waters of Ted Lasso season 2 may have appeared consequence free for half its run, beneath the surface was a tidal wave of conflict. Just because the conflict wasn’t taking place between a happy-go-lucky football coach and a villainous owner doesn’t mean it wasn’t there.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Game of Thrones author George R.R. Martin is terrible at meeting deadlines but great at writing. According to him (and William Faulkner, from whom he borrows the quote), the only conflict worth writing about is that of the human heart with itself. That’s something that The Empire Strikes Back understood. And it’s something that Ted Lasso season 2 does as well.

The post How Ted Lasso Sneakily Crafted its Empire Strikes Back Season appeared first on Den of Geek.

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regrettablemeasure · 4 years ago

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Cyberpunk 2077 non-spoiler review

Anyways here’s my writeup about my least favorite parts of 2077 for people who are interested in seeing if it’s for them. Both going to talk about content as well as gameplay. This is for PC version, too, because I know last gen consoles are suffering terribly rn and I wouldn’t recommend the game if you’re not going to be playing on PC. At least not until it’s on sale or the issues have been resolved. It really, really shouldn’t have been released on last gen consoles at all in my opinion - or at least should’ve been released on consoles LATER.

If you like Saints Row, GTA, Mass Effect, Shadowrun, or the Cyberpunk genre in general - I definitely think this is something you might want to take a peek at! I wasn’t anticipating the game until about a month or two before release - so maybe that’s why I’m having a blast - but It’s one of my favorite stories from the past decade as far as sci-fi goes. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, and It’s really impressed me. I can’t even go into detail about all the things I LOVE because I really want folks to experience it themselves. Just know there’s a very intricately detailed world, all the characters are memorable and insanely well realized and complex, and the story is great fun. Also made me cry like 5 times. It’s become one of my FAVORITE games very quickly.

I’d also recommend Neon Arcade if you want someone who’s been covering the game for quite a while, including the technical and game industry aspect. He does well to go into some detail and even though he’s a fan, I’ve found him to be largely unbiased. I’m not going to go into industry politics here because I feel that’s up for everyone to decide on their own terms.

No spoilers, things to keep in mind, content warnings, etc. below!

CONTENT WARNINGS and issues with plot/story

this setting is dark. very dark. if you struggle stomaching things like dystopian landscapes, body horror, physical, mental and sexual abuse, corporate and gang violence, abuse of children, harsh language, and concepts that mess with the perception of reality - this game might not be for you. It’s a very mature setting, and I don’t mean that in the Adult Swim kind of way. I mean it in the ‘oh shit, it went there’ way. In my opinion I haven’t run across anything in it that was handled distastefully when it dipped into the depressing, but dark and gritty isn’t everyone’s cup of tea and I wanted to give a disclaimer.

The game’s universe in advertising and working for the lower class also exploits sex/sex work quite a bit. This is part of the lore itself because in this universe everyone’s become desensitized to sex and violence to the point that marketing embraces it and makes it ridiculous. I feel it’s very obvious that it doesn’t condone this message and is instead a commentary on consumerism - but people still might be uncomfortable seeing a lot of suggestive stuff all over the place regardless.

Women in game are naked more often than men - even though there is nudity for both. This is likely a mix of appealing to the Gamer Boy demographic (even though the story does NOT actually), or the fact that media is way more cool with seeing naked women than seeing full frontal nudity on men. They probably had to tone some of it down to avoid going above an M rating.

The story is amazing, but sometimes it dumps a lot onto you at once. It’s one of those sci-fi stories that you have to really be following the names, faces, and concepts continually to get it all down. There’s a lot of betrayal, background players, etc. I think by the mid-way point I’d mostly had it, but It’s pretty dense. However it’s still amazing. You might just need two playthroughs before every tiny detail clicks - because there’s a LOT of details.

Honestly I think it would help to read up on the lore first so you’re not going ‘what’ constantly. But people have seemed to manage fine without that also! Neon Arcade has a really nice series of videos (like 2 or 3) that get you up to speed with the universe. It also helps you decide if the tone is right for you.

I think the main story should’ve been longer, also. I don’t mind a 20 hr story, especially in a massive RPG, but It feels like they really struggled to cram as much into that time frame as possible. It skirts the edge of being nice and concise, snappy, and tight - and needing just a few more moments to take a breath and wait a second. This is helped if you do a lot of side quests.

The straight male romance option, River, is INCREDIBLY well written but he doesn’t tie into the main plot in any way whatsoever. It’s very strange and feels like they either ran out of time with him, or slapped together a romance with him at the last second. All the other romances at least know what’s going on with V’s story - meanwhile River has no idea, and you can never tell him. He’s an amazing guy though and I highly recommend his questline. He appears in ACT 2.

In general I’d say not to bother with the romances. There are only 4 total, and while the romancible characters on their own are really well written, the romances themselves are just kinda meh. One romance you don’t even meet until act 3. I don’t think they should’ve been included in the game at all, because they definitely don’t feel as fleshed out as everything else.

CDPR also sometimes forget that women players or gay men exist. Panam and Judy have a lot more content than River and Kerry for example. I don’t think this is intentional, they just have a large fanbase of dudebros. It only shows in the romance content and the nudity thing though.

Johnny, Takemura, and Claire should’ve been romances and I will fight to the death on that.

There are gay and trans characters in the game and their stories don’t revolve around their sexualities. It’s very Fallout: New Vegas in it’s approach to characters: IE. you’re going to love them. All of them.

V’s gender isn’t locked to their body type or their genitals- but to to their voice. I don’t think it’s the best solution they could’ve used but given how the game is heavily voice acted I assume that was what they had to work with.

Some of the romances are locked to both cis voices AND body types (not genitals if I recall but body shapes). That’s disappointing but I assume it was because of scripted scene issues and/or ignorance on the dev’s part considering the LGBT NPCS are so AMAZINGLY done. There’s no homophobic or transphobic language in the game - though there are gendered curse words and insults if that bothers you.

Some characters MAY suffer from ‘bilingual people don’t talk like that’ syndrome. But it can be hard to say for sure given that translators exist in this universe and the way they operate aren’t fully described. It’s only momentarily distracting, not enough to take away from how charming the NPCs are.

The endings are really good don’t get me wrong but I want fix it fic :(. All of the endings out of like 6 (?) in the game are bittersweet.

Both gender V’s are very good but female V’s voice acting is out of this world. If you don’t know what voice to go with/are neutral I’d highly recommend female V. Male V is charming and good but he feels much more monotone compared to female V.

V has their own personality. To some this won’t be a detractor - but a lot of people thought they’d be making absolutely everything from the ground up. V is more of a commander shepard or geralt than a skyrim or d&d pc, if that makes sense. You can customize and influence them to a HUGE degree, some aspects of V will always be the same.

Streetkid is the most boring background - at least for it’s introduction/prologue.

GAMEPLAY/TECHNICAL

If you can run your game on ultra, don’t. It actually looks best with a mix of high and medium settings. Unless you have a beast that has ray-tracing - then by all means use ray tracing and see how absolutely insanely good it looks.

There are color blind modes for the UI, but not for some of the AI/Netrunning segments in cutscenes. Idk how much this will effect folks with colorblindness but those segments are thankfully short.

There was an issue with braindances being an epilepsy trigger because for some reason they decided to mirror the flashing pattern after real epilepsy tests - probably because it ‘looks cool’. I don’t have epilepsy but it even hurt my eyes and gave me a headache. Massive oversight and really goddamn weird. Thankfully this was fixed.

There is no driving AI. Like at all. If you leave your car in the street the traffic is just going to pile up behind it. It’s one of the very few immersion breaking things I’ve encountered.

Sometimes when an NPC is driving with you in the car, they’ll drive on the curb and/or run into people. It’s kind of funny but can occasionally result in something weird. Feels very GTA - but nothing excruciating.

The camera angle feels a little too low in first person mode when driving on cars. You get used to it though.

The police in this game feel slapped on and I hope they improve it. Right now if you commit a crime, you can never tell what will actually trigger it. And if you just run away a few blocks the police forget about it.

Bikes are just way more fun to ride than the cars are.

You CANNOT respec your character after you make them. Ever. it sucks. Go in with an idea ahead of time what you wanna do - it’s better than being a jack of all trades.

as of now you also CANNOT change their appearance after you exit the character creator. This, also, sucks. Make sure you REALLY like your V or you’re gonna be replaying the openings over and over like I did.

Photomode on PC is the N key. Had to look it up. The mode itself is great though

Shooting and Mele fighting feel pretty standard. I don’t have a lot of shooter experience besides Bethesda games so anything feels better than that to me. So far I’ve enjoyed stealth and mele the best, but that’s just my own taste! The combat and driving aren’t groundbreaking by any means, but they’re still very fun. I look forward to running at people with swords or mantis blades, and zipping around the city on a motorcycle to see the sights. The story, lore, and interesting quests and characters are the real draw here.

I haven’t encountered any game breaking bugs in 80-ish hours of play time. One or two T-poses, a few overlays not loading or floating objects - but nothing terrible. Again, my experience is with Bethesda games. This is all usually fixed by either opening your inventory and closing it again, or exiting out and reloading your save.

The C button is mapped for crouching AND skipping dialogue by default. That’s terrible. Change it in the settings to be HOLDING C skips dialogue and you’ll be gucci.

There’s apparently a crafting system. I have never been inclined to touch it. But I also play on easy like a pleb so IDK how it all scales otherwise.

The mirror reflections can be a little bit weird, at least on my end. They always end up a teeny bit grainy despite my computer being able to run everything on Ultra Max. You can still get good screens out of it though!

So many people text me to sell me cars and I want them to stop. Please. also the texting menu is abysmal. The rest is ok tho

It’s pretty clear when you’re going to go into a ‘cutscene’. all cutscenes are rendered in-engine BUT you often will be talking to other characters at a specific angle or setting. The game locks you into this usually by having you sit down. It works for me - after all we do a lot of sitting- but it IS very obvious that it’s a way for the game to get you in the frame it wants to display.

That’s all I can think of rn! If you’re interested but wanted to get a slightly better idea of whats going on, I hope this helps. I’m really enjoying it and despite my issues it’s exceeding my expectations. I’m going to be thinking about and replaying this game for quite a while.

#cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk 2077 review #2077 review #cp2077 #rosetxt #txt

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sidereal-fantasies · 5 years ago

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Sincerely, Not You

[Choi San]

02: The Genius Writer’s Mind

WARNING(S): None

College AU in which Choi San and many others receive letters that threaten to break their already fragile hearts

“A new opinion can certainly turn the world upside down.”

Everything felt like a mistake with each passing second.

You had only taken this writing class to get one of your credit requirements out of the way, yet the thought of having to produce something not out of logic and real-world evidence has also caused a tremendous amount of stress to fall on your shoulders. You glanced back at your laptop that sat on the makeshift kitchen table, keyboard most likely still burning from the rapidfire typing you produced from earlier in the ungodly hours of the morning.

With the sound of keys dropping on the counter, you peered up to see Yoona, your roommate, walk in with multiple envelopes in one hand and what seemed like another cup of oddly sweet coffee in the other. Knowing Yoona for quite some time now, you were surprised that her signature drink didn’t change as much as her hair color (which was currently blonde due to not knowing which color she should tackle next). You couldn’t tease her about it, though, knowing that your extremely bitter choice of straight black coffee with the tiniest bit of sugar never settled well with most.

