#and the trade outlets were all like: bet

[itsawhumpsideblog]

Character sketches

Francis was the first of the Safehouse boxboys to make himself known, although Mikey was not far behind. The thing I'm finding most fascinating about writing Francis is finding ways to convey his worldview, which I feel like I'm doing to a greater extent than with Mikey or Nathan. Because he was living with another person who had very definite ideas about what he should be like, Francis had his worldview sort of forged for him in really odd ways.

There will eventually be an installment where he learns to count higher than ten, for example, but right now he thinks everyone gets to ten and starts over and therefore functionally can't conceptualize of quantities greater than 100 (ten tens, as he would think of it).

He also speaks in third person, which obviously the other two do not, and has developed a very flowery, formal way of speaking as a result of being a living showpiece and as much an accessory in his former owner's home as the art on the walls. I imagine that his owner worked on training him to speak in a highly artistic style and move as if everything is a ballet.

Francis gets really good at interpreting for Mikey when Mikey learns to sign and ultimately decides to pursue interpreting as a career. It's a good fit for him because he doesn't have to speak for himself or produce original utterances unless they're really simple; he can just interpret from one language to another what somebody else is saying. He also prefers not being the focus of the conversation in any way and interpreting lets him fade comfortably into the background.

I imagine that he uses a wheelchair or crutches depending on how he's feeling, but because of the nerve damage in his feet, has a lot of difficult walking without a mobility aid.

When I write Mikey, I kind of can't help but make him sound small and waifish, because he's so sad and scared all the time- at least until yesterday's short story, which gives a brief glimpse of Mikey in the future. In fact, Mikey is a pretty big guy, which is likely what you'd want for a guy who lives as somebody's personal bouncer. He's probably six inches taller than Francis, although Nathan is closer to Mikey's height.

And as I elaborated on a little in yesterday's backstory, he's very muscular from a combination of enforced workouts and a low dose of steroids. Incidentally, I don't think the WRU publicizes their use of steroids but I would bet everyone knows they do it. Owners presumably make the choice to continue that practice or not, but I think Mikey's owners don't. There's probably a story about withdrawal in there, actually.

I don't know much about Mikey or Francis before they were boxboys, but I do have some idea what happens to Mikey after he's been at the Safehouse a while. As you can guess if you're caught up, he is going to be able to use his hands and arms fairly normally (although he hates when it rains because he gets so sore) and he becomes a fluent signer over time.

I think he goes from resignation at the loss of his voice to having a lot of anger about it. He experiences bouts of depression as he learns to cope with knowing how things could have been vs. how they are, but he finds strength and fulfillment in becoming an activist against the Pet trade. It's the kind of outlet for his anger that Mikey really appreciates- he abhors violence, but he feels a strong need to "get back at" the people who took so much from him. He probably does, or tries to do, research to find out who he used to be. I'm not yet sure what amount of success he has.

Poor Nathan was the last of the three to come along and I feel like he sometimes get short shrift. His backstory is the only one I have much of a handle on, and he talks about it in one chapter. He aged out of the foster care system and basically didn't have the counsel or a parent or mentor to give him a realistic perspective on what volunteering to become a Pet entailed. I think he was very briefly working a soul-sucking job somewhere he hated and was recruited on the basis of his looks and the recruiter's desire for a commission check.

Obviously, when he got to the WRU facility, it was nothing like he had imagined. I don't think he knew about the memory-wiping process, although I think most adults in his society are aware that something like that goes on. In my created world, as in many other peoples', I think, Pets are a luxury and generally only affordable by people who are wealthy or willing to save up. So Nathan went in with just the information he had from the recruiter, which obviously wouldn't reflect reality.

Once I wrote the bit where Mikey remembers another Pet who was kind to him and who was the closest thing he ever remembers having to a friend, I knew I wanted them to be re-united. I wasn't quite sure what Nathan's defining feature would be until I was writing it and sort of discovered in the process that although he had signed the papers and been sold and lived as a Pet, the memory wipe had never taken.

I was pretty fascinated with the implications, which I'll definitely want to explore at greater length. One thing it means is that Nathan knows exactly who he is and what his life was like before, although he was pretty lonely to begin with, so nobody's looking too hard for him. It also means that he knows exactly what happens at WRU facilities and can be a whistleblower, if and when anyone's ready to hear the truth.

But the effect of all this on his mental health is hard to overstate, because it's so traumatic to go through training and living as someone's possession without ever giving away that you're the same person you always were before. (Side note- Nathan is dyslexic, which is how he gets by without admitting he can read. He definitely can, but it's enough work that he doesn't see words and visibly process them without meaning to.)

The almost endless mental stress of pretending to have no memory, on top of the same stress other Pets experience, like trying to please a person who may be impossible to please, never having time to themselves, and being under constant physical strain, really takes its toll on Nathan. I think he has a sort of permanent thousand-yard stare, even when he's looking directly at someone or something. A part of his brain is just always a little stunned and distracted and he usually looks sad, even when he isn't. Meeting Mikey again, though, gives him a bit of a new lease on life, because he's so relieved and happy to know that Mikey has a chance at a happy ending.

NB: originally written for a BBU Community Days prompt that I was informed I misunderstood. I’m not able to rework the post but I hate to waste the work so I’ll leave it in case anyone is interested.

#the safehouse

[xtruss]

US Bet on Ukraine Conflict Turning into a Strategic Failure

— Aaron Good | June 01, 2023

Illustration: Chen Xia/Global Times

The war in Ukraine appears to be heading toward either a bloody stalemate or a successful Russian war of attrition. Against this backdrop, some argue that Washington's worst geopolitical nightmare may come true due to the Ukraine war. To the extent this is true, and US elites have only themselves to blame. By all appearances, the US has entered a phase of decline when geopolitical gambits that are meant to forestall the end of imperial hegemony only hasten its demise.

When Russia launched the military operation in 2022, many on the left were surprised that Russia did it, as it did not seem to be in the Russian national interest to do so. There had been many alarms raised in the US warning of an impending Russian invasion. But after the Iraqi WMD and Russiagate hoaxes, it is easy to understand why many thought US officials and the corporate media were, as ever, lying.

One veteran journalist who clearly saw what was coming was Joe Lauria of Consortium News. This outlet was founded by the late Robert Parry, a legendary journalist who was forced to leave corporate media because his journalism routinely exposed the hypocrisy, duplicity, and criminality of US foreign policy.

In a February 4, 2022 article, Lauria wrote that, the US plans to weaken Russia by imposing punishing sanctions and bringing world condemnation on Moscow depend on Washington's hysteria about a Russian invasion of Ukraine actually coming true.

There is a history of the US baiting adversaries into wars that the power elite believes will redound to the benefit of US hegemony. Such was the case when the USSR invaded Afghanistan in 1979 and when Iraq invaded Kuwait in 1990.

There is much reason to surmise that the US thought similarly about a Russian war against Ukraine. The strategic importance of Ukraine to Russia was well understood. After Russian military operations began, it was eventually reported that prior to February 2022, US officials had held a grim assessment of Ukraine's chances in a war that Zelensky was apparently not trying to avoid. The Intercept wrote, "The Central Intelligence Agency was so pessimistic about Ukraine's chances that officials told President Joe Biden and other policymakers that the best they could expect was that the remnants of Ukraine's defeated forces would mount an insurgency, a guerrilla war against the Russian occupiers."

Months before the war, Yahoo News, citing CIA insiders, reported that the US "is training an insurgency, [teaching the Ukrainians how] to kill Russians." Echoing some of the darkest elements of the Cold War, the CIA had undertaken "stay-behind force training" in Ukraine.

In hindsight, we can discern that the US pursued NATO expansion into Ukraine knowing that this was a red line for Moscow - just as a Russian military alliance with Mexico would be unacceptable for the US. We now know that US officials had a grim assessment of Ukrainian chances in a war that the US understood was likely to result from Ukrainian statements and actions. We see that prior to the invasion, the US rebuffed Russian diplomacy aimed at defusing the crisis.

Rather, the US apparently wanted to use the war to damage Russia by getting the country mired in a long occupation and bloody insurgency. The US also sought to establish a sanctions regime that would cut Russia off from foreign trade, especially with Europe. This context helps explain why the US and UK scuttled peace talks that could have ended the war in Ukraine back in April of 2022.

Because the crackpot realists of the US power elite so badly misjudged the military, economic, and diplomatic aspects of the conflict in Ukraine, the war has served to accelerate the demise of US hegemony. As professional US imperialist Fiona Hill recently acknowledged, "The war in Ukraine is perhaps the event that makes the passing of pax Americana apparent to everyone."

US leaders have only themselves to blame. The pursuit of open-ended global primacy was always madness. In decades past, US leaders tried and failed to turn the US away from empire. Now that the curtain is falling on US global hegemony, can new post-Biden leadership succeed where these men failed?

— The Author is a US Historian and Political Scientist who runs the American Exception Podcast.

[vancebrandstrup79]

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[honeycuttfulton17]

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[marvelousmaize]

You know what random thing makes me absolutely giddy with happiness?

Jaskier is so popular that entertainment outlets now lob him in with the main three in their Witcher cast coverage.

I mean - you gotta love it.

#jaskier #the witcher #the witcher cast #joey batey #i love this man #and this is such a small thing #but it makes me so happy #fandom was all like: BEHOLD this is our chosen one #and the trade outlets were all like: bet #sources for the screenshots are: #deadline #polygon #gamesradar

[astaroth1357]

Locker Room Talk- A Beelzebub Fanfic (BeelxGN MC)

(I’m not much of a whole-ass fic writer, so I don’t think this will be a regular occurrence, but I just had a scenario play out too perfectly not to give it an upgrade. I would hope this goes without saying, but harassment is not okay, I do not condone it, and if you are experiencing it you should look into what legal options you have available to report it. Please don’t try the Beel method. You’ll go to jail.)

Warnings: Sexual harassment, unwanted innuendo, implied possibility of sexual assault, vulgarity

"Locker Room Talk” isn't really Beel's thing. In all honesty, he’s never understood the appeal since saying gross stuff where only your friends can hear doesn’t make what you’re saying any better. Because he’s been playing sports for nearly all the time he's been in the Devildom, he’s been around his fair share of these kinds of conversations. Most of the time he just keeps to himself and tries to tune out whatever the other guys have to say. It gives him a bit of a reputation as the “innocent” one sure, but he just prefers not to play along with their pervy antics. If they wanted that, they could talk to Asmo for all he cared.

That’s not to say he didn’t like his teammates or anything. Most of them were pretty good people on the court and got their acts together off of it. And Beel really loved playing sports. He needed the physical outlet as a distraction from his hunger… If he had to put up with a little vulgarity from time to time, it seemed like a fair enough trade… Or. At least it was at first.

