#thank you dc you have been feeding me so well recently

[blood-injections]

Yeah so if you notice my art looks different in the coming days it’s because I finally got around to reading the gay little Tim Drake: Robin comic and I’m obsessing over the art style and when I say obsessing I mean seriously frothing at the mouth gnawing on the bars of my cage I fucking adore it and the COLOURS and the lighting UGH I want to devour it but I can’t do that so I’m intensely studying it instead.

[captainsophiestark]

Seasons of Love

Dick Grayson x Reader

Materlist - Taglist

Written for my Year of Olympians and part of a bigger challenge being run by @yearofcreation2023​ which features a ton of awesome creators and runs all year! Go check it out, and please pretend I actually posted this in April and not a month late lmao! Final semester of college is a hell of a time

Fandom: DC

Prompt: Demeter; The Seasons, Pigs, Cornucopia, Nature, Poppies

Summary: A LaLaLand-style series of glimpses into the lives of Dick Grayson and Y/N (without the LaLaLand angst).

Word Count: 4,678

Category: Fluff, Humor

A/N: This is my first time writing any DC, Dick Grayson included, so hopefully it’s good and true to character! He’s been one of my absolute faves for a long time, but I’ve just recently gotten the courage to write for him :)

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

LATE SUMMER

I smiled at the kids running around the various animal pens at the fair, smiles on their faces as they got up close and personal with all kinds of different creatures they'd never seen before. Working at the fair outside of Gotham every August was never a walk in the park–and usually included more than one instance of vomit-cleanup–but moments like this made it worth it.

Of course, my coworkers and I were keeping a close eye on everything to make sure the animals and kids were both safe. I was in the pen with the goats helping the kids feed them alfalfa, one of my favorite posts of all time. My reprieve in paradise was interrupted, however, when I heard someone frantically shouting my name.

I turned around to find one of my coworkers coming towards me, waving his hands in the air. He'd originally signed up to be on ticket duty, but had gotten moved to working with the animals thanks to some short-staffing issues. He'd made it clear multiple times he was well outside of his comfort zone, and although he'd been doing a fair job of rising to the occasion, this wasn't the first time he'd come running over in a panic.

I made eye contact and nodded at another coworker who came over to monitor the kids (both goats and humans), then stepped out of the pen to meet Andrew, panic still written all over his face. I took a deep breath and prepared to give him a calming speech, but he spoke again before I could.

"The Wayne kids just let the pigs out of the pen!" he cried.

I just stared at him blankly, trying to process, blinking stupidly.

"The who did what?"

"The Wayne kids!" he continued, still a little breathless. "Well, one or two of them at least. I was standing by the pen with the piglets that are racing in twenty minutes, and the little one managed to let them all out! I didn't notice until it was too late!"

"Okay, uh... I guess stay here."

With that, I started marching towards the pig pen, keeping an eye out for any sign of rampaging piglets. My brain screamed at me to process the "Wayne" part of Andrew's story, but I refused to let it. I needed to deal with the piglets first, regardless of whether the ones who'd let them out were part of the famous billionaire Gotham family.

When I got to the piglet pen, which was nestled just behind the bleachers where people would be able to watch the piglets run around a dirt track later, I found chaos. People were running and shouting all over the place, but the piglets were nowhere to be seen.

"Dami, you go around the left and I'll circle this way-"

"I am not helping you recapture them, Grayson."

"Dami-"

I started to turn to see who was shouting at the same time the shouting cut off, because the shouter ran straight into me like a freight train. We went tumbling to the ground in a heap, and suddenly I found myself staring into the beautiful blue eyes of Gotham's golden boy, Dick Grayson. He smiled at me, and I scowled in response.

"What were you thinking?" I demanded, rolling over and pushing him off me as I moved to stand up. He leapt to his feet and held a hand out to help me, but I ignored it. "Why on Earth would you let the piglets out?"

"I didn't!" he insisted, holding his hands up and looking at me with wide eyes. "My little brother saw them sitting in their pen and decided they needed to be liberated. I've never seen anyone successfully stand in the way of him helping an animal before."

I huffed, continuing to ignore Grayson's gorgeous, charming, easy smile.

"I know you probably don't have a lot of experience with it, but those pigs are treated perfectly well, and they were safe in their pen. Letting them out to run amok in the crowd is putting their well being at risk more than anything else in their lives."

"Tt."

I turned at the sound of an angry, disapproving noise from behind me, then had to do a double-take when I didn't immediately see the person responsible for it. Then, I looked down, and found the youngest Wayne child staring at me with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

"Father has spent enough time working to end the poor treatment of horses at race tracks for me to be unaware of how animals to be raced are treated."

I blinked a few times, honestly not sure how to react to this ten year old staring me down. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Dick Grayson step closer to stand next to me, but I ignored him. Instead, I crouched down to make myself eye level with Damian, the younger one.

"You're right," I said simply. He harrumphed in triumph, but then I continued. "About the horses, I mean. The way they're treated... it's unforgivable. My family and I have rescued any and all of them that we can, and the ones we've managed to save are actually over by the barn right now, being fed all the apples and oats they can eat by the adoring fairgoers."

Damian Wayne's left eyebrow ticked up, the only sign of surprise or approval at my words.

"These piglets, on the other hand, I can promise you are treated perfectly well. They only 'race' at the fair so people can cheer for cute animals. All they know is they're going for a run and then getting all kinds of food and treats afterwards. And honestly, letting them out in the middle of an inexperienced crowd of people is putting them in more danger than anything else in their normal, daily life."

Damian frowned a little, and he opened his mouth and closed it again a few times before finally speaking.

"I... did not intend for them to be in danger. I will return them to their pen."

"It's alright. You were trying to do a good thing for some animals, I could never fault you for that. C'mon, I'll help you get them back."

He nodded, then turned sharply on his heel and set off with purpose in the direction of commotion from fairgoers. I paused to straighten and smiled after him.

"That was really sweet, how you handled that." I turned to see Dick Grayson looking at me, the first serious expression I'd seen from him on his face. "Dami's a good kid, but he's hard on himself about mistakes. Thank you for handling that the way you did."

I gave him a small smile. "Of course. Any animal lover is a friend of mine. I know I literally just met him, but... I could tell he's a good kid."

We shared a smile at that, a more honest and genuine one than the million-watt grin I'd seen from him before. I held his gaze for a second, then sighed and turned back to look at the rest of the fair.

"Alright, enough talking. Let's go catch some piglets."

To my surprise, Grayson actually wasn't half bad at wrangling piglets. He, Damian, and I managed to work well as a team to get each of the little escapees safely back into their pens, and once the task was complete, I left Damian in charge of giving the piglets some treats for their ordeals.

"That was harder than I thought it was going to be," said Dick, coming to stand beside me at the edge of the pen as we watched Damian and the piglets together.

"Yeah, they're quick little buggers. Makes them good racers though."

Dick shot me a smile, and this time, I couldn't help another one spreading across my face too.

"So... this is kind of a subject change, but what are the odds you'd say yes if I asked you to dinner sometime?"

I turned to face him fully now, eyebrows raised. He just grinned back at me.

"You're asking me on a date?"

"Sure am."

"...Alright, sure. You owe me dinner anyway after showing up at my fair and releasing all my piglets."

He laughed. "Fair enough. How does seven o'clock the first night after the end of the fair sound?"

I smiled. "Sounds perfect."

****************

FALL

"You okay? You look like you're about to have a heart attack."

I snapped myself out of my death stare with the cornucopia in the center of the table to face my boyfriend with a vague smile.

"I'm fine," I insisted, waving off his concerns. Dick and I had been dating for a few months now, after meeting at the county fair. It had been absolutely amazing, and I'd gotten to meet a few more of his family members besides Damian since then, all of whom had been just as lovely. Now, however, we were sitting at the dinner table in Wayne Manor for Thanksgiving, and any minute now I'd be thrown into the full Wayne family craziness for the first time.

To say I was nervous would be the understatement of the century.

"Don't worry," said Dick, leaning down to whisper in my ear. "They're going to love you."

I didn't respond, instead taking a second for a deep breath and a last attempt at calming my nerves. Then, the door to the dining room flew open, and the room devolved into chaos.

I got momentarily swept under in the sudden noise, excitement, and energy as the rest of the Wayne kids moved into the room. A second later, Alfred bustled in carrying armfuls of dishes. A few of the kids moved to help him carry in the rest, but only Cassandra and Duke, neither of whom I'd gotten to know very well yet, were actually trusted and allowed to go help in the kitchen.

Dick gave my shoulder a comforting squeeze as he sank into the seat beside mine. I turned to smile at him, but a sudden commotion to my left ripped my attention away.

"Jason, I'M sitting next to her, you already know her well enough!"

"Too late Brown, I'm already sitting."

"Then move-"

Stephanie, who I'd only met briefly a few times in passing, tried to bodily shove Jason out of the chair next to me, but he refused to budge.

"Why are you so heavy Todd-"

"It's called muscle."

"Or it's called-"

"Stephanie, here, why don't you sit across from me?" I suggested, jumping in before things could really escalate. "It'll be easier to eat and talk to you at the same time from there anyway, which means we can keep up our conversation with fewer interruptions."

She narrowed her eyes, clearly aware of what I was doing, but I just kept looking at her with a beaming smile on my face (and thankfully Jason didn't interject). After a second, she huffed a dramatic sigh and started to move around the table.

"Fine. But only because Alfred would be upset if I tipped Jason backwards out of his chair before Thanksgiving dinner even started."

I grinned at her, quickly passing some food over to Jason, too, so he wouldn't take the opportunity to rub in his victory. Once we were safely out of the danger zone, Dick leaned over to whisper in my ear and give me a sly high five.

"Impressive," he said. "If you can pull that off, you'll be fine for the rest of the night."

I turned to give him a more forced smile than I'd given Stephanie. I appreciated the vote of confidence, but nothing that had happened over the past few minutes had done much to calm my nerves.

"Alright, is that all the food?" asked Bruce, clapping his hands and surveying the table as everyone at last settled into their seats. We'd almost had another disaster when Dami tried to bump Jason out of the seat next to me after Stephanie failed, but thankfully we'd managed to avert that crisis, too, with a promised trip to my family's farm tomorrow, just me, him, and Dick.

"Yeah, I think that's everything B," said Dick, looking over the table the same way his dad did. Bruce sighed, then sank into his seat and clapped his hands.

"Alright, then let's eat," he said.

"Don't forget, Master Bruce," started Alfred, at last sinking into his seat at the opposite head of the table from Bruce. "We still need to say the things we're thankful for."

"You're right, Alfred. Thank you for reminding me." He finished scooping a serving of stuffing onto his plate, then looked up. "I'll start.

"I'm thankful for all of you, safe and sitting around the table for dinner. And I'm also thankful that Y/N could join us. I think we're all looking forward to getting to know her better."

He gave me a kind smile and tipped his wine glass in my direction, and I tried to smile back despite the fact that my heart was pounding in my chest. I'd met Bruce a few times before, but he was still my boyfriend's dad AND Gotham's favorite son (other than maybe Dick). I couldn't help being nervous, since his approval was one of the ones that mattered most to me.

"Alright, that's great," said Jason, bowling right through the moment of silence that hung after Bruce's words–my hero. "I'm thankful for Alfred's cooking."

Every single one of us around the table cheered our agreement at that, and Alfred smiled. The turns moved quickly around the table after that. I had a brief moment of panic when it became my turn, but thankfully, it only lasted for a second before I managed to pull it together.

"I'm thankful for Dick, and for all of you letting me join your family holiday celebrations. I can't wait to get to know you guys better."

Everyone smiled at my answer, and as soon as the spotlight was off me, Dick took my hand under the table to give me a little reassurance. The conversation moved on from Thanksgiving gratitudes, and slowly, I gained confidnence and comfort participating as a member of the group.

I asked Dami about his pets and was honestly happy to listen for the better part of an hour. Jason and I ranted like the biggest nerds on the planet over our favorite books and our TBR piles, and Tim and I connected over a mutual childhood love of Nancy Drew computer games. Duke was the easiest person in the world to talk to, and he made a point of including me in conversations when I started to feel a little lost. Stephanie was so bubbly and friendly, even when she was not-so-subtly grilling me on my entire life, and although Cassandra seemed a little less eager to loudly jump into conversations with me, Stephanie helped bridge the gap and we got along wonderfully. Although they made me a little more nervous, Bruce and Alfred were also nothing but welcoming and kind. It wasn't too long before I was completely at ease, laughing and joking along with the whole table without a doubt about whether I belonged there.

Even when it came to the most ridiculous debates I'd ever been a part of.

"I'm just saying, capes look cheesy," said Jason. "It's fine for a little kid, but grown adults running around in capes look ridiculous."

Stephanie scowled like he'd just insulted her mother. "Oh yeah, because all the vigilantes running around in vests look so incredibly cool."

"No kidding," Tim jumped in. "Red Hood, for example. We all remember that terrible red pill helmet he wore when he first showed up. Or Nightwing's Discowing suit?"

Stephanie snorted into her drink, and Dick's mouth dropped open in shock. Jason started going a little red in the face.

"Brown and Drake are right," said Dami, his tone conveying he meant for this to be the final word on the matter. "The capes can serve a number of different purposes, and would be ridiculous to remove."

He turned to give Dick a pointed look, but I decided not to try to decipher it. I had more important things on-hand.

"Honestly, I say this with nothing but love for the three of you, but I have to agree with Jason," I started, finally jumping in. Everyone perked up at that, turning their attention to me, but I didn't let it deter me. "I mean, haven't any of you seen The Incredibles? No capes! There's like a whole minute-long thing on why capes are generally a bad idea for superheroes.

"And granted, we haven't seen anything like that happen in real life, at least as far as I know," I continued. "And maybe it doesn't matter as much for the indestructible heroes–Superman could probably get chewed up by a jet and survive, I guess. But other heroes, I don't know what they're doing! Somebody really outta show Batman that clip, make sure he knows the danger he and his Robins and everybody might be in."

Everybody stared at me for a second, faces blank, and I started to sweat thinking I'd said something wrong. Then, people broke out into variations of grins, laughs, and agreement with my point that Batman really needed to be more aware.

"I don't know if I remember that clip very well," mused Dick, grinning at Bruce and then the rest of the table as he slid an arm around my shoulder. "Could you pull it up?"

"Sure!"

"Hey Dick?" called Stephanie across the table, her voice dancing with laughter as I searched for the video. "I think I speak for all of us when I say, I love her."

Murmurs of agreement sounded around the table, and my face warmed. I glanced up to give an appreciative smile before going back to my video hunt.

"You better marry her, or we'll have to make Todd do it to keep her in the family," Stephanie continued.

My heart stopped dead in my chest for a second at the idea of marriage as everyone around the table laughed or agreed with her. Then, I couldn't help smiling and laughing too, especially as Jason faked a yawn and stretched his arm around my shoulders before having it playfully smacked away by Dick. My boyfriend pulled me a little closer into his side and gave me a soft smile.

"Alright, let's see this clip," he said, addressing the group as they kept snickering together. "B, lean in here, I think you'll really like this one."

Bruce sighed heavily, but leaned in anyway as the rest of the group shifted too. Edna Mode launched into her speech as I held out my phone screen, Dick and his family gathered around me, and my heart absolutely swelled with love for every one of them. Dick and I really hadn't been dating long enough to be seriously thinking about marriage, but still- in this moment, I could start to picture it.

And I really liked the picture.

****************

WINTER

Whap!

Dick, my boyfriend of a little over two years, whirled around with a betrayed look on his face after I nailed him in the back with a snowball.

"Babe," he whined, his tone wounded. I just shrugged.

"It's training. You need to be aware of your surroundings. CONSTANT VIGILANCE and all that."

Dick raised his eyebrows and took a step towards me as a mischievous grin took over my face. A few months ago, when Dick and I had first seriously started talking about the possibility of marriage being the result of our relationship, he'd finally let me in on the Wayne family secret: not only was I dating the famous Dick Grayson, I was also dating Nightwing the vigilante. The Wayne family was one in the same as Batman and his extended vigilante posse. The few conspiracy weirdos on the internet insisting Bruce Wayne Is The Batman were right.

When he'd started to tell me, I'd first thought he was proposing. He'd been so serious and dramatic, and he'd done it at the end of a romantic, candlelit dinner we'd made together in my apartment. Then, once I realized what he was actually saying, my second thought had been oh, so that's why everyone loses their minds whenever I voice an opinion on a superhero.

At first, it had been a little hard to cope with the new worry that came with knowing my boyfriend put his life on the line every single night. News reports about the Bats and their enemies raised my anxiety WAY more than they ever had before. But Dick had been wonderful, reassuring me and helping me understand all the ways he'd found to stay safe and come back to me. And when that wasn't quite enough, the rest of his family stepped up to support me like one of their own.

Now, a few months after learning their secret, Dick and I were taking a rare full weekend for ourselves. We'd headed up to the mountains for some skiing, hot chocolate, and cuddling by the fire at his family's cabin, just the two of us. After a morning on the slopes and a delicious lunch, we'd decided to go on some of our favorite snowy hiking trails to take in the fresh mountain air.

Hence, my start of the snowball fight.

"You know, I'm pretty sure I'm the one who's supposed to be training you," said Dick, closing the distance between us further. He and his family had been giving me self-defense training at my request, but we'd decided to take a break for the weekend.

"Mmm I'm not sure," I said, shifting backwards a bit to get out of Dick's reach. "I think I'm right."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Then you probably have the better reflexes out of the two of us, right?"

I knew exactly where this was going. I grinned and tried to get my head in the zone before I answered, overconfident to the last.

"Definitely."

"Hm." Dick smiled at me, and then the next thing I knew, he'd wrapped his arms tightly around my waist before I had a second to react. I half-heartedly tried to wiggle free, but before I could, Dick picked me up and threw me over his shoulder. I held on to him as tightly as I could, ready for him to dump me in a snow bank and ready to drag him down with me when he did. But the flip into the snow never came. Instead, Dick started walking with me still slung over his shoulder.

"Babe? What are you doing?" I asked, trying to push myself up enough to see where we were going. "I was all ready to wrestle you down into the snow with me."

"Just trust me," he said. Even though I couldn't see it, I could hear the smile on his face. I huffed.

"This isn't exactly comfortable, you know."

Dick just chuckled. We walked a few more steps, then at last, Dick set me down again, keeping his hands around my waist as we stood chest to chest.

"I may have lured you out into the woods under false pretenses," he said, a brilliant smile on his face. I raised an eyebrow.

"If I didn't trust you so much, I might be a little worried."

He smiled, then looked at a point over my shoulder before nodding for me to turn around. I did as his hands dropped from my waist, and I came face to face with his whole family standing around the gorgeous snowy clearing. Each of them held candles or roses in their hands, and they were absolutely beaming at me. I looked at each of them, waiting for some hint or answer about what was happening, but no one gave me anything. Then, I heard Dick's voice from behind me.

"Y/N?"

When I turned, I found my lovely, wonderful boyfriend down on one knee before me, an open ring box in his hands.

My hands flew to my mouth and I started to tear up a little as the situation sank in. Dick smiled, his own eyes a little wet as he continued.

"You are the love of my life. I had no idea when I first accidentally tackled you that you would become the most important person in the world to me, but you have. You make me a better version of myself, and every day I can hardly believe I'm really with you. You not only match me and love me, but you do the same with my family, which truly not many people can do. I can't think of a better person or partner I'd want to go through life with. So will you please do me the honor... of marrying me?"

"Baby... of course! Absolutely yes!" I cried, the tears fully flowing now as I dropped to my knees in the snow to join Dick. I threw my arms around him and held him tight, and both of us stayed like that for a few long moments before Dick pulled back, tears glistening on his cheeks and a smile on his face. He pulled me tightly to him and kissed me. I kissed back, running my hands through his hair as we got lost in each for a few moments before we pulled apart again. I held out my hand, shaking just a little, and Dick slipped the ring on my finger.

Cheers sounded from behind us, and I came back to reality as Dick's family came over to congratulate us. I wrapped each of them in my best bone-crushing hug, making sure they knew how happy I was to be joining them as family in the near future now, too.

After we'd all exchanged hugs (reluctantly or otherwise), I found Dick at my side again, wrapping his arm around my waist. I tucked into his side and it felt like I'd always belonged there.

I couldn't wait to spend the rest of my life just like this.

****************

LATE SPRING

I took a deep breath and stared at the double doors in front of me, my heart pounding in my chest. I couldn't wipe the biggest, cheesiest smile off my face, no matter how hard I tried. Today was my wedding day, and I couldn't be happier.

Steph and Cass had helped me find the perfect dress. My bouquet was filled with red poppies, my favorite flower. Dick and I had worked together to plan a dream wedding for the both of us, and now everyone we loved was gathered here to celebrate with us.

Everything was perfect.

I heard music start up, then a second later, the doors swung open. It didn't quite feel real as I took my first steps down the isle, towards Dick Grayson and the rest of my life.

It started to feel more real when I finally reached him, standing in front of so many people with eyes only for the man before me. We stood together, hand in hand and eyes locked on each other as the ceremony went on. We read our vows, said "I do", and before I knew it, we were married.

Dick swept me off my feet in a kiss as the crowd cheered. We laced our hands together and ran down the isle together, deliriously happy as our friends and family sent us off. We climbed into the waiting car as the door shut behind us, and I snuggled up against Dick's side before leaning up to give him a kiss. Finally, it felt real.

"I love you, Dick Grayson," I said, smiling up at him. "I can't wait to throw around the phrase 'my husband' until every single person we know is sick of it."

Dick laughed. "I love you too, Mrs. Grayson. And I can't wait to see who breaks first."

"My money's on Jason, unless anyone else says it's annoying first. Then I think he'll back us to mess with everyone else."

Dick laughed, then leaned in to give me a soft, tender kiss.

"I love how well you know them."

"Well... they're my family now, too."

We shared a smile, then settled into comfortable silence together, leaning against each other for support while we rested for the little bit of time we had now before the reception got into full swing. Tonight would be a long night for both of us, but I absolutely couldn't wait. I loved Dick with my whole heart, and going through every part of our futures together–good, bad, and crazy–was the best thing I could possibly think of.

[doesntseeyourbeauty]

personal post about my ex so if you’re triggered by toxic relationships/emotional abuse/physical abuse/suicide, please don’t feel like you have to read anything below

I’m so just fucking fed up with him and this whole situation. Long story short, we moved in together in 2020 and he was just rude and disrespectful to my family and friends and isolated me from them to control me and keep me from running away (I was heavily abused as a child and tend to stay in bad situations because I’m terrified to leave) along with refusing to work and help me make my bills. I had to work full time in retail while doing my masters to make ends meet on top of relying on government assistance. Last year after my masters graduation, I found out that he had been cheating on me with someone that he met online and I ended our engagement, but allowed him to stay in the apartment because I felt guilty kicking him out and was suicidal at the time so I didn’t trust myself to be alone.

Well in the year that proceeded, he refused to get a job and all of the bills fell into my lap and became my responsibility on top of working full time at a job that refused to provide benefits (including sick time - if I got sick I had to take the day off with no pay) and payed well below the average for those in the field and with my educational background.

we were on the verge of being evicted because I wasn’t able to pay rent, buy groceries, or even feed my pets on top of him “needing” weed and his nicotine to function properly. Without them, he was incredibly abusive and would guilt me into buying them when we had nothing. I took out loans to make ends meet and it still wasn’t enough.

So I moved out of the apartment, payed off the rent I owed, and officially ended everything because I was tired of the abuse and feeling like I was worth nothing (mind you this happened the week of my eras tour show so I was exhausted and drained from that on top of all of that) to move in with my older brother who has let me live with him since so I can get back on my feet.

Thankfully I’ve repayed all of the loans I took out thanks to my new job which pays well and has benefits, and because I don’t have to spend at least $150 a week on his weed and nicotine (it used to be alcohol but I made him stop). It’s been five months since this all happened and he’s still bothering me to this day, to the point I’m debating changing my phone number so he and his family leave me alone.

I went to a few concerts recently and his aunt told him I was “cheating” on him - even though I ended things in July and was under the impression that he was moving on with his life - and he has been non stop messaging me since.

He even messaged me on discord on Christmas threatening to kill himself because I was “toying with him” and “leading him on”. I ignored his texts and went on and didn’t even check discord until today (the conversation was muted) because I flew to DC yesterday to visit my best friend for the first time in a year. I woke up to text coco and he had sent me over 100 messages calling me a whore, a liar, and then was telling me how much he loves me, how I’m “his ideal girl”, and that he wasn’t useless, amongst other things.

I know I can just block him, but it’s always been difficult for me to do something like that as I was taught by my grandmother and mom to love my abusers and to forgive them for what they’ve done - but my mom was also heavily abused by my dad and her family so it’s unintentional. I’m just so frustrated about the whole situation and I just want him to leave me alone but he just won’t.

My family and friends have been so incredibly supportive of me and doing everything in their power to keep me safe from him and I’m so grateful. I’m also so glad I’m in DC with my best friend because I feel safer than I have in quite a while (he knows where my family lives but doesn’t know where I live exactly). I haven’t felt this scared since I was stalked in college by someone who refused to take no as an answer and I got a restraining order and still felt unsafe.

I’m just lost and feeling like I can’t escape the guilt that I’m feeling, because I know that if he does commit suicide, his family will blame me for it. He’s always been this way and I just can’t do it anymore. I just want him to leave me alone.

I’m really sorry for the long rant and for talking about such sensitive topics, but I really needed to get it off my chest. It’s been lingering in my mind for so long and has been weighing heavily on me. He made me cry on Christmas and has made me feel like this is all my fault even though he put us both in the situation we were in.