“[Name], I picked up your mail for you,” Yoona’s voice echoed as she entered the room. You murmured a quick thanks as you gently placed your now empty mug on the tiny side table before picking up said mail. Other than the usual letter from your parents, a small envelope with only your name written clearly on the front accompanied it as well. The corners of your mouth turned down slightly as you turned the envelope every which way in hopes to find some kind of hint as to who it was from. Weird, you thought. “No return address...”

“Oh? A secret admirer? Seems a little old-fashioned, but look at you,” Yoona teased which only caused you to roll your eyes in response. “Didn’t you say you were going to have a date with some guy from the music department?”

“Didn’t you say you wanted to finish up some of your classwork at the campus cafe?” Yoona called out. The blonde nearly dropped her morning beverage at the sight of you jumping to your feet suddenly.

“Thanks for reminding me, Yoona! I should get going before I lose the chance to snag a seat!” You exclaimed as you began gathering all your essentials.

Your roommate remained by the small counter as she watched you scurry about the room, quickly tossing your things in a bag without a second thought before seeing you bolt out the door without another word spoken.

“Oh, [Name]...”

“You met [Name] last night?”

San hummed in response with a slight nod of his head. “Is there a problem?” he inquired as he stopped typing.

Yeosang shook his head before he rested a hand on the back of his neck. Of course he had no issue with it, seeing that he wasn’t exactly close with you after all. But, it didn’t ease the sudden bemusement that washed over his thoughts. He never exactly received a friendly impression of you, but perhaps he was too quick to judge a book by its cover. Then again, Yeosang had to remind himself that he was speaking with San who always viewed the world through a rather unique perspective.

“I’m just surprised, that’s all. [Name]’s always so curt with a lot of people, but here you are saying they’re much nicer than what everyone says.”

“You’re the same, hyung. When Wooyoung told me you’ve been his friend for several years, I couldn’t wrap my head around how someone as quiet as you are could be dragged into so many of Wooyoung’s schemes,” San responded.

Yeosang hummed softly. “Five years and still going,” the quiet man mumbled as he peered out the window.

Yeosang let San’s remark slide this time, acknowledging his point instead of shooting back one of his infamous retorts. He’s a writer after all, or soon-to-be one, at least. It was in his nature to dissect and characterize people in an oddly poetic manner that defined them in more ways than one. Anyone who caught San’s interest was automatically caught in his neverending story of life. To San, everyone was a character in life that was waiting to be unraveled by the genius writer himself.

“So, that’s it?”

San tore his gaze away from his computer screen as he arched an eyebrow at Yeosang. The elder sighed softly and pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation. Before he could utter another word, three booming voices came through, interrupting the serene morning. By the small corridor entered a teary-eyed Wooyoung who was accompanied by a beaming Song Mingi and Jeong Yunho.

Song Mingi was a force to be reckoned with at times. As co-captain of the university’s dance team and San’s dual-natured roommate, Mingi was a blazing fire, burning the image of a passionate and intimidating man into most strangers' minds, but also warming the hearts of his friends with his oddly cute side of his personality. Infuriating at some points since he likes to disagree with the group for fun? Quite so. Yet, it still caught San off guard at times to see the man he hears everyone is hesitant to approach fond over the simplest cat video he just so happened to scroll past on his social media feed.

Jeong Yunho was very much different from the scarlet redhead despite being just as tall as him. He carried a calming aura around him, always attracting anyone and everyone and befriending with such ease due to his already gentle nature. An open-minded individual who wears his heart on his sleeve and charms everyone with his dazzling smile. A potentially hopeless romantic doomed to suffer if he isn’t careful with his glass heart in the eyes of the Genius Writer.

“San! You’re planning on hanging out with the rest of us this saturday, right?” Mingi’s voice boomed, earning a short chuckle out of the shorter male.

“Saturday’s the only day Hongjoong is ever not working,” San responded as he closed his laptop. The raven haired male casually slid the device back into his bag before he stood up and began making his way towards the door.

“Seems like San’s in a rush to leave already. Did he tell you what he was doing today, Yeosang?” Wooyoung inquired.

Yeosang shrugged his shoulders as he slumped back into the chair. “There’s a new café around the corner, so that’s one option. Or maybe he’s going to meet up with [Name].”

The trio all raised their eyebrows as they gawked at Yeosang for a moment, causing the light brunette to shift slightly in his seat as he turned his gaze away from the three. The feelings are mutual, he guessed. A miracle, perhaps, to all four of them as they contemplated over how the Genius Writer was able to befriend [Name], a fellow college student who always appeared to be much more devoted to education than socializing.

“Is there something wrong, Mingi?” Wooyoung questioned the redhead as he frowned slightly in the direction that San had walked off to.

“[Name] sounds very familiar for some reason…”

The café, as Yeosang had pointed out earlier, was not a far walk from San’s dorm. It was fairly new to the area, having only opened just a month ago, yet it was already gaining some popularity amongst the college student population. Another source of short-lived energy from drinks that most likely only contained a touch of coffee that barely broke through the uniquely flavored beverage that it was mixed in, if you will. Nevertheless, it was a café that many claimed as a spot for comfort and relaxation. The interior was brightly light by the few artificial lights that hung above café-goers as well as by the natural light that flooded through the windows that surrounded them completely, giving the area a fresh feeling of endlessness. There was comfort in the thought that the day’s weather was what encompassed the mood of the tiny café.

San slipped into the café to escape from the bustling crowd of students moving towards their first class of the day. Despite it being a little early in some ways, the café was moving just as much as San’s fellow peers outside. Popular in convenience, he supposed as he approached the counter.

The workers behind the counter did not take long and passed San’s order of a small latte. As San turned on his heel, he spotted you at one of the tables, eyebrows furrowed and a near permanent frown upon your lips, rapidly typing away with no hint of interest in your surroundings. He shook his head gently before deciding that it may be a good choice to distract you from your work for a few minutes.

“Funny seeing you here, friend” San spoke up as he slid into the seat across from you, earning a small smile in response. Judging your slightly tinted cheeks, San assumed you must have gotten here just a little earlier than him.

“I needed to replenish my caffeine levels,” you answered sharply. “As I have found out, I still can’t type up a decent essay to save my life.” San chuckled before tapping the top of your laptop. You peered up at San with a faint frown gracing your lips, as if pleading the genius writer to bless you with the ability to forge an essay that would satisfy not only yourself, but your professor as well. “You probably don’t take the time to look at your surroundings,” San noted.

You tilted your head to the side slightly before motioning San to explain his statement. Heat brushed the dark haired male’s cheeks as he rested a hand on the back of his now burning neck. A sudden tightness in San’s throat accompanied the odd sensation he was experiencing which caused him to clear his throat before he averted his gaze away from you.

“Sometimes, when you are struggling to write, it’s because you’re set on staying within a tiny box. If you stay in that box, you miss a few details about the world around you,” San explained. He stole a quick glance at your features before he waved a hand in front of himself. “Tell me, when you look around the cafe, what do you see?”

Slowly, you let your eyes travel towards the peaceful scene of the cafe before you. It had calmed down since you first stepped in to save yourself from the bitter cold. More tables were empty, you noted, as the handful of workers slowed down and began taking their time in perfecting the orders that were coming in now. You then observed the other students as they furiously scribbled or typed away to finish an assignment that they have also procrastinated on for too long. Others chattered away with each other, basking in the glory of having their lives together. Funny, you thought. Stress plagued most students minds here, leaving nothing but an ominous feeling at the back of the mind. An impending doom from the possibility of not finishing an assignment you had all the time in the world to work on if you only had the motivation to start early. Despite that, it was evident to both San and you that you had missed a major point that San was trying to make.

“Students and baristas are working. More tables are empty- San, what are you trying to get out of this?” You grumbled out of frustration.

San gently shook his head in slight disappointment after he stole another quick glance from you. “Like all other computer science majors, you view everything so objectively at times.”

You weren’t exactly amused with this answer until you caught a certain gleam in San’s eyes. The slight curl of the lips and the knowing gaze revealed an entire story to San. To San, the cafe’s atmosphere was placid, the natural light filtering in as if helping to chase away the anxious dark clouds that followed students too closely at times. The aroma of coffee, faintly bitter or sickenly sweet, traveled and filled every space in between, leaving only a pleasant sensation for all. Tired students remained scattered, eyes glued to the screens of laptops that most likely were burning just as much as an impatient mouth who needed to refuel on caffeine. Friends gossiped and giggled long after their mostly sugar and barely coffee drinks have gone cold. Busy, but not bustling. Scattered, but not nearly vacant. A perfect place to unleash creativity, as San would have commented.

“You need to make up a story sometimes just to achieve what you want in writing,” San stated.

“That’s easy for you to say, Genius Writer,” you countered with a huff.

San quirked an eyebrow at your response before he let out a breathy chuckle. “Maybe so, but you somehow recognized me last night.”

“And what’s that supposed to prove?” you inquired. A soft hum left San as he placed his cup of coffee near his lips, blowing gently on it before savoring a small sip. He placed the cup down and gave a simple shrug of the shoulders. It took you a moment as you caught on to the fact that the slight simper San wore never disappeared in the first place.

“I’m not interested, if that’s what you’re implying,” you stated flatly.

San blinked a few times, his confidence faltering slightly as if he was struggling to process the words that effortlessly slipped out of your mouth. It didn’t help his case either as he caught your gaze boring into your laptop screen again, completely ignoring San’s moment of embarrassment.

“I was gonna say you pick up on tiny details when something interests you, but thanks for friend-zoning me?”

No response was uttered from your already slouching form, too focused on this frustrating assignment that has yet to meet your expectations of satisfaction. It didn’t sit well with you, of course. With how San sees and conveys everything as if it was a new story unfolding in front of his eyes; it was unnerving, for it seemed as if everyone was transparent as glass. But it also intrigued you. For you, who is so used to seeing the world as an endless code that continuously needs tweaks to function properly, seeing such vivid details and hearing new perspectives never crossed your mind. Perhaps that is one of the reasons why you seeked out San. Maybe, just maybe, your world would gradually expand its horizon and welcome in new experiences that you’d never expected to live in.

The time flashed in the right corner of the screen, signaling you to close your laptop with a soft sigh of defeat. “Well, I have to get to my class now. Have a fun time doing whatever future writers do,” you suddenly announced as you stood up. You quickly gathered your belongings, shoving most into your bag without a second thought before grabbing your laptop and scurrying away with only a nod of the head. Unbeknownst to you, your unopened letter had fallen out of the side pocket of your bag along with your earbuds. Having noticed this, San immediately picked up the forgotten items, but was just a second too late as he already saw you at the door.

“[N-Name]!!”

With the chime of the bell, San slumped back into his chair as he wrapped your earbuds into a neat bundle before placing them in one of the pockets of his jacket. He then turned his attention towards the envelope before humming in amusement as the corners of lips curved upwards at the sight of the familiar penmanship that decorated the front of the envelope. Quietly shaking his head, he retrieved his own letter out of his bag before setting the two down on the table in front of him.

It seemed that you got a letter as well, [Name].

#atzwriters #ateez #ateez san #choi san #atzinc #ateez au #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #ateez blurbs #choi san fanfic #kpop #kpop au #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop blurbs #kpop fanfic #Sincerely Not You #san

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dottie-wan-kenobi · 5 years ago

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A @batfam-christmas-stocking fic written for @renecdote!! happy holidays <3

----

Alternate universes suck so much. Tim has always known that, but he’s never really grasped it, not until he and Dick were forcibly thrown into one a week ago.