When MC came to the Devildom, they turned his whole world upside-down. Things between his brother had always been tense before and even Belphie had grown more distant with him after what happened to Lilith, but it felt like in only a couple of short months they were able to soothe everything over. His family has never been happier and neither has he… Plus, it helped that they were a good, and eager, cook.

His teammates sniffed out his crush for the little human fairly quickly. To be fair, he wasn’t exactly hiding it very well. The first time they ever came by one of their practices, a pouch of homemade cookies in hand, he could have kissed them on the spot. No one, not even Belphie, makes the time to go check on him during practice like that... He must have made his happiness pretty obvious because the human started making it a regular habit. At least two, sometimes three, times a week they would drop in with some kind of food for him. Store-bought, homemade, a small snack, or packed meal, it honestly didn’t matter to him. Anything that came from their hands felt three times more filling than it should have. 

He’s a little embarrassed to admit that after a few weeks the anticipation would start to show in his performance… If they were on their way he could usually smell whatever they had packed heading his direction and he’d play extra aggressively just to get to a break faster. He'd mow everybody else over just to have an excuse to go meet them at the gate. He’s been more than a little reckless before and thinking back on it can make him wince, but he usually forgets all about those little mishaps as soon as he’s met by their smiling face. 

“Hey, Beel! How is practice going?” They’d ask him. And no matter how he answers, all he’d think would be, “Never as good as right now…”

It was around the time that his teammates put it together that the teasing started. It was innocent enough at first. They’d pick on him for having a little crush on the exchange student but it was always lighthearted. Nothing worse than maybe the occasional,

“Oi Beel? Did you get yourself a housewife/husband? Good for you.” or “They’ll cook for you?? What a steal!” Nothing that bad. At least, nowhere near as bad as it would get.

As the weeks passed it seemed like his teammates were expecting something out of him... Like, was he supposed to make a move on them? Though Beel really did want to be with the MC, there were a lot of complications… His brothers being a big one. Most have made no secret that they’re also pretty fond of them too, Mammon especially, and it felt wrong to make another rift in the family right after it took so long to patch the first one… Of course, his teammates didn’t know that. And they didn’t care. All they wanted to do was amp up the pressure…

“Hey, Beel, did you see what your honey was wearing today? I think they’re sending signals. You should probably jump on that, you know?” When it first started, he couldn’t actually believe what he was hearing. Sure, their little jokes sounded like innuendo but they kept things just veiled enough that he could have been reading into it. He’d get uncomfortable, but brush it off easy enough. However, it only ever got worse from there.

“Yo Beel, you boning that human yet? What? No?? What the hell are you waiting for? We see you like them so just do it!” It would grate on his nerves...

“Beel, how’s your sweetheart been doing? Still not fucking, right? Bet they’re getting lonely…” He’d tell them to stop. At first politely, then more forcefully.

“Look, man, if you don’t start taking charge then they’re going to get antsy. Plenty of other guys are here looking to get their dicks wet… Just look at your brothers, am I right?” After a while, he started shouting. But his aggravation only seemed to fuel the fire.

“I bet someone will have them bent over and forgetting all about you by the end of the week.” Eventually, he went to the coach but he didn’t care. “It’s just ‘Locker Room Talk.’ Grow up,” is all he got in response. It didn’t feel like it was just that anymore, but he started to doubt himself anyway... Was he overreacting? Every bone in his body wanted to go on a rampage whenever they started to pester him but wasn’t it all just words? He could endure words, couldn’t he? Besides, RAD has a strict no-violence on school grounds policy on its athletes. Even if he did get a good slug in, then he’d been thrown out of future games for the rest of the season.

Their words were just words. Gross, awful words, but words nonetheless. Sure. Whatever. He could endure that… but only that.

On the day he nearly lost it completely, it was right after their last practice before a big game the next night. The whole team was amped to go, but Beel was trying to keep to himself. Get in, get out, and go back to the House where MC was probably waiting. He’s long since stopped sticking around for socializing with the others. He had just finished changing when one of his teammates cornered him by his locker, the slimiest grin already plastered on his face.

“Look, Beel… We’re going to do you a favor, alright? Since you’re taking so long with this… The guys and I have decided to invite your little human to an “after-game party” tomorrow. To celebrate our victory and all that. Bet they’re dying for some action since you’re not giving any. You’re free to come if you want. Though… they might not be paying much attention to you.” Beel could feel his eye twitch as he watched the scumbag’s snickering face. That face. That fucking face. He'd never seen or heard anything so revolting in his life and-

For a few seconds, all he could see was red.

When he came back to his senses, he already had the sleazebag pinned against the lockers by the windpipe, fingers gripping his neck so tightly that his nails drew blood. At some point, he must have slipped into his demon form because the vibrations of his wings behind him made a sound not unlike a warning growl. His expression must have been ferocious because in the guy's eyes he saw nothing but pure terror. He’d never felt this much rage and hatred together before. Surely, at this moment, he ought to look more like Satan or Lucifer on a rampage than he does himself.

“If you say one more thing about that human, I will kill you. Touch them once and I will eat you. Are we clear?" His hand clenches further, making him receive a gargled cough in response. At this point, he could have probably flicked his wrist and snapped his neck in two. "Then pass it on." He tossed the man back into the metal lockers and watched him sink to the floor, clawing at his own throat and gasping for air. Oh yeah, his sporting days for this semester are over. But if it keeps him away from this trash? He’ll take it.

Of course, he made sure that he doesn’t stick around much longer. He left the scumbag to sort himself out, grabbing his gym bag quickly. He barely remembered to hide his demon form again before walking out of there, his nerves are practically shot already. Thankfully, though, he didn’t make it three steps out the door before a familiar face stopped him in his tracks. MC, who must have been waiting patiently for him this entire time, is leaned next to the bleachers with a backpack in one hand and a deli sandwich in the other. The perfect smile they got when they saw him signaling their blissful ignorance of all that just went down before.

“Hey Beel! How was pr-Oomf!” His body colliding with theirs cuts off their question. Beel’s gym bag lies already forgotten in the dirt, ditched so his arms could embrace them fully. It’s just a hug, a tight hug, but there’s a certain desperation to it. Though he knew it was ridiculous, a part of him was terrified that his teammates may just come up and try to snatch them if he let go…. After some time to process, he felt their head settle against his chest. He worried that they can hear his raging heartbeat... Would they pick up on how pissed he was just a moment ago?

“Ah… Not that great then, huh…?” His arms tense, pressing them closer against the fabric of his shirt. Should he tell them what he's been putting up with…? Does he even have the stomach for it? Letting out a sigh through his nose, he simply grunted out, “No…” 

“Well, what’s wrong then?” So many things… He just wanted to pick them up and fly them away from all this crap. He wanted to rip the tongues out from anyone who's said a bad word about them. He wanted to keep holding them in his arms, shielding them from anything and everything that could possibly take that perfect smile away… But they probably don’t know that, do they?

“Beel? Are you okay...?” He let a slow sigh draw out from his nose, resting his head atop theirs. All too soon, he'd have to let them go. But, for the moment, he could just hold them and wish this feeling would never end...

“Only if you are…”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #beelzebub #shall we date #obey me fanfic #obey me gender neutral mc #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel x mc #obey me beel #beel snapped y'all #always beware the nice ones

[goulets]

Heartland

Chapter: 4/9 Pairing: Jason Todd/Dick Grayson Additional Characters: Roy Harper, Lian Harper, Barbara Gordon, Tim Drake Case Fic / Kid Fic a03 link

Lian looks proud.  “My first word was Daddy,” she tells Jason.  “I bet Dani’s will be, too, since she has two daddies.”

It takes Jason a moment to process what Lian is talking about, and when he realizes it, Roy is suppressing a huge peal of laughter and Dick’s eyes are so wide they’re about to pop right out of his skull.

***

(romina)

The view has changed.

When Romina Falcone was a child, she had stood in this very office at the right hand of her grandfather and looked out this very window, down into the sprawling urban jungle. She’d thought Gotham City was beautiful. Carmine had a story for every building, every street, every truck and car and pedestrian. The businessman who needed funds to keep his product line moving, soon to be in debt to their family. The district attorney’s office who wanted to cut fiscal corners on an exterior remodel, soon to enter into a contract with them. The gas station at a particularly desirable intersection, soon to be abandoned and auctioned off - the delivery van pulling up to the pump, soon to motivate the owners to abandon it. There was nothing, he said, that was out of reach for them. There was no one who could afford not to answer their call.

She sits in the seat he once sat in, her brother at her right hand, the city laid out below her, and she sees none of it.

“Romina? Are you listening?” her brother asks, angry.

“Obviously not,” she tells him. Who would she pick out of this crowd, if she was her grandfather? The woman in the suit, maybe - a journalist, ambitious and easily bought. The corner bistro, in the red for the third year in a row, about to be turned down for a loan extension. The restless pawn shop security guard, washed out from the police academy, in need of a better outlet to exert his will upon the public.

One by one, she thinks. One by one, they will all be within her grasp.

“ - drives me fuckin’ insane,” her brother is complaining, now, to their cousin Antoni and their new employee, Tiberius. “Never listens to a goddamn word I say - “

“Mario.” Romina turns in her chair to face him.

“What?” he demands.

She raises a dark eyebrow.

He straightens, and appears to compose himself. Much better. “Sorry, Ro. There’s a situation at City Hall that I’ve just been made aware of.”

When he doesn’t immediately go on, she feels a flash of irritation. “Well?”

“It seems that several records were accessed over the weekend - the logs were deleted, but our alert system was set off before they covered their tracks.” A dark look passes over his face. “They were looking into Uncle Vincenzo.”

Romina understands. Vincenzo Rizzuto, her mother’s half-brother, is the name they’ve been recruiting under, a name relatively yet-unknown in Gotham. They hid the real Vincenzo well - Romina had Antoni remove her uncle’s head and hands after he killed him, and since the man had been in the country illegally from Montreal, there should have been almost no way to identify his body. The city coroner’s office hadn’t managed it, but obviously, someone else did.

She taps her fingers against the desk. “How inconvenient.”

Tiberius looks curiously between them. “Think it was law enforcement?”

Antoni barks out a laugh. Romina has to agree - besides, she’s been given the distinct impression that Gotham PD is more than willing to welcome them back into the fold.

Unruffled by their scorn, Tiberius moves on. “Surveillance?”

“Plenty,” Mario says. A vein begins to throb in his forehead. “Doesn’t appear to be tampered with. There’s a camera pointed directly at the terminal that was accessed. Didn’t pick up shit.”