If you read this, I’m doing okay physically and mentally and I’m in a safe place. I just needed to vent and get this off my chest, it’s been so hard for me to try and move past it….

[creativeashproductions]

In the Beginning // Alive!Luke Patterson

Summary: Reggie (Rhodes)’s older sister is the epitome of cool in his, and his friends, eyes with her in a band. Pushed by a hazel eyed brunette with a huge crush on the eldest Rhodes teen the boys decide to start a band. While at first the band is for Luke’s dream of landing you he finds his passion with music.

Warning: Swearing, angst, fluff, dad!Luke

Words: 4.1k

A/N: I couldn’t resist writing another alive!Luke fic with Luke crushing on his band mate’s sister. Ugh, just imagine Luke suggesting a band to impress his crush only to fall in love with music instead.  For my fics it will be Alex Mitchell and Reggie Rhodes until JATP reveals their canon names. 

Masterlist

Los Angeles, 1992

The guitar case was a familiar heaviness as you walked into the home for the first time in months after a practice. You ached from the long travel, and all you wanted was your bed. The yawn came first, then the startled yell at the living room.

Four pairs of eyes met the girl standing in the entryway, surprised at a sleepover with her brother and his full friends. Eyebrows coming together you shook your head wondering why they had come here instead of the typical Patterson home.

“Hey!” Fourteen-year-old Reggie beamed towards his older sister excited she was back from her weekend band practice. Your eyes blinked at his usual upbeat personality before switching to the brown eyes from Bobby, too shy to full meet yours.

Spread around the living room watching a movie was Reggie’s best friends; the socially awkward Alex, the shy Bobby, and the Patterson boy Luke. The young typically spent their time at Luke’s place, so seeing them in your home was strange.

“Reg, what’s up?” You asked crouching to untie your shoes confused at the sharp audible gasp coming from Luke. Standing straight up, you saw Luke awkwardly looking away with bright red cheeks.

“How was practice?” Reggie inquired with the smile he got from your mom and his dark hair from your dad.

Reggie usually wasn’t interested in your band leading you to wonder what the hell was going on with them. Being sixteen you didn’t socialize with Reggie’s friends, thanks to the two year age gap, but you were happy he had good friends. Well, less than two years between you and Luke.

“It was good. Since when are you interested in Crimson Queen?” You questioned moving more into the room with the four young teens, “You haven’t even touched your bass in years.”

One eyebrow raised you individually looked at the boys in the room all with sheets of paper around them. From a distance, you couldn’t tell what was on them, but it couldn’t be homework. They all attended the same high school while you had done correspondence with the band and a tutor.

“Luke’s parents got him a guitar,” Reggie spoke gesturing to the decent brand new acoustic guitar on the floor beside the Patterson. Luke’s hazel eyes widening as you came closer to the group.

Your hand picking up the guitar to look it over finding it was decent for a beginner, but it was definitely not tuned. The sheer sound made you wince.

“So, you guys want to be a band?” You questioned sitting on the floor beside Luke. The boy shifting nervously, you weren’t blind that he got shy around girls, “Do you guys even play instruments?”

“I got the bass, Bobby can play rhythm guitar, Alex plays dru-“

“I wouldn’t call it proper drumming. It’s just something my therapist suggested with my anxiety and frustrations.” Alex raised his hand leading to everyone in the room looking at the tall male, recently had a growth spurt, with the backward black hat.

“And Luke will learn guitar as well.” You added, looking at the quiet, “How well can you play?”

“I don’t even know how to properly tune it,” Luke admitted playing with his fingers adorned with a ring.

Luke had chosen a cutoff shirt in an attempt to gain your attention to his arms he hoped had gotten more muscled. He had a massive crush on you but with the guys your own age he had step up; he started working out. He actually enjoyed it, but he’d enjoy it more if you were checking him out.

“You’ll need a place to practice.” You mumbled glancing out the window at the ocean waves thinking. The house was on the prime real estate edge of the beach all thanks to your well off parents; Dad, a doctor and Mom, an interior designer.

Your fingers tapped on the ripped blue jeans you had chosen that day with the flannel shirt opened over the black AC/DC t-shirt. You started standing up, grabbing Luke’s hand to pull him up as well; the boy’s cheeks grew pinker, and his heart fluttered.

“What?” Luke spluttered, staring at his hand, caught in yours in sheer awe.

“You’ll need a place to practice.” You answered, dropping is head to reach in your pocket for your key chain.

The key chain had a few keys on it: one for home, one for your car, one for the band van for gigs, one for the garage, and lastly one for the house the garage belonged to. The boys piled into the car, apprehensive for where you were taking them. The only sound was the radio playing local greatest hits, your foot slammed on the brake at the house of your bassist.

“Well Marty, this song has blown up on the charts. New band Crimson-“

“Holy shit.” You breathed staring at the radio. Your door opened as you sprinted down to the steps that led to the garage. The footsteps of the boys following.

The garage was open already with your band members lounging around the space filled with instruments and amps. Their heads swivelling as you frantic turned the radio on.

“Come on.” You mumbled, turning the radio station to the right one, “Guys listen!”

“-Crimson Queen is an LA-based band making waves in the LA Nightlife and hit the top ten with their newest song Sorry Now.” The radio host spoke, “If you haven’t heard the song before, this is the band’s new single.”

The song was blasted from the radio leading to the four girls screaming the song out dancing around the room. Euphoria was the only way you could call the feeling rising in the bodies of the girls in the place. The room burst into more screams as your drummer. Faith switched the radio station.

“Today history was made, Crimson Queen is an all-female rock band fronted by Y/N Rhodes. They started as a hobby at fifteen, but a year later at sixteen they’ve made waves.” A hit radio station, the second one so far, was talking about your band. Holy shit.

“Lucy, this band is going places. My daughter is seven years old, and she’s telling me this band is the talk of her school. I can’t tell how much Lucy listens to their demo.”

Your eyes saw Reggie having a meltdown of excitement for older sister and her band, and you were so unbelievably happy you should care the moment. You rushed over to Reggie to pull him into a hug.

“Girls…and boys.” Mrs Taylor spoke furrowing her brows at the young boys in the garage her daughter had begged to use for the band. Shaking her head, the middle-aged woman turned her attention to her daughter.

“Hey, Ma.” Dawn, your bassist, spoke spreading her pink painted lips to her perfectly straight teeth too hyped up on energy, “What’s up?”

“First congratulations on the single. Secondly, we’re gonna need to get a personal line for the band because our phone is blowing up.”

A sharp gasp from Dawn before the three of the four girls rushed to the house of the Taylor’s. You hung back to look at your brother and his band.

“So? What do you think?” You inquired with the group, “This idea of yours has to be one hundred percent what you want. It won’t be easy in LA, it will come with hardships, and Reggie Mom and Dad won’t let you drop out.”

The four boys nodded their heads because the excitement they saw in your big break was something they wanted. To be able to connect with people cemented their decision.

“Feel free to hang around.” You suggested glancing around the garage that started it all, “I’ll be back in a bit.”

The Orpheum, Los Angeles, 1995

The crowd screamed as Crimson Queen, the song that started this road played with the girl crouching to grasp the hand of fans. At the beat of the chorus, you stood up eating up the energy of the last show of the tour. You went jumped on the drum riser rocking on the guitar as Faith did her magic.

Dawn on her bass made her way to rock with your rhythm guitarist Sara sharing grins with you still feeling the euphoria of this success. As the song came to an end, your entire band went to the front of the stage.

“We’d like to thank our fans for the last nine months of our world tour. We started this band in LA in 1991, so we thought it fit to end our tour at The Orpheum.” You spoke to the crowd, feeding off the energy as the concert came to an end.

The road crew would load your instruments up in the van to take home after months of travelling. You were so excited to see Reggie, who would be seventeen now, having celebrated his birthday while you had been in Europe. Too excited were shocked as Reggie backstage.

“Reggie!” You exclaimed tugging the teen into your arms, leaning back to take him in, “Damn you grew!”

Reggie grinned not giving a shit you were coated in sweat from performing your setlist, but your eyes went over his shoulder. Standing close and just as excited was Reggie’s friends. Alex was taller, Bobby looked more confident, and Luke could meet your eyes. Luke also had changed, no longer baby faced.

“Sunset Curve.” You spoke, stepping back to look them over, “I haven’t seen you guys in months, how did you change so much!”

“That’s what happens when you go on tour for almost a year.” Luke teased tugging you into his arms for a tight hug.

It was odd seeing Luke taller and more muscled than when you left for tour, and the confidence was honestly hot. You had seen Luke as anything other than your brother’s friend, who tended to stare a little too long.

“You played the fucking Orpheum!” Alex screamed, holding your shoulders with a wrinkled nose at the damp red thin flannel shirt. The girls wandered up behind you each with a grin at the guys.

“Well if it isn’t Sunset Swerve,” Sara spoke swinging her arm over your shoulder with a teasing smirk plastered on her face. Her blonde hair swept up in a bun high on her head from a recent shower.

“Sunset Curve!” The male quartet snapped at the name before they fell back into a happy demeanour. Luke and you both staring at each other with a pink-hued face.

Faith was quieter in the group leaning closer to your band to whisper in your ear, “Jay scored us some drinks. But MJ got us into a party.” Faith’s textured hair tickling your neck.

Grins split the three girls at the suggestion each excited for the party with fellow musicians and plus ones. Sure, the parties had drugs and alcohol, but they were fun and part of the scene. Half of you wanted to go, but the other wanted to spend time with your brother.

“I’ll think I’ll pass.” You spoke up to the girls motioning to the guys, “I’ll head back with them. Meet you at the house later?”

Your black vans moving backwards as you moved to be closer to be flush against Reggie’s side grinning as he bumped his hip against you. Sara, Faith and Dawn each raising an eyebrow at your response since you often dragged them to parties.

“Orrr…we could each take one of them.” Faith cajoled mocha skin gleaming in the light with her hands, tugging her hair into a thick braid.

“You want me to take my seventeen-year-old brother and his friends-“

“-I’m like two weeks from being eighteen-” Luke cut into the conversation buzzing at the possible date, but not date, with the girl he had been crushing on for years. He was pretty sure he was in love with you at this point; he did date a little, but nothing stuck.

“-To a party in Hollywood.” You finished pinning your gaze on the three girls ahead each with mischievous grins. Your cheeks puffed as you breathed out, thinking of the positives and negatives.

Bobby was bouncing on his heels with Reggie leaving Alex shifting uncomfortably in his place. His partially relaxed when Luke squeezed his forearm through the distressed black jean jacket that bought his outfit together. Luke himself was apprehensive on your decision because either way, he got to spend time with you.

“Come on.” Dawn implored, pulling out the big guns with her ocean blue eyes widening into the puppy gaze that did you in each time. Her curtain of short dyed pink hair framing her heart-shaped face.

“I’m going to pass this time. Do some shots for me! Not tequila though, that was a huge mistake.” Faith’s grin widened at having you carry you out of the house in the early morning after a wicked party.

“Did you ever find your tho-“

“Faith!” You hissed turning a bright red at her revelation that you definitely didn’t want Reggie to know. The atmosphere turned awkward as everyone realized what the sentence would end with.

Okay so maybe you had hooked up with a few people over the last three years but nothing permanent. It was fun, drunk fun, but still fun and nothing had gone wrong. Your eyes avoided looking at Luke for a reason you couldn’t decipher.

“I’ll see you later.” You spoke motioning for the guys to follow you to the dressing room you had settled in early in the day. The corner of your lips quirked at the awe on each of the boys’ faces.

“I’m in the dressing where bands become legends.” Reggie gasped circling the room with wide-eyed interest. Alex was interested in the band posters on the walls from previous performers.

Luke, however, was more interested in your curves covered by your sweaty stage clothing that stuck to your form. His Adam’s apple gulped as you grabbed your shower bag moving towards the connected bathroom.

“I’ll grab a shower, and we can head out.” You supplied, “I’ll just need to stop at Rudy’s office for our portion of the concert.”

The guys mumbled a response finding a place to wait without hushed conversations of when they would get to play. Luke’s eyes found yours at the low call of his name from the bathroom; a crack opened he walked over.

“Do you have a sweater?” You mumbled at the taller teen with widening eyes as he realized that you were naked behind the door.

Luke stumbled over his feet, retrieving the black pullover Crimson Queen merch he had had for months now. He had saved up money to buy the merch to support the band. The door closed as you tugged the sweater in the bathroom momentarily before walking out.

“Thanks Lu. I forget to pack a shirt.” Luke awed as your nose scrunched up adorably to the amusement of his friends, “So, do you wanna hit the beach? Or maybe give me a concert in the garage?”

Luke intertwined his fingers in yours as he tugged you out of the room with your bag in hand. His heart fluttered as you held on to his hand even in the little office of the Orpheum’s management for the thick envelope of money.

“Thanks, Rudy!” You called over your shoulder at the short, stout man going over the financials and upcoming performances.

The smell of Sunset Boulevard brought a smile remembering the first time you performed and the small group that had waited outside. The first night of autographs and recognition.

“So, Reg how’s my car?” You questioned the teen who impishly grinned tugging the key chain from his black jeans. You had given him the keys when you revealed Crimson Queen had a world tour.

“Right there.” Reggie pointed leading the group of five to the car that would take them to the garage. Reggie drove with Alex in the passenger while you were crammed between Bobby and Luke; Luke was delighted in your warmth against his side.

While your band members partied, you got a first-row seating to Sunset Curve’s talent in the garage where you had started out. It was amazing to see how much they had accomplished in the three years since they started.

The sudden knock on the door had you flailing off the couch onto the floor with a sheet of paper stuck to your cheek. Your spine cracked as you sat up glancing at your watch, finding it was after midnight, only an hour of sleep after inspiration for a new song.

The door was knocked on once more and coming close the sound of crying could be heard, and you wondered if it was Luke. He had been over a few days in the night following a fight with his parents and needed to crash; helped you were giving dating a chance after his well-rehearsed speech.

Imagine your shock when it was Reggie sobbing, “Reggie.”

“C-can I stay here?” Reggie whimpered cuddling himself into the leather jacket he received at Christmas from you. You had inside in your arms in moments, “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Are they fighting again?” You murmured to your younger brother content to hold him as he cried. Bringing him to the living room, you held him as he cried humming under your breath the first song you ever let him see.

“Yeah. The music doesn’t work anymore.” Reggie murmured leaning back to wipe his tears off, “Sorry for crashing. I can go stay with-“

“Here. Reginald, you can always stay here.” You soothed the seventeen-year-old boy with sad eyes and a sombre look. His sad eyes shattered your heart, knowing he had suffered the fighting for months alone, “This house is empty Reg. You can move in here.”

His lip quirked up, “Can we play country music?”

“And eat breakfast at night.” You teased him grinning as his lips pulled up into his trademark grin, “The guys can come over whenever they want. I’d actually prefer they know they can stay here, they deserve a safe place to stay.”

You knew that Alex endured living with his parents, who had gone out of their way to avoid him after he came out. Luke couch surfed at your old house, never at Alex’s home; after coming out, Alex didn’t feel comfortable bringing anyone over.

“Good, because they’re outside.” Reggie sheepishly admitted raising his thumbs-up, “Go thinking ahead!”

Snorting the human version of a golden retriever you opened the front door to the house finding two guys in strange positions. Alex was inspecting the light fixture, and Luke was leaning against the wall with his elbow, foot across the other.

“You guys need lessons in the art of pretending you weren’t eavesdropping.” The sigh fell stepping aside for the two to enter the home—each carrying a backpack and small duffle bag for wherever they would have crashed.

The male trio got comfortable in the living room curiously glancing at the mess of papers, sticky notes and pencils. While with good intentions, they didn’t follow boundaries well, even for Alex.

“Whatcha working on?” Luke inquired, leaning closer to a sheet of paper. His pout coming over his face when you quickly tidied up the papers.

“Nothing. I fell asleep on the couch. The label wants new songs.” You groaned rubbing your eyes, “I got inspired last night. Oh! Hey, I took a message for you guys.”

Jogging to your office studio for the band you quickly grabbed the envelope along with the note that you had been given.

“So, Rudy called me, and I had a meeting with him.” You started sitting on the coffee table in front of the trio. The trio leaned forward.

“Rudy?” Luke questioned, pursing his lips together at the male name. While you and Luke were dating it wasn’t official, he was just really nervous with his dream girl liking him back.

“He’s the management for a venue. He asked if our band was available for a concert, but we collectively decided to focus on songs and recording, which you can’t tell anyone about, but he’s in dire need. So, I might have given him something. Specifically a demo of yours and knowing your home situations I gave my information.”

“Okay…so?” Alex questioned, leaning forward. His eyes growing wide as you pushed the envelope in his hand.

Alex quickly opened the cream envelope finding inside a paper along with a mock-up promo poster with Sunset Curve. The squeal was shocking from the teenager as he read the letter and note out loud.

Y/N,

I gave the demo a listen, and we usually wouldn’t do this, but Crimson Queen has been gracious with us. Always mentioning where the band got its start and closing the tour here. To repay the favour, we would formally like to invite Sunset Curve to perform. In the envelope is a mock-up poster as an option for the promo. Get the Sunset Curve’s people to get in touch. I can get the word out to some friends from some labels to come for a listen. Get in touch as soon as possible.

Manager of The Orpheum in Los Angeles,

Rudy West.

 “The Orpheum?” Luke screamed, yanking the paper from Alex to re-read it in complete shock, “We don’t have people!”

“But Crimson does.” You smirked, “On a temporary basis Crimson Queen formally offer our manager’s help.”

In his excitement, Luke lunged to pull you into a kiss freezing the room in shock.

“He got the girl.” Alex breathed elbowing Reggie in the side who’s mouth was open at his best friend kissing Reggie’s older sister. The older sister who was the driving force behind Luke wanting to form a band to impress her, “We need to tell Bobby!”

1995 was the best year for Luke Patterson. He got the girl, his band made it, his parents finally saw his dream was worth it.

The sound of music hypnotized the woman as she wandered down the hall to the open door of the large home. Nothing too over the top like Bobby’s mansion, but it was a nice size in a gated area. Your neighbours being Reggie on one side and Alex on the other side with his partner Willie; Willie had skated into Alex and into a love story pretty much.

Resting against the door edge of the designated home studio you saw Luke had moved a rocking recliner in. Softly playing in the room was a soft acoustic song recorded months previous as a surprise for you.

“When are the lessons starting?” You questioned bringing Luke’s attention to your soft smile and the love in your eyes. Luke’s grin widened glancing down at the miniature version of his love-filled eyes.

“Given her legendary parents, I think at two.” Luke chuckled shuffling the baby to the crook of his arm shifting, so you could curl into his side as well. Both eyes gazing at the little baby you had welcomed what felt like yesterday.

Stevie could fall asleep only to the lullaby her father had created during the pregnancy, and he had written. Stevie had Luke’s eyes, and so far her blonde hair had yet to darken so the question of if she’d take after your hair or his hair was unanswered.

“Hey sweetheart.” You whispered to your daughter falling asleep to the sound of her father’s voice in the room. An adorable yawn pulled from her little body as she nestled into Luke’s arms.

“She’s so gorgeous.” Luke breathed tears welling up as he could understand the reasoning behind his parents’ opinions in his teens. He truly felt terrible at hurting his mom now that he felt the love for his child.

“We did good Patterson.” You murmured back to the man who had held your heart since you were nineteen and back from tour. Your finger tracing Steve’s soft cheek, “I think she has your mom’s mouth.”

Luke’s lips lingered on your cheek heart full of love for his family with you and his little girl. He had known since his eleventh birthday he would marry you even if you were a year older. A year that made the difference when he was months older than his friends, so the year felt like two for you. At eighteen when was tentatively dating you, he knew he would marry you. He never anticipated the sheer amount of adoration for the little girl he would have at twenty-one.

God, he loved his life. He made up with his parents, his best friends, had the girl of his dreams, the most beautiful daughter and it all thanks to music. Can you see why he lives and breathes music?

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[exovapor]

The Adventure - TMNT Bitches:  Chapter 6

(Reminder, this story has been I the works since early July so any recent changes aren't in here...but I promise to make it up to my two loves not present)

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CHAPTER 6:   Crossing Paths

·         It is here! It is FINALLY HERE!  Valerie can barely contain her excitement as she drives through the semi-familiar streets of the city she hates, except for one weekend out of the year, Dragon Con weekend!

·         It is Thursday, the official start of Dragon Con, or ‘con’ or ‘DC’, as it’s fans often referred to it as.  Dragon Con is the largest comic book/sci-fi/fantasy/horror/cosplay convention on the east coast and it happens every Labor Day weekend in Atlanta, GA.  

·         DC is always a cause for excitement for Valerie; however, this year is extra special!  Not only is she going to con, which is always the highlight of her year, but this time she is meeting up with some VERY special ladies that have helped her explore the fandom world of TMNT and who have become very close, dear, cherished friends.  

·         While everyone from their close knit group couldn’t make it this year, Lucy living in the UK and Kyla having prior commitments, she is still going to get to finally meet and hug the extraordinary talented fandom writers Holly, Kassie, and Kari!  Life just can’t be better!  

·         Well…maybe it could if TMNT actually existed…but…she couldn’t complain too much because these special ladies can bring the guys to life almost like no other person can!

·         Valerie’s tummy twists and tumbles as she pulls into the familiar parking deck just one block away from one of the main hotels to host the convention, the Marriott of Atlanta.  Valerie is antsy and anxious!  

·         She just wants to park, grab her suitcases and rush in to the hotel to join the other three women, whom have flown and driven into Atlanta from other parts of the US, and start their 4 day long party!  

·         As she rounds through the parking deck she’s not finding any available spots on the first few levels, looks like it’s going to be another crowded year at con!  As she driving up into the open air of the top level, she’s hoping to find one spot left or she’ll have to drive further away and she really hates navigating Atlanta’s one-way streets.  She may be from Georgia, but she detests Atlanta’s crazy crowded maze with a passion.  

·         Valerie is so focused on finding that one elusive empty parking spot that she isn’t fully aware of her surroundings.  As she rounds the corner of one row of cars, and angles to turn up the next aisle, her heart drops to her feet and she slams on the breaks in her SUV trying not to flatten the four MORONS standing in the middle of the driving lane.  

·         Cussing like a sailor, laying down on the horn, and hoping to all that is holy that the silver, 4,000lb, vehicle will stop in time to not kill the guys playing some form of LARP game in the middle of the parking deck.

·         Her ire flares like a campfire doused with kerosene!  

·         She was riding a high of anticipated fun bit now is jerked down to earth with a body-slam!  What the HELL are these guys thinking??

·         Sure, pretty much all types come out at con, the gamers, the goths, the cosplayers, the kinks, the through and through nerds/geeks, and even the LARPers…but JEEZ GUYS…don’t do it in the middle of the roadway!

·         Four sets of shocked eyes stare back at her from the middle of the lane.  And they just stand there…not moving!  She throws her hands up in the air and says out loud in the car, “What?!!  Don’t just stare at me like that!  Fucking move!”.  

·         Valerie starts shooing them out of the way with hand signals and they slowly back out of the way.  If she weren’t in such a tizzy and pissed off, at nearly being indicted for vehicular man-slaughter, she may have noticed and admired the handsome quartet.  After all, most LARPers don’t have bodies like these...muscles busting clothes at the seams and height on all of them; no, most LARPers looked like mommy still did their laundry for them and feed them too many Hot Pockets.

·         As she pulls up next to them, she lets down her window and growls out in her southern-ass-whoopin’-accent, “What the HELL do you think you are doing?  You idiots, stay out of the road!”.  Two sets of baby blue eyes, a set of emerald green, and a set of amber-green hazel stare at her dumbfounded and silent.  She doesn’t give the stunned group enough time to respond before she rolls up her window and drives on up the aisle and parks half-way up.

·         She sits in her front seat fuming, trying desperately to regain her composure.  She talks to herself, a normal thing out of habit, “Val, let it go.  Just let it go.  Forget about it, you are about to meet your wonder ladies in person and y’all are about to bring Atlanta to it’s knees over the next four days.  Ommmmmm…..(yoga centering…zen baby zen)…let it go.”.

·         Finally, feeling SLIGHTLY less murderous, she steps out of her truck and moves to the back and lifts the hatch to retrieve her suitcase.  She has most of her costumes and items packed in bags and her rolling suitcase; however, the katanas for her Leonardo costume would not fit in any of the bags, so she slings the holster, with the twin sheathed blades crisscrossed, onto her back.  She straps her green turtle-shell backpack onto the extended handle of her rolling suitcase, she locks up her truck and starts rolling her suitcase down the aisle head towards the parking deck staircase.

·         As she gets close to the end of the car aisle, she can see the LARPing quartet still standing where she left them.  ‘Ugh, morons’, she thinks to herself.

·         As she walks past, the quiet conversation they were having suddenly stops and they all stare at her with mild confusion, amusement, and interest.  Valerie isn’t one to accept blatant staring.  She doesn’t like to be ‘seen’.  She is the wall-flower type, the one who likes to stand in the back.  She’s the Observer, not the Observee…so she becomes irked by their stares and stops and faces them, “WHAT?!!”, she asks staring challengingly back at them.

·         No answer comes from the quiet group, just four sets of eyes staring at her in…what is that? Shock?  Amusement? Their expressions are such a mixture that she can’t quite pin-point the expressions playing across their handsome faces.  

·         So she stands there, with the blue tendrils from the hilts of her katanas whipping in the wind, staring back at them.  