Gotham feels different, even though it doesn’t appear that way on the surface. The violence is more personal, less showy, and as far as they’ve seen, there are almost no super villains. Somehow, though, there’s more crime on the whole, every corner of every street host to pimps and drug dealers and traffickers.

Tim tries to fight it, tries to intervene, but Dick pulls him back. “We can’t risk it, you know that.”

He does. But that doesn’t make it easier. “They need our help,” Tim fires back, everything he’s ever been taught about bettering the world, the pressure of saving people, battering around in his mind.

“It’s not our world or our place,” Dick explains, and for all that he sounds apologetic, his eyes don’t stray away from the shadowy parts of the street where they can hear people being hurt.

Dick is a good actor, but Tim can read him like a book. He’s following the protocols put in place for dimensional travel, playing the I’m The Big Brother And I’m In Charge card, but he doesn’t like it anymore than Tim does.

The rules are what they are for a reason, and Tim knows that. Grudgingly, he lets Dick pull him away, go back to their own little shadowy corners. They sleep on cardboard they find in dumpsters, huddling up for warmth. In the mornings, they go to the local library, hoping to fill out some of their knowledge on this world, since no rescue or way out otherwise is forthcoming.

There, sitting at the outdated computers, they find out that Martha and Thomas Wayne are still dead. Bruce wasn’t 8 when it happened, though—he was 16. He got shot too, making it painful and difficult to walk or move in general. According to one interview from a few years before, he’s kept on bedrest a lot, and has been in and out of physical therapy ever since it happened, now fifteen years prior. When he’s not doing that, he’s campaigning for control of Wayne Enterprises and tweeting about coffee.

There’s no Batman. Not like how they know him, at least.

One day, Dick flirts with a cop and Tim pickpockets the man’s scanner, and they learn that whole case files, suspects and evidence all neatly put together, have been sent to the GCPD over the past six years. They never see anyone fly overhead, though. At first, they think it might be Babs, but when they try to look her up, Tim finds that she’s been locked up in Arkham for at least the last four years.

Neither one of them want to know why, so they just don’t look into it any further. “This isn’t our Babs,” Dick reminds himself, and Tim, too. But mostly himself. “She’s not .”

They share a look, and don’t have to say anything to know it’s time to compartmentalize. This Babs isn’t their Babs. This Bruce isn’t their Bruce. This world doesn’t have the Joker or Poison Ivy or any of them except Two Face and the Penguin. This isn’t their world .

“Come on,” Dick murmurs, sticking close to his side as they leave the library. As they head to their latest alley, they pass all kinds of drug deals and gang members beating the shit out of people. By the time they actually get to where they’ve been staying, they’re both so tense, one smartass comment from Tim is all it takes to snap them into an argument.

”I’m sorry,” Tim says after they’ve gone back and forth a few times, sounding hostile even to himself. “I’m so sorry I can’t see things the same way you do. I’m sorry I’m not perfect Dick Grayson , who always knows what to do without even having to think about it, who always does the right thing, who is totally fine letting all these people suffer, because it’s in the protocol!”

He doesn’t even believe his own words. Tim’s just upset, unable to handle living on the streets for a week in a universe where everything is unfamiliar and grim, lashing out against one of the only things he can control. Dick is all he has here—and spending that much time with someone, let alone one of his brothers, would be hard even in the best of circumstances.

Dick flinches, and Tim only has a second to feel bad before the flash of a reflection from a gun in the window above them catches his attention. He moves on instinct, stepping forward and trying to pull Dick down even as Dick tries to move towards the mouth of the alley, protective to a fault. The bullet hits Dick’s left shoulder with a sickening and familiar crack-thwack .

For a moment, everything is silent, slow motion. Dick sucks in a pained breath, stumbling back a few steps, and Tim hopes and prays the bullet hasn’t hit an artery.

And then Tim twists to face the mouth of the alley and books it towards him, jumping on the bastard and bringing him to the ground. He rips the gun away and lets all of his pent-up anger and stress out, punching and punching. It’s only Dick, gritting his teeth and clutching his shoulder, calling out his name that saves the guy’s teeth from actually being knocked out.

Panting and shaking with fury and adrenaline, Tim stands. “Are you okay?” He demands.

“Fine,” Dick replies. “We—we should go.”

“Yeah, okay.” But he bends down instead, patting the guy’s pockets until he finds what he’s looking for: a wallet. As he rifles through, searching for a driver’s license or state ID, he explains. “We need to know who he is. If he’s working for Harvey….”

They both shudder at the thought, but the truth is worse. The name is Italian, familiar to Tim from a bust a few years before. He’s one of Maroni’s men.

Another thing they learned during their hours of research at the library: seven years ago, Haly’s Circus came through town. Bruce Wayne didn’t attend, or more likely, couldn’t. Mary and John Grayson fell to their deaths, and once it became clear that little Dick Grayson, only eight years old, knew something about the murderers, he ran. He’s been missing ever since, and if he’s still alive, then the Maronis are probably still on the lookout for him. Tony Zucco, apparently, is still alive. Still working Gotham’s underbelly, terrorizing and murdering. The Dick Grayson native to this universe is a threat to them.

They probably heard me say Dick’s name , Tim realizes, tucking the wallet away in the man’s pockets. Which means he was shot because of me. Fuck.

----

Big brothers, Tim finds, are fucking heavy. Especially when they’ve been shot and are steadily losing blood. When they’re dead weight, fading in and out of consciousness. When they’re relying totally on Tim to drag the both of them to uncertain refuge in an unfamiliar city.

And Tim…he wants to be someone Dick can rely on. (Obviously, he already is, but his anxiety says maybe this is just who Dick is. Tim could be anyone and the situation would be the same. Still, it would be better for Dick if Tim was Damian, instead. Or Bruce. Or Donna. Or anyone but himself, really.) But more than anything, he wants someone who can help Dick, who can keep him alive. Living on the streets the way they are just doesn’t lend much in the way of medical supplies.

Tim drags Dick all the way to the clinic, based on a vague awareness that it exists here, too. When they get there, though, the building is obviously abandoned, Leslie nowhere to be found. Wherever she is, he doesn’t know, but he hopes she’s okay. He can’t think of a situation that would keep her from helping the people of Gotham. Still, he sets Dick up against the wall and breaks in, hoping for something useful, and finding nothing inside but rubble and evidence of homeless people using the space for shelter.

He goes back to Dick, feeling like the world is ending. They don’t have any first aid supplies, and even if they did, even if a first aid kit fell out of the sky right now and Tim could patch Dick up, it wouldn’t mean anything. This only happened because Tim wasn’t paying attention, wasn’t thinking to be careful. It could happen again. What does he do then?

What would Bruce do? Roy? Wally? Diana or Clark? Hell, Kon ? Any of them could help Dick so much more right now. More than Tim can or will ever be able to. And really, what good is Tim if he can’t even keep his brother alive?

Aware the thoughts aren’t helpful right now, he shelves them for later and looks back at Dick, cataloguing everything he sees like Bruce taught them to do. Dick’s still steadily bleeding out, and though that’s most concerning of all, Tim finds the only thing he can think about is how they don’t have clean clothes so Dick can walk around in something not soaked in blood.

With a strangled shout, Tim kicks the wall. It doesn’t affect him, much—thank god he’d been wearing steel-toed shoes when they were transported here—but the brief release feels good. Sort of. It’d be a lot better if he were still laying into the Maroni guy, if he’s honest.

“Tim,” Dick says, both reproachful and concerned.

“Shut up,” Tim replies, dragging his fingers through his hair. His mind is racing. He wants to go home so badly his chest aches with it.

Dick knows him well enough that he can sense what Tim is thinking. Slowly, he shakes his head. “No, Tim. No . We can’t.”

“Where else are we supposed to go?” Tim cries out. It’s a stupid idea, it’s against the protocol, and they’ve already talked about it anyway. They’d agreed it’s stupid and they can’t do it and moved on. But he can’t help feeling the impulse, especially now.

“Stephanie’s,” Dick shoots back immediately. But they both know it’s not possible—here, Steph is another face on the dozens of missing persons posters that litter the city. He realizes it a second too late, and stumbles over his next words. “Just, anywhere but there.”

Jason is dead, has been for years now. Damian doesn’t exist. Cass is in Star City with Dinah Lance. Luke and the other members of the Fox family have never lived in this Gotham. Duke’s parents are still alive—they recently moved to Blüdhaven, and took their young son with them. Harper and Cullen are nowhere to be found, but Tim tells himself that’s a good thing—it means they aren’t in the obituaries. Kate is overseas on a honeymoon with her wife. Half of the Titans and Justice League don’t seem to exist, and the ones that do wouldn’t step foot in this cesspit of crime and drugs.

‘Anywhere but there’ means nothing. Nowhere. There’s no place for them to go, no one who can or even would help.

The words, or maybe the thoughts that come with them, wear Dick out. He starts to fade again, eyes slipping closed, and that means Tim’s in charge.

And Tim? Tim wants to go home .

He grabs Dick, keeping him from sliding down the wall, throws his brother’s arm over his shoulder, and starts off towards the Manor with every ounce of determination he can muster.

----

Several hours later, when it’s dark and Dick is pale and mostly silent, barely keeping up, they make it home. Everything feels different: the security that allows them to get all the way up the drive (after only a little effort on Tim’s part), the trees oddly placed and the doors and shutters all painted a light blue instead of the rusty red he’s used to. It’s disorienting and upsetting. Home is supposed to be familiar and it’s not and he hates it.

Tim knocks on a side door that only family knows about, hoping against hope it won’t be Bruce that answers. He doubts it, but he’s positive he won’t be able to keep his composure in front of his dad. It’ll be a little easier with Alfred. Probably. In any case, Alfred is the better option of the two.

While they wait, Dick mumbles, “This is stupid.”

Tim presses his hand against the wound, trying not to be impatient. Trying not to feel sick with nerves. He doesn’t reply, knowing Dick isn’t really paying attention right now.

When the door finally opens, Tim could collapse with relief. Alfred stands there, one hand hiding his rifle out of their sight in an all-too-familiar pose, while the other holds onto the doorjamb. His hair is darker than Tim is used to, his face less wrinkled. He’s staring at them like they’re weird, strange boys, standing at what’s supposed to be a virtually unknown entrance to a private, secure home in the late hours of the night.

Blood covers Dick’s upper body and Tim’s hands, and they both look and smell rough. They don’t make a pretty picture, and Tim knows that, but there’s nothing he can do except get Alfred to let them in somehow. He’s been thinking about what he wants to say, what’ll appeal to Alfred’s compassion or curiosity or both. Please, help my brother before he loses too much blood. Please, don’t tell Bruce about this. Please, I’m so exhausted and I need a cup of your chamomile and a cookie and also maybe a hug or I’m going to explode.

What he says instead is, “ Alfred .” It’s a relieved sob, leaving him without permission, and Alfred’s shocked and confused reaction is much more noticeable than it should be. “I—we didn’t know where else to go. He’s hurt.”

There are more words on his tongue, an avalanche of them wanting to come out, but Alfred stops him there with a raised hand. He doesn’t put the rifle down, but he says, “Come in, then,” and opens the door wide enough for them.

Dick groans when Tim drags him up the steps. Blinking sluggishly at Alfred, he says, “Alf…?”

“Yeah, it’s Alfred. Come on, help out here a little bit. We’re just gonna sit down and hopefully get you patched up, alright, Dickie?”

“Hrn.”

Tim bites his lip at the Bruce noise, stupid tears stinging in his eyes.