“Ah,” Romina nods. An invisible researcher. This explains Mario’s bad mood. “A meta-human, then.”

“Fuckers,” Antoni grumbles.

Tiberius glances around at them, faint amusement in his pale features. “Can I speak freely?”

“No,” Mario spits, but Romina holds up her hand.

“You may.”

Tiberius cracks his knuckles. “I know your family is more...traditional, let’s say, but you guys aren’t seeing the big picture. A lot’s changed since your grandfather was in charge, not just in Gotham. Meta-humans are a resource. A fucking gold mine. You can hire them, create them, sell them, buy them - as a commodity, they bring a higher return than almost anything else out there. And the scope of the industry is unlimited. The Russians are already in the process of cornering the market in Bludhaven. You could have shipping routes all the way out to - ”

He stops, suddenly, because Mario’s patience has expired. He advances heavily on Tiberius, clicking the safety off on his pistol. Romina wonders idly whether it would be more prudent to buy off or to threaten the city clerk to alter their records. It’s too late this time, but it would do well to have someone in City Hall working for them, in the future.

“How many times,” her brother seethes, “do we have to tell you, Tiberius. We’re taking the metas out. Your freak squad has been running this town for too goddamn long.”

“Hey, they’re not my freak squad,” Tiberius protests, putting his hands up. “I’m just pointing out a business opportunity, shit.”

Antoni looks between them, interested. Romina sighs.

“Enough,” she says coolly. “Mario, stand down. Tiberius, you’ve overstayed your welcome. If I want business propositions from you, you’ll know.”

Tiberius straightens his jacket, glaring around at them all dispassionately. He’ll not last much longer, she thinks.

“Antoni, when are the trucks coming in from Chicago?”

“Should be within the hour, boss.” He grins at her. Romina feels a wave of affection for her younger cousin, all bloodlust and mania. If their grandfather had known him, he would surely have adored him as well.

“Go meet them,” she instructs. “Take Tiberius with you. He should meet our cousin Nicola, since he’s so interested in the family’s shipping routes.”

Antoni grins wider. Perhaps Romina was too careless with her phrasing - if Antoni can tell she means to replace Tiberius with Nicola Viti, then he can probably guess it as well. No matter. With both cousins watching him, he won’t have an opportunity to betray them.

Once they leave, Mario comes to stand next to her, turning his gaze out the window to mirror hers.

“It looks different,” he says, sliding his Beretta back into its holster. “That’s what you were thinking about, isn’t it?”

“It is,” she replies. “But I find that the longer I look, the less different it seems.” And indeed, the view is becoming clearer. The run-down garage two blocks over, its owners tired and brittle and all too willing to sign away to new management. The half-finished housing project, abandoned by the city and looking for a new developer. The drug dealer squatting in its basement, hungry to ally himself with a steady supplier.

After a moment, Mario clears his throat. “We need to get rid of Tiberius. His ideals don’t align with ours.”

He’s right, of course. It won’t do to have one of their own sowing discord among the lower ranks. Romina has made one thing clear in their recruitment process - they’re not making a power play for Gotham’s meta-trafficking trade, not entering into competition with Scarecrow or Riddler or whichever absurd character is putting on a show to engage the Batman this week. They’re eliminating them. Meta-humans and theatrical villains might be an inescapable reality of their world, but Gotham belonged to their family first.

“I’m not ready for you and I to go public just yet,” she tells him. “We need Tiberius for one more thing, first.”

He doesn’t argue. “I hope it’s Susie. You’ve kept her waiting long enough.”

Romina scoffs. “She’s lucky that’s all I’m doing to her, after she disobeyed me. No, I’ll have him fetch her in a few more days. Do you think he’ll suspect the trap?”

“No,” Mario snorts. “He’s too convinced of his own importance. Didn’t even blink when I pulled my piece on him. He thinks he’ll wear you down, eventually.”

She nods, satisfied. “That was my read as well.”

“Is it really necessary, though, to risk alienating Susie?”

Romina purses her lips. “She was instructed to leave no survivors,” she says. “I served her an opportunity to settle a score up on a platter, and she repaid me by doing the exact opposite of what I asked. She knew there would be a cost.”

Mario looks skeptical. “Seriously, Ro, it was just a baby. It wouldn’t’ve even remembered its parents.”

“It doesn’t have to remember.” Romina thumbs over the scar on her wrist, the memento from all those years ago. “I don’t like giving orders to kill children, and I don’t expect Susie to like doing it, but it’s necessary to do. The Maronis left us alive, and where are they now? Scrambling in the shadows like rats, terrified to show their faces. You have to be prepared to hunt the children of your enemies, Mario, or they’ll grow up to hunt you.”

Mario grimaces. “It fucking creeps me out, when you talk like that.”

“It’s something our grandfather understood,” she tells him. “It’s practically colonial.”

“Jesus, Ro.”

She smirks. “Don’t like that comparison?”

“You know I don’t, but you’re right. Fuck,” he sighs. “Fine. I’m guessing you want to put Antoni on it?”

“It can wait, for now.” Antoni is reliable as a triggerman, with no limitations to speak of, but he does have a habit of going off-script, and Romina doesn’t want any more deviations in this particular directive. “As you said, it’s only a baby. It can’t pose a threat to us for some time yet.”

Mario exhales, relieved.

On to more pressing matters. “Do you know, I think it’s time we started recruiting in Bludhaven.”

“I agree,” he says, immediately. “The Russians have been struggling to gain a foothold since losing Intergang. It’s the perfect time to strike.”

“And once we deal with them, the entire canal will be ours,” she muses. “Start looking for someone to run the cement factory, will you? I want that housing project on 15th.”

Mario grins wolfishly. “You don’t think it’s too early for city contracts? We can’t take them out under Vincenzo’s name, you know.”

“No,” she agrees. “But it’s nearly time.”

The view is shifting, the longer she looks. The points of connection are starting to take shape, the lines of power that her grandfather once saw so clearly all leading back into the palm of his hand. Recruitment is child’s play - the people of this city are as tired of the Bats and the Jokers as she is. It’s more than a mission, it’s her birthright. Her father was too foolish and weak to recognize it, but Romina was born with her grandfather’s soul. Now, in his office, with the city laid out before her, she begins to understand how he must’ve felt, back then. She can almost taste it in the air. Gotham is ready to come back to them, and Romina is ready to seize it all.

***

(jason)

“I gotta say, I’m a little hurt,” Roy says, throwing a sideways look at Jason.

Jason’s ninety-nine percent sure he’s gonna follow up with something obnoxious, but he gives him an indulgent glance over his coffee cup all the same. “Yeah?”

“That you didn’t call me, you tool. Why wasn’t I the first person to know about this?! Instead I gotta hear it from Donna, who heard it from Wally, who heard it from Dick!! Not cool, dude!”

Jason feels a headache coming on. They’re out on the balcony outside Dick’s room, and it’s as spacious as a balcony for a single bedroom can be, but it’s starting to feel claustrophobic all the same. “It was need-to-know, okay? I was going to tell you, obviously. In case you didn’t notice, I’ve had a few other things on my mind.”

Roy isn’t having it. “You know how Wally knew? Because Dick called him to ask for advice. Because Wally is a father. Kind of like someone else you guys know, right?”

“I did call you,” Dick says from the balcony doorway. Dani is awake in his arms, and Roy’s five year old daughter Lian is at his side peering up at her in fascination. “You didn’t answer.”

Roy flushes slightly. “Well, without a text, how was I supposed to know why you were calling? I figured it was something like, world-ending-cavalry-calling thing. Can’t blame me for wanting to sit it out.”

Dick nods at Jason. “But you’d answer for him?”

“Hell yes I would. I happen to like him better, no offense,” Roy says, offense clearly intended. Dick rolls his eyes.

Jason doesn’t exactly know what went on between the two of them, except that it happened when he was dead. Roy hasn’t been forthcoming about it, and he’s never bothered asking Dick. Clearly it’s not completely water under the bridge just yet, but Dick looks happy enough to see him, and Roy didn’t even blink at letting Lian run off with him, so Jason thinks they must be starting to make up. Really, it’s the last thing he should be hoping for. Dealing with either of them one-on-one is bad enough. If they get chummy again, he’s done for.

“You’re shit out of luck, then,” he says to Roy, about half a second before he remembers the guy’s daughter is standing right there. “Crap. Uh, sorry, Lian.”

“Daddy says ‘shit’ all the time,” Lian replies, shaking her dark hair back from her face. “Shit is just poop, really, so it’s not such a bad word.”

Dick laughs. “So wise.”

“When can baby Dani learn to talk?”

“Um…” Dick looks at Jason, who shrugs helplessly. “Probably not for a while, I’m guessing. She’s only four months old, so she has a lot of milestones to hit before then.”

Lian tilts her head comically. “What’s mile-stones?”

“That’s just a name for important things that babies learn to do, sweetheart,” Roy tells her. “Things like rolling over, grabbing their feet, sitting up, and standing up. You hit all your milestones right on time.”

“Grabbing their feet? That’s silly, Daddy.”

“Hey, it’s an important motor skill, kiddo. Just as important as first words. You were a foot-grabbing prodigy, so I should know.”

Lian looks proud. “My first word was Daddy,” she tells Jason. “I bet Dani’s will be, too, since she has two daddies.”

It takes Jason a moment to process what Lian is talking about, and when he realizes it, Roy is suppressing a huge peal of laughter and Dick’s eyes are so wide they’re about to pop right out of his skull.

“We’re not - I’m not her dad, Lian. She’s not my kid.” Jason should probably just shut the hell up, since he doesn’t think Roy would be too happy about him explaining why Dani is in their care in the first place to his young, already somewhat traumatized daughter.

“We’re just taking care of her,” Dick adds, gently. Lian looks puzzled.

“So you’re babysitting her?”

“Exactly, yeah.”

“Hey pumpkin,” Roy says, reaching over and patting her on the cheek. “We’ll talk about this more later, okay? Let’s not ask too many questions to Dick and Jason, you know how silly Bats are about their secrets.”

“Oh, right,” Lian giggles, looking between them all conspiratorially. “Especially Mister Bruce, right, Daddy?”

Dick raises his eyebrows. “You told your daughter Batman’s secret ID?”

“You wanna fight about it?” Roy asks. His tone is teasing, but there’s a hint of real challenge in his eyes.

Lian looks confused, and Jason takes pity on her. “Guys, knock it off.” He shoves Roy’s shoulder lightly, and shoots a hard look at Dick. “Not in front of the kids, come on.”