·         One set of eyes stares with more intensity than the others.  They are discerningly more intense; like they are searching, evaluating, noting qualities and vulnerabilities.  It makes her uneasy.  However, she isn’t one to show a predator weakness, no matter what they threaten her with, so she stares back just as intently, refusing to turn her back on them.

·         In staring, Valerie becomes acutely aware of their size.  These guys are all tall, two of them VERY tall, and all of them are well built.  Actually, one of them is a fucking monster.  Forget eating his Wheaties for breakfast; that red haired one looks like he ate the whole damn Wheaties truck, tires and all! This would not turn out well if they decided attacking the alone girl in the parking deck was more fun than LARPing in the parking deck.  

·         Valerie wants to get to the safety of the crowds below, but she doesn’t feel safe retreating into a closed stairwell with these guys fixated on her presence.

·         ‘Maybe yelling at them earlier wasn’t the best idea, me and my temper…shit!  What are they talking about and WHY does that one keep staring at me so hard?  Jeez, dude, get your own life and stop trying the stare me out of mine’, she thinks to herself.  

·         The staring match goes on for an uncomfortably long time, finally they start to move backward as a group, putting more space between her and them.  

·         Just as Valerie is starting to consider how fast she can out run all four of them, another car, searching for its own elusive parking spot, comes rolling through the driving lane.  Thankful for the distraction, the active presence of witnesses, and a reason to move on, Valerie leaves the LARPing group watching her rolling her suitcase towards the stairwell.

@turtle-babe83 @tmntspidergirl @nittleboo @kokokatsworld @the-second-circle-of-shell

[magnificent-nerd]

Why Naqib in The Boys sucked

Image description: fictional character Naqib in Amazon Prime’s show The Boys.

(Is the fire in the background an excuse to use racist Yellow Filter to show how exotic he is? Hmm.)

I first posted this on my blog in Dec 2020, and since nothing in superhero media has changed for the better at this time (September 5th, 2021), I’m going to keep talking about it.

Because nobody else does. So, without further ado:

WHY NAQIB SUCKS.

I was a big fan of The Boys season 1; I love superheroes, I love deconstructing a genre. Sure, it has its problems, but overall I enjoyed season 1 and thought the show had potential.

(That’ll learn me for being hopeful!)

When season 1 ended with this big build up of mostly nameless brown and background characters as Muslim terrorists (deep sigh) we the audience are left thinking this one Muslim character (Naqib) whose superpower is to blow himself up repeatedly (insert another long deep sigh here) is going to be The Big Bad of season 2.

I had my misgivings about that direction. Firstly, as you can see from the image of Naqib, he is highly exoticised and is walking around bare chested with Arabic writing on his chest. He looks more like a generic western media depiction of a genie than he does a supervillain. 

And yet he's the first prominent Muslim character in superhero media I've seen in YEARS.

-

(See my post about MENA and Muslim character good guys, including Joe played by Marwan Kenzari in The Old Guard, which is technically a comic book movie but it’s not what I’d call ‘caped and costumed’ superheroes so it’s more... superhero adjacent.)

I follow superhero content closely and as far as I'm aware the last time we saw any named Muslim characters in superhero movies WITH SPEAKING LINES was:

Instance 1) Iron Man 1 back in 2008 with The Ten Rings in Afghanistan, showing multiple Muslim characters as baddies/terrorists, but only two of them as a named character and with any meaningful lines to say. And despite one of them, Yinsen (actor Shaun Toub), being a good guy he still dies! Which is common in western media for Muslim and MENA characters.

Note: Fellow Iron Man 1 castmate, actor Sayed Badreya, makes an important point in this GQ article: "I die in Iron Man, I die in Executive Decision. I get shot by everyone. George Clooney kills me in Three Kings. Arnold blows me up in True Lies…" (x)

Instance 2) A more recent instalment in Batman V. Superman in 2016, with some unnamed 'General' character and mercenaries/terrorists in Nairomi, Africa, referred to only as "the desert" throughout the movie. All reference to the General's actual name are available in an extended/deleted scene only, so a very poor and vague depiction in the final cut.

Instance 3) The generic and badly written ‘bad guys’ in Wonder Woman 1984 (2020 movie), which was honestly such a racist depiction of Arabs and Muslims that many critics pointed out we hadn’t seen a depiction this terrible since 1994′s True Lies. (At least most critics were in agreement that WW84 movie was generally terrible, so there’s that.)

And that's it, those are the only major instances showing any Muslim actors or characters in a caped and costumed superhero movie. 

Some other fleeting glimpses of Muslims onscreen:

Glimpse 1) I spotted a girl wearing a hijab among the nameless and unspeaking background characters of Peter Parker's class in Spider-Man: Far From Home (2019). A first for Marvel movies, apparently.

Glimpse 2) Disney Plus show Falcon and Winter Soldier (2021) had two nameless Muslim characters walk by in a scene that’s supposed to be Tunisia (using Yellow Filter), and ‘thank’ the present American Air Force (eye-roll).

Glimpse 3) Netflix show Jupiter’s Legacy (2021) had a nameless Muslim sailor conversing with one of the main characters in a scene, with meaningful dialogue about racism. (WOW. Really good.) Bonus: no yellow filter. It’s a pity he’s a nameless background character because this brief instance is the least problematic MENA rep I’ve seen in ages, but it is very brief.

I just wrote about Glimpses 2 and 3, and how the Netflix show outdid Disney when it comes to these nameless walk-on Muslim characters.

This is pretty pathetic overall, these small crumbs, especially compared to better rep and probably the only instance of legit MENA superheroes in a ‘costumes and capes’ style superhero show, the Tarazi siblings on DC’s Legends of Tomorrow.

-

Anyway, now I’ve listed what crumbs are available across the live action superhero genre, back to The Boys.

I was intrigued about how season 2 would handle Naqib and any characters relating to him, and what storyline they'd use. 

Was I excited at the possibility of seeing Muslim supers onscreen? Damn straight I was. Did I mind that they were baddies? Well, yes and no. When you only ever get crumbs or no crumbs at all, you tend to get excited over one stale old crumb.

After the build up for season 2, I eagerly sat down to watch the first episode, only to have the first five minutes of episode 1 Trigon him.

Note: who's Trigon, you ask? Well if you didn't watch the DCEU's Titans show, Trigon was The Big Bad who was hyped up throughout season 1, introduced in the season 1 cliff-hanger episode as this big 'oh shit!' moment for the cast of heroes, only for him to fizzle out like a wet fart in the first episode of season 2 while the show pivots wildly in another direction. 

Exactly what happened to Naqib in the first five minutes of The Boys season 2.

Erm, so, Naqib. Farewell, I guess? As a character you briefly appeared in 2 episodes, portrayed by a different actor in each (Krishan Dutt, and Samer Salem). It seems the writers used you as a plot device when they needed a cheap cliff-hanger for a direction that ultimately went nowhere.

Am I disappointed? Yeah, I am. Overall I thought season 2 of The Boys was weaker than season 1, but I'm not here to talk about the whole season: I want to talk about Naqib and this missed opportunity.

The Boys and its showrunners sell the show as being a satire of recent and well known superhero content, of all the big movies and TV shows. There's been a lot of patting themselves on the back for calling out overused tropes in superhero media (and sometimes they've done this satire well: see the LGBT marketing scene with Queen Maeve in season 2), but my issue with the show on their Muslim rep, or should I say lack thereof, is if your show has even less Muslim character rep than the content you're trying to parody, how is this a win for satire?

Naqib and that whole angle came across as a lazy, half-assed swing from the writer's room. Sure, perhaps a lot of the non-Muslim and non-MENA audience won't even notice, as we've been ignored by western media or made into nameless, generic, vacuous baddies for decades now. Non-Muslims and non-MENA just accept that we're always the baddies for no particular reason at all (which feeds into Islamophobia, by the way) and The Boys' writers could say they are simply satirising the tropes already present in media...

But, and this is a big but, the media that The Boys is satirising has already made a step toward better inclusion and representation: Ms. Marvel (Kamala Khan), Marvel comics' first Muslim superhero, is entering the MCU as a lead character in her own Disney Plus show, debuting in 2022. 

Ms. Marvel/Kamala Khan is also cited to appear in upcoming Captain Marvel sequel, The Marvels (2022), which will be a major movie.

The MCU has also cast a Muslim actor (Mahershala Ali) as the lead in a reboot of Blade. That's going to be big news when it starts filming.

So to the showrunners on The Boys, I say this: now you've done this small angle of 'all Muslim characters are terrorists, yuckity-yuck!' like we've seen in major superhero movies thus far, and you've brushed that aside in favor of focusing on other whiter villains, my question is will you come back to Muslim and MENA characters again? Or is that all you got?

Because if that was ALL, then the current score is Disney/MCU:02, Netflix:02, DCEU:02, and The Boys: a big ZERO as far as Muslim and MENA rep goes.

-

Originally posted on my blog, magnificently nerdy.

If you, like me, are always on the lookout for onscreen Muslim and MENA characters in superhero media, and have spotted any characters in superhero TV shows I haven’t watched yet, let me know about them!

Here is my post on good guys, featuring Old Guard’s Joe, and Blindspot’s Rich Dotcom.

Here’s my post about the Tarazi siblings on DC’s Legends of Tomorrow TV show.

And, if Marvels’ Eternals gets released on schedule for 2021, we will have a MENA actor portraying a supporting character. I just hope Marvel gives him a name.

[mrsluttystark]

Repeat After Me

Tony was growing tired of his life, the never ending routine he’d tied himself down to.  Even with a fiancee, a stable job, and a comfortable life, there was hardly a time where he didn’t think about the past to escape the present.  He could never have guessed a simple friend request and a pretty Peter Parker would be his undoing as well as his sanctuary. 18+

Part 1 | Part 2

Tags: nff, age difference, former teacher/student

Word count: 3.1k

Read below the cut

Peter hadn’t been on Facebook in years...technically.  Maybe every so often just to update his profile picture so people knew he didn’t still look like a 15 year old with a face riddled with baby fat.  Sure, he could just delete his account, but he’ll admit he likes knowing what his high school classmates are up to.  It was interesting to see how some people he’s known since elementary school turned out now that they were all college graduates.  He’s never interacted in those times, just lurked and scrolled for a few minutes before he came across a corny meme or a factually incorrect post that looks like it was screenshotted a million times and had to exit.

He was extra bored tonight, though.  Peter tried not to think about how quiet it was now that he lived in his own apartment.  Aunt May had moved in with her boyfriend after Peter graduated and landed a job at Oscorp. It came with a starting bonus and a large paycheck that allowed Peter to live comfortably on his own while he worked in the R & D department. A compromise made with Norman Osborn instead of selling him the rights to the web fluid he created in college.  Peter wanted to continue to develop it front and center; find every possible application for it. So much so, that he didn’t get to go out much. Ned was in DC at his NASA internship, living out his “guy in a chair” dreams.  MJ was somewhere in Asia, backpacking with her girlfriend.  The friends he made at Columbia went their separate ways.

So this was his life now. Wake up, go to work, come home, sleep. Alone.

After getting home from work around 6 pm, Peter went for an hour long run, ate dinner, and showered.  8 pm found him sitting on his living room sofa, flipping aimlessly between different streaming services unable to find anything interesting to watch.  He went through Instagram, Twitter, and even Tumblr a few times before the last “you’re all caught up!” notification popped up on his phone. So, with a heavy sigh, he propped two pillows against the wall for him to lean on, flopped down on his bed, and opened Facebook.

The first post Peter saw was a life event update from Flash Thompson, his high school nuisance, (“bully” would be giving him too much credit) “In a Relationship with Brad Davis”. Peter huffed out a breath, not really surprised with how much Flash used to tease him about being openly bisexual. Penis Parker. How original.

A memory appeared at the top of his feed from 7 years ago, today.  It was a picture of him and Ned when they finished building his Lego Death Star.  Peter smiled at that, Ned was holding it above his head with a beaming smile plastered on his face.  His younger self had both scrawny arms thrown in the air looking triumphant as ever, curls unruly, and rectangular metal glasses falling halfway down his nose.

Peter was glad he filled out a bit since he was 15 and traded in wearing glasses daily for contacts.  His curls were still nice and floppy, the tips of them tickling his ears, but he liked it that way.  Plus, he could tame them when he wanted to.

He scrolled for a while longer, watched a few videos of cats being adorable assholes and one-pot recipes, went on Marketplace to see what people in his area were selling.  He even went through his old pictures and deleted the incredibly embarrassing ones, and updated his profile picture to his most recent selfie.  

This Facebook arc was coming to a quick end, he could feel the boredom seeping back in. He looked to his right, the bright red digital numbers on his clock read 10:05 pm. Good enough.  He can turn in for the night without feeling inept.

Thumb poised, ready to swipe the App closed, his eyes caught on a name in the “People You May Know” section.  Tony Stark. As in, Mr. Stark, his Sophomore Chemistry teacher. AKA his most inappropriate high school crush.  Despite being alone, Peter could feel the tips of his ears heat up.

Wow, he hadn’t thought of Mr. Stark in years.

Alright, that’s not true.  Peter thinks about him every time he wonders why he has an affinity for older men. Besides the point, he’s taken back to Midtown, sitting front row, head balanced on his palm watching dreamily as Mr. Stark explained how atoms and molecules join together through ionic and covalent bonding (which Peter already knew, so it was fine that he was zoning out).  The man’s voice was like honey, words oozing smooth and sweet, rumbling deeply in his chest.  Peter remembers every time he caught his eye while he scanned the room during lectures.  Mr. Stark was 30 then, it was his first year teaching, and a 15 year age gap seemed like a canyon.  

Peter tapped on his name to go to his profile so he can get a better look at his picture. His heart was racing, despite a few sporadic grey hairs at his temples, some crows feet wrinkling at the corner of his eyes, and deeper smile lines, he looked the absolute same.  Fucking hot. If anything, all those things made him look even sexier.  Licking his lips, Peter tried to go through his profile to see more photos of the man, unfortunately he had a lot of his privacy settings on so there wasn’t much to see but his last profile picture update and location.  He still lived in New York, so that was a plus, but Peter wanted - needed to see more.

His thumb hovered over the Add Friend button.  It wouldn’t be weird, would it? He was Facebook friends with other teachers from Midtown.  He graduated over four years ago, and he wasn’t a lovesick kid with a school boy crush anymore.  Fuck it, right? The worst he can do is deny the friend request.

Tap.

“Add Friend” turned into “Cancel Request”, and Peter blew out a large breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

Alright, Peter.  Time to turn in. He said to himself as he threw his phone onto his bed and got up to brush his teeth.  No use waiting around, he wasn’t going to accept it tonight or any time soon for that matter.  When he got back from the bathroom, he didn’t even bother looking at his phone.  He plugged it in, placed it face down on his nightstand, and drifted off to sleep.

A few minutes later, the man’s phone lit up with a Facebook notification, unbeknownst to a slumbering Peter Parker.

-

Tony’s daily routine had been rather monotonous lately, to say the least.  Since he’d made his way up the proverbial ladder of life and moved on from being a teacher to becoming a senior engineer at a major tech conglomerate, you’d think his day-to-day life of overseeing technical advancement projects wouldn’t be so boring.

The paycheck was substantially bigger than when he was a high school teacher and the amount of technology he had access to was more than the idle body walking the street could ever dream of, but…he missed teaching.  He missed the kids.  The pure unadulterated joy they displayed whenever Tony praised them on their science projects.  He watched over brilliant men and women every day but nothing compared to the ambition of those kids.  

Tony often found himself dreading going to work each day, and coming home to an empty house and take-out food his fiancée left for him that night.

Pepper was a great woman.  Fierce and reliable.  She was there when Tony’s parents died.  She even stuck through all the years of Tony trying to decide what he wanted to do with his life. So, naturally, Tony proposed to her when he graduated from college. As a “thank you” and as a promise.  That once he had enough money he would make an honest woman out of her.  Of course, she already was an honest woman.   It was Tony who needed the support, she was all he had left besides Rhodey, but he decided to join the Air Force and shipped off right after graduation.  Tony sees him every couple of months, if even that.

She has had all these years to focus on her own career as well while Tony worked menial jobs and then became a teacher.  When Tony finally got the Mechanical Engineer job, she was so relieved to not have to be the only one taking care of the bills.  Though she never said it, Tony knew. Pepper is the head of HR at Oscorp as well as Norman Osborn’s personal assistant.  Operating at the same routine for seven years now and she doesn’t seem to be bored, but that’s Pepper - reliable.

It’s been nine years since Tony asked her to marry him, and he’s been financially capable of paying for an adequate wedding for two of them.  The truth is, Pepper has become a part of the monotony that Tony is so tired of.

Tony opened the door to their apartment, the main hall light illuminating the dark wood flooring and the entry table he tossed his keys down on. Toeing off his shoes, he could already smell the Thai food Pepper had eaten and left for him.  He flipped the lights on and made his way to the kitchen, loosening his tie and unbuttoning the first two buttons in the process.  Rounding the large white marble island at the center, Tony reached into the bottom cabinet, pulled out a bottle of scotch, and poured himself a finger before throwing the left-overs in the microwave to heat up.  

A little white card with Pepper’s uniform handwriting sat on the table next to the take-out bag: Emergency at work. Don’t wait up. Love you, Pep x.  Tony took a sip of his drink, unaffected, it’s been happening more as of late with Oscorp’s new launch around the corner.

“JARVIS, could ya turn on the TV for me? Oh, and heat up my food.” Tony spoke into the open space.  He’d been working on his own Artificial Intelligence software in his spare time and recently implemented it-him into their apartment’s security and electrical.  Pepper was wary at first, seeing Tony put up cameras in every single room. Even the bathroom, Tony?  He assured her that it was unhackable, bet it on his life.

“Certainly, sir.”  A disembodied british voice replied.  Sure enough, the TV powered on and the microwave came to life.  

“Thanks, J.”  Tony would be lying if he said he wasn’t proud of himself.  He’d been drawing up the specs for JARVIS since he was in high school, now he finally had the means to develop him.

When the microwave turned off, Tony gathered up his plate and went to sit on the black leather sectional in the living room.  Shoveling a mouth full of pad thai with his chopsticks, he kicked up his feet to rest them on the ottoman in front of him. He very well knows he could just pull out his phone and look, but he wanted to give JARVIS a little workout.

“Got anything new for me?”

“An email from Mr. Justin Hammer about a job offer, would you like me to read it aloud to you, sir?” Tony waved his hand dismissively with a sour expression.  Justin Hammer, a sad excuse for a tech mogul, cutting corners for a bigger pay off.

“Delete it, will ya?”

As Tony scrapes the rest of his plate clean, he rises off the couch and stretches his arms and body.  The pain in his lower back calls for a hot shower to soothe his aching muscles.  Earlier today he’d been bent over his lab table working on an advanced prosthesis that can form to any amputee with ease and give them full range of motion like it was theirs, not just a placeholder.  He was grateful his employer seemed to actually care about the greater good.

Tony went to pour himself another finger before retreating to the bedroom to take that shower his body was craving.  He undressed slowly, watching himself in the full length mirror opposite the foot of his California King bed. The tie went first, falling lightly to the carpeted floor.  He unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and tossed it in the laundry basket along with his slacks.  Olive skin pulled taut against the small yet defined muscles of his stomach, chest, and arms littered with various burns and scars from working with robotics and chemicals.  

Tony definitely wasn’t 21 anymore but he knew he looked good for 37. He could only thank his genes for that and the still full head of hair despite his greying temples that he never bothered to dye.

“JARVIS, shower?” He heard the water splash against the tile of the shower floor and waited until he could see the steam bellow out into the hall to down the rest of his glass and make his way to the bathroom.

The hot spray connecting with his cool skin made him jump a little until he got used to the heat enough to relax.  The buzz he was feeling from the scotch aiding the water in loosening his muscles.  After washing his hair, Tony decided to stand beneath the spray for a while longer, reveling in the gentle caress of the water.

He then grabbed his mesh loofah ball, poured some body wash on it, and started scrubbing his body.  Washing away the trials and tribulations of the day, along with some oil and grease.  He worked over his arms, chest, and back.  Bent over to wash his legs and feet, then dragged the loofah over his ass and stomach before he lightly grazed his cock, making it twitch in response.

God, he was so wound up, he and Pepper hadn’t had sex in over two months.  Always so busy, always just missing each other.  When they did happen to be home at the same time, they were too tired to do anything.

He wrapped a soapy hand around his shaft and stroked lazily to work himself to full hardness, which didn’t take very long.  Tony tried thinking about Pepper but he couldn’t quite imagine her face and her body, the scotch must be making his mind hazy.  He chuckled softly at the thought, not even believing it himself.

Searching through his brain for something to get him there, Tony grunted in annoyance that nothing was coming to him.  

He thought harder, until a body started to form in his mind.  Smooth pale skin over a lithe, hard body.  The V at the bottom of the abdomen pointing to a skinny dick with a pretty pink head.  Tony had a fondness toward pretty twinks in college, the one he was imagining mirrored the ones he fucked before he met Pepper.

His hand began stroking faster as his thoughts got more detailed.  In his mind, he stretched the young man open with his fingers before seating his newly opened hole on Tony’s larger, thicker cock.  He braced himself with one arm against the shower wall while his other hand tightened around his shaft.  Hunched over, eyes closed, he saw a pert little ass bouncing up and down, swallowing every inch of him.  He moaned loudly, keenly aware that he was home alone, imagining high whimpers and whines thrumming in his ears as the boy in his mind came.  Tony came in spurts down the drain soon after with a choked off groan.

Rinsing himself again, he got out of the shower, quickly toweled off his body and hair before wrapping it around his waist and making his way out into the bedroom once again.  His body definitely felt looser than it had been when he arrived home from work.  Pulling out another of the same bottle of scotch from the small bar cart he had in his room, he poured himself another drink.

“Have a good shower, sir?”  If Tony didn’t know any better, he’d think JARVIS was taunting him.

Tony scowled and raised an eyebrow at the ceiling.

“I don’t remember programming you to be nosy.” He mumbled under his breath.

“Actually, sir. You designed me to do exactly that.”

“Or to give me lip.” No response.

“You did receive a new notification in your absence.  Would you like to know what it is?” He took a sip of his drink.

“Yeah, sure.”

“You received a Facebook friend request from a Mr. Peter Parker.”

Peter Parker? Why did that seem familiar?

“Throw it up on the screen for me, J.”  The flatscreen lit up, displaying Peter’s profile.

The first thing Tony noticed was the sharp, angular jawline coupled with high cheekbones.  A stark contrast to the delicate chestnut curls pushed back into a nice cowlick wave.  His smile was bright, pure, and genuine, like the photo had been snapped right as he finished laughing.

It wasn’t until Tony looked at his eyes did he realize who this was.  The soft brown eyes were identical to a lanky teenage boy that sat in the front row of his Chemistry class when he taught at Midtown High.  Even behind his wiry glasses back then, Tony could tell that his eyes radiated a wholesome energy - just like they did now.  That had been...what? Seven years ago?  Peter was one of his most brilliant students.  Hardly paid attention in class but knew the material like the back of his hand.

Tony almost felt guilty about finding him attractive. Almost.

He accepted the request without another thought.  Peter would be 22 by now, nothing weird about that, right?  He scrolled through his basic info.  Still lives in New York.  Graduated from Columbia.  Single.  Interested in men and women.  He doesn’t ever really post anything, then again neither did Tony.  The only things on his page were happy birthday posts and tagged photos from his Aunt May.  Tony remembered parent/teacher conferences with her, he guessed being smokin’ hot ran in the family.

Tony couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about potentially lusting over this kid.  He’d always been faithful to Pepper, but something was missing.  Tony craved excitement and some inkling of control over his life.  Besides, he could look, as long as he didn’t touch.  This is just a Facebook friendship after all.

He pulled the Facebook app up on his phone and tapped on the “Message” icon.  When the screen pulled up the chat box, Tony gulped down the rest of his scotch, feeling just on the right side of drunk, and typed out two words.

Hey, Kid.

-

tags: @sweetqueen449, @slut-for-starker, @dim-ships-johnlock, @starkerhowlter, @sthefystarkersworld, @crazycocococonut, @bris-sins, @delicateavenuenacho, @problemchildnoonewanted (I’ll def be implementing some of your points in future chapters!)

[arcticdementor]

I was talking to Sarah yesterday and I had a revelation I think is worth sharing.

Let’s begin at the beginning. About a month ago, Instapundit posted this.

Now, I’ve been thinking of the rise and fall of civilizations lately. I can’t think why it’s been on my mind. It’s a tale as old as time—a civilization emerges, establishes a new worthwhile order, the good things brought forth by said order soften up the people maintaining it, the softening turns to decadence, and the decadence gives way to the barbarians, who clean the slate. Where would you say things are lately?

…

In short—the federal government of the United States of America has become impotent at almost all good things.

Expanded out—There is no start to its talents. It cannot maintain its borders. Since the “election” it doesn’t even try. No surprise there. It cannot maintain friendly relationships with allies—as our recent screwing of Britain on our way out of Afghanistan shows. The “leader” of the “free world” could not be bothered to pick up the phone for our closest ally. Speaking of Afghanistan, it can’t win a war. It can’t even lose gracefully. In fact it fucked up leaving so badly some people are entertaining that it intended to fuck it up, because how the fuck does somebody above the age of six not notice that pulling the military out first and the civilians out second is not even a remotely workable strategy? Resulting in leaving millions of dollars of equipment—and—excuse me, what? Millions of dollars of dollars in the desert? Fantastic.