He’s home. It’s unfamiliar. Dick is hurt. He’s in charge.

Now is so not the time to cry.

Alfred leads them to a nearby couch in a sitting room they’ve never used in all the years Tim’s known Bruce. Rifle still in hand, he seems much more unsure than their Alfred, who would’ve already had the situation on lock by now.

“We need a first aid kit, please,” Tim says. He glances at the weapon, and adds, “We won’t cause any trouble, I promise. I—I know this is probably super weird, but….”

But what? Tim can’t think of a way to end the sentence so he just doesn’t. Instead, he turns to Dick and starts pulling his brother’s shirt off, something they really should’ve done hours ago. While he uses the fabric to put pressure on the wound again, he hears Alfred moving around behind him.

If this Bruce is anything like theirs, a first aid kit shouldn’t be too far away. There’s one in every bathroom back home.

It’s not long before Alfred is back, shooing Tim away and setting a large first aid kit on the couch. His rifle is gone, but Tim knows it can’t be far. There’s no way this Alfred trusts them enough to not have it close at hand. “Do I dare ask what happened?”

God, it’s good to hear his voice. “My brother got shot,” Tim says, reverting to his natural instinct to reveal as little as possible. Normally Alfred is someone he can give a full mission report to, but Tim is just Tim right now, not Red Robin, and this is not his Alfred, so he’s going to keep his mouth shut up tight.

“Well, my word. You wouldn’t know it from looking at him.” And there’s that Alfred sass. It doesn’t make him laugh like it usually does—no, it just reminds him again that he isn’t actually home. “Care to explain more? Should I be concerned you were followed?”

Tim thinks on it for a minute, but really, there’s no way Maroni’s guy got up in time to tail them. The rest of the mob family have probably heard about them by now, but Tim isn’t too worried about it. He can’t find it within himself to be. All he can really think about is Dick, Alfred, Bruce. If coming here was a mistake after all. If they’ll ever make it home to see their Bruce and Alfred. Eventually, he says, “No. We weren’t followed.”

Dick groans as Alfred starts to prep the gunshot wound to get the bullet out. He sways a little, dizzy, and mumbles an apology when Alfred has to readjust him.

Alfred says, “Just hold as still as you can, and you’ll be alright.”

Hearing the tenderness in Alfred’s voice does something to Tim. This is Alfred , he thinks. He can help us with more than just this.

He blurts out, “It was one of Maroni’s men.”

“Sal Maroni?” Alfred sounds suspiciously uninterested, not even bothering to look away from his work. “The mob boss?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm. Alright, young man, I’m going to get this bullet out now.”

“Tim,” Dick grits out, reaching out his hand. Tim takes it, sitting down on the other side of his brother. He forces himself to watch as Alfred goes through the familiar motions. Dick doesn’t actually squeeze his hand that much, too used to this kind of pain, but Tim thinks maybe they both feel better having the lifeline.

He stays there until Dick is stitched up and accepts a dose of Tylenol—no matter how much Alfred gives them concerned looks and insists on something stronger, a Bat doesn’t take hard drugs.

Not quite huffing in exasperation, Alfred acquiesces and leaves Dick alone, sitting back against the cushions. Then he turns to Tim. With his hands on his hips and his sleeves rolled up, he’s honestly kind of intimidating. “Now you, young man,” he says.

“Um. What? I’m fine. I didn’t get shot, I don’t need anything.”

Alfred raises an eyebrow. Tim can out-stubborn almost anybody, even his other family members, but Alfred Pennyworth is not one of them. Everyone bows down to him.

Tim sighs and scoots a few inches away from Dick, and when Alfred shoos him all the way into the other corner, he goes. Surprisingly, the older man sits next to Tim, between him and Dick, and instead of reaching for the kit, he just. Puts a hand on Tim’s shoulder. Which Tim finds extremely weird, considering how British and physically distant Alfred is. Oh sure, he hugs them all. He catches them when they fall, he reassures them with arm pats and shoulder squeezes. But it’s unlike him to just... sit here and rest his hand on Tim’s shoulder, looking him in the face with an expression Tim finds he can’t read.

Not being able to read people, especially someone he knows so well, freaks him out.

Tense, Tim says, “What?”

Alfred is quiet for a moment, then asks, “Where have you boys been staying?”

Oh. Yeah, okay. He’s suspicious of them. Tim can understand why. “We have a place.” It’s a disgusting alley behind a pizzeria they can’t afford to eat at, scraping by with the last of the money they had on them when they were sent here, but it’s not a lie.

Alfred backs off, picking his battles and probably recognizing this one for what it is: unwinnable. He’s more than perceptive enough to read between the lines anyway, add up all the clues—their clothes are dirty, their hair greasy, and Tim knows he’s looking pretty gaunt. And considering how jumpy Tim is acting, it’s likely Alfred thinks they’re homeless. Which they are.

“Are you injured anywhere?”

Tim holds out his hand, his knuckles split and raw from earlier, and ignores how badly he’s shaking. Alfred takes his hand, and grabs alcohol wipes from the kit. He dabs at the wounds, glancing at Tim’s face like he’s expecting a reaction. And yeah, it stings a little, but he’s had much worse. This is nothing.

“Hmm.” Alfred moves Tim’s hand around, looking for other wounds, finding a few little cuts. “So your brother’s name is Dickie?”

“Dick,” Tim corrects. Bruce and Jason are the only ones who call Dick that usually, and Jason almost always does it because it’s his ‘little brother duty’ or something. The only reason he said it earlier is because he hoped it would be comforting. “Short for—”

“Richard, I assume.”

“Yeah.” Tim falls silent, trying to keep his hand still. When a few moments of silence go by, he looks up at Alfred, finding him making an expectant face. “Oh! Yeah, sorry. I’m Tim.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Tim. You seem to already know my name.”

Yeah. Shit. Unable to think of a lie beyond ‘you look like my grandpa’, Tim laughs nervously. “Lucky guess?”

Dick snorts. “You jus’ look like our gran’pa, that’s all. His name’s Alfred. Yours too, huh?”

Alfred doesn’t look convinced, but he goes along with it anyway. “Yes, mine too.” What an odd coincidence , he doesn’t say, but Tim hears it anyway.

It doesn’t take long after that for Alfred to finish up Tim’s knuckles. He offers to put some band-aids on, but Tim shakes his head. “No, no, I’m fine. Thank you.”

Dick gives him a look, and despite the fact that he’s still acting loopy, there’s a strength to it. Tim can tell what he’s thinking—that if the cuts weren’t on the knuckles, a very awkward place to put bandages, Dick would be insisting on it. Well, whatever , he thinks, resisting the urge to stick out his tongue. You’re not in charge right now anyway.

Alfred stands and looks them over for a brief moment, hesitation obvious in the way he pauses, inhaling deeply. Then, with determination, he says, “I will prepare you something to eat. Do either of you have any allergies I should be aware of?”

“Sulfites,” Tim says at the same time Dick says, “Shellfish. And pet dander.”

“Dick, man, I’m pretty sure they don’t have pets. And even if they did, pets aren’t allowed in the kitchen under any circumstances.”

“Oh yeah,” Dick says with a faint chuckle. “Forgot.”

“Mister Tim,” Alfred cuts in before Tim can reply. It’s unspeakably weird to be called Mister Tim instead of Master Tim, even though Alfred called him that for years. “Will sandwiches suffice?”

The thought of eating Alfred’s food—and even more than that, something they haven’t fished out of a dumpster—is drool-worthy. Quickly, he agrees, “Yes, that’s perfect. Thank you.”

Alfred nods and leaves, probably thankful to get the heck away from them for a few minutes. Once he’s gone, the brothers fall quiet, both a blessing and a curse. Not having Alfred asking questions that Tim has to evade is great, but it does give him the opportunity to keep freaking out.

What do they do next? Alfred might not let them leave while Dick is healing, and that means the chances of running into Bruce raise astronomically. Tim knows that he won’t be able to handle that. Not at all.

“Stop it,” Dick whispers, loud in the overwhelming quiet. “I can see your forehead vein from here.”

“Shut up. I’m trying to think.”

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

Tim sighs, letting the banter drop for a moment. “Look, I’m sorry you got shot. I know it’s not my fault,” he says, speaking over Dick’s immediate protest. “I know that. But I’m still sorry.”

“…Thanks. I’m accepting your apology but not your responsibility.”

“Duh.” Tim fiddles with his hands, satisfied but also knowing, in his heart of hearts, that it is in fact his fault and Dick is totally wrong. “I’m not sorry I brought us here, though.”

“Duh,” Dick repeats, sounding more than a little peeved. Not that Tim can blame him, really. If Tim and Damian had agreed to something, and then Damian went back on it… that’d be really annoying.

Still, that little brother duty Jason talks about means he has to defend himself. “Dick, we were gonna end up coming here anyway, don’t you see that?” He shoots to his feet and drags his hands through his hair, pacing in front of the couch. Despite his earlier flip-flopping, he’s sure now. This was the right decision even if it does suck a lot. “Where else could we possibly go? We don’t belong here. The only way we can get home is by ask—”

Tim cuts off immediately when footsteps echo down the hall. They sound different from Alfred’s, a third tap that sounds a lot like a cane.

This Alfred doesn’t use a cane. The only person who could is—

Both Dick and Tim tense as the doorway is filled up by Bruce freaking Wayne.

“Um,” Tim says.

Bruce looks different. Not just in the sense that he is, in fact, using a cane, but just. Everything. He looks younger, a neat beard covering much of his face. There’s barely any salt in it at all. The scars that litter the skin of his face and arms, mostly bare considering he’s wearing only a t-shirt and pajama pants, aren’t there. Worst of all, there’s no recognition in his eyes.

His sons have become strangers. But no, this man is not their father. Tim has to shout it at himself. He’s not! Bruce Wayne would never look at them like this. Especially not Dick.

Dick makes a noise, a small and sad little whimper, and Tim thinks, shit. Shit shit shit. Unable to do anything to help, Tim shuffles closer to him, hoping it’s enough to comfort.

“Who are you?” Bruce asks, moving further into the room. He says it casually, like this is a totally normal situation, but there’s steel there, too. Of course there is. This is Bruce Wayne. He doesn’t mess around, especially when it comes to strangers invading his home. And as much as that feels like a knife to the chest, that’s what they are. Strangers . The word lingers in his mind, leaving a bad aftertaste.

Tim gets the distinct feeling that the cane, for all that it serves to help Bruce walk, is a weapon. One this Bruce will have no issue using against them. “Um. We—we’re homeless,” he blurts out, trying to push the thought away. “And my brother got shot, so we came here looking for help. We’ll be gone soon, I promise. Don’t worry about us, this is just a one time thing, and we won’t tell anyone else. I know this is a house and not a triage center.”

Bruce is already looking at him like he’s an intruder, but at that, the man’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. Oh, right. That’s something the other—the right —Bruce would say. Has said many times. Because it’s something their Alfred has always said, and apparently this Alfred too.

Scrambling, Tim keeps going, pasting a fake smile on his face. “Alfred knows we’re here. He’ll be right back. It’s okay, we’ll just wait right here and not steal anything, so you can go back to bed. Goodnight.”

“Tim,” Dick bites out, obviously trying to communicate that he thinks Tim is being a weirdo, and that he’s doing nothing but tipping Bruce off to the fact that something is wrong.