Dani, fortunately, diffuses the tension by spitting up in a truly spectacular fashion all over her onesie and Dick’s arm.

Roy bursts out laughing. “Okay, I gotta say, I do not miss that.”

“Did she just barf?” Lian looks horrified.

“No, this is something babies do a lot,” Dick reassures her. “Usually it puts her in a much better mood when she does it, so it’s actually a good thing.”

“Okay…” Lian says uncertainly. “It’s kind of gross.”

“Kind of,” Dick grins. “I’ll just go change her, and, um, wash up.”

“Can I help? Can I pick out her clothes?” Lian looks at Roy excitedly.

“Sure, you’ll be a lot better at picking them out than me,” Dick beams back at her. “Be right back, guys.”

Once they’re out of earshot, Roy turns to Jason. “I didn’t tell her Batman’s secret ID, just so you know. He told her himself a couple years ago, after the attack on Star City. We were all up in the Watchtower, and he didn’t have his cowl...it was such a crazy day, I honestly never thought she’d remember it.”

Jason nods peaceably. “I don’t really give a shit, to tell you the truth.” It’s not quite the truth, actually, but hopefully Roy won’t call him on it.

“Just saying. Anyways, Jaybird, what the hell is going on with you and Dick? Are you fucking?”

Jason almost spits out his coffee. “What?”

“Is it really that weird of a question? You’re living here all of a sudden, raising a baby together, I mean.” Roy tilts his head, looking remarkably like his daughter. “Okay, I guess you’re not fucking.”

“We’re not anything,” Jason says, more harshly than he means to. “Jesus Christ.”

Roy gives him a look of dawning comprehension, which Jason doesn’t like at all. “I see.”

“Do you.” Jason narrows his eyes. “Well, fucking don’t.”

“All right, all right. I’ll cut you a break since I remember what it’s like to be up to your eyeballs in diapers and sleep deprived as hell and being expected to deal with your asshole friends like everything’s normal.” He leans forward to pour more coffee in Jason’s mug. “Talk to me about the kid, then. You said she’s not sleeping very well?”

Jason shakes his head. “She was sleeping great until this past week, I have no idea what changed. Every single noise in the room wakes her up. And if she catches sight of me, it’s all over. She just cries and cries until I pick her up, and she wakes up again if I try to put her down.”

“Damn,” Roy says sympathetically.

“I haven’t gone out in four nights,” Jason tells him, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Dick’s got Russians to deal with in ‘Haven, so he hasn’t been able to take a night off, and I can’t…I just can’t leave her. Doesn’t seem right.”

“You shouldn’t, anyways, if your head’s back here,” Roy says. “Learned that one the hard way.”

“I don’t know what the fuck to do, then. It’s not a fever, she’s not hungry, or wet, she just won’t sleep.”

Roy leans forward. “Listen. This is actually a totally normal, completely awful thing called a ‘sleep regression’ that nobody fucking tells you about before you have a kid. They go through them every couple months, usually before hitting a major milestone. It’s fucked, but it’ll pass, I promise.”

Jason stares at him in surprise.

“What? I know things, fuck you.”

Jason kicks him lightly under the table. Not the best demonstration of thankfulness he could’ve come up with, but it’s all he’s got. “So what do I do, until it passes? Just keep holding her all the time?”

“You could try, but honestly, I think that’ll just make it worse. Do you have a white noise machine?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you tried really cranking that sucker up?”

“Yep.”

“Have you tried putting her in the swing?”

Jason frowns. “They’re not supposed to sleep in there.”

“What, really? Says who?” Roy looks incredulous.

“The fucking American Pediatric Association, that’s who. It says so right on the box. It’s a suffocation hazard.”

Roy’s forehead creases with worry. “No shit? Damn, no one told me about that. I used to put Lian to sleep in that thing all the time when nothing else was working.”

Jason spreads his hands. “Any other ideas?”

“Yeah, actually. Babies have REM cycles, you know, they’re just different from ours. When they’re in a sleep regression, you gotta wait until they’re deeply asleep to put them down. Give it, like, ten extra minutes after she falls asleep.”

“I can do that,” Jason agrees. “Doesn’t do me a lot of good, though, if she wakes up as soon as I fucking cough or unload my gun.”

“Oh yeah?” Roy cocks an eyebrow. “We’re unloading rubber bullets now?”

Jason kicks him again. “Shut up.”

“Shit, Jay. I just can’t believe Dickie is okay with it.”

Jason can’t quite believe it either. He keeps the loaded gun hidden in a shoulder holster under his jacket, but he’s not stupid enough to think that Dick hasn’t noticed.

Roy stretches his arms behind his head. “Sure nothing’s going on between you two?”

“Roy, I’m not having this conversation,” Jason says.

Roy grins. Jason hates that grin. “Alright. So, if she always wakes up when you’re in the room, don’t be in the room. Get a monitor and sleep in Dick’s room. Problem solved.”

Jason takes a long drink of coffee, trying to calm the sudden hammering in his pulse. “Yeah, that’s not fucking happening.”

“Why? If there’s nothing going on between you…”

“Roy,” Jason growls.

“Daddy, look! I helped baby Dani get dressed!”

They both turn to look at Lian in the doorway, standing in a superhero pose with her hands planted on her hips. “Ta-da!” she announces, leaping aside with a flourish. Dick appears behind her, lips pressed together like he’s trying hard not to laugh, Dani presented forward in his arms in a little red dress, red bloomers, and little red socks with white hearts. A little red bow is just visible among her tufts of black hair, and Jason’s heart throbs violently in his chest.

“Wow, sweetie!” Roy opens his arms and gives her a big hug. “Red, huh?”

“I think it’s her favorite color,” Lian says, shyly glancing at Jason. “It’s mine, too.”

Jason swallows. “Where the hell did that dress even come from?” He doesn’t know why he bothers asking, he doesn’t have a clue where any of Dani’s clothes come from. They seem to just materialize in her drawers, and he could probably pinpoint who purchased each item if he laid them all out and put his mind to it, but he finds it’s much easier just not to think about it.

“I don’t remember who got this one, actually.” Dick peeks at the tag. “It’s Ralph Lauren. Maybe Helena?”

“Hey Dick, I was just spitballing ideas with Jason,” Roy says, suddenly. Jason goes to kick him again, but damnit, he’s still holding Lian. Using his own kid as a shield, the fucker.

Dick looks up from bouncing Dani, his eyes widening innocently. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, about your kid’s sleep issues. Jay said she’s startling easily, once she’s down.”

Dick looks at Jason apologetically. “It’s been rough,” he admits. “Sorry, I know you haven’t gotten much sleep either.”

“Apparently it’s totally normal,” Jason says quickly, glaring at Roy. “Roy says it’ll pass in no time. Don’t worry about me.”

“I was suggesting, actually, that she might have an easier time if Jason wasn’t clattering around all the time and waking her up,” Roy goes on, pulling Lian up into his lap. Jason is going to kill him. “You’ve got room, right, Dick? Makes more sense for you two to share so she can get some peace and quiet.”

“Oh!” Dick spares Jason a fleeting glance. “That does make sense...we have the video monitor, after all. You are kind of loud, when you take off your armor.”

Jason crosses his arms. Everyone’s a fucking critic. “Fine. I’ll sleep on the floor, whatever.”

Dick makes a face. “Jason…”

Roy gives him an exasperated look. “What is this, cooties? Are you twelve?”

Lian tugs at his sleeve. “What’s cooties?”

“It’s what Jason’s scared of getting if he sleeps in the same bed as Dick, sweetheart. It’s super silly.”

Dani has apparently had enough of being held on display like a doll, and fusses loudly, kicking out towards Jason and curling both hands up toward her face. Jason can tell she’s a few seconds from a full meltdown - they’ve been coming on faster and faster, since this whole “sleep regression” started. He’s on his feet in a heartbeat, and Dick passes her over without a word. It’s a little terrifying how used to this they both are, Jason thinks as he brings Dani up to his chest. She’s already bigger than the tiny ten-pound bundle that had turned up at the Manor just a few weeks ago, and she’s outgrown the first sets of pajamas they’d put her in. He pats her back soothingly, feels the patch of drool on his shirt that indicates she’s stuffed her fingers in her mouth again. Normally, he’d drop a kiss on her head, but he finds himself reluctant to do so in front of Roy. He doesn’t want Roy to read anything into it - he’s already given away too much during this visit.

“Awww, she’s so cute,” Lian giggles, leaning against her dad. “I wish I could hold her, Daddy.”

“Maybe next time, honey. Baby Dani just wants her grown-up right now. You know how that feels, don’t you?”

Lian nods, looking up at Jason. “Yeah.”

Jason feels ridiculously exposed, under their twin gazes. If it wasn’t for Dani, he’d have jumped over the railing already.

“What are you guys up to for the rest of the day?” Dick asks, rescuing him from their unnerving combined perception.

Roy gives his daughter a nudge. “What are we doing, pumpkin?”

Lian lights up. “We’re going to see Donna!”

“Her favorite,” Roy confirms, grinning down at her. “They’re having a girl’s night, apparently. I’m not invited.”

“Maybe when Dani is bigger, she can come to a girls night with us,” Lian suggests wistfully. Dick looks sad, and Jason doesn’t have the heart to tell her that’s never going to happen.

“Hey, wouldn’t that be fun.” Roy ruffles her hair playfully. “You’d have to share Donna, though.”

Lian pulls back to give him a reproachful look. “I know how to share, Daddy.”

“Sheesh, okay. Anyways, I’ll be around, if either of you needs a wingman,” Roy says, looking between Dick and Jason hopefully.

“I’m staying in,” Dick says. Jason blinks, this is news to him. “Russians are laying low, and no one’s sprung our Falcone cousin from jail yet, shockingly. I know you’re going stir-crazy, so I’ll stay with her tonight.”

Jason feels a surge of warmth towards Dick. He is going nuts, and not just from sleep deprivation. It’ll do him a world of good to get out and get some real exercise, check on all his favorites in the neighborhood and put the fear of the Red Hood back into all the local dirtbags. Tim’s been doing a more than decent job on keeping him updated, and Jason’s grateful, but there’s something to be said for good old fashioned violence when it comes to keeping his people in line. Jason’s itching for it - he hasn’t been back in the field properly for way too long.

“You up for it, Jaybird?” Roy asks. His eyes are practically sparkling - Jason can already feel the beginnings of regret. “It’s been a minute since we teamed up.”

Jason sighs out heavily. “Yeah, okay.”

“Don’t get too excited,” Roy laughs. “It’ll be fun! I can impart more sagely parenting advice, you can, um - ” he cover’s Lian’s ears “ - b-a-s-h some s-k-u-l-l-s, it’ll be real therapeutic.”