It makes self sabotaging and idiotic choices to stymie its own domestic oil industry, while accepting a pipeline not from Canada, but one that’s a joint Russian-German venture instead. Which means the problem, contrary to any environmentalist whining, isn’t the pipeline—it’s the pipeline with a friendly country. Big surprise— its only true interest in the environment lies in international agreements that hamstring us while doing nothing to China, the world’s largest polluter. It either can’t be trusted on energy production  and the environment, or is trying to get it wrong.

It can’t manage its economy. What could have been a “V” shaped recovery has been turned into an “L” shaped one. What could be contributing? Paying people to do nothing? Rampant inflation? Meanwhile all the dumbasses running the country can think of is spending several billion more dollars that don’t exist. The country has infrastructure problems for a fact, but they’ll only acknowledge that to the extent of cynically plastering the word on an “infrastructure” bill which is in fact just a far Left wishlist that largely ignores actual infrastructure, in the hopes people will be dumb enough to support it because it has the right label.

And on.

And on.

And on.

What aptitudes does it have besides taking money, trampling civil liberties, and ignoring constitutional laws at gunpoint? News flash, dummies: We don’t need peaceful protestors incarcerated without a trial. We don’t need the weight of the federal government turned to the problem of violating states rights because Texas passed a law Biden doesn’t like. We need military egresses that look like they weren’t planned by Bozo the clown and an economic plan better than something China would design for us as an attempt to permanently sink the country. Is there anyone at all in DC who can provide that? If not, is there anything useful they can do? I’ll wait.

…

This is what decadence looks like. When the government stops even attempting competence because nothing and nobody that currently exists can replace or displace them so who cares about results? When comfort and plenty have become so common, been taken for granted for so long, that the question of utility or even basic sanity isn’t even distantly considered. When it’s assumed that self-harming policies that will obviously damage the country won’t really matter because nobody has ever known a world without America and fundamentally has no idea how the present day came to be. When the country’s most educated start chasing bizarre and unimaginably stupid ideas on economics that boil down to “inflation won’t happen if you double the monetary supply by printing money, if only you just believe hard enough”. In fact, when education stops being a means to greater insight, more useful abilities, and a better life, and becomes a cult devoted to the kind of idiocy that can survive only with strenuous censorship, the tenets of the cult being treated by the indoctrinated as a collection of sacred mysteries and deeply-thought paradoxes— while to those not similarly trained it is self-obviously a collection of contradictory and self-serving lies.

Verily, decadence is here. We can infer that what comes next is the barbarians. And we have options. Mexican illegals? A heady mixture of poverty-stricken Marxists who have never known a system that wasn’t corrupt, functionally lawless, and devoted to the tenets of voting oneself rich; and outright criminals with lives like “a demon’s resumé”? Perhaps radical Muslims? By sheer numbers worldwide they’re the most likely option. The Taliban just got a huge infusion of cash and a big boost in morale. In a few short days we’ll know whether they’ve arranged a thank you gift for Zho Bi-Xen and his kleptocrat marching band to commemorate his intended pull-out date. But even if, and God I hope, they have not, we can expect an uptick in terrorism and quite shortly. Or perhaps China? The Middle Kingdom would laugh at being called barbarians, but I call genocidal communists like I see them. Mao was morally three steps below a pig and Xi has enough power to aspire to greater depths. As is I wouldn’t dream of feeding a pig Mu Shu Xi due to the great risk of poisoning the pig.

But there is a barbarian group not considered. Us.

Hang on. Before you balk, listen. Look again at what these idiots are selling as the fruits of civilization. Defenses of pedophilia and urinals as art. And more, too—sterilization and disfigurement of teenagers in the form of sex changes. Black supremacy as a panacea to made up threats of white supremacy. Books nobody reads, movies nobody watches, paintings that exist only to launder money—even the ones not made by Hunter Biden.

What good person would not be proud to be considered a barbarian by these miserable, over-decorated Faberge people? I’d be mortified if they agreed with me! So they think I’m a sexist or a racist or whatever. Fine. They do not use these words to mean the same things I mean, so it’s a pointless argument, and they are now officially beneath my explaining myself to them. When the people who are calling me names are so morally opaque that the Taliban can make devastating critiques of them just by referencing the foundational works of their own gender studies programs, I’m done caring about the names. Fine. I’m what you think is a racist. I’m what you think is a sexist. But you think a lot of very stupid things, and as the curtain continues to draw back on the carnival of madness that’s been behind the scenes the entire time it’s occurring to me that what you think and reality overlap so seldom that the only time not to ignore you is when I can ridicule you. If that is your civilization, someone hand me a pointy horned helmet.

…

Yes, this is a moment of peril, but also opportunity. See in your country what every hostile group listed above sees in it—the makings of great civilization, along other, less stupid lines. All of it guarded by weak, fat, stupid people with no will and no self-belief. Take that mindset and go forth.

Get involved in your local systems. There is an old prayer for God to make ones enemies ridiculous. Congratulations to whomever was still praying it. Your prayers have been answered. Will you tell me that you cannot defeat these people? People who lose casual debates to terrorists not on principle but on basic facts?

…

You can’t reason with them so don’t bother. Recent events have made it clear you may as well try to talk sense into a three-day-old mackerel. Just confront them with their own stupidity so that people who see the inevitable video understand what this is about, and don’t feel that you are too good to shout them out of the room. You’re the barbarian, remember? Not like the nice civilized people with their gender-queer Tik-Tokers pushing vaccine propaganda. That means you’re excused from conversations with morons. Don’t bother trying to find common ground. Look at where they’re standing! Do you want to try to find the midpoint between that and reality? Silly. Pointless. Send them back to their walled online gardens to whine to their equally stupid friends about the barbarians.

Can we take it back from the ground up? I don’t know. But hey, it’s got to be worth a shot. Join the fun! Find some friends and locate a low-hanging political event to raid. When was the last time you went to a town hall for your town? Isn’t just a part of you curious to know whether your local county commissioner starts by declaring her pronouns? Wouldn’t it be wonderful to see someone like that made very uncomfortable? You can make that happen. You can probably do it within the next month. Bring a few friends! Or a few dozen. Some of the people reading this probably were afraid to do that kind of thing for fear of losing their job. The Biden economy might have freed up some of your time. What have you got to lose now? More importantly, the way things are going, are you going to lose it anyway if things continue as they are? Think on it.

[aspiringpolymath]

I was tagged by both @carpe-libris and @greenangelheart, thanks to you both!

I’ve been in a very weird headspace lately, which isn’t surprising, but I like, am very ambivalent about commenting or posting. Like . . . I don’t know. So, I’m responding! I’m posting, wow. (Actual wow, not sarcastic wow.)

LAST SONG: Much to Steph’s dismay, it’s Bastille. I’ve been listening to Doom Days a lot lately, and I think the last song I finished was Another Place. I also recently watched their documentary on Amazon Prime, and all the scenes of concerts made me tear up. :/

LAST MOVIE: In the theater? Knives Out. Will that be the last ever movie I watch in a theater? If so, I guess it was a good one to go out on. We rented Wonder Woman 2 around Christmas, which had a good first hour, decent 80′s and and DC vibes, but was mostly hot garbage.

CURRENTLY READING: Okay, NOW we’re in my wheelhouse. I’m doing an audiobook re-read of A Fashionable Indulgence by KJ Charles, and realizing how tough this series is. Great, but a LOT goes on. I am HOTLY anticipating KJ Charles latest release, The Gentle Art of Fortune Hunting, which drops Wednesday, as well as Best Laid Plans by Roan Parrish, which should be delivered to my Kindle in like . . . 20 minutes. I’ve been taking my sweet time meandering through Samantha Irby’s Wow No Thank You, and have three volumes of Our Dreams at Dusk waiting for me at the library. Mainly, I’m reading all the things.

CURRENTLY PLAYING: I actually just redownloaded Neko Atsume. Decided it was time to tend to a yard of cute animated cats.

CURRENTLY WATCHING: I got a crunchyroll subscription to watch the given movie (so good!) so I’m rewatching Yuri!!! on Ice again, Mark and I are periodically watching Somebody Feed Phil on Netflix for wanderlust vibes since who knows when we’ll ever be able to travel again. I’ve also been on YouTube a great deal.

CURRENTLY WORKING ON: I opened one of my original story documents today, does that count? It’s been a fallow period, but I did write a couple of paragraphs.

(Honestly, if I was weird about tagging people in the before times, there’s no hope for me now. If you see this and want to play along, feel free and tag me if you’d like!)

[hansketchbook]

5 INSTAGRAM ARTISTS SHOWCASE (OCTOBER 2020)

Hello beautiful and fabulous people! so I decided to do a list of Instagram artists that I‘m a fan of. Now, one thing I want to note is that this list is not exactly a ‘top 5’ list or anything, in other words, it is not in any particular order, so the artist that is on the very top of the list doesn’t necessarily mean that he/she is my most favourite or anything like that. Basically, I love these guys’ work, I don’t like picking favourites mostly cause it’s a headache to have to pick one or two favourites when all of them are awesome in their own way (or maybe I’m just lazy and tired to figure them out heheh). Alright! Let’s begin!

1. Patrick Brown (@patrickbrownart)

Alright! First on the list is Patrick Brown. Now, he’s not necessarily an Instagram artist (not initially anyway) He has an Instagram account now which is nice, but I actually found out about him on Youtube where he actually did this tutorial thing many, many years back. He was actually in the back of my mind for quite some time, until I rediscovered his work on Instagram recently. 

His work is AWESOME! And surely to a lot of other cartoonists or illustrators out there as well, especially if you’re into character/comic book illustrations. Now, I know it’s subjective, like all things, but I do believe his work is awesome for one, the way he poses the characters are really fluid and dynamic, which I love. Second, his digital coloring and environment illustrations are also amazing! I mean, if you take out the coloring, and just keep the line art, it’s not going to pop off as much (to me at least), so it’s the way he digitally colors(shading and lighting) his characters and environments that boosts the quality of his work significantly. I specifically ADORE his splash pages/illustrations where there’s like tons of characters in one scene.

2. Roosh (@koteri.ink)

Next on the list! Koteri.ink. I found his work on Instagram, I think probably over a year ago? And I have loved his work ever since. There’s something about his art style that I'm diggin’ so much. I especially love it when he draws humanoid animals (?) not sure if that’s the right way to describe it. 

He has this successful Kickstarter comic (Kings of Nowhere) he’s doing and still producing new chapters at the moment. I haven’t read it but from what I’ve seen so far, and from the comic’s synopsis, it’s a pretty interesting concept! Really love the way he designed animals, and his anatomy game is freakin’ strong! Check out his work!

3. Clayton Henry (@claytonhenryart)

Third on the list! Clayton Henry. He’s an illustrator/comic book artist, at the moment he mostly does commission work for DC. If you check out his Instagram, his feed is filled with DC superhero illustrations like Batman, Superman, the Flash, etc. So, it may not be your cup of tea but he does post other works as well occasionally. 

What I really love about his work is his art style and line work- especially his line work. Honestly, my own inking or linework is heavily inspired by this guy. Or at least, AT THE MOMENT (that’s why I don’t like picking favourites, cause it’s changing all the time xD). But I also love the way he traditionally colors his stuff using colored pencils. Something about it is just freakin’ great. I wish I could color my work traditionally like that. Maybe I can, I just need to start…maybe tomorrow.

4.  Ashley Wood (@ashleywoodart)

Next up, Ashley Wood. His work is… it’s hard for me to describe it. It’s really paintery, consisting of brushes or strokes, it seems very conceptual sometimes - like they are unfinished but still looks f*cking amazing! 

Besides oil painting, he also does sketches in the form of inks. I mean, it LOOKS like sketches, but they are not really? Again, it looks unfinished but I would still put it up on the wall, y’know. I actually found out about Ashley Wood from the work that he did on one of my favourite video game series - Metal Gear Solid. He did the graphic novel for MGS and his work was also showcased as an in-game comic-ish animation for the Playstation Portable’s MGS game called Metal Gear Solid Portable Ops (not the best MGS game, but pretty good for a handheld). I was really digging the whole conceptual or ‘sketchy’ art style that I looked him up online - and ever since then I’ve been a fan of his work. Seriously, check out his work! They are amazing.

5.  Seung Eun Kim (@kse332)

Finally, Seung Eun Kim. Man, going through this list just makes me feel bad about myself cause I have to look up their stuff and I keep thinking’ I probably won’t be this good. If this list is actually in order of the top being my ‘favourite’, Seung Eun Kim will be among the very TOP of this list. Just check out his work, this guy is among the greats when it comes to working in the visual development or concept artist industry. 

He works on animation, he was a former principal artist at Riot games (yes, THE riot games), he worked with Sony Pictures - if you look at his stuff, you can see him working on storyboards and stills of scenes from films. He can do realism as well as cartoon-ish art style but he mostly does realistic style than cartoons. He probably only does cartoon-style when he needs to (like if he’s part of a project that requires him to make them). If you want to get a taste of his work, just hop onto his Instagram page, it has everything from character illustrations, portraits, storyboarding, visual development/concept arts and more! I just… I can’t… I really love his work!

And that’s it for this October Instagram artist showcase list! 

These are just among MANY other AMAZING artists on Instagram. There are a lot of amazing artists out there, I’m glad the internet exists so I could look them up and get inspired by them… or feel like shit cause they’re too good. But hey, you’re terrible until you’re not, so.

Thanks for stopping by!

[malachi-walker]

What character(s) from other fandoms that you're a part of remind you the most of Catra? Personally, I don't think I've seen too many, aside from maybe Vegeta from DBZ and maybe Jason Todd from DC comics but that's about it for me

Ok, anon, thanks for your patience. Let's go.

Firstly, I have two ladies that do give me a similar vibe to Catra (though they aren't 100% matches as you'll see.) And I want you to take particular note of that: it's very telling that the characters you mentioned are both dudes. This is something I have been thinking about for literally decades because it is a deeply entrenched stereotype in our culture: male abuse victims are angry, frustrated loners who lash out until they find that one (girl) person that gets through their facade, female abuse victims are portrayed as either anxious messes (more common in recent years) or as just... These smiling caricatures who continue to pretend to be happy because that's what our societies expect women to be. And this is something I took note of at a very early age, because as someone growing up with an abusive birth father I looked to the MALE characters as a guide book on how to act, because getting angry and lashing out was what made sense to me at the time and I resented the hell out of that unspoken implication that I was supposed to just suck it up and plaster on a smile when I wanted to rage against the injustice of what I was dealing with. In hindsight it wasn't great behavior, but it was what I needed to keep myself sane at the time. I'm not even exaggerating when I say I have waited my whole life for a character like Catra: someone who is reflective of my experiences as an ex-abuse victim, someone who is angry and wrathful and still allowed to be sympathetic. Now on to our two ladies.

First up: Vriska Serket from Homestuck. (I know, Homestuck is a huge fandom with a lot of assholes, but I do still enjoy the original comic. I just don't interact with the fandom.) Vriska and Catra both have similar vibes in the way they project their outward personas of being the badass bitch who takes no shit and is on top of things, but we all know that's a lie. And they both come from abusive backgrounds: Vriska was forced to become a killer at a very young age because her parental guardian (a literal giant spider) would eat her if Vriska didn't feed her other kids. Doesn't excuse her jerkass tendencies or her terrible actions, but that was how she started out. And Catra's deal with SW needs no explanation.

They both have developed very similar gadfly tendencies in order to maintain a sense of control around other people (though Vriska is a lot more mean spirited about it) and both have moments when the facade cracks and they show actual sincerity and frustration at themselves and other people. The main difference between them is that Vriska's actions are driven by a sense of grandiose self-importance that she has cultivated and fed into as a way to avoid looking at her own actions (because she's the best, so everything she does is awesome, right?) whereas Catra's primary driving motivation is pain: either making sure she doesn't have to hurt anymore or hurting those who hurt her. Plus Catra grapples with her sense of guilt a lot throughout Spop and maintains those sympathetic undertones while Vriska's moments of clarity are so rare that you basically have to keep a chart to locate them. But you could totally picture them both teaming up to make fun of their respective frenemies, assuming they didn't kill each other first for reminding themselves of their deep underlying self-loathing.

Second candidate: Anthy Himemiya from Revolutionary Girl Utena. And boy howdy, if anyone is interested in this show and wants to avoid spoilers, skip to the end now, because we're going on a deep and dark journey here.

At first glance, she and Catra don't have much in common. In fact, she seems to fit the stereotype I described above: the placid smiling doll who takes the abuse and keeps going. Key word: seems to. Anyone who actually watches the show knows exactly where I'm going here.

We're introduced to Anthy as the "Rose Bride": the prize in a series of sword fights between students at a very strange school, with the ultimate promise being that whoever owns the Rose Bride at the end of the duels will gain some nebulous ultimate power. And yeah, I said "own" for a reason: whoever possesses the Rose Bride effectively owns her and some of the most uncomfortable scenes in the show reinforce the fact that Anthy tailors her thoughts and actions to whoever currently controls her. And as you can expect, this leads to BUCKETS of abuse. Literally everyone in this show is culpable in some manner for this, no matter how well intentioned.

But remember that "seems to?" Because that's only one side of Anthy; the outward persona if you will. On the other side of the coin you have Anthy the Witch, and that's where the parallels with Catra come into play and why Anthy was my go-to abuse representation before Spop rocked my world. Because the big twist we find out at the end of the series is that Anthy and her older brother Akio (formerly Dios) are the former literal personifications of the fairytale damsel in distress princess and the noble prince on a white horse, respectively.

But the balance was upset: having to constantly go around saving people was literally killing Dios, because one of the major points of RGU is that you can assist people in saving themselves but doing it yourself strips them of agency and traps them in a cycle of needing to be saved again and again. The more people the noble prince saved, the more people needed saving. When it became clear that he couldn't keep going, Anthy took a stand and prevented the people coming for Dios (angry that he wasn't saving them anymore) from getting to him, and thus incurred the wrath of everyone and got skewered alive by an angry mob in the process. This isn't hyperbole: the role of the Rose Bride is to instinctively bring out the disdain and hatred of everyone on the planet. It's a punishment for stepping out of line, for not being the placid princess who needs to be rescued anymore.

Because we're operating on fairy tale logic, no longer being a princess means that Anthy became a witch, and no longer being the prince made Dios into satanic archetype Akio. So behind the scenes of the entire show, Anthy is the witch assisting her brother in orchestrating the duels, and their ultimate goal is to find someone pure of heart enough to embody those princely virtues Dios once possessed and to steal that power so Akio can return to being who he once was. All of the psychological torments and head games are designed to weed out the potential candidates to find that special someone... Except it's an impossible goal because no human being can live up to that standard. And with each atrocity they commit it becomes even more impossible to return to being that person.

Ok, tangent done, here's where it gets interesting: Anthy is a character with two sides to her, the suffering Rose Bride fated to endure the hatred of the entire world and the Wicked Witch who manipulates and orchestrates the torment of those around her. But here's the deal: she's a victim too. She's a victim of a system that won't let her be anything other than these two binaries; she's a victim of her brother who has all the power over her and has trapped her in a codependent incestuous relationship, and I don't care how awful the things she's done are: nobody deserves to go through the shit she does. So with all of that in mind, the actions that she goes through as the witch make perfect sense. Why shouldn't she torment these people who do nothing but abuse her and deny her of agency? Even the best hearted of the duellists (aka the ones who don't hit her or abuse her sexually) nonetheless fall into the trap of projecting their own biases and expectations onto her, biases that her role dictates she carry out. Her actions as the witch aren't right, but nothing about this situation is. That's the entire point.

And that's where she ties into being like Catra. Catra does some truly fucked up things, but it doesn't cancel out the fact that she's an abuse victim that has been literally tortured for most of her life for no good reason and has received zero acknowledgement of that abuse in universe. And much like Anthy, she can't begin to heal until the situation is acknowledged, because that's literally step one of breaking the cycle: confirming that this is not okay and that no one deserves the shit she's been through. Just knowing that herself isn't enough: it's acknowledgement from others that enables that process to begin, because no one can recover from abuse in a vacuum. You need outside people to be touchstones, because so much of recovering from abuse is confronting the way it warps your perception and thought processes. You need at the minimum one normal perspective to give you that, preferably more, but one minimum.

Hurting the people who care about her is definitely not okay and I'm not excusing her actions in that category, but it doesn't change the fact that she is justified in wanting to rage and lash out, because she is still trapped in that cycle. She can't heal or let go because the process hasn't even been started. She's not off the hook for the things she's done, but neither should she be automatically condemned without taking those factors into account (which is the entire reason why the distinction between an excuse and a justification exists.)

And if I can be a little pithy... The other similarity between Catra and Anthy is I can guarantee that in twenty years people will STILL be arguing over whether or not Catra "deserved" to be freed from her abusive situation.

Good God this turned into an essay. Hope this makes up for how long it took, anon. And anyone else who makes it this far, treat yourself. You earned it.

[peppersandcats]

Flash stuff, comics and TV

So, I am finally up-to-date on The Flash in both comics and TV format, and I have some thoughts. The comics ones are mostly in the “oh come on are we expected to buy this, clearly you are aiming for that” vein, and the TV show ones are very mild and possible super-obvious, but since both deal with what both what is happening and what I think is going to happen, both might be spoilers so I’m putting them under a cut.

To be clear: please do not tell me anything about these assumptions that does not come from existing text. So for example:

“but in issue 76 we saw X” or “in episode 6 of this season Y happened, so we might get Z fallout” is totally fine. Yay analysis! Would love to hear from you!

“in the comics X happens, so that might mean Y for the TV show” is also cool.

“the comics writer said he’s aiming for X” or “a casting decision has been made so we know Y is still showing up/is not on the show anymore after this point” is really not fine please do not tell me that. I do not want to hear it. Thank you.

Also: discusses possible upcoming character death. I know some people would rather not see that, so mentioning it now.

With that in mind, here are my “I am okay with being wrong about this, but I bet this’ll happen” thoughts:

Comics

Oh, comics. Len has apparently turned into a vicious blowhard, Lisa is picking a fight with him, evil King Cold rules over Central, all is lost, no-one is paying me enough to pick up extra titles from DC to find out what all space and time being broken means, dour, dour, grim.

With that in mind, I have a possibly-more-cheerful read on current Snart events than the one initially presented. I’m going to keep in mind Len’s mention of the Rogues going with Lisa’s plan (issue 78 “Without my sister, the whole plan is on hold.”; issue 79 “This isn’t Lex’s plan. It’s not even my plan. It’s your plan.”), and assume that that was true.

This means that I think (hope) that what they’re going for is a long con. That the Snarts are running with a plan where Len plays bad guy to Central City, Lisa tries to convince Barry to use mega-uncontrollable Speed Force power against Luthor by pitching it as "save my brother he's gone bad", and the end goal is that the world-breaking nonsense and Luthor both get taken down while the Rogues get to keep all the shiny new tech in a world that isn’t weirdly broken by evil.

The big thing that kept throwing me about the narrative presented to Barry is why is Len keeping Barry alive?

Because, look. Right now everyone thinks the Flash is dead (seriously, those guards in the throne room were absolutely thinking “jeez, boss, we’ve heard how the Flash died in your arms three times already this week”), and yeah, that’s good to keep Central hopeless. And Len is coming across as mean as hell. But then why hasn’t he really killed Barry? He’s not angling for the “I will build my reputation with a grand execution!”, because then he wouldn’t be talking up how he’d already killed the Flash. He might be keeping Barry alive just to torment him, but then there’d be no benefit to lying about how he’d killed him. Dude’s stuck in Ice Heights, not even the Trickster* can make a dent in that, it’s not like someone is going to mount a successful rescue.

*Please insert usual where-the-hell-does-he-get-those-wonderful-toys rant here, I’m sure you’ve heard it from me by now.

And if Len was building part of his power on the “I will crush Central City’s spirit by letting them know I have taken down the Flash!” foundation, then Lisa’s “oh no, we can’t let people know you’re alive” seems a bit odd.

So if I take a step back, what I see isn’t “Lisa has a heart of gold and is begging for the Flash’s help.” It’s not even “Lisa is vamping Barry and feeding him a sob story about how her brother has gone bad.”

What I see is “the Snarts have a secret plan that involves no-one knowing that the Flash is still alive, so it doesn’t get back to Lex Luthor. Right now the genius supervillain has a massive blind spot about the existence of a terrifying Speed Force bomb, and Lisa is collecting pieces of Mirror Master’s tech. Those are totally the kind of things you could combine to break Luthor’s secret reality-busting stronghold, which would enable you to get rid of him but still keep your super-cool empowering tech.”

And if Len and Lisa are in cahoots on this, the bombast makes a lot more sense. “My sister has been in hiding ever since I took over Central City... and she reveals herself by stealing from me?" is a performance for the benefit of the two-high level mooks who were following Len and could probably hear him through the open doorway. Giant ice-wolves aren’t anything to do with Lisa being scared of dogs when she was a kid (which didn’t really come across in her reaction to them anyway), they’re just really cool and the speech is Len hamming it up for whoever in his citadel is spying for Luthor.

(I mean. It’s Luthor. You’re working with Lex Luthor, you gotta assume.)

So, yeah. I’m still hoping we’ve got the Snarts running a very sensible long con, which combines the best aspects of “we are crooks who want cool stuff” and “we’re not evil, evil is dumb.” Fingers crossed.

TV

Okay, minor stuff, but I think I’ve finally decoded the symbols on the Monitor’s door!

I was assuming, pretty much, that these referenced the Justice League. The Flash in particular has been throwing in asides to the Justice League since its inception (everyone’s seen the mural at CCPD headquarters, right?), the last crossover involved a building that has people who don’t watch the show assuring me that it’s meant to evoke the Hall of Justice, one of the trailers mentioned seven heroes, here we have seven symbols, etc.