“I’m freaking out, okay?” Tim exclaims back, curling and relaxing his fingers in an effort to control himself. It’s impossible, though—this is their dad , for crying out loud. Their dad, who they haven’t seen in a long time, not since before they were attacked as civilians and flung through the wormhole that deposited them here. Their dad, who Tim really, seriously needs a hug from right now.

Bruce comes closer, leaning against one of the two unused chairs. Where Tim tenses further, unsure of what he’s about to do or say, Dick relaxes. He’s really out of it now, the blood loss and medicine finally catching up with him. He’s blinking heavily and listing to the side. “Hand me that, will you?” He asks Bruce, gesturing to a throw blanket resting on the top of the chair.

Suddenly feeling very protective of Dick, Tim says, “I can—”

“No,” Bruce interrupts, the corner of his mouth curling up like he thinks this is funny. “I’ve got it.”

He grabs the blanket and walks over to the couch. Tim stumbles back a few steps to give him room. For a second, it seems like none of them breathe—but then Bruce leans on his cane like a crutch, bends down, and lays the blanket over Dick.

Tim has seen Bruce tuck people in before, usually Damian. All those times, he either didn’t care much, or a swirl of jealousy had tightened in his stomach. He can remember wondering why Bruce didn’t tuck him in. Why his parents never did it, why Mrs. Mac and all the nannies hadn’t either.

This time, his eyes sting with tears. He forces them back, biting the inside of his cheek.

Dick snuggles into the cushions behind his back, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. “Thanks, dad,” he mumbles, slipping off into a nap.

Bruce and Tim both freeze.

“Um,” Tim says, because something has to be said, this needs to be nipped in the bud and stopped right now before Bruce can ask anything. But really, the chances of Bruce Wayne not asking questions? Less than zero. And Tim’s brain is screaming, because what the hell could he possibly say to explain that ?

Alfred enters the room again before anything can happen, carrying a tray holding a few sandwiches. He sets it down on a side table before looking up.

“Oh,” he stops short when he sees Bruce, hands hovering above the food. “Master Bruce, I thought you were downstairs.”

“I was just doing some reading,” he waves off, but he can’t quite manage to sound casual. “Now… did he just call me dad ?”

Oh fuck , Tim thinks. Awkwardly, he laughs, “No! What? No, that’s ridiculous.” Seeing that this tactic isn’t working—Bruce and Alfred both have legendary ‘bitch please’ looks that go beyond the confines of time and space, apparently—he shifts gears. “I mean, okay, yes he did. But—but it’s just because you look like our dad! A lot like him, actually. Haha.”

Bruce and Alfred stare at him, concern building as he keeps laughing, spurred on by a week of non-stop stress and the pressure of being in charge— maybe , he thinks, this was a bad idea all along and we shouldn’t have come here and Dick was totally right. It’s only when his laughter turns to hiccuping sobs that either of them move, Bruce managing to grab his bicep in time before Tim can sink to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut. Alfred hurries to his other side, fretting, “Come on, young sir, just sit down now.”

They lead him to one of the chairs, where he collapses, his head in his hands. Dick is better at this—at leading, at interacting, at not breaking apart. It should all be the opposite: Tim sleeping off a GSW while Dick lies through his teeth as he explains what’s going on. Not that Dick would’ve gotten them into this situation, anyway.

“I’m sorry,” he sniffles, refusing to look up. They’re both staring at him again, clearly unsure what to do with a strange, crying teenager.

After a moment, Alfred says, “You boys say I look like your grandfather, and now Master Bruce looks like your father. By chance, what is his name?”

“Bruce Wayne,” Tim replies to the floor. “But… not him. A different one.”

“A different Bruce Wayne?” The confusion and curiosity is clear as day in Bruce’s voice, and Tim can’t help but snort a little.

“Yeah. Um, this is going to sound really crazy, but my brother and I are from a different universe.” He peeks at their faces, not surprised at all by the blatant disbelief he sees. “I can prove it.”

Alfred and Bruce share a wide-eyed look.“How?”

“I know you’re the one who’s been sending the GCPD all those case files. And before you say you’re not, you just said you were doing some reading. Downstairs. In the cave below this property, right? Back home, it’s called the Batcave and you’re Batman.”

“Go on, Mister Tim,” Alfred says after a moment. “We believe you.”

Relief crashes down on him and more tears slip out against his will. “I need your help. We need your help. We’ve been here for a week, and—and—and we have no idea how to get home. None. There’s no one else we can turn to, ‘cause the people who would usually help us either can’t or wouldn’t, since they don’t know us here. And god, this world is nothing at all like ours…. I just want to go home. I don’t know what to do. Please,” he begs, desperate. “I need advice.”

Bruce hesitantly sets a hand on Tim’s back, rubbing up and down in a motion that is, wow, extremely soothing. “We’ll figure this out, Tim. I promise you, Alfred and I will help you boys any way we can.”

Before Tim can ask if it’s just because they’re his sons in some other universe, Alfred clears his throat. “It may take some time, mind you. But you and your brother will need to stay here anyway, seeing as that wound needs time to heal. I can’t, in good conscience, let that happen out on the streets.”

Tim wants to refuse. Wants to say thanks but no thanks, you can put us up in a motel or something until everything is worked out. Wants to cry and cry and wake up from this nightmare. Instead, mentally and physically exhausted, he just says, “Okay.”

Both men are concerned by the response, he can tell. Though he isn’t looking, he can practically hear the silent conversation they’re having over his head. Then Alfred stands. “I will make up two of the guest rooms, then, sirs. Mister Tim, could you help bring Mister Dick upstairs?”

“Just set up one, we can share,” Tim replies. It’s late and he doesn’t want Alfred to have to do anything more than he’s already done. Than he’s already doing.

“If you’re certain….”

“I am. Thank you.”

He’s not gone for long, and thank god, because Tim can hardly stand to be alone with Bruce without spilling even more. He’s already said so much tonight, he feels empty and hollowed out, kind of like a balloon that’s been blown up only for all the air to wheeze out of it, leaving it sad and stretched. Holy shit, that metaphor. He needs to go to bed, and he needs a mattress instead of another cardboard box laid over hard cobblestone and concrete.

Shaking his head to stop his thoughts, he moves over to Dick and wakes him, a hand on his uninjured shoulder. “Dick, wake up,” he says a few times until his brother is blinking heavily at him.

“Wha’?”

“We’re gonna go upstairs and sleep. Come on, I’ll help you.”

“Hrn,” he says again, and this time, Bruce hears it. Tim glances at him, almost surprised to see the emotions on Bruce’s face. Apparently that’s a Bruce noise in this universe too, and it only helps to cement Tim’s story.

Tim helps Dick stand up, swinging Dick’s good arm over his shoulders. Together, they slowly ascend the stairs, something Tim is more than familiar with considering how many times something like this has happened at home. At the top, they meet up with Alfred, who takes them to a guest room that is thankfully unused in their version of the Manor.

Alfred helps Dick get settled into the mattress, his shoes and belt shed. “I could get you both some pajamas,” Alfred says when he sees the way Tim flops down, both of them still in battered, dirty, expensive chinos.

“We’re okay,” Tim says, aware that the only pajamas in the house must belong to Bruce and Alfred, and that neither size would fit them. He’s not sure he could handle it right now even if they did. “Thank you though. For…for all of this. It means a lot.”

Alfred graces him with a gentle smile. “Of course, young sir. I would like to think that your Bruce will appreciate this.”

He leaves, and then it’s just Tim and Dick. They’ve shared a bed plenty of times before, on nights when there was no one else around and they didn’t want to be alone. Dick was the one who taught Tim one of the best parts about having siblings: cuddles. Dick is a cuddle monster, but maybe tonight Tim won’t wake up being held protectively to his brother’s chest.

Under the covers, Tim stares at the ceiling. His mind refuses to shut off even though they’re finally somewhere safe. Somewhere he can sleep and not worry about what might happen when he’s not paying attention.

He feels a little better, now that there are actual adults in charge, who are going to help. Who can keep Dick from getting hurt again, especially from Tim’s carelessness. But it makes him miss home, just reminds him how far away he and Dick are from their real family. He’s curious, on some level, about this Bruce Wayne. He trusts him to take care of them long enough for them to return home. How long that’s going to take is a question, though, one that he thinks can probably be answered by: a long time.

It’ll be good for Dick, at least. Give him time to heal.

God, Dick shouldn’t have been hurt in the first place. But of course he did, and of course it was because of some dumb argument, because of Tim—

“’M not perfect,” Dick whispers, making Tim, who was certain he was asleep, jump. When he turns to look, he finds Dick’s eyes are closed. Squeezed shut. “’M not . I don’t know what I’m doing, Tim. I didn’t wanna come here ‘cause of the rules, and ‘cause it’s hard… hard to see them. ‘M lucky I getta sleep through it, I guess.”

“Dick—”

“I woulda done the same thing, okay?” And now he opens his eyes, meeting Tim’s head on. “This was the right choice. Coming here. Alfred gives the best advice.”

“Yeah.” Tim’s throat feels thick, the word hard to get out.

Dick reaches out his good hand and rests it on Tim’s cheek. “Thank you for bringing me here. You saved me. Now go to sleep,” he says, and then teasingly smacks him. “I can hear you thinking all the way from here.”

“You’re like two feet away,” Tim points out, but he tries to listen anyway. He closes his eyes, thinking maybe he will be able to rest. Dick is the best at comforting people.

“Shhhh,” Dick says, grinning. “Doesn’t matter. Sleep.”

“Yes, mom.”

“ Shhh !”

Tim laughs, and for the first time in a while, it’s real. He feels safe and warm and not alone, and while he can’t exactly say he’s happy right now, he’s a lot closer than he was just a few hours before.

Tomorrow , he decides, settling down, I’m going to take a shower and eat a real meal. And then, then I can finally start figuring out how to get us home.

#bcs19 #tim drake #dick grayson #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #batfam #batfamily #batfam fic #fanfic #my writing #renecdote

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taiblogcomics · 5 years ago

Text

Absolutely Thera-Pissed

Hey there, visas and green cards. It's our ninth blogaversary! Wow, we've been going for quite a long time. Long enough to completely change platforms at least once. Considering we just finished our whole backlog, I think we should try something new in honour of the amazing coincidence of these two events synching up. Before we start on another backlog of terrible comics (trust me, I have something in mind), let's do something we've never done before on this blog. We've only ever really covered comics issue by issue. How would you feel, dear readers, if we instead did an entire storyline all at once?

And oh boy, do I have just the storyline in mind. Here's the cover:

Oh yeah. We're doing this. This story has kind of hung over this blog, mostly due to its connections to Red Hood and the Outlaws. It also prominitely features Harley Quinn, who also appeared in Suicide Squad (which ended before this story took place). And personally, I am a fan of Harley, Booster, and the Titans. And oh boy, does this comic shit all over them, in some of the most truly appalling ways possible. This is Heroes in Crisis. All nine issues. Let's jump right in~

I won’t be going over the covers of the individual issues, or even this one so much, but I do like that quote at the top. It is actually some good superhero artwork! It is an extremely awful story, but the artwork is fine~

So the first issue starts like this: Booster Gold's in one of those tiny middle-American diners. The host's loving it, since she says superheroes never show up and eat here. And oh look, here comes another one! Booster replies that that's no hero, as Harley Quinn walks in. Clearly he hasn't been reading her solo series. Harley orders some pie, and she and Booster eat in terse silence. Until suddenly Harley grabs a knife, and the two begin a real knock-down, drag-out fight. And lemme tell ya something, Harley keeps up with a guy who can fly and project forcefields pretty well. Eventually the pair are exhausted, and Booster says he's gotta bring Harley in, after what he saw her do. Harley protests, because she didn't kill all those people. She saw Booster do it.