Lian swats at his hands. “Daddy.”

Jason looks at Dick. “You sure B’s okay with you taking a night off?”

“I’ll make him okay with it,” Dick says grimly. “Besides, I miss her.”

God help him, Jason’s going to miss her too, when he’s out for the evening. Not enough to want to stay in, but damn close.

He looks down at her, dozing lightly against his chest, one round cheek pressed flat, the other drooping onto her curled up shoulder. An image flits through his mind - Dani, older, her tufts of hair grown out long like Lian’s, a wide, toothy smile on her face and her big brown eyes crinkled up at Jason. Calling to him, reaching for him. Daddy. It feels like a bullet piercing his heart, but he can’t stop imagining it. Can’t stop imagining her laughter, the solid feeling of her body in his arms…and someone else next to him, strong hands held out to catch hers, sweetheart sounding out in a voice he’s gravitated toward since he was thirteen years old -

“Jason? You having gas or something?” Roy sounds half amused, half concerned.

Fuck. “Headache,” Jason manages, shoving the intrusive images as far back into his subconscious as he can. God, does he know how to torture himself.

“Well, get rid of it. Imagine how embarrassing it’d be if you got k-i-l-l-e-d by some punk in the Bowery because you were off your game.”

Jason shrugs. “You’d avenge me.”

Roy laughs. “Damn right I would. I’d have to fight Dick here for the honor.”

“To get back at some Bowery punk? Nah, Dickie wouldn’t bother.”

Dick rolls his eyes, but his mouth is twisted with humor. “Hey, I might, depending on how embarrassing your demise was.”

Roy claps his hands. “See, if that’s not love, I don’t know what is.”

Dick goes pink, but he looks happy, at least. Jason imagines strangling Roy, to avoid anything revealing coming out of his mouth.

“I’d better go tell little D he’s got my patrol tonight,” Dick says, after a mildly suffocating moment of silence. “I’ll stick a bottle in the warmer for when she wakes up.”

“You are the worst person alive,” Jason tells Roy, once Dick is gone. “The worst. I literally don’t know why we’re friends.”

“Jason’s joking, sweet pea,” Roy grins at Lian.

Lian huffs dramatically. “I know that, Daddy.”

How the hell Roy Harper created such a great kid, Jason will never know. “What are you and Donna doing for your girl’s night?” he asks her, rocking Dani gently.

“So many fun things,” she tells him seriously. “I have a new Lego set, so we’re gonna build that, and then maybe we’ll play princess school? Or animal rescue school, or maybe both...and we’ll definitely watch a movie! And eat popcorn, of course.”

“Of course,” Jason nods.

She smiles at him, her nose scrunching adorably. “What are you and my daddy doing for your boy’s night?”

Jason makes eye contact with Roy. “Well, I doubt we’re gonna have as much fun as you.”

“No,” Roy agrees, tweaking her nose. “I think we’ll still have a pretty good time, though.”

***

Jason’s prepared for the worst, when they arrive in Crime Alley. He’s expecting his safe house to be trashed by squatters, his civilian apartment to be robbed, and all the local hot spots to be generally on fire. Well. Maybe not on fire, it does seem like Tim’s been doing a pretty good job covering for him. But still, he’s not expecting to roll into his territory and find it…quiet.

Roy takes to the rooftops, and Jason goes to the first busy street corner he sees. “Hey, Ginger,” he calls, jogging up to a working girl he’s got a friendly rapport with. “How’s it going?”

Ginger looks surprised to see him, but not unhappy. “You finally remember your address, Hood?”

“Doesn’t look like I needed to, though,” Jason remarks, glancing around. “Your girls are all good? Any problems that require my attention?”

“Aren’t you sweet.” Ginger looks over his shoulder, as though expecting someone to be there. “No Red Robin tonight? Damn.”

Wow, so that’s how it is. Jason’s already chopped liver. “Ouch,” he says in mock offense. “You know, it was me who told him which blocks to keep an eye on in the first place.”

“You can take that white knight shit straight back to wherever you’ve been hiding out, honey.” Ginger sounds unimpressed. He swears he was more intimidating a few weeks ago. She gives him a meaningful look and makes a shooing motion with her wrist. “It’s good to know you’re still in one piece, baby. Now run along, before you scare off all my customers.”

Taking the hint, Jason moves down the block to his favorite bar, a hideous dive run by a neighborhood relic called Mac Deveroux. Back when Jason was a kid, Mac had frequently paid him to make deliveries, taking alcohol and sometimes food to his customers who weren’t in a position to come and get it themselves. Most of the deliveries were superfluous errands that Mac could just as easily have run himself, but he liked Jason’s observational skills, and the real value of the trip was the gossip Jason was able to pick up along the way. Jason has no idea if Mac remembers him - it’s possible he had a dozen kids on his unofficial payroll, it’s equally possible that the years and the drinking have written Jason’s existence out of his mind. But the man is just as congenial and just as all-knowing about everyone’s business as he’s always been, so Jason makes it a habit to visit him and trade information.

“Hey, Mac,” he calls, pulling off his helmet and sliding into a seat at the end of the bar. He doesn’t always order a drink when he comes here, and he’s not planning on it tonight, but Mac seems to prefer talking to him in just the domino. “Been a minute.”

It’s early, so the place is still mostly deserted, except for a handful of local drunks in various stages of stupor. Mac looks startled for half a moment, then pulls his ballcap down and goes back to being inscrutable. “Glad to see you alive and well, Red.”

Why is everyone so surprised to see him? He’s only been off patrol for a week or so, and he was checking in every few days before that. “Some reason I shouldn’t be?”

Mac side-eyes him suspiciously. “Not especially. People talk. That friend of yours - Red Robin - stupid fucking name, by the way - he’s okay too?”

Jason picks up his helmet and switches the comm on. “Red Robin, Red Hood checking in. Are you dead or injured?”

Tim’s voice comes through almost immediately, annoyed. “Uh, no?”

Jason switches it back off. “Yep, still kicking. Pretty sure Batman hasn’t bit it either, but the night is young. What’s with the sudden concern for my well-being?”

Mac shakes his head. “Folks been talking lately, that’s all. Lots of shit about taking down the Bat, all the rest of the capes in Gotham. Can’t blame me for wondering.”

“People around here are always running their mouths,” Jason says dismissively. “Half the time they tell me about it to my face. Since when are you sweating shit like that?”

“Since it started seeming like more than just talk,” Mac says, serious. “I mean it, Red. You ought to watch yourself out there. And be careful who you talk to, too. I appreciate all you done for me, but it’ll be better if I don’t see you in my bar all too often. You need to chat, you’re better off coming in the back.”

Jason recalls how quickly Ginger had hurried him away, and feels his blood run hot with anger. So these fuckers think they can come onto his turf and threaten his people? They’re gonna be needing more than new kneecaps by the time he’s through with them.

He cracks his knuckles. “Right. Let’s go to the back, then.”

Mac meets him next to a stack of boxes behind his delivery door. He pulls out a joint and starts patting his pockets down, looking for a lighter.

“Here.” Jason fishes one out from his coat pocket, tosses it to him. Not like he’s lighting up much of anything these days.

“Appreciate you, man,” Mac says, catching it. “You want?”

Jason shakes his head briefly.

Mac nods, as though he expected Jason to decline. He exhales a stream of smoke. “Gives me a reason to be back here, you know.”

“Sure.” Jason leans cautiously against one of the stacks of boxes. “So, what’s all this chatter that’s got you and everyone else so spooked?”

“Hmm.” Mac takes another long drag off his joint. “Just a few too many mouths telling the same story in my bar, I’d say. I’m used to hearing guys talk big about taking you out. But this is different, they’re all telling the same story about somebody else taking you out. Taking all the Bat folks out, and the Jokers and the Scarecrow gang too. Saying it’s gonna be open season on all the capes and metas in Gotham, that sorta thing.”

Jason really doesn’t like the sound of any of this. “Who’s supposed to be taking us all out, exactly?”

“That’s the thing about it. No one wants to say, I don’t think most of ‘em even know. You heard about that bloodbath down by the docks, a month back?”

Jason tenses. “Uh-huh.”

Mac looks shrewd, suddenly. “You know who did it?”

Jason can tell from his tone that he doesn’t know, but that he’s dying to. “If someone like you hasn’t found out yet, Mac, I think it’s because certain people want it that way. Just like certain people don’t want you talking to me.”

“‘Certain people’ can kiss my ass,” Mac grumbles.

“Here’s a question, totally unrelated,” Jason says. “Does the name ‘Romina Falcone’ mean anything to you?”

Mac stares at him, dumbfounded. “No....Romina? Mario Falcone’s little girl?”

Jason shrugs one shoulder, trying to appear casual. “You heard anything about her being back in town?”

“No…she’s been gone from Gotham for years. Sad story, really. You know it?” Jason does, but since this is a casual inquiry, he motions for Mac to go on. “Her daddy was Carmine Falcone’s son, a real straight-shooting type, good student, honest, the whole nine yards. Never touched the family business.” Another long inhale off the dwindling joint. “When Falcone first went to prison, gotta be over twenty-five years ago now, the Maroni family took over. Mario wouldn’t throw in with them, so they killed him and his wife. The kids, Mario Jr. and Romina, went to live with relatives in Chicago, last I heard.”

A mob orphan, Jason thinks, just like Dani. Except that Romina and her brother hadn’t gone to live with just any relatives - they’d gone to live with the Viti family, headed by none other than Carmine Falcone’s bloodthirsty sister. “So, no one’s heard from her since then?”

“No one heard from her before then, either. She couldn’t’ve been more than eight or nine when all that shit went down,” Mac says doubtfully. “You sure your intel’s good?”

Jason’s deep in thought, suddenly. “Didn’t say anything about intel,” he tells Mac. “Just asking a question. I gotta go, though. Okay if I slip out the door here?”

Mac gestures obligingly. “Hey, be my guest. I’m gonna do myself a favor and forget this whole conversation now.”

Jason snorts. “Good idea. See you around, Mac.”

“Yeah, yeah. Watch your back out there, kid.”

Jason’s out the door before Mac’s parting words echo back to him. Watch your back out there - what was he, eleven? Twelve, the last time he heard those words?

Maybe it’s a coincidence. Or, maybe Mac Deveroux has a better memory than Jason gives him credit for.

He puts his helmet back on. “Arsenal, status report.”

“All good over here, Hoodster,” Roy replies brightly. “Knocked out a handful of drunk and disorderlies outside a Buffalo Wild Wings just now. Didn’t realize the Bowery was so gentrified already.”