Left to right, I think these represent

Black Lightning - it’s not a logo, but the shape evokes the lightning streaks on the torso of his costume. This one was one I kept getting stuck on - I kept thinking “Trident! ...but it makes no sense for them to bring in Aquaman.” Then I went to catch up on Black Lightning a little and it clicked.

Canary - I honestly was thinking White Canary because I really want to see LOT involved, but Sara doesn’t wear a face mask. Therefore, probably need to go with Black Canary (who is a founding member in at least one version of continuity, lord knows which one, I have trouble keeping track)

Flash - that is, to me, obviously his cowl. Little bit coming down in the middle, little chin covering pointing up, wing-y bits on the ears, we’re good.

Martian Manhunter - this one I’m the least sure of, but given the options available, I think it has to be him. He’s totally a Justice League guy, and the hex with straps pointing up and down to the sides, echoes his costume torso.

Supergirl - again, I was staring at this for a while, completely lost, but now it looks to me like a really stylized ‘S’. If it was narrower on the bottom than on the top, it would look a lot like the family logo.

Batwoman - this is both a scarier-looking mask than the second image, and can be read as a figure spreading their wings to either side. (Huh, I suppose it might be Hawkgirl? But I’m betting on Batwoman. If I’m wrong, that’s okay! I have been wrong before)

Arrow. I mean, really, just Arrow. It’s an arrow-head. Arrow.

And I mean, I don’t necessarily think everyone’s going to survive through this. Oliver Queen in particular I think is going to die. Whether that means Roy or Mia steps up to try and become the Arrow, or whether they leave a seat empty at the table to honour Ollie’s sacrifice, I don’t know. But: Arrow in the JLA of the CW.

But.

Arrow is TV, but in a lot of ways it’s still comics. You know how it happens when people die in comics.

I think we might get to see Ollie as the Spectre.

It fits with the well-meaning darkness and the grim drive. It fits with the judgement of "you have failed this city". It fits with the green hood. The recent “hey, vigilantes working with the police” feel like it gives Ollie a sort of cop-if-you-look-at-him-sideways aura that makes him line up better with Jim Corrigan and Crispus Allen--hell, even Hal Jordan functionally comes across as a space-cop. Even Corrigan’s death thematically echoes Ollie’s first (presumed) death by drowning on the Queen’s Gambit.

I would like that. I have long loved the Spectre, and I would not be where I am as a DC TV fan--hell, as a DC fan--if Arrow hadn’t clicked with me.

I would like it if Oliver Queen, that grumpy control-freak secret-keeping self-righteous ass, could still be there on some level. He means a lot to me.

[the--sad--hatter]

Name Changing (4)

FANDOM - MARVEL MCU, X-MEN, DEADPOOL

PAIRING - BUCKY X READER (female reader, no physical descriptions)

WARNINGS - ALL OF THEM, SMUT, VIOLENCE ANGST

DESCRIPTION -  Sequel to Name Calling

After merging with your bloodthirsty alternate personality things start getting a little dicey. You’ve got two decades worth of anger to sort through, a feral mutation to figure out how to live with, a biological father who you hate trying to teach you control and if your wedding planner suggests teal for the bridesmaids again you might just eat her liver.

Luckily you have Bucky Barnes by your side, helping you figure things out. What Bucky doesn’t know is that you have found an outlet for the uncontrollable rage, one that absolutely nobody can know about. If your friends and family knew that you were out slaughtering people in the dead of night while they slept, they might be a little annoyed. Wade Wilson is happy to keep your secret though, so long as you keep bribing him with Mexican food.

For as long as you could remember, all you had wanted was to be good. Now you’re seeing the temptation in the darkness.

                                         A Stark Reminder

                       Read the Exclusive Interview with Deathwave

                      Interview conducted and written by Kara M Pierce

Since her very public debut as the long lost daughter of Tony Stark, she has been the subject of much curiosity. Her story is a dark one, yet it’s also one filled with hope.

It quickly came to light that Miss Stark was far more than she first appeared and while she is in fact Tony Starks daughter, it is not by blood. Though after just a few minutes in her presence I am wondering if that is true. She exudes the same confidence and charm as her father, not to mention the same sharp wit. Having interviewed Mr Stark in the past I can confirm that both Starks harbour the same respect and fear for Pepper Potts as one look from the CEO can make either Stark fall into line.

Thank you so much for agreeing to sit down with me today Miss Stark.

Bold of you to assume I had any choice.

Thank you so much for convincing her to sit down with me today Mrs Potts.

She’s very happy to be here.

I imagine you are quite busy, does being Deathwave take up a lot of your time?

It does but apparently the bad guys have no concept of acceptable work hours. Someone should really start a labour union for them or something.

What’s it like being an Avenger and is it different from being a secret Avenger?

I used to just have to deal with Hydra and Vernichtung agents attacking me, now I have paparazzi as well but apparently I’m not allowed to blast them into smithereens.

Other than that, it’s not actually very different. Not having to wear the mask makes it a little easier, that thing was kinda warm.

How well do you get along with the other Avengers?

Sam Wilson, The Falcon is my best friend. When I first arrived at the compound he sort of took me under his wing. Sam is an excellent cook and he loves feeding people He’s also a great listener, he really cares about what you have to say and if you need advice he’ll do his best to give it to you but he knows when you just need to vent.

Plus have you seen the muscles on that man? Who doesn’t want to cry on those shoulders?

It sounds like you’re writing a dating profile for him. Are you trying to get him a date Miss Stark?

No... Maybe. Not that he needs my help, the man is handsome, charming, has the thighs of a god and is a superhero. He's also single. Just saying.

What about the other Avengers, are you close with them?

Well I am engaged to one so yes? We’re a family, all of us. I trust them with my life and they trust me with theirs. When we’re out there in the field our lives and the lives of the people we are fighting to protect rests in each others hands. That tends to form some close bonds.

So does that mean you’re close with Loki, the man who once led an attempted invasion?

Yes, I am. Loki was not responsible for that, and despite being controlled he managed to manipulate events so he would lose the battle of New York. He did the best he could with limited control of his own mind.

Loki was instrumental in helping me defeat Docherty, he helped us win the Second Battle of New York. He’s a hero, an Avenger and a friend and anyone who says otherwise can take it up with me personally. I’ll be happy to educate them on the difference between a hero and a villain.

You seem to have a protective streak, not just for those you know personally.

Was there a question in there?

I was wondering where that protectiveness comes from?

My father. He protected me. And I owe it to the world to follow in his example. He made a lot of mistakes along the way to becoming the hero he is today and he owns up to them and not only learned from them, encourages me to learn from them as well.

Speaking of your father, there’s been much speculation about your biological family.

Are you referring to the rumors that were leaked about Docherty being my grandfather?

Yes, those rumors have been circulating. Is there any truth to them?

Yes.

Would you like to elaborate on that?

Not particularly. Biologically, I was his granddaughter. He was evil, I stopped him. End of story.

What about the rest of your biological family? Do you have any desire to know about them?

What makes you think I don’t already know? My mother is dead, Docherty killed her. My father didn't know I existed until recently and he... he and I are working through our issues but that’s a private matter.  If his identity comes to light at any point I just wanted people to know he didn't know about me or Docherty. It wasn't his fault.

That’s fair. Onto happier subjects Miss Stark, you won’t be Miss Stark for much longer. Are you excited?

You’d assume I was excited about my upcoming nuptials or I wouldn't be getting married would I?And the Stark name was the greatest gift I ever got, I’m not giving it up. I’ll be Mrs Stark-Barnes.

How did the romance between you and Sargent Barnes happen? Who made the first move?

(Miss Stark is trying to contain a laugh at this point, Mrs. Potts giving her a warning look.)

He made the first move. He followed me about for months, begging me for a chance. It was getting quite sad so I took pity on him.

What about the photo’s that appeared to show you on a date with Captain Rogers?

Well, Cap was my first love but he’s too good, too pure. I had to downgrade.

So you settled for Sargent Barnes?

(The laughter dies and the expression on Miss Starks face is one of love and conviction, it is clear her feelings for Sargent Barnes are very real and very powerful.)

James is the only man I have ever wanted to be with and the only man I ever want to be with. He’s my partner in every way, he supports me even when he doesn’t like what I’m doing, he challenges me when I’m being an idiot, he forgives me when I mess up, he holds my head above water when I’m drowning. He is the love of my life I know how lucky I am that I get to spend the rest of my life returning his love.

What about the blurred photographs that appear to show you in the company of the Vigilante and Mercenary known as Deadpool?

Deadpool is a menace to society. It is my personal mission to hunt him down and give him exactly what he deserves.

Quite a turn around from the woman who once refused to sign The Sokovia Accords.

My refusal to sign wasn’t about the accords themselves but rather the way they were being used. Secretary Ross is a slimy rat and I would never cow to his perceived authority. (There is a short argument between Mrs. Potts and Miss Stark but Miss Stark insists we can print her opinion on Secretary Ross, though it must be noted that the opinion of the interviewee do not necessarily represent the views of this publication.)

Colonel Rhodes is a man who knows the value of bureaucracy and the importance of the accords and balances it with the public's need for protection. The Sokovia Accords are no longer used as a power play but are in place to protect the people who signed as well as holding them accountable for their actions.

It’s at this point in the interview I informed Miss Stark I had some fan questions that had been sent in and she immediately perked up.

I like the fans, they’re just normal people who like me for some reason. It’s always strange when they come up to me and ask for a selfie or an autograph but it’s inspiring. Hopeful. It reminds me that there’s a world out there that I get to help protect.

From Jess on Ao3: How did you decide that you wanted to be good, despite the evils you’ve encountered?

I decided I wanted to be good because of the evils I encountered. My earliest memories are of cruelty and you’d think growing up that way might have given me a twisted sense of morality but I knew the way I felt was horrible and I didn't ever want to be the reason somebody else felt that way. There was a guard when I was really young, he slipped me chocolate through the bars of my cell. He was killed for it when they found out. That's how I knew they were evil, even if I didn’t know the word. And I knew I didn't want to be that way.

TaraStudiesaLot: Are you are interested in any art form? Photography, painting, film or music? Like, does do enjoy any of these or are they still foreign to you?

Steve tried to get me into art but I’m more made to appreciate it than make it.

I like to take pictures though, nothing special, just little moments from life. I like being able to look back at the photo’s, they help ground me and remind me of the good things I have in my life.

Phoenix-whiskey-Tears: What kind of music are you into?

I hadn’t even been out of the cage for a full day before my dad introduced me to AC/DC. So I kind of associate 80’s rock with freedom I guess? I’m also partial to big band music from the 40’s. (It should be noted that at this point, Miss Stark is doing her best to hide her blush.)

Firefly-in-darkness: I wanna know more of your habits and little simple things like your favorite colour, movies, books, etc?

Red. My favorite colour is red. The Iron Suit was red, red is the colour of freedom, of salvation, justice.

Books and movies? I don’t have favorites per se, it’s still exciting and thrilling to see and read them, even bad ones.

HoneyBadger: What advice would you give to abuse survivors? And do you think you’d ever take on a protege or sidekick?

Well first of all, I have a sidekick. Bucky Barnes.

To abuse survivors I would say this, you already did the hard part. You survived. You are already winning that battle by fighting it and I know it’s a long battle, one you’ll be fighting every day for the rest of your life. That thought is depressing and exhausting and overwhelming.

But it’s worth it. The world is still out there waiting for you, use the pain you have experienced to see the world differently. See the beauty in the mundane and normal because after your suffering you deserve every single tiny bit of happiness and calm you can grasp.

What happened to you shaped you yes, but it does not define you. You are so much more than what they did to you. Their evil does not leave a stain on you and your future is not dictated by your past.

You’re warriors, Kings and Queens who deserve so much more than life gave you. Life and people can be cruel and it’s up to you now, to take what you deserve from the world. Be amazing, you’ve already proven you have it in you. Support one another, hold each other up and never ever forget that we are a thousand times better than those who tried to put us down.

Pydia Packmaster: What keeps you going despite everything you have been through?

Life goes on, the world keeps turning. And everything I endured can be used to help me make sure others don’t have to go through the same thing.

All the bad things that happened to me are being used as a force for good now. Like I once said, I was created to end the world but I’m going to save it.

Beansy: if you had the ability to change anything in your past, what would it be and would you?

I wish I had known I had a mother, maybe I could have saved her before it was too late. Maybe I could have known her. But what’s done is done. My whole life I didn’t even dare to imagine that I would have a future but now I do and I won’t waste it by living in the past.

ToastLuvr: If you could choose an actress to play you in a movie who would it be?

Jack Black. Next question.

BuckityBarnes: Who’s your Avengers Crush?

Black Widow... Obviously. If Nat would have me I’d drop Bucky in a heartbeat. Have you seen that thing she does with her thighs? That’s how I wanna die.

Sitting down with Deathwave was just as inspiring as I had expected. Since the details of her past were revealed to the world she has become a symbol of hope to people everywhere. She is a hero, of that there is no doubt but what truly makes her an inspiration is the fact that she reminds us all of what we can be.

Who you are and where you came from doesn’t decide where you are going to go. That choice is up to you and you alone. No matter the challenges you face in life, big or small, they can be overcome.

Setback only set you back, they don’t stop you. People will stand in your way but they can be moved. You are the hero of your own story.

We are all the heroes of our own stories.

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

AUTHORS NOTE

This was mostly fun to write but there is a lot of of it that came directly from my heart. I’ve made no secret about how Docherty was based on real people who hurt me so the advice Baby Stark gives to abuse survivors is what I would say to those of you who it applies to and I mean every fucking word. 

If you are or were in a situation of abuse, be it mental, physical, sexual or other then please consider my inbox a safe space to talk if you ever need it. 

@nerdandproud-86 @harrison-shot-first@thejourneyneverendsx @thelostallycat @inquisitor-selvala@the-corruptor @iovher @kendrawr-kitkat @phoenix-whiskey-tears @the–real–wombat@buckitybarnes@fairislesheets@angieptt @meganjonezzzz@dugan365@fluffeh-kitty@memanda17 @krystallynx@theonelittleone@piscesbarnes@free-as-fishes@tarastudiesalot@captainamericasbeard@dropthepizza346@jaynnanadrews@likes-to-smell-books@drdorkus @life-wanderer@metalarmlover @animegirlgeeky@jsmith509@chipilerendi@nerdy-bookworm-1998@ericasabe@gravedollie666@madlykpopfan@l0kisbitch@mywinterwolf@sassysweetstories @life-wanderer @jessieray98@littledeadrottinghood @firefly-in-darkness @demonlover87 @jessieray98 @pinkisokay @chipilerendi

[thecomicsnexus]

JUSTICE LEAGUE #7-11, 0, 14-16, 18-21 MAY 2012 - AUGUST 2013 BY GEOFF JOHNS, GARY FRANK AND BRAD ANDERSON

SYNOPSIS (MIXED WITH DC DATABASE AND COMIC VINE)

Doctor Thaddeus Sivana is investigating reports of people across the world being mystically abducted by an old wizard. Upon finding them unworthy, he sends them back home. Sivana is convinced that these stories prove magic is real.

Seven months later, Billy Batson is in a boarding home and being interviewed by potential foster parents. He acts like a good boy so the Vasquezes will become his foster parents. As soon as they leave he makes insulting comments and is excited to have finally tricked someone into getting him out of there.

Billy Batson begins his new life with the Vasquezes, but he has a hard time adjusting to his foster family.

Billy Batson and his foster siblings go to school. While walking home, some kids start bullying them, and Billy fights them off. The principal threatens to expel Billy.

Doctor Sivana finds a door in his archaeological dig that he thinks is the tomb of Black Adam. He tries to open it, and lightning emits from the door and strikes his face. He falls to the ground, then begins laughing, saying he can see magic.

Foster parents Victor and Rosa Vasquez discuss Billy Batson and the events of last issue. Victor suggests that Billy was doing some play acting when they met him at child services, and that he is showing his true colors now. Rosa defends Billy, suggesting that Billy's encounter with Mr. Bryer has left Billy traumatized. Mr. Bryer is the richest man in Philadelphia, and the father of the four nasty bullies who are bullying Billy's new family at school. Mr. Bryer is a pretty nasty fellow himself, and Billy had the guts to stand up to him. But now Billy has hardly touched his hamburger, and Victor is concerned. Victor expresses frustration, telling Rosa that Billy never gave them a chance.

In fact, Billy is in his room, packing that hamburger in his backpack. He leaves the pickles behind, and sneaks out. Billy heads to a zoo, crawling in through a breach in the brick wall, and feeds the hamburger to Tawny, a tiger that Billy seems to know personally. Freddy tails Billy, but is eventually spotted by him. Billy pushes Freddy, who tumbles down in the snow. Freddy admits he previously lifted Billy's wallet out of curiosity, but did not steal anything.

Billy and Freddy discuss the problem with the Bryer brothers. Freddy reveals that the four bullies have been bothering them daily for quite a while. Freddy usually distracts the bullies so that Mary can help the younger ones get away.

Freddy tries to convince Billy to give Mr. and Mrs. Vasquez a chance. But Billy defiantly says "They aren't my parents."

Freddy thanks Billy for intervening when the bullies were bothering them. They consider heading to the Bryer home to get even.

45 miles north of Baghdad, Dr. Sivana continues the archaeological dig at the Tomb of Black Adam. Aided by his magical right eye, (see last issue), Sivana is now able to read the hieroglyphs. They tell him that he can release Black Adam and bring magic to the world with the utterance of a single word. Sivana quietly speaks the word "Shazam", the magic lightning hits, and a hooded Black Adam stands before him, asking for the Wizard.

The recently freed Black Adam demands that Dr. Sivana take him to see the wizard. Meanwhile, Billy Batson and Freddy try to break into one of the Bryer's cars, but they get caught. Billy pushes Freddy in some bushes to hide him, while he escapes on the subway. But the subway doesn't take him where he thinks it will …

Billy Batson makes his way through the labyrinthine halls of the Rock of Eternity. The place seems deserted, though the boy hears the echoes of whispered voices.

“It’s just a boy.”

“What’s he look like?”

“The lad looks awfully small to me! He’ll never break the curse! Send him back already!”

Another voice, a more commanding voice, beckons him onward, deeper into the temple. He passes unimaginable marvels. Behind one door, an indoor snowstorm, memories of a childhood snowman. Down a hall, illusive specters of the Seven Deadly Sins of Man.

And at the end of the hall, six empty thrones, with an impossibly ancient man seated in the seventh. He is the last of the Council of Wizards, and the Keeper of the greatest magical fortress in all existence, the Rock of Eternity.

The Wizard seeks a mystical warrior who is pure good, but the boy his magic has summoned is far from pure.

Billy Batson doesn’t believe that a purely good person exists. “People are horrible. They disappoint you. They let you down. I’ve spent my life learning that... You’re searching for something that doesn’t really exist. That’s why you’ve never found it.”

Time runs short for the Wizard. Black Adam has already been freed from imprisonment. He searches the boy’s mind for the embers of good, seeking even a glimmer of hope.

And though Billy Batson is not the warrior of pure good he sought, the Wizard does see potential in him. He teaches the boy the word that will summon his magics. The word that when spoken with purpose, with belief, with good intentions, will transform him into his greatest potential.

“SHAZAM!”

Billy Batson inherits the Wizard’s chair on the Council of Eternity, and with it, the Power of the Living Lightning. He will be able to travel through the sky as lightning does, to fight with the strength of a demigod.

And he will have to fight, to stop Black Adam from awakening the Seven Deadly Sins of Man. Black Adam will stop at nothing to become absolute ruler of all magic.

As the Wizard passes from this world, he declares Billy Batson magic’s champion. Billy Batson is now Shazam!

Billy Batson returns from the Rock of Eternity, now in possession of the Power of the Living Lightning. And as his first act as magic’s champion, Billy Batson pays a visit to the Bryers’ house. With his magnificent strength, he lifts the Bryers’ car into the air before casually crumpling it hood first into the ground.

He and Freddy then try to use his now adult appearance to buy beer, but Billy feels a bit conspicuous in cloak and magic armor. He also has a hard time interacting with electrical objects, causing them to explode with living magic.

As it grows late, the criminal element of Philadelphia makes itself known. Freddy and Billy witness a mugging, and Billy decides to intervene. He swats the criminal aside, but his strength is greater than he realizes, and the man goes flying into the side of a nearby car.

The woman he saved is incredibly grateful, and she asks if there is any way she can thank him. Freddy suggests that Billy should ask for some cash, and the woman awkwardly hands him a twenty dollar bill.

As the woman shouts her thanks, the boys walk away to celebrate their newfound source of income.

Black Adam and Dr. Sivana begin to track down the Seven Deadly Sins, starting with Sloth, freeing them. Meanwhile, Billy Batson and Freddy buy a coat to cover up his Shazam costume.

Black Adam overpowers Shazam but he escapes by transforming back into Billy and blending into the crowd.

While Black Adam is looking for Shazam, Billy Batson and his foster family try to visit the old wizard, so Billy can convince him to give his powers to someone else. But this cannot happen. Francesca shows Billy the origin of Black Adam. Billy, seeing that this is the story of a kid, storms out to confront Black Adam, only to find out the kid didn’t make it.

Shazam transfers some of his powers to his friends to help him fight Black Adam and the Seven Deadly Sins. As the battle continues, Shazam is still overpowered and his friends return to normal. Instead, Shazam turns back into Billy and provokes Black Adam to do the same; he does and dies as his mortal form is centuries old. 

With Black Adam gone, the Seven Sins flee from battle. Billy returns to his daily life and celebrates Christmas with his friends.

REVIEW

Geoff Johns had a terrible task at hand. He would need to give Shazam a “rebirth” treatment. A character that, while not broken, had a lengthy history of real-life legal drama. In this context, Geoff Johns had to create Shazam and the Shazam Family. I don’t need to tell you that these didn’t exist before (except for the Wizard Shazam).

For those coming late to the party, Shazam’s name was always Captain Marvel. After the legal battle that canceled Captain Marvel’s titles at Fawcett, National (DC) got the rights to the character (not at once, though). By the time Captain Marvel was brought back (the seventies), Marvel Comics got the trademark for Captain Marvel and made sure to create a character with that name (not Carol Danvers). There were also other attempts of using that name by other publishers.

So, from that moment on, DC wasn’t able to use the “Captain Marvel” name on the covers of this character. Instead they would use sentences around the name Shazam. The character in the interior would still be called Captain Marvel, and his extended family would keep their names as well.

But after Flashpoint, calling the character’s name was a golden opportunity. This would also change the names of his extended family. So this is why I am saying, the character is not the same... but at the same time, it is. It’s very similar to the golden age Flash and the silver age Flash. They were almost the same, but had different names.

When I started reading this, back in 2012, I was intrigued by the change in Billy Batson’s personality. This change makes sense, and it is part of his arc. When we start his story, he doesn’t trust anyone, he can only rely on himself. Within a year, he will learn to trust his family (and recognize that a family doesn’t have to be biologically linked to you). This is a very good approach to it, because Billy and all his other “siblings” are adopted from different families. The idea that you can create your own family if life doesn’t really give you one, is quite powerful here.

Billy and Freddy’s reaction to the powers are also amazing. You see a superhero having attitudes of a kid. Gary Frank is so good at this, it feels weird seeing Shazam act like Billy. Captain Marvel was always fantasy, always mild and good, and this adaptation brings reality to it, brings different personalities and points of view. While I don’t think Shazam/Capt Marvel needed this change... it is welcome.

Now, is this enough to establish the character? NO. Most of us readers still call him Captain Marvel, or Mary Marvel, or Captain Marvel Jr, or the Marvel Family. We need to get used to the change. And there was no follow up to this arc, for 5 years. Only brought back thanks to the movie. So my wish is that this movie succeeds at changing “Shazam”’s status quo, so we can start calling him by his new name.

I appreciate the tightness of the writing as well. Side characters are justified and the main character has a very acceptable trauma for his reality.

The only character that gets a bit lost by all the events is Sivana. He keeps repeating that only magic can save his family, but this is never explored (this was just the beginning, and I am guessing it will be explored in the new title).

And Gary Frank is a god here. This may not be the breath-taking experience that “Power of Shazam” was... but his Billy Batson is very distinguishable.

I give this story a score of 10

[thedeviltohisangel]

How The Night Changes//10//Can’t Get What We Want Without Knowing

Glimpses into the first six weeks of the twins lives & the intimate reunion of Duncan and Olivia.

Smut Warning

catch up at the masterlist in my bio!

send any requests/ideas for these two my way!

The first night in California was an eventful one. Duncan couldn’t sleep. The mattress was too soft and the blankets were too fluffy and warm. Olivia was draped over him with her shirt half on from the feeding they had just completed and he could watch his babies sleeping peacefully in their bassinets from his position in bed. Everything felt like it was in its rightful place. But every time a floorboard creaked or the wind whistled through the wind, he thought it was someone coming to haul him back to DC and back to his cell. Olivia had said to him before that people like them don’t get happy endings and this certainly was feeling like a happy ending. It felt too good to be true. He sighed deeply and buried his face in his wife’s hair to make sure she really was with him.

“What’s wrong? Is it the babies?” Olivia sat up immediately as Duncan’s touch startled her awake.

“No, no, they’re fine. I’m sorry, baby, I was just getting comfortable.”

“I haven’t shared a bed with anyone in nine months. Just startled me.” She fell back down and was back to her slight snoring within minutes. Duncan felt like his breath was caught in his throat at her words. She hadn’t meant them in a mean way, it was just a statement of fact, but it hurt that she had gone through an adjustment without him and now it was another adjustment to have him back in her daily life. It made him feel even more burdensome than he already did. Duncan just hoped that he would eventually feel like he fit into his new little family in the way he had always hoped he would.