All this is intercut with two different scenes. One is sort of a confession-cam style thing, a bunch of heroes (including Harley, Blue Jay, Booster, and Hotspot) all admitting they're here for therapy. And the second is Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman talking with each other as they land in a particular site. This place is called Sanctuary. It is currently full of dead heroes. Among the deceased here are Hotspot, Lagoon Boy, Wally West, and Roy Harper. And this is my first major complaint. Do you know what all these characters have in common? Hey, DC: Stop using the Titans as your cannon fodder. Stop treating them as a joke. Every iteration of the team deserves more respect than this.

So Harley and Booster are going to be our POV characters for this story. I like both of these characters a lot, so this is probably going to be pretty painful seeing them written horribly. Harley goes off to the Penguin for protection, and we actually get to see her in her old costume. It is a breath of fresh air, honestly. Booster, meanwhile, mostly just tries to rationalise his actions with Skeets, his robot buddy. Booster suffered kind of a psychotic break back in the Batman storyline "The Gift", which is why he was in Sanctuary to begin with. This story is basically a follow-up to that one, and has the same sort of tone.

Harley confronts the trinity in Gotham, revealing she set the whole thing up with Penguin just so she could get close to them on her terms. She uses the Lasso of Truth to confess she saw Booster Gold do it, then uses the Kryptonite in Batman's belt to skip town. The next time we see her, she's at the docks, giving a eulogy to Poison Ivy, another victim of Sanctuary. Booster Gold, meanwhile, has rationalised that Batman would solve the crime himself rather than turn himself in, and goes to Barry Allen to check in. Of course, the trinity are the only ones who know about the accident yet, so when Booster tells Barry that Wally's dead, he gets super pissed. Just like the readers are!

Issue 3 is a flashback issue, showing Booster's first day at Sanctuary. Sanctuary works like this: everyone gets their own private quarters, and if they want to visit the common areas, they wear a mask and cloak to preserve anonymity. Here's the first really big problem with Sanctuary: while therapy for superheroes is a good (possibly necessary) concept, Sanctuary is only one kind of therapy. It essentially assumes everyone responds the same to the same sort of therapy. The kind here is that Sanctuary gives you a private room that simulates your traumas (with a holodeck) and has you physically confront them. Lagoon Boy, for example, is shown to be facing the laser that killed him over and over again. Wally sets up superhero battles that still have his kids with him. And while this sort of therapy might help some people, it's definitely not universal.

Booster starts his first session, which ends up just being a hologram of himself, talking to him. Before he can get much further, though, alarms go off and everyone is urged to emergency evacuate. Lagoon Boy is killed--in a deliberate callback to his previous death, no less--and we see a few other victims, including Red Devil, Commander Steel, and Gunfire. Wally clutches Roy's body as he dies in his arms, and Harley smacks Wally in the face with her hammer. She greets Booster cheerfully, and he admits he's having a hell of a first day.

After a brief scene of Aqualad (Garth, in this case) drinking in a bar--and who can blame him for wanting to drink after experiencing this story?--Batman and Barry meet, thus showing they're still unsure who did it. Booster is being interrogated under the Lasso of Truth, and he relays the previous issue to us. In his mind, Harley did it. Harley, meanwhile, has tracked down Batgirl (Barbara Gordon) and surprisingly... they hug. Babs promises to help stick by Harley and prove her innocence. After all, Babs has been through trauma, too. The comic reminds us of this with another confession-cam video, showing Babs display the scars she received from “The Killing Joke".

So, about these confession cams... They've been interspersed between scenes, showing everyone from Batman down to guys like Gunfire or the Protector relaying their problems by confession. Again, this sort of therapy isn't for everyone, but it's the only one Sanctuary's got. Superman tells Batman that Lois has been receiving these videos anonymously. Batman responds that there are no videos. Sanctuary does not keep records, to preserve patient confidentiality. Supes replies that there are videos, he's seen them, and now the media has them. The issue ends with a breaking story about "What is the secret superhero Sanctuary?" exposé airing on television...

Speaking of breaking, Blue Beetle (Ted Kord, who I'm as surprised as anybody to find out is alive again post-Rebirth) breaks Booster out of the Hall of Justice where he's being held. The pair watch the breaking news report on television while they try to come up with a plan. Booster's idea is to confess to Barry again, figuring they won't expect the stupidest possible move, making it actually the smartest possible move. Booster has not really recovered from his insanity, I see. He and Beetle do exactly that, surprising Barry at work, which is apparently all the advantage they need. This is because Barry, as a forensic scientist, has access to the data on the autopsies.

While Superman makes a public statement to the press regarding Sanctuary, Batman passes Skeets into Batgirl's care, and she immediately violates that trust by in turn passing Skeets to Harley. It's implied Harley tortures the information regarding Booster's whereabouts out of Skeets, but it's okay because he's just a robot. Babs and Harley turn up at Booster's place as he's analysing the data he obtained from Barry. Here's where it all starts to fall into place: the data on Wally West says his body is five days older than the rest of them.

Issue 6 is kind of a triple piece, but one that can be summed up fairly quickly. It focuses on three specific characters who were all at Sanctuary. The parts regarding Gnaark the caveman (another Titans alumnus) are ultimately pointless, since the issue ends with his death. The parts with Harley focus on Joker's abuse of her and Posion Ivy's care towards her. This also ends badly. Wally's parts focus on the DC Rebirth story where he essentially willed himself back into the universe. And while that story is really good and it was a joy to see Wally again, it ultimately ended with the knowledge that Wally's family did not reappear with him. His kids are gone, his wife is with someone else and does not remember him, and until he forced his way back into everyone's memories, no one else recalled him either. This would traumatise anybody. But it may have really traumatised Wally.

The next issue starts really well, honestly. Booster and Harley are fighting it out--again--while Babs and Beetle just watch. Like, they aren't even stressed, they're both familiar with their respective charges, and this is really no surprise. In any other comic, this would be a great scene. Shame that it's in this one, and it's not nearly enough to save even a lick of it. Eventually Babs works out that Booster's forcefields are only currently working because of some jury-rigged tech that's powered by Blue Beetle's consciousness. So she knocks him out with one hit. Harley prepares a killing blow, but ultimately cannot go through with it, proving she's a good person. She and Booster just collapse on the floor, and bond over the fact that they both kind of suck as superheroes (from their own perspectives, at least).

With Booster, Beetle, Babs, and Harley (Barley?) all on the same side now, the group decide to get to the bottom of everything together. Meanwhile, the rose Harley dropped off the docks is picked up by Wally. See, while the body they found of Wally is five days older than the rest, this means he time-traveled and is still at present alive. Wally channels his Speed Force into the rose, causing it to grow rapidly--and Poison Ivy blooms from it, restored to life. I don't get it either, but if it means Ivy didn't die in this stupid story, I'll take it. Wally then apologises, since Ivy just returned to life and now she has to see death so soon. Those five days are up, and a second Wally appears, ready to literally kill himself.

So here's what really fucking happened.

Wally had been at Sanctuary three weeks already. He's frustrated because the therapy's not helping as fast as he thought it would. He does a jump into the Speed Force and basically exists everywhere at once. Spread across the time stream, he witnesses everybody's confession cams all at once. He sees "the trauma of a thousand heroes in crisis" (hey, we have a title, ladies and gentlemen). And... it's too much. Realising everybody's personal pain breaks him. He unleashes the burst of pent-up energy he'd stored to do the time jaunt thing and kills everyone at Sanctuary.

Lagoon Boy. Protector. Hotspot. Red Devil. Arsenal. Gnaark. Solstice. Tattooed Man. Gunfire. Blue Jay. Commander Steel. Nemesis. I want you to remember these names. These were all pre-existing characters. Half of them were members of the Titans at one point or another. Wally West, the Flash, killed them in a stupid, stupid storyline that not only assassinates his character, but also literally assassinates all these other characters.

Wally uses his super speed to set up the bodies, rig the crime scenes so it looks like Harley or Booster could be responsible for their deaths. He then travels forward in time to the present moment, where he has just confessed all this to Poison Ivy. He kills that version of himself and travels back in time with it to fake his own death. He then uses the VR tech of Sanctuary to trick Booster and Harley into believing they saw the other commit the deeds. Neither of them even knew they'd never left their respective therapy simulations. This leaves Wally with a five day window to figure out something good he can do to make up for killing everyone.

So the final issue wraps it up like this: Booster time-travels the group back to where Barry is about to kill his own paradox clone. Harley and Ivy reunite, which is nice. So here's the plan: this doesn't have to end with any more death. In the end, what Barry did was all an accident. So Booster travels into the future to make a clone of the paradox-Wally. This gives them a five-day-old body they can leave at the massacre, in order to close the timeloop. The present Wally turns himself in and is arrested, while the five-days-ago paradox Wally merges back into the Speed Force, still running to try and find his family.

And the "good" thing Wally did to make up for killing everyone? He was the one that leaked Sanctuary's existence to the media. In his mind, the idea that heroes are seen as constant paragons was too much pressure. By letting the public know that even superheroes need therapy, even superheroes suffer trauma just like everyone else, he he could let people know that heroes are just that: people. People like everyone else. And that it is okay for anyone to seek help if you need it. This seems like a nice sentiment, until you remember the reason Wally killed everyone is because he was impatient about how his therapy was going. What an awful story.

-----

Like, legitimately, this story is just awful. The basic premise--that heroes could probably do with therapy--is not a bad one. The execution is just really completely mismanaged, though. Start with the beginning. Why are Harley Quinn and Booster Gold chosen as the focus characters? Because they're the ones you could believe would orchestrate a mass murder, right? Except no. You would never believe that. Booster is not that much of a screw-up, and Harley is not that much of a villain. Neither of them have been those things for many years. The readers know that, but it feels like the writer didn't.

And that's the worst part of it all. The superficiality of the story. In the end, why was this story written? To explore the concept of therapy for superheroes? Well, then, it went about it in the worst way possible. Not everyone experiences trauma in the same way. And therefore, not everyone responds to therapy in the same way. The way therapy is depicted in this story is just wrong. Frankly, Sanctuary looks like one of the worst places to get treatment, right alongside Arkham Asylum. Do you think anybody's really going to take away from this story "It's okay to talk about your traumas if you need to"? In or out of universe?

I didn't really talk about the confession cams, but they seemed highly unnecessary. They were always the same, a 3x3 of panels featuring a superhero talking about their traumas. Most of them didn't factor into the story, and at most they felt like a common scene transition. They tried to give them some weight by revealing that the contents of all these possibly got leaked? But then they just kinda dropped that subplot. Which was really kind of serious, because the traumas range from the Protector (a character created for drug PSAs) confessing that he has done drugs to Superman talking about the burden of keeping his identity secret. How much of these did the public actually get? And if it was none, what was even the point of it being a subplot~? Like, leak that Sanctuary existed, sure, but why did Lois Lane get sent all the videos that shouldn't have existed~?

What this story has done to Wally is awful. They have completely tarnished this likeable, amazing hero by having him kill twelve people (thirteen, if you include Poison Ivy), several of them colleagues and friends. All because he's trying to fake his way through therapy when it isn't helping him as fast as he wants. Know what would have been a good story? How about he learns to cope with his trauma? How about he actually gets his family back? It's unrealistic as hell, but it's a fictional story. It's escapism. It's okay to have a happy ending. I ''want'' my stories to end in happy endings, because it's so hard to get them in real life. I want something better than this.