Ugh. “Not all of it is,” Jason sighs. “But, yeah. Sure isn’t how it used to be, over there.”

“No kidding. I’m watching this girl steal a souped-up Camero right now. Ran the plates, and based on the owner’s resume, I might let her get away with it.”

Jason snorts out a laugh. “Works for me. I’ll come meet you over there, just give me ten.”

He’s barely made it two blocks when Oracle’s voice sounds in his ear, her tone making him snap to attention at once. “Hood, we have a situation.”

He stops still on a dingy government housing rooftop. “Go ahead, O.”

“It seems Susie Falcone was sprung from jail earlier today - we missed it because her release was processed under another name, but I have the video feed, and it’s definitely her.”

Oh, fucking finally. Jason was starting to think he wouldn’t have a chance to get any real exercise tonight. “You got a name for me?”

“Guy by the name of Tiberius. Albanian, according to Red Robin. I’m running his face through Interpol, but it takes time.”

Jason hops onto a nearby fire escape and swings up to the roof of an office building to get a better vantage point towards the harbor. “Is B gonna crap himself if I take the lead on this?”

Barbara’s quiet for a moment. “Do you care?”

Jason flexes his hand over the grip of the gun strapped to his thigh. “I mean, no,” he starts to say, knowing as soon as the words are out of his mouth that it’s not entirely true. “Just...it’ll be a pain in the ass if I have to fight a whole fucking mafia, plus him, that’s all.”

Oh, incredibly convincing. Jason’s surprised he doesn’t hear her laughing down the line.

“I think you know how to avoid his ire,” Barbara says. “You’re closest, so I’m putting you on it.”

“Okay. Thanks,” Jason adds, feeling more like an idiot by the second. Forget Dick, talking to Barbara always makes him feel about twelve fucking years old. At least she’s not openly judgmental about it. “Hey, Oracle. One last thing.”

“Oh? I’m listening.”

“Can you do some digging into the Viti family? I feel like there’s gotta be a reason Romina came back to Gotham now, when she could’ve made a play for the city years ago. If she’s been in Chicago all this time, it’s probably something to do with them.”

“…Yes,” Barbara says, slowly. Jason hears a flurry of typing. “Since they trade over state lines, that data will be with the Feds…it’ll take me a little while, I’ve got my hands full with some more urgent things right now. But it’s a good idea, Hood. You’ll know more as soon as I do.”

“Okay,” Jason agrees. “Thanks,” he adds, lamely.

She lets out a short huff of amusement, and Jason’s past self cringes at him in embarrassment. “Oracle out.”

Right. Tiberius. Jason’s been waiting for a chance to take on this ostentatiously-named asshole. From his own observations that night with Dick, and from Tim’s reports, the guy is a particularly sleazy type of hired muscle. Fantastic. Jason needs the workout.

He gives himself a shake, and then takes off towards the police impound lot. Within ten minutes, he’s found a suitable bike and is on his way to the East End, changing comm channels in his helmet to call Roy. “Arsenal, are you good to finish up my patrol? I got a lead on somebody in this mob case I need to handle.”

“Wow, Hood. And here I thought we were having a boy’s night.”

“Hey, if nothing’s going on over there, you’re welcome to join.”

“Yeah? Hey asshole, stay down,” he snarls. “Maybe I’ll meet you after I finish up.”

Jason hears a moan and a thud on Roy’s end. “Anybody interesting?”

“Just some model citizen I found trying to drag a passed-out woman into his car. Said she was his girlfriend, but he neglected to mention she dumped his ass two months ago.”

“Break his legs,” Jason proposes, feeling a mild rage rising in his chest.

“Red Hood says I should break your legs,” Roy tells the guy. “It’s not really my style, but I’m just temping over here. You’d better leave town, because if he finds you doing this shit again, you’re gonna wish I took him up on it.”

Please, man, Jason hears in the background. He hadn’t honestly expected Roy to take his suggestion. Turning onto a side street, he hears an alarm start to go off somewhere close by. Robbery, sounds like. Exactly what he’s looking for.

“Alright, I’m starting my manhunt,” he says to Roy. “You’ve got my coordinates if you need to find me.”

Roy makes some kind of hooting sound that Jason takes to be acknowledgment. “Make me proud.”

Jason kills the bike in an alley and parks it under a staircase, slipping a loop of electrified wire over the handlebars. Easy enough to disarm, but he’s not planning to be gone long. The store being robbed is a liquor store, and the goons smashing it up aren’t criminals so hardened that they’ll take any effort on his part to crack. He storms in the front, grabs the first guy, and throws him over the counter. The second pulls a gun on him - he shoots it out of his hand a split second later, then fires three more shots into a glass case of upscale liquor, to fairly spectacular effect. The remaining guys all hit the floor, visibly terrified. Jason holsters his gun.

“Hope you guys don’t mind me crashing this little party you’re having,” he calls, kicking the fallen gun to the side. “I need to find a guy by the name of Tiberius. First one to talk gets to walk away.”

They all goggle at him. “Did he say Tiberius?” one of them whispers.

“We don’t know anybody called that,” the one he tossed behind the counter says.

Jason clicks his tongue. “Wrong answer.” He fires a rubber bullet into the guy’s shoulder, and he goes down. By the time they realize it’s not a live round, he’ll be in the wind.

He holsters the gun again, and turns his attention on the one he’d disarmed. “Your turn.”

“We don’t know where he is,” the guy says quickly. “I only met the guy once. He doesn’t give us orders.”

“Who does he give orders to,” Jason counters, advancing on him menacingly.

“Dealers, mostly? My cousin Zion reports to him, he slings down by the Wharfside Pool Hall. Swear to God, man, I haven’t seen Tiberius since he moved us all off the docks.”

Jason looks around at the wreckage of the store, realizing something. “You guys aren’t robbing this place, are you.”

They don’t say anything. Jason doesn’t need them to - their silence is confirmation enough. They’ve been tasked by Romina and her lackeys to trash this place and force the owners to sell. And now he’s helped them do it. Fuck, this is why he hates mob cases.

Nothing to be done about it now. Once he puts a bullet in Romina’s skull, maybe he can come back and see that these people get their store back. First, he’s gotta find her.

“Be seeing you, gentlemen,” he says, tossing out a couple smoke pellets. “Don’t expect it to be as painless next time.”

It’s a quick ride to the Wharfside Pool Hall, and Oracle sends him a photo of Zion Lee on the way. He finds him immediately, parked on the corner by the emergency exit. It’s a short conversation. Zion doesn’t know where to find Tiberius either, but he does tell Jason where to find his supplier, and once Jason takes a look at the supplier’s rap sheet, he decides there’s not going to be a conversation at all. Kidnapping, trafficking, sexual battery - hell, if Jason can’t find Tiberius tonight, at least he can take his aggression out on this piece of garbage.

He roars up to the supplier’s house on the stolen bike and throws a smoke bomb through the window, the rush of impending violence like fire in his veins. Then, as luck would have it, he sees a familiar muscular figure rushing out the back door towards a Jaguar that’s parked in the shadows at the end of a driveway.

Tiberius, in the flesh. Looks like Jason’s date with this supplier will have to be postponed.

Quickly, he considers his options. The adrenaline junkie in him is tempted by the prospect of a good old-fashioned car chase, but this area is just a bit too residential for him to be strictly comfortable with it. Too bad. He lets Tiberius get to the end of the driveway, and then he shoots out the Jag’s tires. Tiberius returns fire immediately, which, again, is not the most desirable outcome in a residential neighborhood. Jason aims a shot at his firing hand, but the guy is already ducked down and reloading.

Fine. Jason will just have to throw something bigger at him, he supposes. He revs the bike’s engine, kicks off and guns it towards the Jaguar, bailing off to the side when Tiberius stands up to shoot at him some more. The bike keeps going, propelled by momentum, and crashes beautifully into the driver's side of the Jag, knocking Tiberius hard to the pavement when the open door that he’s been using as a shield swings violently sideways with the rest of the car.

He doesn’t stay down, of course. Before the impact is even finished reverberating through both vehicles, he’s hopping back up, more nimbly than Jason would’ve expected, given his size, and taken off running down the street. Jason pushes himself up and hightails after him, the thrill of the hunt making him practically giddy, his heart accelerating with the pace of his boots against the concrete.

Damn, but it feels good to exert himself. Jason’s been cooped up for too fucking long. Tiberius is seriously in shape, and fast, almost as fast as Dick, too fast for Jason to catch without playing dirty. He’s running too hard to aim with any real accuracy at a moving target, but he squeezes off a half dozen shots at the car windows Tiberius is running past, and the resulting spray of breakaway glass slows him just enough that Jason is able to launch a kick at the back of his knees and tackle him to the ground. They tussle - Tiberius pulls a knife and manages to wedge the blade under Jason’s chestplate, but luckily the tip of it catches on the kevlar, and Jason is able to knock it away before it does any real damage. He headbutts Tiberius savagely, breaking his nose and sending him sprawling out over the basement landing of a boarded-up tattoo parlor.

Before Jason can get up and draw his weapon, Tiberius is on him again, fists coming in like hammer blows and seeking out all the soft spots of his suit with frankly impressive accuracy. Jason’s pulse is pounding in his ears, he’s always gotten a kick out of fighting guys that are bigger than him - though, admittedly, most guys he went up against as Robin met that qualification. Fighting Tiberius is a little nostalgic, in that sense.

How did he used to do it? Bruce had taught him all the fastest ways to incapacitate someone, and Jason’s lived enough by now that he can admit that more often than not, Bruce’s way works just fine. Maybe with a few embellishments, depending on the perp. He’d need better footing, but he could do that here. He could snap Tiberius’s collarbone with the flat of his hand, knee him in the balls, and finish him off with a punch to the throat. But before Bruce, before he’d had his street fighting skills polished and streamlined, a younger, scrappier Jason would’ve had a different strategy. Back then he’d had to be patient, had to last out his enemies and watch for the moment they overextended themselves, the moment they let their defenses slip because they were sure they had him. A school bully, taking his attention off Jason long enough to call to his friends. His mother’s heroin dealer, pausing at the top of the long brick staircase to tell Jason not to bother checking on her. Batman, parking the Batmobile in an alley and just leaving it there.

Nostalgia wins, and Jason waits. He takes the punches and waits until Tiberius gets cocky, having landed a few well-placed blows to his ribs under the thickest parts of his armor. He rears up over Jason, sneering, hand going to Jason’s throat, arm fully extended and vulnerable - and Jason moves. He rocks up into a crouch, catches Tiberius��s wrist in his hand and wrenches, shattering the bones in it easily and dislocating his shoulder in the process. Within a couple of seconds, they’re back on their feet, but Tiberius is unsteady, his breathing thick and labored, and Jason takes the opportunity to kick him square in the chest, sending him crashing down into the walk-out landing and through the building’s flimsy door.