----

“They are really getting the hang of latching and suckling,” Olivia mused as they sat on the couch together as a family. A cooking show was playing on the tv, Duncan holding Lydia against his chest for skin to skin in one corner with Olivia feeding Theo in the other. His little hand was resting against her chest and she was completely in love.

“You look like a total natural with them, Livvy.”

“Look at you, Papa Bear. Our little princess is perfectly at ease with you.” Duncan blushed a little at her words of encouragement. It was easy to see the connection Olivia had formed with their babies. She gave them nourishment and they looked at her like she hung the stars in the sky. As soon as they heard her voice or smelled her milk, they were taken by her. Nothing else mattered to them besides their mother. “Ready to be burped, little munchkin?” Theo detached from her nipple and offered his mother a reflexive smile as she supported him on her shoulder and began to gently pat at his back.

“I love the little smiles they have. I know the doctor said it’s just a reflex but they are already so beautiful.” Duncan lost himself in the moment, gently tracing the shell of his daughter’s ear and breathing in her scent. He was obsessed with everything to do with his little babies. Every sound they made brought a smile to his face. Every movement made him so proud that they were strong and ready to get moving. Theo had accidentally punched him in the face the other day when he was changing his diaper. Duncan is proud to admit that it was solid little punch.

“Should we try putting Lyddie in her little bouncer?” For the first few days, neither of them had wanted to put the babies down but they had all these accessories that good money had been spent on so they needed to use them eventually. They had bought a pale pink one for their princess with a little heart shaped pillow for her to rest her head on. She squirmed a little at losing the warmth of her father but settled down when she was in the seat and Duncan turned on the rocker and the little shapes dangling in front of her caught her eye. “Oh look at her, Donut!”

“Laser focus. Like a true Shepherd.” He sat on the floor next to the bouncer and gently stroked over his daughter’s little feet. Theo let out a particularly loud burp which made Olivia gasp and Duncan turned to look at her with alarm.

“He just spit up all over everything,” she groaned. She could feel it dribbling down her back and knew that it was on the couch and probably all over her baby boy.

“Okay, you go quickly change and wipe yourself down and get Theo a new onesie. I’ll get these two ready for a little sponge bath.”

“Maybe we should’ve had just one baby at a time,” she joked as she passed the messy boy to his father and made her way upstairs to quickly rinse her back, change her shirt and get all the supplies needed for a little baby wipe down. Once she made it back down, she laid out a fluffy towel for their babies to lie down on as she gently swiped at their skin with a soapy, warm washcloth.

“Does it feel good to be clean, my munchkins? Feel good to know mommy loves you so much?” They looked at Duncan when he talked. It thrilled him that they were able to recognize his voice as he had initially been so worried that his time away while they were in the womb would have prevented that from happening. “I can’t wait to feel mommy love on me again.”

“Duncan!” It was agony to have Olivia so close to him and his freedom back but not be able to celebrate by worshiping her body. They had had their conjugal visits but sometimes they had just used them to talk or catch up on the sleep they weren’t getting since they weren’t together. And as Olivia’s pregnancy had progressed, she had just lost the energy to roll around between the sheets with him. It turned him on to see her being such a good mom and it turned her on to see him being such a good dad. This provided for quite the predicament between the two of them as they still had to wait for her to hit the six week mark. “Soon Daddy will get my loving. Promise.”

----

Lydia nearly jumped out of her mother’s arms when Duncan sneezed across the table.

“Say ‘bless you’ dada,” Olivia whispered as she kissed her little nose.

“Noises are startling them now. It’s so cute watching them jump like that,” Duncan mused with a smile as he used his foot to rock Theo who was in his bouncer on the floor and sleeping peacefully while his parents ate breakfast. “That baby sling I ordered came in the mail today. Should I try to put it on?”

“I might be impregnated watching you carry a baby around in a little sling but that sounds like a good plan for the morning.” He smirked at her words, happy he could still have such an effect on his wife after all the not-so-sexy things they had been through the past two weeks. From spit up to dirty diapers to losing their minds at odd hours of the morning because their child was crying, they had really seen it all with each other. And it had only served to bring them closer together. Duncan came back with the sling wrapped around him, open and ready for a baby to be in it. “Okay, Lyddie gets first go since Theo is asleep.” Olivia helped Duncan get their daughter in the sling, Lydia falling asleep as soon as her head was rested against her papa’s chest.

“I feel the most at peace I have in awhile,” he whispered as he bounced his hips slowly to keep her asleep.

“Donut…” Olivia leaned over the baby and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “We’re gonna be okay. Everything we’ve been through, yes it’s left scars, but we’re together again. That’s all we need in order to be okay.”

The next morning they had a doctor’s appointment, the Shepherd family sneaking in the back to avoid the clouds of photographers that had taken to following them everywhere. They all wanted Olivia’s opinion on her mother’s pregnancy and they were all hoping for the first pictures of the twins and of Duncan since he got out of jail. Olivia and Duncan had both agreed that they wanted the reveal of their family to be on their own terms and within their own time. They were sticking to their guns on it.

“Well, both of the babies look like their weight is great and they’re very responsive to you and me. I think they’re doing wonderfully. Just make sure that everyone that will come into close or prolonged contact with them is up to date on their vaccinations. Their immune systems are still developing so they might be a little susceptible for a bit.”

“Thank you so much, Dr. Wheatley. We’ll make sure to call if we have any questions.”

“Speaking of, how are you feeling, Olivia? This is normally the time the adrenaline rush of being a mother starts to wear off and we look for any emotional clues that could mean postpartum.”

“Oh. I hadn’t even thought about that really. I’ve been so busy with the twins I haven’t taken stock of myself.” She chuckled nervously at the idea that she had let her care fall to the wayside during the past couple of weeks. “I’m feeling okay. No mood swings that I’ve noticed or anything like that. What do you think, Duncan?” He looked up from where he had been situating the babies back into their car seats.

“I don’t think so. You’ve been feeling fine breastfeeding and you said you weren’t swollen or anything down there. I think everyone is progressing nicely.” Olivia reached over and gave his hand a little squeeze. Even if things started to derail, it wouldn’t matter. Olivia and Duncan were together and nothing could change that.

----

Olivia came in from the kitchen to see the twins on their tummies and him mirroring their position in front of them.

“Are the three of you enjoying tummy time?” she giggled as she took out her phone to snap a picture of the sweet moment.

“We are, mama. Tell mommy how you’re building up your strength.” The twins didn’t do much by way of responding to their father but their eyes were trained on him like nothing could ever make them look away.

“They’ve been enjoying studying their handsome daddy recently.” Olivia came and sat cross legged next to her little family. “They love you so much.” At the sound of their mother’s voice, they turned their attention to her.

“Aren’t we just the best parents ever?” Duncan joked.

“I think our babies loving us certainly puts us on the right track. Though they could never understand the half of it when it comes to how much I love them.” She reached over and brushed some hair out of Theo’s face, the boy smiling at his mother’s touch. His sister began to fuss a bit, Duncan swooping to the rescue and gathering her into his arms. “She’s probably a little gassy. Her stomach was bloated last night.”

“The little massage worked, right?”

“Yeah, there’s some baby lotion over by the pack and play if you want.” Olivia had rolled Theo onto his back and was shaking a little toy, watching him try to grab it as Duncan took care of Lydia. Duncan lathered his hands in lotion and used the lightest of touches as he gently moved his fingers in a clockwise motion around Lydia’s stomach. She calmed down and watched, almost sleepily, as his fingers worked their magic and a giant burp came out of her mouth.

“Wow! You must feel better now little love,” Duncan laughed as Lydia looked like her own burp had startled her. Olivia chuckled from her spot on the floor.

“Theo was just telling me how he wants to get some fresh air,” she said as she lifted her son and cradled him against her chest.

“He does?”

“He said that we bought such a nice double stroller and we haven’t used it yet and now feels like the time.”

“Well, Lyddie is telling me that she agrees.” Olivia took both babies upstairs to get them in some warmer clothes as Duncan went to the garage to get the stroller ready for the babies. It was black with side by side seats so the twins could lie down and look up at the sky as they explored the neighborhood.

“We should go to the little baby store downtown one day this week. They had a lot of cute toys and clothes in the window when I drove by the other day.” Olivia had her arm looped through Duncan’s as he pushed the stroller down the sidewalk, Secret Service forming a perimeter around the little family.

“My mom said she has a cargo shipment on it’s way with accessories. We can wait until that comes before we do more shopping,” he replied. Olivia’s impulse buying with the babies had reached a level he had never seen before.

“If you don’t want to go then I will go by myself.” She didn’t need Duncan telling her what she could or could not buy for her children. “The doctor thinks they can start using pacifiers now so I want to go and buy some extras to have on hand.” Olivia was trying not to linger on the little bit of annoyance at the tone Duncan had just used with her. She thinks that in their first days and weeks together, she had been so wrapped up in being with her husband and her new babies that nothing could break her bubble. Now that had worn off a bit. Little things were starting to bother, the same way they had before he had gone to jail, and it hurt more now. In their time apart, she had forgotten that their relationship had cracks and issues. She just hoped, for the sake of their babies, they chose not to make themselves known too soon.

----

“Good morning my little munchkin!” Olivia cooed as she bent over the bassinet to reach for Theo. He was visibly excited at seeing his mother and this was a new action that both twins had taken to doing. It was thrilling for her and Duncan to have their babies recognize them and be happy to see them. It was all they could have ever hoped for. “You’re so ready to start the day little man, aren’t you?” Theo cooed as she rubbed her nose against and breathed in the smell of her baby boy. The sounds produced by him and his sisters had also just started and Olivia could not wait to discover all the sounds her kids were going to make in the near future. She started with changing his diaper, noticing a little bit of redness that signaled a tiny diaper rash.

“You want scrambled or over easy?” Duncan called from downstairs.

“Over easy. Don’t break my yolk!” She kept Theo free from a diaper as they went downstairs, the doctor saying last time that letting the babies air out from time to time was beneficial should irritation occur.

“Look at that handsome devil,” Duncan said with a smile as his eyes fell on his baby boy.

“Handsome devil is starting to get a little rash so he’s going commando this morning.”

“If he has my genes, which he does, then he can be naked with pride.” Olivia laughed at that.

“You’re something else.”

----

“Look, Livvy, she’s holding it!” Olivia quickly came back into the living room to see Lydia had a tight grip on the rattle Duncan had handed her and was waving it around to produce the sound. It was the baby’s first time holding an object all by herself.

“So big and strong, princess! I’m so proud of you!” Olivia bent down to kiss the top of her head. “You can play with so many more toys now.” Theo perked up from where he was resting against her chest, craning his neck back to try and catch a glimpse of his mother.

“And look at little man. Doing acrobatics to see his pretty mommy.” Instinctively, Duncan reached his hand to cup the back of his son’s head but pulled back in surprise when he supported himself enough to catch a peek of his mother. “He’s supporting his own head more and more everyday. Our babies need to stop growing up.”

“I know. It makes me happy to see them growing strong and being happy but it means they won’t be little much longer.” Olivia pulled Theo closer against her at the thought.

“It’s almost 10:30, we should probably start packing them up for the doctor’s.” Getting out the door with two little ones was sometimes challenging. It made it more so if one of them decided to poop or spit up right as they were heading out the door. Thankfully, that didn’t happen this time and they were settled into their car seats and on their way to get their second round of shots with minimal fussing. It didn’t last long as the vaccines made the twins cry without abandon. It always broke Olivia and Duncan’s heart to know their babies were confused and in pain but they also knew it was necessary for them to be healthy and safe.

“Don’t cry, little munchkin, mama has you,” Olivia cooed as she bounced Lydia and Duncan bounced Theo in an attempt to calm them down before walking out the back door of the office. They still hadn’t released any pictures of the babies to the public but that didn’t stop more and more photographers from lining up to try and catch the first one.

“Theo’s onesie looks like it’s a little tight. Like he’s grown overnight.”

“My little, baby boy,” Olivia said sadly as Lydia calmed down and she went to look at her son’s clothing. “Donut, this makes me so sad.”

“C’mere, lovely. We can keep some of the clothes to remember when they were this little and then you can buy so many more clothes.”

“I do want to get them more matching outfits,” she muttered as she weighed her husband’s words.

“Let’s stop on the way home then. Will that help?” Just last week he had made a flippant remark about buying for the babies but he realized now he was a dick for doing so. This was his way of apologizing.

“Only if you promise not to complain every five minutes.” He thinks he could suck it up for her.

----

“Who said they were craving spaghetti?” Olivia came back into the dining room carry two plates. Duncan was seating with one baby on each of his thighs, loving the new ways he could hold and cuddle them now that they could hold their own heads.

“I’ll trade a baby for a plate.” They completed the exchange successfully, Theo smiling at his mother as she brought him into his arms. Their smiles were of recognition of their parents now and the two were obsessed with coaxing them out of their children. She bent down to place him in a little bouncy seat while they ate dinner but once she was out of his line of sight, his fist went into his mouth and a little cry snuck past.

“Oh, baby! Why you sad? You want to watch mommy eat her dinner?” As soon as she bent back down so he could see her, his crying stopped and his smile returned. He began gurgling as though he was trying to tell her to stay exactly where she was and not disappear like that ever again. “Donut, can you pass me one of his stuffed toys? I think he might be bored in his little bouncer.” Duncan stood from where he had been getting Lydia situated in hers to grab two purple stuffed toys from the basket by the TV. Both babies eagerly gripped the new item from their father and seemed content and entertained enough for their parents to eat dinner.

“I saw an advertisement for an infant CPR class at the hospital downtown. Do you think that’s something you would be interested in doing together?” Duncan asked as he twirled some spaghetti around a fork and slid it into his mouth.

“It does, actually. Maybe next week when we are testing out the nanny we can go do it while she’s here.” Olivia was trying not to talk too much about the nanny situation. It was giving her anxiety to think about someone taking care of her babies that wasn’t her or Duncan. She had already asked Henry if one of the agents could stay behind to make sure everything went well. He had assured her that they would keep an even more watchful eye on the twins than they did her.

The babies were put down for the night soon after, Olivia and Duncan deciding to tackle cleaning up the kitchen before bed so they could snuggle a bit longer in the morning. Somewhere between loading the dishwasher and wiping down the counters, they had started kissing. Duncan lifted her up onto the island and took his place between her legs. It felt like it had been forever since they had kissed in such a way. Olivia felt herself growing more and more eager with every press of his lips and swipe of his tongue against hers. She fisted her fingers in his shirt and tried to pull him even closer to her.

“Feels so good to kiss you again, baby,” Duncan whispered. It felt like bliss. Not only had he been starved of her during his time in prison but had also been deprived of her touch and love during the past weeks of her recovery from the twins. Even just heavy petting and making out was leaving him breathless.

“We can do more than just kissing, Donut,” she whispered back as she gained access to his throat and sucked hard enough to leave a mark.

“Fuck, Livvy, are you sure? You said the other day that you were feeling sore again.”

“I’ve missed my husband.” Tears were glistening in her eyes. “We only got one night together as a proper married couple before you left and then we’ve been parents since. We haven’t had a night to be a husband and wife. A night to be Duncan and Olivia.” She had kept every haunting thought about their relationship to herself for so long. Perhaps too long.

“Baby…” Duncan nuzzled his nose against hers and tried to use the softest of touches to ease any of her fears. He didn’t know that Olivia had spent her time alone wondering if her and Duncan had actually been ready to get married and have kids. If they hadn’t been faced with his arrest, would they have still taken the same course of action.

“We’ve gone through so much change in such a short amount of time, Duncan. I don’t ever want us to lose each other and the love we had when we started and how special it is because of it.” Duncan was upset that she had kept these fears and worries to herself and hadn’t shared them. His nine months away had made him feel less than inadequate but it was jarring to be faced with the proof of it.

“I’m never going to stop loving you. I’ll have the same passion in my heart until the day I die. I have since Paris.” Everything had felt simpler then. But now, with a ring on his finger and two babies upstairs, everything felt complete and right. Of course that was only until they started planning for their next baby, he owed her at least three more, but having a family with Olivia was everything he could have ever dreamed of.

“You want to go upstairs? I think I need to just love on you for a bit.” Her voice was soft. She wanted to express her love for Duncan as physically as possible and she wanted to feel his love wash over her. Nothing calmed her racing heart and mind like being with him. He helped her down from the countertop and held her hand as they made their way upstairs to a guest room. The babies were asleep in their room and they didn’t want to disturb them.

“I’ve loved watching you be a mom, the best mom, but I’ve missed seeing you like this,” he whispered as he helped her shed her clothes, his already in a pile on the floor. He ran his hands up her arms before they cupped her cheeks and she met him halfway for a longing kiss. It felt foreign to have her bare breasts pressed against his chest but the way her nipples peaked at the sensation was welcome. Just the brush of them against his skin was enough to have gasps of breath escape her lips. “Seems our stamina has faded a bit.” Duncan chuckled as he backed her up against the bed and fell on top of her onto it.

“It’s been too long, Donut,” she mused as she nipped at his jaw. His hand gently pressed against her shoulder so she lied flat on her back and then trailed slow, lingering kisses down her to thighs.

“You wet for me, baby?” As she felt the first of his touches to her soaked pussy, Olivia was confronted by the idea that she hadn’t looked down there since her birthday. She had no idea what it looked like. It could be horrid.

“Duncan, stop!” She clenched her thighs closely together, almost clipping his chin in the process, and scrambled backwards to the top of the bed.

“What’s wrong? Was I hurting you?” Duncan felt panicked. Maybe he had pushed too far or been to eager. His heart was hammering away at the idea that he had tried too much, too soon and been the cause of her pain.

“No, no, I just haven’t looked down there. I just realized I haven’t looked and seen if it still looks okay since I had the twins. I didn’t want you to be disgusted by me.”

“Baby…” He crawled further up the bed so he could look her in the eyes. “You could never, ever disgust me. Everything down there looks just fine, I promise.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Besides, your beautiful, pretty, amazing pussy gave me my two little babies. How could I not worship it?” She kissed him as a thank you for his words.

“Maybe we skip that part tonight?” Olivia had felt better at his words of insistence but still felt the anxiety in her chest over Duncan’s face being between her legs. Not because she didn’t believe him or didn’t trust him but for her own journey to self-love and acceptance, she needed to move a bit slower.

“Whatever you need.” Of course he wanted to please her and worship her, he always did, but he was more concerned with respecting her than anything else. He’d wait a lifetime if that’s what it took, or if it never happened again that would be okay too. The only thing that mattered was Olivia and his children being in his life. No matter the capacity. Duncan was fully hard already just from kissing her and the brief, mouthwatering glimpse of her that he had gotten.

“Can you make sure you use a condom this time? I know the chances are slim to none but I could do without some big surprises for a bit,” she laughed as he had already lined himself up and looked ready to go. He groaned but pulled back regardless and disappeared from the room for a brief moment in order to dig through the bathroom cabinet for what he needed.

“Okay, I’m back and ready to go!” he cheered, Olivia laughing at his cock which was happily bouncing as he made his way back over to her on the bed. She smiled into his kiss as pure elation filtered between them. It felt like Dunc & Liv again. Like the two kids who had fallen in love in front of the Eiffel Tower. The two kids who had found each other in their darkest moments. The two kids who had taken the plunge to build a family and a life of their own. “You’ll stop me if anything feels off, right?”

“Promise, Donut.” He moved at a glacial pace as he slid inside of her, the feeling of being one with her again almost enough to reduce him to tears. Oh how he had missed her in ways he could have never imagined.

“Never leaving you again,” he grunted as he thrusted into her slowly. Now was not the time for ruthless fucking, they would be there again someday, but for slow love making. Two people finding their way back to each other, where they belonged.

“Fuck, Duncan. I love you so much,” she panted into his ear as he buried his face into her neck. They both came quickly and it felt like a weight had been lifted off their shoulders. It was as though the universe had been waiting for Duncan and Olivia to find their way back to each other. Now, everything felt right with the world.

“I missed being your husband, Livvy.” Duncan pulled his face from her neck to reveal that he had been crying. “I missed you so much and I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I missed out on nine months of time where we could’ve been together.”

“You’re with me now, Donut, and with our babies. That’s all that matters.”

“We’re gonna get our forever. Our happily ever after.” She kissed him softly and rubbed her nose against his.

“I think we’ve already got it.”

Tags:

@aveiangdon

@and-shes-not-even-pretty

@avesatanormalpeoplescareme

@langdonslove

@khaleesimel

[opheliawillowbrook]

Let the Record Show

A/N: So as stated, this fic has been written to provide closure to the infamous arc brought about in Nightwing #93 in which (if you are unaware-so spoilers!) Nightwing is raped by Tarantula (Catalina) after the death of Blockbuster because, (if you think like Devin Grayson) why the fuck not, right? Thankfully for those of you reading this, I don't. But in any case, my friend (Embrlee Frith) and I have discussed this arc in-depth and thought it (aside from most untactful) very poorly handled. Which is a shame since there really were some good bones to discuss, not just about rape, but also male rape victims in our society and the aftermath that all victims of sexual assault and rape survivors go through. However, as most of you are probably aware, DC and Devin Grayson sorta dropped that ball and refused to pic it back up. Though, to be fair, Ms. Grayson, being, well-Ms. Grayson, did try and clarify the scene by referring to it as "non-consensual sex" which is probably the most accurate example of an oxymoron one can bring to fruition, but that's a subject for another time. But given the sort of "mishandling" of the canon, I was commissioned by our lovely Ms. Frith to cover this subject matter and try and bring some closure to this event for both the reader and the character.

I'd also like to apologize to anyone offended by my words of Ms. Grayson. I'm clearly not a fan of her work (as I'm sure I've made it very clear) I just think as a writer this subject matter deserved far more respect than it got and this is my attempt at providing that.

I Also recently re-edited this story and hope the changes help make it feel finished. Please let me know what you think :) I also found a great song to go along with this fic. It's called "They're Not Horses, They're Dead Unicorns" by Bayside. So if you like a little music with you reading, you might enjoy it!

So if you're still reading this, I'd like to thank you. Let me know what you think and let's see if we can put this ghost to rest now, shall we?

As Always, With Love

-Ophelia

“She was a termite, Eating away at my roots. I was just a lost soul, who needed a home, I was filling, a void, with you.” --Bayside

He sat in a dark corner of the crowded bar at a small table by the foggy window. This was far from how he'd normally spend an evening, but tonight was far from a normal night. It had begun to rain over Gotham, the air thick with its dewy metallic scent. It almost smelled like blood—like her . He looked down at his half empty beer bottle, a little distressed that he was three drinks in, and the edge still wasn't off.

Drinking was always something he'd avoided, something he looked at as unnecessary and otiose, but in the wake of the past year, he'd built something of a tolerance to it. It was all he could do to cope at times. He didn't consider himself an alcoholic; he mostly only had a drink or two, but he still wasn't proud of the fact it was something he required now, that it was the only thing that came close to washing away that bitter taste.

It had been a year since he'd lost everything he'd worked so hard for. A year since he'd lost friends, his city, and the thousands of innocent lives within it. But worst of all, he'd lost a significant piece of himself, and he blamed himself for all of it. All because of one night, one choice and her.

The thought of her was nearly enough to make him sick as he downed a sip of beer to try and flush her foul taste from his mouth. However, the cheap beer and whisky was not enough to drown out the bitterness—that rotten taste he could just never get off his tongue. It was like he'd unknowingly bitten into a spoiled piece of fruit, only to find its sweetness was replaced with decay and maggots. He could still feel the invasive parasites crawl beneath his skin every now and then. At just the right moment, with just the right touch, or the right set of words. The feeling always left him feeling dirty, and no matter how hard he scrubbed or scratched, her touch would never wash off him. He'd wear her mark for the rest of his life.

What was worse was that he'd never told anyone about what had happened to him; he himself had a hard time believing its validity. In his mind, he tried to tell himself that what he thought happened was nothing of the sort. That the trauma of watching a man die was the reason for his physical and mental discord. Or at least that's what she'd told him.

Still, it never mattered how many times he tried to talk himself down, or how many times he tried to tell himself that what happened, hadn't happened at all. He could still never get that bloody taste out his mouth. He could even taste it on the air.

"I would have never pegged you as the drinking alone type," he heard a familiar voice say.

He looked up to find a single blue eye staring down at him, her lily-white hair draped around her black leather jacket.

"Rose," he said in a genuine shock, "what are you doing here? Why aren't you with the Titans ?"

"Yeah, about that," she said, taking a seat next to him, "that wasn't exactly hooking up. So I'm currently between jobs right now."

"Okay," Dick replied perplexed, "then what are you doing here?" he asked, entertaining some guilt that she'd gone out on her own. He was after all her mentor.

She shrugged somberly. "Well, I just found out that the closest thing I had to a best friend died…"

"Eddie…" he said ruefully, recalling that Tim recounted the incident, but he hadn't mentioned that Rose left the team. "I'm sorry."

She gave him a weak smile and stole a sip of his beer. "Don't be. Eddie died a hero, and in my book, he couldn't have gone out like more of a badass." She paused a moment, clearly remembering her friend. If anything, she was sad for herself, but refused to admit it. A lot like him.

"But with that being said," she added, "I'm here to drink my feelings and have a meaningless hook-up… Care to help a girl out, Grayson?"

She smiled at him coyly. He'd like to have thought she was joking, but he knew she wasn't. If Rose Wilson was anything, she was brutally honest, and he respected that.

"I can help you with the first half of your missions of self-destruction, but you're on your own with the latter."

"Eh, it was worth a shot," she shrugged, "but it's your loss."