DC Rebirth was a breath of fresh air. Wally's return to the DC universe felt like the clouds were lifitng. The stories following Rebirth felt like a return to form after the darkening of the New 52. It felt like the stories were getting good again, like the comics were getting fun and hopeful again. It couldn't last, though, could it? This story is only three years after the Rebirth initiative. Three years? That's all the hope we get in the universe? I sincerely hope this story ends up an abberation, and not a return to form of the darker, more dour universe we put up with in the New 52. Especially given current events, you can understand why a brighter, optimistic fictional world is appealing. I sincerely hope that when comics resume publication after the pandemic, a more positive outlook continues, and stories like this are left in the garbage where they belong.

This book is fucking awful, and I am done with it. Next week, we'll start reviewing an all-new series for the Taiblog. Let's just say I'm not done ranting about injustices against the Teen Titans~

#comics #reviews #Heroes in Crisis #Taiblog

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choileon · 4 years ago

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( ASTORIA TASK #3: ALTERNATE UNIVERSES )

sliding doors ( self-paras )

warnings: death, murder, abuse, blood, violence, imprisonment, pregnancy, bad writing

mentions: zakary prashad, moonji min, minamoto no osamu, aleyna greer

Has it ever crossed your mind? That perhaps, somewhere else, we all live a different life, with different relationships... in another world? --- Train, 2020.

--- ( universe #1: learn to hate ) ---

Open cell 58!

The clanking sound of the metal gates had always given him a skull-piercing headache. He blamed it on the heavy annulling spells that surrounded the prison. Within each brick on the walls, to the fences around it, lights, windows… everything in there, there was a spell to cancel out everyone’s powers. Vampires had their supernatural strength and speed canceled out. Same for werewolves and shapeshifters. Humans didn’t need spells in the first place, so they didn’t feel any difference.

His block was one designated to violent criminals, and he had to say, he was one of the quiet ones in there. The warlock looked up from the book he’d been reading all week when a guard stepped inside, wearing protective gear that had been magically made to cancel out the annulling spells, thus enabling their powers. It was a smart move, he reckoned. Less dangerous for everyone. Human rights activists were certainly thankful for that—well, human rights was a way of putting it.

The guard prompted him up from his bed with the stern attitude that was required from prison guards anywhere in the world. The warlock rolled his eyes at the demand as he adjusted his glasses and abided to the man’s request, standing up from his bed and stretching out his arms to have his hands cuffed to his ankles. His powers might have been cancelled, but physical assaults were still a thing, and dangerous criminals were usually violent. Many had hit the guards before, so, this was a simple precaution.

He was brought to the visitation room, where other prisoners, each sat on round tables and chat with their loved ones. His eyes landed on a table where a single person sat, staring out at the bars behind the window near him. The same person that stood up when the prisoner approached him.

“Mr. Locke.”

He said, drawing out his hand, to which, the warlock showed his own hands, cuffed together and with a chain tying them to his ankles, making it impossible for him to return the gesture and shake hands.

“Right. Um… my name is Zakary Prashad and I’m a journalist for the Astoria Times.” The journalist produced a business card and slid it across the table, before both him and the warlock sat down. “I’m writing a piece on violent crimes that have happened in Astoria in the last twenty years and was wondering if I could ask you some questions.”

The warlock glanced over at the card, before shifting his gaze up to the journalist and shrugged. “You’re already here, so it’s not like I have a choice, is it?” A smirk appeared on his lips, fingers lacing on the table as he leaned in.

Zakary asked if he could record their conversation, to which he received a positive answer to, and so, he pulled out the little note book he’d carry everywhere, where he’d written some questions and started reading from his own scribbles.

“So… Leon Locke… twelve years ago, you murdered your entire coven in cold blood. Including your parents and sibling. What led you to do it?”

His tongue traced his bottom lip. It was almost as if he could still remember having his face and name covering every newspaper and magazine in the district. The flashes were blinding, mixed with the amount of drugs he had in his bloodstream at the time, they made everything much worse. In a way, it was almost funny that someone had decided to write a piece on him, because, although he was considered himself to be a violent criminal, Leon had never been more at peace than behind those walls. The blood in his hands had been justified. He had the right to do it. They had taken everything from him, he was simply returning the favor.

“I felt like it.”

A short answer, followed by a shrug of his shoulders. That same smirk went back to his lips, as if to pester the journalist.

“Records show that you came to your coven meeting one day, bringing several knives with you and, in a fit of rage, used your powers to kill them all in cold blood. Is that true?” Zakary tried once again.

“If you already have the information, then why are you wasting your time, asking me to tell you what happened?” Leon fired back.

“I wanted to hear your version of it.”

Beside giving his own confession in court, Leon hadn’t had the media approaching him, wanting to know his version of the story. They were all quick to judge, to paint him as a heartless monster, and with all honesty, he couldn’t care less about the titles, but knowing that someone was willing to listen was actually—entertaining.

There was a long pause between Zakary’s words and until Leon decided to share his version of what happened. Enough time for him to think this through and if it was worth going back to that night and reliving all of that once again. He hadn’t thought about that night in a while, so, his memories could be a little hazy. Especially since it had been a drug-induced rage fit.

“People tend to think that my adoptive mother was a saint.” He began. “You know… stellar citizen, bright smile, paid her taxes… all that shit. I guess everyone becomes a saint if they’re murdered… But I don’t remember a single day where that woman didn’t abuse me. Mentally, physically, psychologically… take your pick. For 20 years she was the devil in disguise, offering smiles to others while making me suffer at home.”

He paused, his dark hues moving up to the clock on the wall. They didn’t have much time left, maybe Leon could take advantage of it. Maybe he could just refuse to see Zakary the next time. “I started using drugs to numb the pain. Not the usual legal shit like weed. The heavy stuff so I could pass out and not think about it. Ever tried anything?”

“Can’t say that I have, no.”

Prude. Leon thought to himself.

“This one day, I come home—I was 18, by the way. So, I come home from a late soccer practice and Althea’s talking to her ancestors about how murdering my real parents hadn’t done anything for her yet. How sacrificing them hadn’t given her the power she was promised.” His smirk turned into a thin-lipped, tainting smile to Zakary as Leon tilted his head to the side. “That’s not something one would like to hear, right? So, I started planning to leave that house. I stopped going to coven meetings and became more recluse. I relied more on drugs and less on people. I lost my scholarship to college because I didn’t past the drug test, so of course, they had to notify Althea and her husband. And of course, I was punished for it.”

Leaning over the table, the smirk was back on his lips.

“Would you like the details of how she hexed me?” Although he asked, Leon didn’t leave much room for an answer. “One day, two years later, I finally gave in. It was a full moon… one that messed up with the witches’ powers, so that, mixed with the drugs?” He whistled, in order to illustrate his feelings. “I finally exploded…”

He let out a dark chuckle as he stared at his hands, as if he could feel that same power emanating from his fingertips. Flashes of that night filled his mind. The glory and gore of that night and the relief he felt while energy was pulsating through his veins. He could feel their blood splatting on his skin, painting him red while he screamed in anger. In agony.

One of the guards pulled him up, also pulling Leon out of his trance while announcing that visitation time was over.

“Yeah, I killed them all…” Leon said while looking at Zakary, a teasing smirk toying on his fleshy lips. “And you know what—I don’t regret any of it.” He leaned in so that only the journalist would hear it, before the guard pulled him away.

“Come back next week!” He shouted, while being dragged out of the visitation room. “Don’t miss me too much!”

--- ( universe #2: wrong side of heaven ) ---

There were too many people crying around him. He needed a break.

That was what Leon told himself as he stepped out of the wake room and headed outside for a minute. At least, the sounds of a busy Seoul would help him keep his mind on track. The striped band on his right arm, indicating he had lost someone and was in mourning, made people bow in respect whenever they walked past him. Sure, Leon appreciated the gesture, but it wasn’t like he was sad. In so many ways, he was thankful for the loss of his mother. The old woman was becoming more of a nuisance in her old days, than anything else. His father, far too busy juggling between guiding a coven and taking care of his senile wife to care about how Leon led his life, nor how dark magic was still a constant in their lives. Despite all it had taken in order to restore the balance of nature.

Leon took a drag from his cigarette, then tugging on the sleeve of his perfectly tailored suit while his eyes observed the movement of the city. Fast-paced cars, people coming and going as the lights went from red to green, then red again. He had come a long way since his childhood in Busan. A time where feelings were still present in his life. Now, he walked around Seoul as an empty shell, all thanks to the years of dealing with dark magic. He had never intended to start meddling with it. Not really. But from watching his mother practice it, he became curious. When the darkness lured him in, the tempting claws making offers he couldn’t deny, Leon didn’t resist.

It had given him everything in this world: power, influence, more money, coven members that followed him blindly as if he was some sort of god instead of his own head priest… but it had stripped him naked from harboring any feelings or dealing with emotions, which, the way he saw it, was nothing in comparison to what he’d gained. At least it had kept his sanity and youth, which was more than he could say for his mother, who decayed in months what most people did in decades.

The future was going to present him with a coven that Leon wasn’t certain he wanted in the first place. Sure, Leon was a natural-born leader, but his ideals were far from what most witches in his father’s coven wanted to hear. Now, he thought more of himself as a one-man army, rather than anything else. Chances were, he would most likely end up dissolving his father’s coven. Like mentioned before, most witches didn’t exactly agree with his thoughts, and the ones he found that actually agreed on witches being superior beings, turned out to be as greedy as him, which—was something Leon didn’t have time to waste with. Not when it meant what it usually did: a childish fight to decide who was the most powerful witch. He had no quarrel with fellow witches and their agenda of who’s coven was the most powerful. His problem was with humans. The ones that had burned his ancestors at the stake and forced his kind to live in secrecy.

Evolution, like one of their humans had presented so magnificently, was about the survival of the fittest. Evolution had given witches powers for a reason, to place them above any puny human, so how dare they think of themselves as the ones who should be out there, enjoying their lives while the witches hid in fear for their lives and practiced their magic in secrecy? Yes, Leon had found it fair to take matters into his own hands, thus carrying a lot of blood in them, but, the way he presented his case to his coven members whenever the topic would surface, had painted him as their hero and not a murderer. Why should they be the ones suffering? Magic ran in their veins, it made them three steps above humans. Like they should have always been. Why should they be the ones fighting for their lives? Humans shoulder fear witches, not the other way around.

“Yeobo.”

A voice pierced through his thoughts and it made Leon clench his jaw as the woman wrapped her arms around his middle and searched for his eyes. His mother’s last wish, was for him to marry a nice woman in order to continue their family’s legacy, and despite having done what she had asked for, Leon felt nothing for this woman. She was nice. Beautiful, smart, very interested and invested in the coven… He could see she cared for him, loved him even, which almost made him wish he cared enough to want her to find someone more suitable, someone who would reciprocate her love, but said feeling was not there.

“Are you okay? Abeonim is asking about you.”

“I came out to smoke. I’ll be there soon.”

His wife planted a kiss on his cheek and returned to the funeral home. Leon stayed outside just long enough to take a last drag of his cigarette, before dropping it to the ground and smashing it with the sole of his shoe.

On his way back, he walked past another wake room. The commotion inside made him stop and look in. People were crying… louder than he wanted them to. Older people were always so loud, weren’t they? Death was an inevitable part of life. Plus, it wasn’t like the veil was thick enough that they had to scream like that.