Then he follows Tiberius into the basement, and before he can dodge, a bullet catches him right in the thigh. Shit. He’d assumed the gun had been lost back at the car, but he hadn’t actually checked - an embarrassingly rookie mistake, Jesus. His armor stops it, but it still hurts like a motherfucker. “Real cute,” he snarls, stomping on his opponent’s broken wrist and picking up the gun. He debates shooting him in a few non-lethal places, but Dick’s face suddenly pops into his head, and then Dani’s, and the worst of his anger ebbs away. He empties the clip instead, pocketing the gun. “Now that that’s out of the way, you and me, we’ve got a few things to discuss.”

“Fuck you,” Tiberius seethes, curled up and clutching his wrist in pain. There’s blood all over his face, dripping onto the floor.

“Better men than you have tried, Tiberius.” Jason rubs his hands together. “Here, I’ll make it easier for you. I know you’re working for Romina Falcone. I know she’s back in Gotham, and I know she ordered the hits on your old boss, and most of your old coworkers. I know you sprung her cousin Susie out of jail earlier today, and I know she’s got you running the drug trade down here. So don’t bother telling me any of that shit. I just want to know two things: what her endgame is, and where I can find her.” He steps on Tiberius’s knee, puts just enough pressure to make him cry out. “Talk. Now.”

“Get the fuck off me,” Tiberius gasps, kicking out uselessly with his other leg. “I’ll tell you what you want to know, just let me up.”

Jason stands back, ready to kneecap the guy permanently if he goes on the offensive again.

Tiberius sits up, panting. “Shit. Fuck, I can’t believe I didn’t see this coming.”

“Hood, I lost your GPS signal,” Roy says in his ear. “Fortunately, the trail of destruction was pretty easy to follow. I’m on the warehouse roof outside, across the street.”

“She set me up,” Tiberius goes on. “She fucking set me up, that bitch.” He looks up at Jason, shaking his head. “Yeah, Romina asked me to bail Susie out of jail today. Probably so one of you fuckers would come after me. She’ll be pissed as hell that she didn’t get Batman.”

Jason grinds his teeth. “Arsenal, we’re gonna have incoming soon,” he barks into his comm.

“Thank God, I’d hate to get bored up here,” Roy replies easily.

“Whatever backup you have, it’s not gonna be enough,” Tiberius says. “Romina doesn’t take chances. I can’t tell you where she is, couldn’t even tell you the neighborhood. I’ve had two meetings with her at her office, they had me drugged and blindfolded coming and going. Drove for a long-ass time, too, but that doesn’t mean anything.”

“Fine,” Jason snaps. “So you’ve had meetings with her. Tell me what she’s after.”

“What she’s after? She’s after everything,” Tiberius says bluntly. “The whole goddamn city. Thinks it’s hers by right, because of who her grandpa was. She’s fucking nuts, even for Gotham.”

Everything. Jason turns it over in his head. She’s not just seizing control of the East End, not just the canal, but everything. They’ve got an overachieving mob boss on their hands. Out-fucking-standing.

“I’ve got twenty guys coming in hot, Hood.” Roy sounds tense. “More trucks pulling in. I can take down most of them, but I think they’re just the first wave. We don’t have enough ammo for this.”

“She hates you guys,” Tiberius laughs bitterly. “If you get away, she’s gonna lose her shit. Sucks I won’t be around to see it.”

“A real shame,” Jason agrees, distracted. He can hear the sound of fighting outside. Time to bail. “Who else is - “

“Hood, we have to go, now.”

Jason pulls the gun from his shoulder holster. “If you survive, I’ll be seeing you soon,” he promises, voice low and deadly. The look on Tiberius’s face tells him just how likely he thinks that is, and Jason can’t help but agree. The blindfolds, the errands, the lack of family connection all add up to one thing: disposable. Tiberius is no made man, he’s just a hired hand, and it’s clear Romina has decided to terminate his employment. Jason remembers Tim’s story about Tiberius passing around photos of murdered kids to the grunts at Intergang, and he feels no sudden impulse to drag the guy to safety.

Outside, he and Roy shoot their way through the dozen or so remaining mobsters, Jason aiming as non-lethally as possible. Roy’s taser arrows cut the last few down, and then they hit the street running, down the block, through a boarded up ice cream shop, down an alley, and up to the rooftops. Jason hears a few gunshots below them when they make the jump over a particularly wide gap, but he keeps them running north, away from the harbor and towards the river, hoping to lose their pursuers on unfamiliar turf. It works. Romina may have her sights set on all of Gotham, but most of her henchmen have seldom ventured more than a few blocks out of the territory they grew up in.

After about half a mile, they stop to catch their breath, and Jason sits down to massage his thigh where the bullet had struck earlier.

“How’d you get over here, anyways?” Jason asks. They’d left their bikes in Jason’s storage unit on the west side of Crime Alley, Roy’s borrowed from Dick for the evening. If Roy left the bike next to a shootout, Dick’s going to be mad as hell.

“Helicopter arrow,” Roy deadpans. Jason looks for something to throw at him. “No, I just took an Uber. Grand theft auto’s not really my thing, these days.”

Jason stares at him. “Since when?”

Roy shrugs. “Since Lian started asking questions about it, I guess. It’s just like...whenever she hears about a crime, like finding out why we lock the car doors when we leave it, she asks me all these details about it. Sometimes she asks if I’ve ever done it, and I can’t lie to her, you know? I want to be able to tell her what she wants to hear, which is ‘no, Daddy hasn’t stolen any cars lately’.” He points at Jason accusingly. “Whatever. Don’t judge me. You’re just lucky yours can’t talk yet.”

“I didn’t even say anything,” Jason protests. He objects strongly to Roy referring to Dani as his, too, but that’s probably exactly why Roy did it, so there’s no point bringing it up. “I’ve got a safe house not too far from here, next to a chop shop. Does it count as stealing to Lian if the car is already stolen?”

Roy laughs. “Not sure she can parse the nuance there. How about you do the stealing, and that’s the technicality I can skate on.”

“Fine.” Jason gets to his feet, wincing slightly as his thigh burns.

“You all good?”

“Yeah, just got a lucky shot in. My fault for not checking to see if he still had the damn gun.”

“Hey, at least in the Manor you’ve got all the whole Bat Hospital at your disposal,” Roy grins. “Among other perks, of course.”

Jason is very glad Roy can’t see him blush under the helmet. He was just thinking about how he wants to get back and see Dani - how he’ll need to take his armor off to check out the damage to his leg - how taking his armor off always wakes her up, so he’ll have to do it in Dick’s room - how the offer is on the table for him to sleep in Dick’s bed -

Business appears to be booming at the chop shop, and Jason decides on stealing a flashy little Lexus coupe that makes Roy whistle in appreciation. They drive back through the Bowery, stopping once so Jason can beat the crap out of a bouncer-turned-wannabe-pimp trying to sell girls outside of a gentlemen’s club. Then they get back to the bikes, and he checks in with Oracle to see if there’s any other action they need to investigate before they call it a night.

“I think you boys have stirred up enough trouble tonight,” she tells him firmly. “There’s been surprisingly little action in your neck of the woods, actually. Bludhaven is the hot zone tonight, I sent Black Bat and Spoiler over there earlier to help Robin out.”

“Fingerstripes will be sorry he missed it,” Jason says. “Russians again?”

“Arsonists, this time. At least five of them.”

“Shit. Sounds more like a Gotham thing than ‘Haven.”

“It does,” she agrees. “It feels choreographed, somehow. I’m going to keep looking into it, along with the Viti family. Oracle out.”

Roy raises his eyebrows. “Arsonists, huh?”

Jason snorts in surprise. “You hacked my comm line?”

“Let’s put it this way: Babs let me hack your comm line.”

True enough. “Sounds like they’ve got everything in hand, at least,” Jason says. “Don’t really feel like dragging ass all the way to Jersey’s armpit. You sleeping at the Manor tonight?”

Roy scratches the back of his head. “Thought about it, but I think I’m gonna text Donna and quietly crash girl’s night. Whenever I get shot at, or almost blown up or whatever, I just kind of need to see Lian. Tell Dick I’ll bring the bike back tomorrow.”

Jason nods. “I’ll catch you later, then.” In truth, he knows exactly how Roy feels. He’s dying to get back to Dani as quickly as possible, to see her and touch her and make sure she’s okay. It doesn’t make sense - he’s the one who got shot at, she’s been in arguably the most secure location in the whole tri-state area. But somehow, in spite of his bruised ribs and what’s sure to be a wicked hematoma on his thigh, all he can think about is keeping her safe. He’d walk through fire to make sure of it, he knows without a doubt. Fortunately, all he has to do tonight is make the trek back over the Robert Kane bridge.

Roy gives his shoulder a friendly squeeze, and then takes off in the direction of the old Titans bunker in Robbinsville. Jason parks the Lexus in his storage unit, arms the security system, and then kicks his bike into gear, making a beeline for the highway and the bridge, which will take him back to the Manor, and back to Dani.

***

#jaydick #taking huge liberties with canon over here but yolo #no one disregards canon more than dc herself #i promise the next chapter will have more actual jaydick and less Baby Justifying Plot ;;;; #my fics #heartlandverse

[notebooks-and-laptops]

My thoughts on Yennefer and the 'wanting a child' subplot

Okay so since watching the Witcher the first time my thoughts on the storyline of Yennefer wanting a baby have deeply changed. I know theres a lot of people annoyed at this subplot because it's a box women are often pushed into and yeah that sucks. But with Yennefer I think they chose to do this almost to highlight the fact that she doesnt fit into this stereotype. Let me explain.

Yennefer would be an awful mother. She wants and she wants and she wants - if a tiny baby shows up in her life do you really think she isnt going to resent it for taking away her agency, for requiring constant attention, for needing her? Theres little glory to be had in being just some mother (the type of glory Yen wants anyway).

So why does she want one?

She makes the decision to try and have a baby after one conversation with a new mother. She hears in that mothers explanation what shes been after: love (or adoration - I think Yen often mingles up the two in her mind which is ALSO cool for her character because it subverts the woman searching for love trope but ANYWAY). And so she fixates on it. But let's be honest, if she raised a child theres no actual guarantee that child would grow to love her. All her hopes are on this one thing - just like all her Hope's were pinned on getting to be at court Aiden which didn't satisfy her either. When Geralt asks her about children, shes not saying 'oh they're cute and I'd like to raise one to be strong and powerful like me' she says 'I dreamed of being important to someone'. Its not about the child at all - it's about HER. it's a selfish want.