"Somehow I'll live."

Sadly enough, part of him wanted to take her up on her offer. The idea of losing himself in another for a few hours was a tempting way to momentarily ease him of his current torment. However, he knew once the sheets were dirtied and the sweat was dried, he'd be right back where he began. Rose was also a little too young for him, and he didn't feel like adding statutory to his already stained morality. Though it seemed to be the least of her worries. But if nothing else, she'd make good company for his misery.

He ordered her a drink, mostly because he knew that if he didn't, she'd find someone else who would. And he'd have much rather been the man feeding her alcohol than one of the many seedy low-lives who'd jump at the chance to hinder the autonomy of a pretty 17-year-old girl. Not that Dick worried about Rose's ability to take care of herself. He knew she was more than capable, but if breaking one rule prevented her from making a horrible mistake, then he didn't see the harm in it.

The two sipped their beers and talked about their losses and gains. Though somehow they felt their losses were what made them who they were.

Dick took notice at how much Rose had matured, she'd oddly grown up a lot in the past year. She was still very much the same: Hot-headed and unpredictable, but she'd begun to understand how to use those things to her advantage. Dick couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. At least he'd done something right.

They both finished their drinks, and when Dick glanced up to the bar to get a second round, he froze.

It's never gonna stop...

Rose noticed his sudden shift, his face paused, his eyes staring blankly ahead.

"You okay?"

He snapped out of it and looked at her. "I have to go."

He took out his wallet and threw a couple bills down on the table, hurrying himself to leave. But it was too late, she saw him.

She stood at the bar, waiting for the bartender to fix her drink. She looked like she were dressed for a funeral, as though she were burying her third husband. Her black dress was low, showing off the prominent curves of her breasts, her lips painted red, like they were stained with his blood. But it didn't matter how pretty she looked. For beneath that low black dress and behind that lipstick smile she flashed at him, he could see just how ugly she truly was.

Suddenly it was like the world stopped turning and the ground fell from beneath his feet. He was back in that moment again, like the scar had been ripped open with a dull knife, the blade delving deep into his dignity.

It's never gonna stop...

"Dick?" He could hear Rose's voice, distant, like she were 100 miles away. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know..."

He took off, practically running out the door, pushing past the crowd of people until he was out in the pouring rain. It was as though he couldn't breathe, like his lungs had filled with a toxic smoke, smothering him in with past he just couldn't shake. He could feel the rain hitting his face, a sensation he'd once found clean and refreshing, only now it felt like an affliction, like a cancer burning into his skin. Convicting him with the sins he'd committed, and the ones committed against him.

Rose had immediately run after him, knowing something was deeply wrong.

"Dick! Dick, wait!" Rose called, her platinum hair looking grey beneath the foggy rain. "Are you okay—what happened?"

He didn't stop, he just kept moving, not sure what to say. "I just need to go home, Rose."

It was a terrible excuse, but it was the best he could come up with. Plus, what could he really say? He couldn't even admit the truth to himself, never mind a teenage girl who held him in such high standing.

"It's okay, you can tell me," she urged, but he still wouldn't stop. "It was that girl, wasn't it?"

He stopped. The rain beating down on him like it had in that very night a your ago.

"She did something to you, didn't she?"

He turned, at a loss, not even sure what to say, but before he could speak, he saw her again.

She'd stepped out of the bar, just under the overhang, looking out at him through falling sky. He stared at her for a minute, part of him wanting to show her how badly he hurt. How deeply that scar through his heart ran. But another part of him was still too afraid to even look her in the eye. For a moment he thought she'd try and approach him, but she didn't, and at first, he couldn't understand why. Then it hit him. And no, it had nothing to do with melting Wicked Witch of the West style.

Rose...

She had now locked her eyes on the woman beneath the overhang, keeping herself from the damp air.

Dick wasn't sure what would come next. Part of him wondered if Rose would, well, pull a Rose and throw a right hook across Catalina's face. Or if Catalina would say something in an attempt to dismiss the younger girl. Something he knew wouldn't go over well.

However, Rose surprised him. She turned her scowling face away from the woman in black and walked toward Dick.

"Come on," she said over the percussion of rain. "This place will let anyone in, we're better off at your place."

The whole speech was a jab at Catalina. She didn't need her mentor to tell her anything, she already knew. Like she could smell that primal fear radiating off him, or possibly even something about the way that woman looked at him. Her smile gilded with something predatory, hungry for self-satisfaction and the taste of blood on her tongue.

Rose took him by the arm and led him away, the rain still pouring down around them. It's humid smell rising from the flooded pavement beneath his feet. Dick could still feel her eyes on him, a feeling of shame ricocheting down his spine as he was whisked away by his own protégé, the old one merely watching as she did so. He'd faced murderous mad men, violent Metahumans, and bloodthirsty demons, but somehow, a simple human woman was the greatest monster he'd ever faced. A woman he could have easily overpowered, yet somehow couldn't. The thought left a deep wound in his masculinity, like he failed as a man, like maybe he'd let it happen. These poisonous thoughts were something he'd become accustomed to ever since Catalina had taken matters into her own hands.

By the time they made it back to Dick's apartment, they were both soaked to the bone. He could feel the filthy rain collecting along his jaw and dripping heavily from his chin as he unlocked the door. Rose noticed his hands were shaking and he cursed at himself as he struggled to steady them. He finally got the key into the lock and turned it, looking around before entering the safety of his home. They entered the reasonably sized studio apartment, and Dick flicked on the light. He closed the door behind them, locking the knob, deadbolt, and key chain. Rose, of course, thought it was a bit overkill, but given his reaction to the woman at the bar, she'd have done the same thing.

"She's really got you on edge," Rose said, pulling off her soggy coat. "Who is she?"

"No one."

"Well, then she's a whole lot of no one ." Rose grimaced. "I'm sensing "They're Not Horses, They're dead Unicorns," vibe?"

"Something like that…" he sighed, wiping the rain from his brow, "only in the darkest context possible."

"What do you think she wants?"

He looked up at her. He hadn't really thought of that. It had been a year since he'd seen her last, since he just walked away and never looked back. She got what she wanted, why would she come back now?

"Fuck," he huffed blankly and sat down. His mind digging up an old thought he'd once had, one he prayed wouldn't come to fruition.

Rose could see the lost look in his eyes and the disparity quaking in the space where his heart used to be. This was nothing new to her. Whatever he lost, he'd lost it before they'd met. Only now she was beginning to understand what that was. She could now see just where that jaded and cynical nature came from, exactly what cracks left him shattered. Unlike many, she was actually about to see exactly what slipped through those cracks, exactly what had been taken away from him.

"I take it whatever she did to you, you're not over it?"

He looked at her with an ill expression and ran his hand through the fringe of his damp hair. "I don't know if I'll ever be over it," he said ruefully. That was the closest he'd ever come to admitting it, to saying it aloud.

Rose looked down, that was all she needed to hear. He didn't need to say more.

"I'm sorry that happened to you."

He glanced up at her and smiled at a loss, but also for the fact that she didn't laugh at him, that she didn't seem to judge him for it. "I just don't know what I'm supposed to do," he admitted. "Some days I can live it, then come days like this, where I can barely get my shit together."

She could understand that feeling, knowing how it felt to want to shed the scars that bind you, only you can't help but be who they've made you.

"You can talk about it if you want."

"Thanks," he said, and smiled falsely, "but talking about it is something I'm still not quite able to do." He took a deep breath and looked down at his hands, like it were they that had betrayed him. "I just don't understand it completely. And honestly, I just wanna forget it ever happened."

"But your body won't let you."

He nodded painfully, almost feeling like he had to vomit. He had to change the subject. "Sorry I ruined your night."

Rose smiled and shrugged nonchalantly. "No big deal, you probably saved me from making a poor life choice."

"That's probably true," he conceded with a nod.

"Yeah, seriously. Once my brain tastes alcohol it's like it's go time! Let's make some fucking mistakes! And see how quickly you can ruin the life you work so hard for..." she broke into a slight giggle. Rose was often amused with her on sense of humor.

Dick shook his head, well aware that Rose Wilson and alcohol were not meant to be in good company with each other. That girl could do a whole lot of damage and end up with one hell of a hangover. But he laughed anyway.

"But hey, now I can technically say I went home with Nightwing. I got braggin' rights now."

He shook his head at her shit-eating grin, realizing she'd probably use that to piss off daddy . It would also do little for either of their dwindling reputations, but he had bigger problems to worry about.

"I know you don't wanna talk about it, but I get the feeling you think she found you," Rose said. "Is she capable of that?"

Unfortunately enough, she was. She was an ex-FBI agent, after all. She probably knew exactly where he was this entire time and he never even thought to look behind him. But truth be told, he didn't want to know. It was easier if he didn't go looking for her in every shadow that haunted every corner.

"Yeah."

"Do you think she's been following you?"

He didn't want to think of that either, but he wouldn't put it past her. "Yeah, and it wouldn't be the first time."

"Jesus." Rose scowled. "When was the last time you saw her?"

"A year ago."

"So what's she doing, slinking up from Hell for some fresh air, thinking she'd just drop by, say hello?"

Dick grimaced. "I'm honestly really afraid to find out…" The look on his face hardened, consequence tying his tongue.

"Oh…" She paused a minute, thinking about how devastating that would be. To have something so heavy thrust upon you; forever tied to the person who'd already taken so much. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, and I really hate to say this, but there's no way she'd look like that if she'd dropped a fucking kid like three months ago."

Dick looked up at her. Only Rose would say something like that.

"I mean her tits would be like on the floor," she added crassly. "She could take a fucking eye out with those puppies, and I should know."

He glared at her, not sure whether to scowl or laugh. On one hand, her banter was oddly amusing, and on the other, he had a really hard time accepting humor in that moment. But maybe that was his problem.

"Rose, I know you're just trying to help, but if you could stop talking about how hot Catalina is, that would be great."

"Hey, I never said that walking gash was hot, I just said her fucking boobs could have their own gravitational pull," she corrected. "Life's not fucking fair, man," she added referring to her own humble cup size.

"Yeah, it's not," Dick accorded coldly, and he couldn't have agreed more.

His life had literally become one horrible montage of one bad thing after the next, and it all started the second she showed up. In the beginning, he actually felt guilty for feeling that way, like it was somehow unfair of him to blame her for things that came of his own volition. But with time, it simply just became part of his coping mechanism. Catalina equaled death, devastation and rape, and he just couldn't see past that. He liked to think if he'd just never met her, or if he'd just thrown her ass in jail when he had the chance, that everything would be different. Maybe nobody would have died, and that Blüdhaven would still be standing today.

What was worse, and the thing that ate at him the most, was that he'd willingly invited her into his life. He'd delivered himself like some naive lamb to slaughter because he'd actually once felt sorry for her. That's what it had always come down to. She had a shitty life, it wasn't her fault. If he had just been a better man, or a better mentor , she wouldn't have turned out like that. It didn't seem to matter that she was a grown woman and should have known better, he still made excuses for her. But now, he couldn't excuse that she was stained in his blood and the blood of others, and he couldn't do shit about it. Catalina was literally like a flesh-eating bacteria to him. A termite eating away at his body and soul.

"You've never actually confronted her, have you?" Rose asked, once again pulling him into the now.

He sighed and shook his head. "Not really—no. There was so much going on after it happened and I was still kinda in shock. She told me I wasn't thinking straight and that the trauma I'd experienced made me look at it that way. I believed her because I wanted to, but as the shock wore off and I began to see how far she'd burrowed into my life… I knew I was right."

He seethed a moment, that foul metallic taste overcoming his mouth.

"She was literally taking over my life, acting like she'd done nothing wrong—acting like she belonged with me. I couldn't take it, so I left."

"That's when you started mentoring me…" Rose said, having a rough idea of the timeline.

Dick looked up, it really was ironic. He'd been so badly burned by one protégé, and the other was the only thing keeping him from crawling out of skin.

"Yeah, you turned out fine, though."

"Yeah, because of you," Rose urged. She owed him everything. Without Dick Grayson, who knew where she'd be. "Without you, I could never be a hero."

He looked at her fondly, but he knew she didn't feel like one. He didn't feel like one either.

"Y'know," Rose began, "sometimes you gotta take your pound of flesh and just walk away."

"I'm really not one for revenge, Rose."

"I saw the way you looked at her, Dick," she said, sitting next to him, "like if you could kill her and get away with it, you would."

He didn't say anything, but that was exactly how he felt, only he knew it wouldn't change anything. It wouldn't fix him.

He rose from the couch and walked to a drawer, he opened it and took out an old shirt, throwing it over to Rose.

"You should change out of those wet clothes. There's a laundry room downstairs if you wanna throw your stuff in the drier."

She caught the shirt and nodded. "Yeah, there's no way in Hell I'm leaving you alone tonight. Not with Psycho Bitch on the prowl."

He smiled. "Wanna order a pizza?"

"You paying?"

After that, the two talked about why Rose left the Titans, and why she felt she didn't really fit there. They talked about Eddie, and how Rose had asked him to leave with her. That was a little painful.

Rose asked how things with Barbara were going (they were supposed to get married, after all.) However, the answer was nowhere. Apparently Dick was having a hard time functioning in the relationship, specifically because Barbara was always so micro-focused on everything he did. From what she understood, that was nothing new. Barbara had a reputation for being a little unforgiving, especially when it came to Dick. And Rose could totally understand why he didn't feel comfortable opening up to her about what he'd been through. He wanted her to see him as strong and competent. He'd probably feared she'd think he were exaggerating, or scold him for being too trusting with Catalina in the first place. And though his fears weren't necessarily warranted, she understood why he felt that way. Nobody wants the love of their life to see them as damaged.

He apparently tried his hand at a few other relationships, but nothing really seemed to fit. Everything just seemed uncomfortable, and in some cases, much like with Barb, they just didn't have the patience for his newfound affliction. It's like everything just felt so disconnected.

His concept of touch was altered, and not the violent sort, the intimate kind. Little gestures made his stomach sink, especially if he wasn't expecting them. There were times when a woman he was deathly attracted to would lean in, and he'd pull away without a second thought. It had just become instinct. Even something as simple and comforting as a hug had become a perversion of itself. He hated how things of such simple kindness now held such rue and disdain. Things that once breathed of love and strength were now among the things he feared most. It was like the ties to his humanity were cut clean from his bones.

Dick looked at the time to find the hour was far beyond late, and he was beginning to feel it as well.

"I think I'm gonna turn in," he said. "You can take the bed."

Rose shook her head. "No, I'm good with the couch. Unless, you wanna share the bed with me," she said with a sly grin.

"No offense," Dick said, and smiled, "but I'd rather take the couch. Nice try, though."

"What can I say, I'm not a quitter."

"And I admire that, but you're off-limits."

She smirked at him, as if his comment gave her some vague validation. "Yeah, but if you change your mind, the offer's still on the table," she added mischievously. "But for real, I'll take the couch. You're much taller than me, it's not really fair to make you sleep on it."

"You're not making me, I'm offering."

"And much like my offer, I'm not taking yours."

"Okay, then," Dick said, picking up a pillow. "Oh, and Rose…"

She turned and looked over at him questionably.

"If you pull that shit you pulled on Tim, I'm gonna kick your ass."

He threw the pillow at her and she smiled, actually looking a little embarrassed.

"Um, I plead the fifth," she replied, catching it. "But, I will say that I was absolutely shit-canned that night and my crowning achievement of the evening was that I didn't die."

"Sounds like you made some fucking mistakes."

"Oh, you know it."

"Night, Rose," he said, crawling into bed.

"Night, Deathwing."

He rolled his eyes. "I hate that name."

"I know."

He didn't get much sleep that night. For even in the still silence, his brain would not shut off. His body desperately ached to shut itself off, but this primal force would not allow it. He lay in bed, just staring at the ceiling, shuffling through the thoughts and fears. Counting the losses, wondering if there was anything gained through any of it, but he just couldn't seem to find anything.

Rose was fast asleep, curled up in a ball on the couch. He took a deep breath, both out of loss and boredom.

He couldn't help but wonder where she was then, where'd she'd been. If she'd been there this entire time, and he just hadn't seen her until now. What did that say if she had?

He finally found the word that he'd been searching for. The word that best described the vile taste in his mouth. The one that brought validation to the feeling he'd been struck with when he'd noticed her dressed all in black.

"Violated," he whispered into the darkness. That's how he felt—how he'd felt ever since the moment she'd touched him. Everything she'd done after that, and even before, was a violation of his life, his morality, his body and above all—his sanity.

He wondered if she'd even seen it that way. If there was one thing wrong with Catalina, it was her moral compass, but he couldn't see that as an excuse any longer. He couldn't accept that she just didn't know any better. If anything, that made it worse.

When the morning finally came, Dick had managed to snag a few meager hours of sleep, but it was better than nothing. He got up, showered, and made some coffee, the smell rousing Rose from what he could only describe as a near coma.

Lucky little bitch.

She stretched out on the couch like a lazy house cat who wanted her belly rubbed, but she wasn't so lucky.

"It lives," Dick said, bringing her a cup of much-needed coffee.

She smiled tiredly, sleep fresh in her eye. "Yeah, there were a few hours there where my soul was like, I should probably go …"

"Well, then consider this coffee the rejection notice to your DNR."

She took the mug and thanked him, taking a generous sip.

"So where you off to from here?" he asked, heading back behind the counter.

She shrugged. "Not sure yet. I'll probably just wander around until something sticks."

"And what if it doesn't?"

"Then I'll revise the game plan," she replied flatly. "Or maybe retire to Florida and die."

"You're kinda young for that," he laughed.

"When has age ever stopped me?"

He raised a brow. "Good point."

"What about you?" she asked. "What's next for Nightwing? "

"Breakfast." He took a carton of eggs from the fridge and a package of bacon. "You like bacon, right?"

"Uh, yeah," she replied, stretching again. "Anyone who doesn't can't be trusted."

"That's what I like to hear. Eggs scrambled?"

"Sure," she laughed, rising from the couch and leaning against the counter.

He noticed the shit eating grin on her face, he had to ask. "What's so funny?"

"Um, I'm wearing your T-shirt and you're making me breakfast, and the best part is, I didn't even have to blow you."

God, she has no filter, he thought. If that was her way of flirting, then at least one would always know where they stood with her.

"Well, I hate to ruin your little school girl fantasy, but would you mind beating the eggs?" he said, handing her a bowl and a whisk.

She smirked and opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off at the pass. "And do not say what I know you're about to say."

"Oh you're no fun—I'm only kidding."

He laughed. "Rose, we both know you're not kidding."

She smiled coyly. "Guilty, but what do you want from me? At least I'm fun—unlike Kara. Now that girl's got a serious problem. You should see her Pinterest page. It's fucking creepy, and so is Cassie's…"

"I don't even understand what Pinterest is."

"Keep it that way, I wish I had. Girls get uber creepy on Pinterest." Rose paused a moment. "Speaking of creepy. I can only imagine what Cuntberry's Pinterest page looks like."

"Now I'm really happy I don't know what Pinterest is."

They went on to make breakfast and eat, continuing their banter, going on about old teammates and who was where. Dick offered to clean up while Rose took a shower, not that she needed an excuse to skip out on the cleanup. When she was done, she got dressed and ready to head out.

"You need anything," he asked, walking her out of the building, "like money or—"

"Thanks," she said, cutting him off, "but I'm good. Plus with a face like this, free alcohol won't be in short supply."

"I meant like... for food and a place to stay." He scowled playfully.

"I'm fine, my mom left me some money. So I'll be good until I figure out what the hell I'm doing."

"Well, I think you should go back to school."

"I have my GED, that's fine."

"A degree would better," he replied, pushing the door open. "You're a smart girl, it would be a shame to waste that."

"That coming from the boy who dropped out of Hudson University ... and became a cop."

"Hey, I got great benefits with that job."

"Yeah, 'cause being a trust fund brat doesn't pay, right?"

He pushed her playfully, and she punched his arm. "Ah," he whimpered, forgetting how strong she was. "So violent."

"Like you can't take it," she said, stepping out on the sidewalk. "So I guess this is me…"

He shrugged looking back at her and stepped out the door. "So where you staying?"

"Shitty motel, other side of town."

"Sounds swanky."

"It's kinda charming… if you like crime scene tape, the smell of burnt cigarette ash and a gratuitous amount of prostitution."

"Sounds a lot like your childhood."

She burst out laughing as if she didn't laugh she'd cry. "Sadly true. Lord only knows the damage I've suffered at the hands of my parents."

He smiled, reaching into his pocket, and took something out. "Here," he said, holding a pre-pay phone. "My number's already programmed in it. If you need anything, let me know."

She smiled gratefully and took the device. "Does that also include—" she began mischievously, until Dick stopped her.

"3am booty calls—no."

"Damn," she sighed. "Worth a shot though. And thank you… for putting up with me and my nonsense."

"Well, your nonsense actually helped me get through a pretty tough night so… thank you."

"Well, if you need anything, I'll probably be around later."

"I'll keep that in mind." He smiled.

She began to turn, but stopped and turned back to him. "Y'know how you're always telling me to not be so hard on myself and that I shouldn't be dwelling on the past because I can't change it and all that shit?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, vaguely."

"You should do the same," she replied. "You can't change what happened, but you can be stronger for it."

He looked at her a moment. She may not have been without her faults, but she really did possess a heart of gold. And he couldn't have been prouder of her.

He pulled her into a hug, slightly taking the girl by surprise, but she quickly relaxed into it.

"Thank you," he whispered. "It's nice to know I did something right."

She smiled against his shoulder. "You saw the good in me when I couldn't, I thought you deserved the same," she said, then finally pulled away. "Well this has officially gotten far too sappy for my liking. I'm off like a prom dress, Grayson."

"Bye, Rose!" He waved. "And be good!"

A smug expression fixed on her face. "I can make no such promise," she droned, "but for you, I'll try…"

He watched her leave, hoping she too, would find her place in the world. It would be a shame if she didn't. When she was gone, he turned to go back upstairs when a thought crossed his mind. A thought that raised the hair on the back of his neck. He looked around, it was like he could feel her , like he knew she was there, but he just couldn't see her.

I'm just being paranoid, he thought. I need to stop thinking about this.

He grudgingly shook off the feeling and headed back into his building. When he reached his apartment, he dug into his pocket, and his heart dropped.

"Damn it," he hissed, realizing he'd misplaced his key.

It wasn't really that big of a deal, he was more than capable of breaking into his own apartment. He just didn't really feel like doing it. He looked around, and noticed an old bobby pin lying on the floor, not far from where he stood.

"Perfect."

He picked up the pin and bent it back, he'd have the lock picked in no time. He placed his hand on the knob and inserted the pin, but before he could go to work on the lock, he realized the door was unlocked.

He froze. "No, it can't be…"

He turned the knob with an unsteady hand and slowly pushed the door open. He peeked his head in, looking around to see if anyone was there. He finally found the nerve to step inside. Part of him actually contemplating calling Rose and asking her to come back.

Fucking man up, Grayson , he thought, silently scolding himself, especially since a year prior this would have been nothing to him.

He looked around, nothing seemed to have been touched or out of place, everything was just the way he'd left it… except for one thing.

His eyes fell on his pillow; there was something lying there, something that just didn't belong. He approached his bed, slowly, readying himself for anything that came his way in that moment. Deep down, he hoped he was just over-exaggerating, that maybe Rose had left it there for him. But any hope of that was dashed when he peered down at the envelope and saw her handwriting, scratched across the white paper in red.

Mi Amor, it read as he picked it up, a vile mix of anger, fear, disgust and bitterness pressing into his flesh as he held it.

She was here…

His knees buckled and he collapsed, too overcome by the thought that she'd been in his home. That she could, and did, actually take that security away from him. How could she? Did she actually think this tactic was romantic? Or was this simply just a power play? How long had she been waiting for him to leave? She had to have been watching him.

He felt sick and threw the letter down, scrambling for the waste basket, his body violently purging the contents of his stomach. He dry heaved a few times, his breath tight, his heart pounding in his throat. His face was hot, everything was hot.

He tried to focus, and pull himself out his current state of duress. "Think of something else…"

But he couldn't. And the truth was, that was what she wanted. She didn't want any other thought to cross his mind, she wanted that space for herself. She wanted to consume him.

He sat there a while, forgetting about time, his mind just completely racing until it finally grew numb. Everything went numb.

He resented it—feeling like a victim, but he was one, and he hated her for it. He hated how weak he'd become and how easily he crumbled at the mere thought of her. He hated that she'd infiltrated him and festered in his mind. That she was the source of such rotten memories, each one decaying as he slept, the infection spreading through his consciousness and destroying his sanity cell by cell.

He looked down at his hands, flashing back to an image that had burned itself in his mind, one that made him recoil. He could see her face through the billowing shadows and the silver flecks of rain, her eyes cast down on him. Through the still frames, his quaking hand reached up to stop her, but failed to do so, his objection falling on not a deaf ear, but an ignorant one. He felt empty, like he'd died, his heart ceasing to beat, but somehow, left watching from his empty shell. Like a cage with a dead bird inside.

Now, in that very hand, he held the letter, nearly forgetting it was there. He didn't want to open it, he didn't care what she had to say, or how she felt, or how fucking crazy she was. None of that mattered, she'd already taken too much. She could kill him for all he cared, at least then it would be over.

He pulled himself together and tore the envelope open. He took out the piece of fine paper, a faint scent hitting him like a ghost he was far too familiar with. It was her perfume, an odious blend of mahogany and teakwood. It was slightly musky and wreaked of her cruel brand of femininity. The smell was enough to force his flesh to crawl, his hand aching as his eyes flashed with the loathsome image of her shadow in the rain.