Inside, a younger woman held onto an older one. The loud old lady.

The sign outside read Min Moon Bin. A name he’d never heard before, but then again, Leon couldn’t know everyone in Seoul. On one corner another young woman was curled up crying. She looked more exhausted than most in that room. A smiling face on that picture frame, was surrounded by flowers. The man had died young—he couldn’t have been older than Leon. Actually, he didn’t even look the warlock’s age. Leon, despite not being an empath, could feel the love filling the room. A mix of love and sadness.

The woman that had been holding onto someone that seemed to be her mother, acknowledged his presence by the entrance. She asked her father to come to her mother’s aid and approached Leon. Her eyes were red from crying, he noticed, but her face didn’t look wet. She had probably cried in secrecy, away from the crowd. For a brief second, he wondered if that made her feel better, before the thought dissipated in his mind.

“Thank you for coming.” She bowed, and Leon arched one brow. The fact that she was assuming he knew the deceased, was hilarious. Yet, he bowed as well, mostly out of respect. “Were you friends with my brother?”

“We worked together.”

He lied. Nobody ever really ask questions whenever work was involved. Especially family. One’s family almost always knew what they did for a living anyway. Plus, lying came so easy to him, that Leon almost believed himself.

“Oh…” The brunette paused. Leon was ready to give a random excuse and leave when she continued. “So… were you there when he had his accident?”

Work-related accident. Color him curious.

“No. I was traveling abroad.”

Another pause. Silence.

He needed to leave. This was too suffocating.

“I—”

“I’m Moonji.” They spoke at the same time and Leon decided to let her continue before he gave an excuse and left. She didn’t feel like a witch. Definitely supernatural, though. “I was his older sister.”

“Choi Lee Ahn.”

He offered one hand, the other touching his stomach from over his clothes, as a sign of respect. Once Moonji let go of his hand, Leon fished his phone from inside his pocket, thankful that it had started vibrating a couple of seconds ago and it provided him the perfect excuse to leave. The warlock waved the gadget at the brunette, pointing towards the exit before he stepped away to take the phone call.

It was his wife, once again looking for him.

Back in his own crowded wake room, Leon could definitely use a drink. He was about to head towards the eating area to open a bottle of soju when he felt someone touching his shoulder, prompting him to turn around.

“Excuse me.” Moonji said, as she pointed towards the band on his arm. “I just wanted to say... I’m sorry for your loss, too. You left before I could say anything.”

“Ah…” He replied, gaze going to his arm as well. “Thank you.”

Silence yet again. People were so exhausting to him. Strangers even more so. He just wanted his drink.

“You should go. I’m sure your family misses you.”

As rude as that might have been, Leon also knew that in times like these, people were far too inclined to offer a helping hand and well—he wasn’t in need. Death wasn’t as bad as people painted it out to be, and for someone like him, it was barely felt. Yet, Leon knew that for the world, he needed to keep on acting like he was affected by it. When he died, he knew many would miss him. Life in society had given him a wife, co-workers, a coven. Plus, he knew how to be charismatic enough to leave his mark in people’s life. Hopefully, none of these people would make a scene at his funeral, but he knew he would be missed. What difference that piece of knowledge had in his life? None whatsoever.

With that thought in mind, he popped open a bottle of soju, pouring himself a glass.

--- ( universe #3: beyond ) ---

It had been a busy day to Leon. From dealing with a minor crisis at the clinic first thing in the morning, to commuting all the way to Hull’s Island to pay his parents a visit, arriving home felt like a reward for such an eventful and emotionally charged day. It was his turn to buy dinner, but with his head about to explode, Leon figured they could just order something later that night.

The ring around his finger hung heavy that evening for some unknown reason and, as he made his way further inside his house, walking past several picture frames symbolizing his life achievements, that feeling slowly dissipated. From college graduations, to vacations with friends, coven meetings, witches’ celebrations, as well pictures from his wedding day, it was odd to think that Leon had everything he’d ever ask for and so much more. As respectable job, loyal friends, a loving wife who knew how to call him out when he was in the wrong, two adorable little cats who were probably hiding out somewhere in the house… all of it dawned upon him as some sort of gift. Maybe it was life’s way of paying him back for doing what he did all those years ago.

Upon calling out for his wife, the warlock was brought to the master suite, where her voice guided him to the bathroom. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her in the bathtub, extending an invitation to join her. Knowing himself, Leon was well aware that he could never say no to her, so, once he’d gotten rid of his clothes, he sat behind her, his arms immediately wrapping around her petite frame.

“How are they?”

She asked, resting her cheek against his arm, while Leon gently pushed her hair away in order to plant kisses along her shoulder.

“I’m not sure… I mean, as well as one would possibly be in prison, I guess.”

Most days, Leon still struggled to decide whether he still felt guilty about being the one to call the authorities on his parents or not. Ever since they had moved to Astoria, when he was still a child, Leon had witnessed both of his parents practicing dark magic. Much of it happened during his childhood, so it made sense that he wouldn’t remember it. He even thought they had stopped, that they wouldn’t be crazy enough to move to a country that treats practicing dark magic as a crime, and still practice it. However, when he realized that his parents had continued to consistently breaking the law, Leon was old enough to know right from wrong, thus, reporting his parents to the police and watching as they landed in jail this day, ten years ago.

His lips brushed softly against her skin, caressing her shoulders with their light touch. His hands traveled downward, resting on her growing bump, yet another shift in his reality, but one Leon welcomed happy. The baby she had been expecting hadn’t been at all planned. Knowing of his wife’s lack of desire to be a mother, Leon was just as surprised as she was when she mentioned being late. At first, there was confusion and desperation on both sides, but Leon figured that the burden was heavier for her. Communication was essential, and Leon was glad that he was able to make her know that no matter what, he would support any decision of hers. He’d never had strong wishes to become a parent either, but, in his mind, the difference between them was that unlike his wife, he wouldn’t say no if the chance presented itself.

Well, in the end, she ended up getting cold feet on their drive to Planned Parenthood a few months ago, and they eventually decided to keep the baby. In the end, they both accepted their reality when parenthood presented itself. They were happy without a child, and they could be happy with one too… it wasn’t like they were bad people to begin with. It wasn’t like they wouldn’t give their best.

“Don’t be mad, but…”

Leon began, and his wife was quick to complete his sentence.

“…But you forgot to buy dinner.”

His wife turned her head in order to face him, rolling her eyes playfully when their gaze met. The small gesture causing his heart to skip a beat while he traced patterns over her bump.

“I’m sorry. I’ll order something once we leave here, okay? Any special requests? What are you in the mood for?”

“Hmm… definitely something cheesy.” Scrunching her nose at him, she continued, leaning up to press a kiss on his lips. “Like you.”

Leon couldn’t help but to chuckle at her joke. He was a little cheesy, there was no way of denying that… his wedding vows would know. But he didn’t think it was that bad to be this open about his feelings and about how much he loved this woman. He’d give her the world if that’s what she wanted. They’d been married for a couple of years, dated for even longer, so he would take it as a sign that she didn’t mind his cheesy ways either. In order to get revenge for the joke, however, Leon took advantage of his hand’s positions and started tickling her for a brief moment. He lived for moments like these, where her laugh would echo through a room and recharge his dying batteries. Or simply… whenever they got to spend a moment in each other’s company, just sharing ideas about which part of the house they should renovate next or talking nonsense together.

The clinic he worked at was doing some renovations, so Leon was often updating her on its progress, as well as on the progress of a little Boston Terrier’s recovery that had been rescued from a situation of abuse and was being treated by Osamu, one of his co-workers. Whenever he could, Leon sent her pictures of him (the dog, not Osamu) and if it wasn’t for the baby growing in her womb, he was sure that the puppy would end up being adopted by them once he was ready to be adopted. They were already so invested in him... Sadly, they had different priorities at the moment, but hey—they would survive. For now, they were fine just looking at pictures. Leon also let her in on what had happened at the clinic earlier that day because during his lunch break, he hadn’t been able to give her much details on it. But these three cats had been brought in after being rescued from a house fire, and Leon, being as soft for cats as he was, of course felt like his energy had been quickly drained.

His wife left the bathtub before Leon did. Choosing to stay back for a few minutes more, Leon tried to make sense out of how he felt after visiting his parents in prison. He had made a habit out of it, but not one that would make him feel bad. Every year, not necessarily on that same day, he’d pay them a visit to see how they were doing. Now, without the temptations of dark magic surrounding them, they could understand why Leon had done it. Apparently, there was some sort of group counselling in prison, too. It helped lessen his burden, but in all honesty, it would never be easy to carry the weight of knowing you had been responsible for the imprisonment of one’s parents. With a sigh and once he was ready, Leon dried himself and wrapped a towel around his middle and made his way to the master bedroom.

His arms went around her petite frame again, taking in the scent of her exposed skin. Leon knew he wouldn’t be able to be where he was without her. No big sacrifices had been made in order for them to work, but he knew not to take for granted her constant support, especially when it came to sharing his burdens with her. It was something he did with hers as well, but Leon could only speak for himself.

Turning her around to face him, Leon offered her a small smile as he brushed her dark strands behind her ear. The light pink in her cheeks making him wonder if she was blushing or if she was just feeling hot due to her body’s adjustments to the new life it was carrying.

“Have I told you how much I love you, Aleyna?”

“Hm. How much do you love me?”

She was trying to act casual. Unbothered, even. Rolling her eyes and trying not to laugh at his antics, having known this type of conversation for a while now. It was actually pretty common between them. Common enough for Aleyna to know how to respond to it already.

“Ah… to the moon and back.” He said and she nodded, waving her hand at him as if asking for more examples. “As much as the stars in the sky.”

Finally, Aleyna scrunched her nose, sticking her tongue out at his response. She did say she wanted something cheesy.

“I love you more than I love our cats.”

“Right. Now I believe you.”

Ally chuckled, patting lightly on his chest as she tried to get away from his grasp, but Leon kept her from doing so. Crouching down a little, his arms went behind her thighs and he picked her up. One arm adjusted around her back, while the other guided one leg around his waist, hoping the other would follow. The motion caused his towel to drop to the floor, but he paid no mind to it. The walk to their bed was too short for him to care. Laying her down, he hovered on top of her.

“Are you happy?” Aleyna questioned while Leon caressed her hair.

He didn’t answer it at first. For a long time, it was hard for Leon to understand what happiness truly meant. For a long time, he didn’t know if he would ever be. Maybe life would find a way of punishing him for doing what he did to his parents. Was he a bad son? And if he were, what kind of parent would that make him? Time showed that it was possible to be happy. That he had a good life. Time had given him friends, his pets, a family in Aleyna and now, a baby. But was he happy?

“I am.”

Leon nodded slowly, ducking his head to rest his forehead against hers.

“I am. I really am. Are you?”

With that, he pulled away so he could look into her eyes. Aleyna made a silly face, pressing her lips together and crinkling her nose as she held her index finger and thumb at a short distance from one another.

“A little?” He replied with humor filling his voice, moving up to his knees in the space between her thighs and leaning down to press a kiss on her lips. “Just a little?” Leon teased, mimicking the motion of her fingers, before stealing another kiss. “I guess I should work harder then, right?” With that, he tugged on her legs, pulling her downward on the mattress and closer to him. A chuckle left his lips and was muffled by hers as he deepened their kiss.

Dinner could wait a little more.

#astoriatask #death tw #murder tw #imprisonment tw #blood tw #abuse tw #violence tw #lmao sorry ;-;#pregnancy tw

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