He took a heavy breath and unfolded the note, the same red ink staining the purity of the pale page, his stony blue eyes growing grey as the storm rolled in.

To my dearest Amor, Mi Tesoro,

(And if that wasn't enough to induce vomiting...)

It's been far too long, I know. My time away from you has been nothing but agonizing. I tried—I really did—to stay away like you asked of me, but… I just couldn't. And to be honest, if I could find a way to tie you to me so that you'd never leave me again—I would. No one could ever love you the way I do, or as much as I do, Mi Amor.

As for the last time we saw each other, I forgive you. I know you were in a dark place then, and I'm hoping you'll let me help to ease that pain. I would die for you, I hope you know that.

I'm sorry to contact you like this, but I cannot stand the thought of you rejecting me in person—not again. I want to start over with you, I want things to be different between us. Please meet me tonight at the bar. After seeing you last night, I can't wait any longer. I don't know what I'll do if you don't show… Please just give me this one thing.

If for whatever reason you decide not to show, just know I love you with my dying breath, and know I always will…

Todo Mi Amor, Catalina

Her words read like sugar laced with cyanide, delusional and so far removed from the suffering she'd caused. Like she'd come back to rip what was left from his half-empty chest. The letter still hung in his hands, the red ink somehow disturbing to him. Granted, the whole gesture was disturbing to him. She'd violated his privacy, his home, his body, and written down every word of it as though it were love. And maybe it was-the deadly kind .

He looked again at that last line, those deathly sweet words bring him back to one moment.

It's never gonna stop…

And, indeed, it was never going to stop.

He buried his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes, trapped in grief. He just didn't know what to do. He tried running off, he tried sending her away. He'd literally had her locked up and thrown away the key, and still, she somehow managed to slither her way out of that. What could he do now?

He finally removed himself from the floor and made sure every window and door was locked up tight. He immediately ripped off all his clothes and took another shower in a feverish, angry fashion, the water so hot it nearly blistered his skin, and remained that way until it finally ran numbingly cold. But he still felt dirty.

He got out of the shower and looked at his worn face in the mirror. He felt as though he'd aged about a thousand years, yet he was trapped in the body of a twenty-something year-old man. A shell of who he used to be. That foul taste still sour in his mouth, mixing with the sick taste of bile. If only she were like old gum to him, momentarily sweet, but tasteless, something he could spit out and forget. He did his best to brush away the putrid flavor, but like so many nights he'd endured, he just couldn't rid himself of her aftertaste.

He didn't bother getting dressed, he just crawled into bed and lay there, wishing he could sleep, but such a mercy was not granted to him. As the hours passed, he thought about the yesterdays: The long sleepless nights, the following days after Blockbuster's death and what came of it. Each frame passed by him like a fog, like ghosts without names, aimlessly moving through him. Their cold hands removing pieces of him and burying them beneath wilting flowers where they'd lie forgotten, rotting away into nothing.

After a few hours of silently wasting away, he looked at the time. It was a little after 5pm. He was hungry, but he didn't really care, mostly because it didn't matter what he ate, he'd still taste her.

His phone rang, startling him. He missed the days when he wasn't so jumpy. Now if someone so much as touched him, his skin would crawl. He didn't want to bother getting it, but knew if he didn't, it might raise some concerns on the other end. He just hoped it wasn't anything important. Or better yet, he hoped it wasn't her.

"Hello?"

"Hey," he heard Rose say, "whatcha up to?"

Lying in bed contemplating killing myself. "Nothing, thinking about making dinner. You?"

"Eating dinner, and binge-watching Dexter. "

"That sounds… like a weird combo…"

"Yeah, this show makes me hungry, as do most things, really."

Dick shook his head. She really did take after her uncle Wade.

"So did you just call to tell me about how watching a serial killer dismember other serial killers makes you wanna polish off a second plate of ribs, or did you actually need something?"

She giggled a moment, but then got back to the matter at hand. "No, I was calling to see how you were. Y'know, that whole song and dance…"

He smiled vaguely, but felt guilty. He didn't want to lie to her, but that was exactly what he was going to do.

"I'm fine, Rose. You don't need to worry about me," You have enough to worry about…

"You sound a little…" She paused, trying to find a delicate way to put it. "Y'know, like you're thinking of going down the street instead of across it." Well… delicate for her.

He sighed. "It's not like that."

It kind of was.

"Anything I missed?"

He looked down at the letter. "Nope, just still a little shaken from last night, that's all."

"Y'know, if you want me to, I can come over…"

Part of him really wanted the company, but the other part of him didn't want to drag her in any deeper than she was. "I'm fine, Rose. I'm still trying to figure shit out."

"I know," she replied. "I just know how hard it is when the very thing that emptied you is out there and you know it."

She may have been young, but she knew a lot about betrayal, abuse, and heartbreak. Though in Dick's case, heartbreak wasn't at all the right term. It was more like having his heart cut out.

"Do you think if I confronted her," Dick asked cautiously, "it would be a bad idea?"

There was a pause from Rose's end, and he could hear her breath hitch slightly. "No," she finally began, "I think if that's what you need to do, then you should do it." There was conviction in her voice. She understood all too well. "But Dick…"

"Yeah."

"If you do, just know that it will probably end badly. You never really know what you're capable of when someone who's hurt you that deeply is standing right there in front of you… You might not even know what she's capable of."

She wasn't wrong. Dick could think of one particular moment where he'd come dangerously close to bludgeoning Catalina to death. His outburst frightened him. He'd never before been that angry or volatile, and the fact was, in that moment, he wanted kill her.

Maybe I shouldn't go…

"But I understand that maybe you need to face her, let her see what she did to you. Let her know what will happen if she ever tries to do that to you again…"

He took a deep breath, he'd never really gotten the closure he needed. He was too wrapped up in everything else. Not to mention, part of him was still in denial, trying forget it ever happened. But it didn't matter how many times he told himself it was a simple "misunderstanding," or how many times he tried to chalk it up to guilt, it still happened, and it happened to him.

"So what do you have on the agenda tonight?"

He could hear Rose click her tongue, and she replied, "I was gonna polish off a third plate of ribs," she joked, "but if you have a suggestion, I might be down…"

"I was thinking of getting a drink… "

A few more hours had passed. Dick had gotten dressed and finally left his apartment, which took more effort than he liked to admit. However, it helped to know that he wasn't going into this situation blindly or alone.

The rain from the night before had dissipated, the air cool as the wind blew over his shoulder. The street was unusually quiet for once. It was peaceful, but unnerving, much like the past year. Hopefully that meant something—something good.

Each step took a little more persuasion than the last, each muscle recalling the touch of her cold hands, the stink of the rain and emptiness that followed all of it. The only thing that drove him was the notion that this might lead to the end. That whatever followed tonight was for the better. He just hoped, silently prayed it was true.

He finally approached the bar, and that uncomfortable feeling grew tighter in chest. It reminded him of how he felt after he'd lost his parents. The loss and uncertainty colliding together like the harsh winds and rains of a hurricane, leaving a lifetime of devastation in its wake.

He paused when he got to the door. Part of him wanted to turn away and just forget about the whole thing. However, he wasn't sure what would happen in the fallout if he did. He took another deep breath, and pulled the door open. The bar wasn't overly crowded, unlike the night before. The table by the window was open, and he sat himself down like he'd never left. He looked around, trying to get a better sense of his surroundings. Rose was already sitting in the back corner, polishing off what looked like a Mai Ti, the poor guy next to her probably striking out. She glanced over at Dick with a sly grin, and bit into the cherry left in the boozy remnants of her drink.

Yeah, the poor bastard's not getting very far with her.

Dick looked around. Catalina was nowhere to be found, and part of him hoped it would stay that way. But he knew he wouldn't be so lucky, she'd show eventually, and if she didn't, he didn't even want know what would happen then.

A period of ten, then twenty minutes went by. Rose was already finishing her second drink and chewing through her second guy, while Dick hadn't even taken a sip of his beer. He heard the door open and he looked up, a cold wash of fear running straight through his veins. She looked over at him and smiled, disturbingly, as if nothing were amiss. Like she couldn't even see that he was practically crawling out of his skin.

She went straight to the bar, happily flirting with the bartender who remembered her. He fixed her a glass of red wine and poured a few fingers of whisky. The whole time Dick glared at her, noticing her lip color was the same, her frame now covered in a form fitted black coat. He heard his phone vibrate, and quickly checked it.

Rose: Something tells me Tits has your whole funeral planned out on Pinterest.

He shook his head and replied: Seriously, she looks like she's dressed for the occasion too!

"What's so funny?" he heard, and looked up. There she was.

She set down her wine and pulled out her chair, placing the whisky in front of Dick.

"I thought you could use this," she said, pulling off her coat and sitting down.

"I think I'm good," Dick replied, pushing it away. "I remember the last time I accepted a drink from you."

She was still wearing black, this dress being a little different from the last, but cut just as low and shamefully short. Once again, she looked like some rich trophy wife burying the husband she killed.

"So you do blame me for that ?"

"You got me shit-faced and tried to make me marry you," Dick scowled, "how is that not your fault?"

Catalina smiled as if nothing were wrong. "I didn't come here to argue, Mi Amor, I—"

"DON'T, call me that ," Dick snapped angrily.

She glared at him, nearly speechless. "I've always called you that—"

"Well, I don't want you to," Dick growled. "I never did."

"Like I said," Catalina continued cautiously, "I didn't come here to argue, I came here to talk."

"You have five minutes and that's all you're getting from me."

She lifted her wine and fraughtly sipped it. "So I see you're still upset with me."

"You could call it that, yeah."

"I thought giving you time would help, I guess I was wrong." She peered down at the drink she'd bought him, still untouched. "You're really not gonna drink that?"

"No," Dick replied coldly, "I don't want anything from you."

She looked back at him, insulted. "I didn't know what I was doing then, okay? I was just as lost as you were."

"Really, because it felt like you were leading the way. Leading me right off a damn cliff."

"Because you let me," she asserted. "You did the moment you got out of my way."

His stare hardened, and for a moment, he almost saw red. "You bitch," he hissed. "You still want me to believe that it was my fault . You still want me to feel guilty for what you did."

"I did what needed to be done." She lifted her glass again. "I did what you couldn't."

"Because it was wrong. "

"Sometimes a little wrong can serve a great right." She smiled at him, like she didn't feel anything. "I know you have a hard time seeing that, it's why I did what I did. So you didn't have to."

"So what, you want me to thank you?" Dick asked bitterly. "That's what you want, isn't it? Because if I thank you, then I own it, right?"

"No," she replied with a chill, and placed her glass on the table. "I wanna know it was worth it."

"I've given you enough, I'm not giving you that too."

"You really believe that?" she asked, wounded. "You haven't given me nearly what I've given you."

Dick laughed patronizingly. "You're a liar. The only thing you have ever done is take, Catalina. And I don't know what else you want from me, but I have nothing left for you to take."

Her face softened, but he wasn't sure why. "I don't know what you mean… but heartbreak can bring out the ugliness in all of us."

He thought he was going to lose it.

"Heartbreak?" he questioned. "Fucking heartbreak!"

"Keep your voice down, people can hear yo—"

"No, Cat," he declared, leering at her, "you didn't break my heart, you ATE it. That way I could never get it back!"

She grimaced. "I don't understand where this is coming from, Mi Amor. I would never intentionally hurt you like tha—"

His hand fell on the table with a slamming percussion. "Then why did you fucking rape me, Cat?" Dick hissed, so that only Catalina could hear him.

Her brow creased as she leaned in. "What the hell…" She was speechless, a little taken back. "What are you even talking about? I would never do such a thing to you..."

"The rooftop, Cat! What, you don't remember? Was me telling you not to touch me just a minor inconvenient detail to you?"

"We went over this," she reasoned, hushed, "you were in shock, you didn't know what you were saying—"

"Then why the hell would you think it'd be a good idea to fuck me then?"

"There is no need to be vulgar. I—"

"Vulgar," Dick laughed. "I'm sorry my choice of words is making you uncomfortable—I mean you raped me, so I guess I owe you some sense of decency, right?"

"Stop saying that—it didn't happen like that."

"Yes, it did," he insisted. "You fucking raped me and you do it every time you sit there and act as if you're entitled to a part of me—to a part of my life . Or when you act like it's me—like I'm the one with the problem!"

"Because all I've ever done is love you and you've given me nothing!" she spat, her face beaming red.

"So you fucking took it, you bitch," he seethed, his voice poisonous.

"You never appreciated anything I did for you," she hissed. "I almost spent my entire life behind bars for you!"

"For what you did, in my name," Dick corrected. "How the fuck do you think that makes me feel?"

"Loved," she replied with a warning, like it was some end all-be all. "I did it because I love you, because I saw how much you needed me, how much you needed me to do that for you . And you let me. Tell me that isn't love ."

He was honestly frightened. He could see that deep in her eyes she believed what she was saying. That she thought by killing Blockbuster, it would make him love her, but it didn't. It only pushed him away, and she couldn't let go of that.

"You need help."

"I need you," she countered. "I love you more than anything, and I can't live without you ."

"Is that supposed to scare me?" Dick asked. "Because I'm not falling for it, not this time."

"So what? Blockbuster's death is a stain on your conscience, but my life, what—not so much?"

Dick looked away from her, he knew she would probably play this card. The truth was, he would care if she did something to hurt herself, especially to spite him—it terrified him, in fact. But if he played into it, she'd win, and he'd never be free of her.

"No, of course I'd care, but if you really loved me, you wouldn't leave me with that guilt. That would destroy me, and you know that. How is that love?"

He could see her blood practically boiling. He had her cornered logically, she wasn't getting out of this one.

Lucky for her, she didn't have to. The bartender approached them, standing behind Cat and looking at Dick as if he were the bad guy.

"If there's a problem here, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave," he said, obviously addressing Dick.

He looked over to the man, he was just doing what he thought was right, rescuing the damsel. Dick would have done the same if he didn't know any better. But still, it made him sick that everyone would assume she was the victim—that she actually thought and acted like the victim.

Dick pushed out his chair when Catalina turned and raised her hand.

"There's no problem here," she said calmly, "this is just a simple misunderstanding ."

She looked over at Dick, she wanted him to agree. Only he wasn't interested in doing what she wanted—not anymore.

"It's okay," he said, letting his eyes drift down to Catalina, "I was getting ready to leave, anyway."

The Bartender looked over at Dick as though he were one lucky son of a bitch, and smiled at the Catalina. "Well if you need anything, just let me know."

Yeah, wait till she bites your apple, hero, Dick thought a little bitterly as the man walked back over to the bar, his eyes still trained on Dick like a hawk.

Dick began to rise from the table, but the black widow protested. "We're not done here."

Dick looked back at her warningly. "I am."

She sneered from across the table and stood up as if to block his exit.

"Well I'm not."

Dick looked back at her, a little intimidated, not so much for the fact that she was standing in his way, but for the fact that if he even touched her he'd probably get his ass thrown in jail, and she knew that.

He peered over her shoulder to see Rose stand up, ready to kick "Tits" into next Tuesday if need be. Dick looked back at her, visually telling her to stand down. He couldn't allow her to take the fall for him—as much as she wanted to.

Catalina noticed his line of sight and looked behind her, a thick scowl casting over any beauty left on her face. She trained her sight back on Dick, the scowl taking on a mocking expression.

"What? Not man enough to face me without your little pet ? Nice, Dick."

Like she had any right to talk about pride or strength. She didn't know the first thing about being strong or brave. He needed to let her know that.

"You're the one who's jealous of a 17-year-old girl, but if you really must know, she replaced you, and she's ten times the hero you could ever dream of being, Catalina. You'll never be anything to anyone."

Out of anything he said, that seemed to hit her the hardest, but he wasn't sure why. Was it because he'd replaced her, or was it because he valued the replacement more than her? Or was it because he took away her validation as a hero?

She looked down bitterly, and made a fist. "Fine," she growled, "if that's how you feel, fine! But this isn't over…"

He didn't like the way she said that, but regardless, he let her continue.

"…Not by a long shot," she continued harshly. "So when you're done playing with little girls , I'll be waiting."

She leaned in as if she were going to kiss him, his lips hardened and cold, but she only smiled mockingly, hoping whatever stains she'd left on his soul would fester one last time. She placed her fist in his hand, her smirk deepening, feeling him writhe at the contact, but he still held his ground. He felt a small piece of paper fall into his palm and she closed his fist around it, holding her hands around his. He knew she was aware that he could do nothing, that's why she was doing it. He leered at her with a burning hatred, but that was all he could do. For now.

"Until then, Mi Amor."

He watched her walk out the door, the bartender still glaring at him. He wanted him out, and Dick was happy to oblige.

Rose finally moved from her corner, trying to mask the fact she was nervous for him, but covered it smugly.

"Ready to go?" she asked, and he nodded.

Within moments, the two were nearly out the door, but not before one last outburst.

"Wait," the frat boy who'd bought Rose a few drinks said, "you're going home with him? He didn't even buy you a drink!"

Rose looked back at the guy like he were wearing a helmet or something. "Yeah, last time I checked, buying a girl a few drinks was about as binding as a pinky swear. Stop acting like you bought me a lobster."

Dick shrugged at the guy, as did the bartender. Yeah, it sucked, but hey, home girl owed him nothing.

"Ready to go, Rose?"

"Like a prom dress."

And with a roll of the bartender's eye, they left.

They walked outside, the wind blowing a little harsher now. The sky above was clear, the stars managing to shine over the cityscape despite its dull radiance lifting into the air.

Dick admittedly felt a little freer, like some of the weight he'd been shouldering was alleviated, the space in his chest aching less. He'd said everything he needed to say to her, even if she wouldn't own up to any of it. He wasn't stupid, he knew she'd never acknowledge her wrongdoings, but it would have helped if she had. He may have even held some hope for her, but he knew now he should have never placed such a fragile thing in her hands to begin with.

"So was it worth it?" Rose finally asked, uncertainty bleeding from her eye.

Dick took a breath and nodded. "Yeah, I'm not fixed, but I'm better. And that's a good start."

Rose smiled weakly at him, she knew what it was like to feel that way. Just always short of whole.

"Yeah, it gets better with time."

Dick shuddered at the thought. Time was something that had become unbearable to him, to think it could actually help mend his wounds, seemed a little deceptive.

"I hope you're right." He walked over to her and placed his hand on her shoulder blade, guiding her down the street. "Thanks again. I don't know if I could have faced her without someone I trusted to back me up."

Rose smiled coyly. "You trust me?"

"Yeah," Dick said, and looked at her oddly. "I wouldn't have pushed for you to be a Titan if I didn't. What makes you think I don't?"

Her eyes fell on the ground. "Cause no one really does. Eddie did, but he's gone now. You just never really said it, so… I don't know—I guess I wouldn't have blamed you if you didn't…"

He stopped and turned to face her. "Trust is something that you shouldn't have to say out loud, Rose, it's just something you feel. I trust you because at the end of the day you wear your heart on your sleeve and you don't bullshit anyone. I know you think you're not a good person, but you are, and deep down, you just want people to see that. You're a hero because you want to be a better person, and when you help people, you do it because it's right, not because you're looking for a favor, or to be favored."

"That's because you haven't received my bill yet, Grayson. You've racked up quite the tab, too," she joked, trying to get the focus off of her. "I'm kidding, by the way."

"I know. Humor is how you deal with crazy shit, it's that or anger. I'm glad you're turning to the former."

"I learned that from you," she said softly. "I saw how much you were hurting, yet you still found a way to make light of everything. I thought I'd give it a try."

"I'm glad you did."

They reached her Harley and she turned to her mentor with a sentimental half-smile. "Well, it's been real, but like every great adventure, my time here has come to an end."

"Yeah, I'm really gonna miss you. I'm shocked you haven't made a sexual innuendo all night."

"Well, it didn't seem appropriate given the circumstances, but, I found out the age of consent is 16 in the state of New Jersey… So y'know, if you wanna make out with me before I ride off into the horizon, I'd be cool with that."

Dick smiled and shook his head. "I'm aware what the legal age of consent is, and no, no offense."

"You and your morality, Grayson," she said, picking up her helmet. "Maybe I'll have more luck with your brother."

"My brother?"

"You know, the guy with the red helmet, what's his name?"

"Oh… Jason," Dick said, less than enthused, "he comes with a lot of baggage."

"And you don't?"

"Touché."

"Well, I'm gonna head off now," Rose laughed. "No more psycho stalkers, okay?"

"I'll do my best," he said with a smile. "No more letting creepy guys buy you drinks."

"I let you buy me drinks."

He pulled her into a hug and kissed the top of her head. "Please take care of yourself, Rose."

She looked up at him and nodded. "I will, I promise… Deathwing."

"Okay, now get the hell out of my city and stop calling me that."

As he watched her go, he realized he finally understood. Understood why Catalina, a self-centered, ego-driven narcissist wanted to be a hero. It had nothing to do with helping humanity, or even making one life better. She had no need for that, it was all about power. Everything she did, every move she made was self-serving or a display of dominance. Killing Blockbuster, that was simply her playing God, forcing herself on Dick; that was taking what she wanted, but couldn't have, and she'd just reminded him of that. She couldn't leave him until she'd had the last word, till she'd sunk her fangs in him one last time to poison him. She just had to take away his power. Well, not anymore. If she wanted to act like an insect, he'd just have to crush her like one.

She waited, a glass of wine in her hand. She took as sip and looked down at her phone, recollecting the call she'd received. She was a bit shaken when she heard his voice, her heart teetering on its tipping point. He told her he was too rash, that he let his anger get the better of him, but he was ready to talk now. Ready to hear what she had to say. That he couldn't wait. She'd smiled at that, she knew he'd come around, he always did.

Without a second thought, she gave him her address and invited him over, telling him she would make it all better and left him with that.

She took another sip, her anticipation pumping through her veins, the heat of the wine mingling with her blood. She'd been waiting an hour, though it felt like a decade, but that hour was nothing compared to the lifetime she'd spent waiting for him.

A knock rapped at the door, and her heart skipped a beat. Her breath hitched and she placed her glass down on the table and went to the door, taking a moment to check her makeup and fix her dress. She composed herself, taking a moment to quell her near giddiness. She finally opened the door, doing her best to display her most convincing bedroom eyes and found him in their fabled stare.

"Mi Tesoro," she said, sickeningly sweet, "I knew you'd come."

He smiled at her subtly. "You gonna invite me in?"

"Oh, of course, Mi Amor," she said huskily, "you're always welcome."

She shifted out of his way and he stepped inside. He took a quick look around. Her apartment wasn't big, but none of them were in that neighborhood. He should know—it was his neighborhood, after all.

"So tell me, darling," she began, closing the door, the faint click of the lock following, "why the sudden change of heart?"

He looked over at her and shrugged nonchalantly. "You were right, I was just upset. I wasn't being fair to you… I'm sorry ."

She smiled, flashing a hint of victory. "I forgive you," she said, walking toward her prize. "Now why don't you let me heal you, Mi Amor." She placed her hands on his chest, a sinful look in her eye. "I promise, baby, I'm gonna take good care of you now."

He brought his hands to her face and smiled, cradling it as she closed her eyes, leaning in to seal her prey's fate. Only Dick had other plans.

His hand slid to the back of her neck and his face hardened to stone. His grip on her became cold and tight as he suddenly conjured an unnecessary amount of strength. Channeling every ounce of hatred, every violation, and every last bit of fear he held for her. He threw her, face first, into the high table beside them. She collided with the object with a violent force, the tempered glass surface cracking, and her wine glass shattering as it hit the the tile. She collapsed to the floor, blood pouring from her nose and into her mouth. She lifted her head, her body still in shock, as a rough hand tangled itself in her hair and pulled her motionless body around to face him.

He knelt down, hovering over her with an infuriated look in his eyes. She tried to look away from him, but he gripped her jaw and forced her to stare in his direction. She was going to hear this, whether she wanted to or not.

"If you so much as cast a shadow in my fucking direction, I will finish this job," he growled in a low voice. "As far as I'm concerned, you're dead to me, Catalina—and I never wanna see your fucking face again! Got it?!"

She whimpered a little and nodded, but refused to cry in front of him, as though she could keep some sense of dignity if she didn't.

"Bitch," he huffed in her face, a faint spray of saliva hitting her cheek with a hateful breath.

He released her heartlessly and got up, storming out of her apartment as quickly as he'd struck her. She heard the door slam shut, cutting the last tie left between them. She flinched at the sound, like it hurt, and began to cry. She was finally afraid of him; she didn't have any power left to play. She had lost him, for good this time.

Dick threw on his hood, stepping out onto the street and into the cool night air. The wind had subsided and for the first time in a year, he felt his stomach calm. He didn't feel the need to look over his shoulder anymore. The bleeding in his chest had finally quelled.

He couldn't change what had happened to him, and he couldn't change what happened in the wake of it all. But he could change who he became as a result of it all. He knew he wouldn't be cured overnight, but he knew, in time, he'd be fine again. He could move on now. He could finally breach the surface and breathe—he could live. And for that, he could find enough strength to embrace the tomorrows and move out of the yesterdays.

The air somehow smelled sweeter—cleaner, even. Like the smoke had lifted, and the fires burned out, no longer hindering his senses. He could see beyond the rubble to a path beyond the ruins. He took a deep breath, taking the cold air in like it was the first time he'd ever done so.

Clarity, he thought, feeling the ground beneath his feet again, the world indeed still there. He wasn't afraid anymore. He wasn't waiting for some unspeakable thing to pull him into its undertaking. No. For the first time in so long, he was free of her. Free from her hold and presence, and more importantly, free of her memory.

He couldn't taste her anymore.