And I think that's in part because she CANT have it and she knows that. She wants EVERYTHING as she says, and this things been taken and what if this is the missing piece? The bit that would have made her satisfied? It seems to do it for other women- so why not her? And she wants and wants and wants Yen does, and shes also angry I think deeply and unsure where to direct that - isnt this a good outlet? Something she never really felt the loss of before is suddenly all she sees because she wants everything and she can see this as something taken.

Further (god this is getting long) I think her switch to wanting a child is also about her dissatisfaction with her beauty and with being in court Aiden. In the beginning the trade probably seemed worth it: she had wanted to be beautiful, to be adored and loved. But it got her nowhere, didn't satisfy her, didn't make her life better. We're not shown it in the show but I imagine it actually made it harder - men adored her but for the WRONG reasons and I bet Yens the type to get pissy about that. So when the beauty she thought would make her happy doesnt, she turns to the thing it took from her as part of her anger that it didn't work.

Ultimately Yen is going to be Ciris mum and I think shell be good at that. But Ciri is a teenage girl not a baby. Yennefers storyline in season one isnt the story of a woman who desperately wants a baby RIGHT NOW and oh woe is me I'm infertile. Theres no crying over it, just a sort of indignant anger. Yennefer is shown not to want to be a mother but simply to want SOMETHING more and so shes fixating on various things to try and get that - it's part of the tale of her dissatisfaction with everything she thought would satisfy her.

#yennefer #witcher yennefer #yennefer imagine #yennefer analysis #witcher analysis #yeskier #yenskier #gerefer #gereaskier #geraskifer #the witcher #the witcher tv #the witcher Netflix

[wqrfwasf]

A Family consists of your relatives

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[5-falsehoods-phonated]

March Ado About Nothing

Series Summary - A series of one-shots and  drabbles written based off of prompts posted in the TSS Fanworks Collective server. The goal is to take traditional whump prompts and fill them in the least-angsty way possible every day through March.

A note that though some of these fills are written bait and switch style (written in a way you think is going in one direction but reveals it to be the opposite towards the end) they are all written in a fluffy or silly style with very little, if any at all, actual angst.

Day 2: Stuff Your Secrets

Summary: Stuffed animals are good and normal to have no matter what age you are- except for Remus. Logan quickly fixes that line of thinking.

Prompts: "Please, no more!, Extreme Weather, *Dirty Secret*      

Ships: platonic intrulogical (Logan & Remus)

Warnings: mild angst, guilt for having stuffed animals. Let me know if there are!

General taglist (ask to be added or removed): @/janus-is-an-adorable-snek-boi  @/im-an-anxious-wreck  (in an effort to not flood your inboxes I’m only tagging in the first part ^-^)

WC: 1235

Stuffed animals, with all their innocence and connection to childlike wonder and imagination, weren’t usually something that was defined as a dirty secret someone would desperately try to hide away at all costs. Having stuffed animals was normal and useful to mental health: they were soft and plushy and you could cuddle them for comfort, they were amazing to grip onto when one was sick or in pain and, if you didn’t want to feel odd talking to yourself to work out one idea or other, you could always prop them up as a makeshift audience to listen to you infodump for hours and they would never get annoyed!

So no, stuffed animals themselves weren’t the problem, nor was having them as a fully grown and “mature” adult. The problem came because the owner was Remus, and Remus had come to learn that if he had something it was automatically thought to be something gross or dangerous or disturbing- especially if that’s not what it looked lille from the outside. He was the one that would play stupid pranks of showing someone something rather cute but have it open its mouth to reveal several jaws and a tentacle, or give someone a teddy bear the melted into foul smelling ooze when they held it. Do this enough times and be repressed for a decade or two to boot and you have a reputation that- while fair in its own right if he really thought about it- make having things that were actually innocent in nature a bit problematic if he didn’t want to be scrutinized within an inch of his life.

And so, his dirty secret remained hidden even from Janus, who Remus knew would never make fun of him or judge him for something so trivial but years of hiding made him skittish anyway. The irony of intrusive thoughts hiding something definitely wasn’t lost on him but he only shook the thought away as he continued shoving his well worn friends into a drawer in the closet while shooting a look at the clock. Logan would be coming in any minute now to help him organize a few of his projects that still needed fine tuning if he was going to show his brother any time soon; even though their relationship was still a little rocky...especially after knocking him out for an entire episode and some hateful words were said by the lighter side, they had both scraped up enough indignant reluctance to apologize and begin working together- however tentatively- on a couple different things to test the waters. And Remus wasn’t worried about it all! A second opinion from someone as observant and down to earth as Logan was never hurt was all.

He had just finished shoving everything closed and willing the closet to stay shut when there was a knock at the door. Grinning wide he sank in directly behind the logical side and opened the door from behind, making the other stiffen and then roll his eyes at Remus before walking into the room, immediately going for the desk and paying no attention to the slightly disappointed pout Remus was sporting over not getting a bigger reaction. He knew Logan was just as dramatic as any other side, he just had to find a sweet spot- maybe he’d steal his jam at some point. Appearing on top of the desk he gestured to a few notebooks strewn around.

“It’s a lot so buckle in! I haven’t had an outlet for my ideas in years!”

Logan peered at him from over his glasses. “So long as nothing is explicitly pornographic or sadistic in nature I’m willing to bet most of these will be harmless enough to include somewhere in future projects.” Screwing his mouth to the side Remus simply bounced in place, never having been able to sit still for very long especially when things were quiet. Thankfully Logan didn’t seem to mind, simply skimming through various sketchbooks and notebooks and placing flashcards to mark certain spots for whatever it was he was looking for. He jolted in surprise as something cold and gooey was pressed into his hands, looking up as Logan took his hand away and resumed his task.

“To fidget with if you like, I know sitting quietly can’t be easy but I appreciate your patience.”

Blinking in surprise Remus began idly stretching the goop around, the bright green slime enveloping his hand and sticking in a way that was oddly very pleasing as a tactile stim. He’d have to make more of this at some point and see if he could bathe in it; surely Roman wouldn’t mind one of their lakes turned into slime as long as it was for creativity's sake. He was so engrossed in the wonderful new thing he held in his hands that he didn’t hear the closet food creaking until it was too late, the overstuffed doors bursting open and spilling various items out onto the floor, multiple phallic shapes and odd body pillows were the least of his worries as he watched all of the stuffed animals he had shoved away spill out into the open in all their cute, fluffy glory. His chest constricted painfully as he shot a panicked look to Logan who was regarding the plushies waily as if they would come to life and maul him at any moment- which, while as in character as that might be- for some reason he couldn’t bear the thought of them being perceived that way.

“They’re safe I swear! Just stuffed animals I uh- there’s nothing- I just like-” His throat refused to cooperate and he was left gaping stupidly as Logan set the notebook down and stood up. “No, please!”

Remus reached out for Logan, knowing what he was pleading with him for but suddenly very aware of his racing thoughts telling him to make sure he wouldn’t get into trouble- what if he told Patton, or took them away because he wasn’t meant to have them? Or-

“I’ll be right back Remus. I promise, I’m just going to get mine.”

His? He was gone before Remus could question it as he ripped and pulled and mashed the goop in his hands nervously, wishing the other had left him with more of an explanation. He didn’t have long to wait however as Logan came back in with an armload of...something that was prompt laid on his bed. As he came closer he realized they were stuffed animals- Logan’s he guessed from the teddy bear adorned with a tie and a snail with a lab coat. But there was also a well worn fluffy purple dog, a calico cat with galaxy print for spots and a stegosaurus with a rainbow scale print on it. He looked back to Logan who smiled warmly.

“You don’t have to keep them a secret, Remus, at least not for me. I’d be a hypocrite to judge you and I’m very willing to bet the other’s would be as well.”

“Bet you my bug collection!” Remus shouted before he could think. Logan pulled a face. “I’m not trading you again- last time you didn’t say they spit acid and my desk was ruined.”

Cackling he twitched a finger and the toys were back on his bed where they belonged, though he did sneak a small squid plush in with Logan’s- as thanks.

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#false writes #fluff #mild angst #hurt/comfort mild #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #logan sanders #remus sanders #platonic intrulocal

[eafsegse]

I would be alone

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[kieraswriting]

Shiny

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Masterpost

Patton had five. Only five of the precious chocolates. He had been given Lindor chocolates. Two red, which were milk chocolate, two deep blue, dark chocolate, and one was a bright gold color. Patton opened the chocolate and popped it in his mouth. He loved white chocolate just as much as he loved milk chocolate, with dark chocolate coming third. 

He kept the chocolate in his mouth, part of him wanting to bite down, and a larger part wanting to savor it. He crumpled the wrapper and put it in his pocket.

He walked by the kitchen, which was a mess, and Roman who was making himself a snack. 

“Hey, Roman!”

“Oh, hi, Pat.”

“When you’re done, would you mind to pick up in the kitchen a bit?” Patton dropped his wrapper in the trash can. He turned back to look at Roman, who was watching him, indecision on his face as he screwed the lid back onto the jar he was holding. 

“Yeah, sure.”

Patton smiled brightly. “Thank you, Roman!”

Roman returned the smile with his own dramatic flair. “I’ll get a pat-ton of work done!”

Patton squealed at the joke. “You know, I knew there was a reason you were able to conquer so much of the world.

Logan groaned loudly from in the living room.

Patton chuckled on his way out. 

••^*^••

As soon as the coast was clear Roman snatched at the foil wrapper. He was determined to replace his collection, and this time he was going to use each one as he got it, rather than waiting until he had the full number. He put it in his pocket and cleaned up the kitchen, which didn’t take all that long for someone of his skill and speed. 

Then he rushed to his room. He pulled out his largest piece of posterboard and his paint. The first thing he did was paint a background of a night sky, and then a large, bare branch in the foreground. This itself took a good hour, since he wanted it to be as close to perfect as possible.

He took the foil wrapper out of his pocket and carefully smoothed it out. Then he ran back to the kitchen and got a piece of tin foil to practice with first. He cut a tiny square, and had to pause again to find the right tool. After searching for a while, he brought two pins and a bottle of glue. He wrapped the tiny piece of foil around the head of the pin, and gently folded out the points. He used the other pin to take a tiny drop of glue from the bottle and place it on the posterboard. Then he set the foil on the glue and carefully pulled the pin out.

It looked like a tiny, cup like flower. Perfect. He did a few more practice ones, placing them in places that, when the work was complete, would be less obvious. Then he cut the wrapper and made the little flowers out of it, placing them in places of honor as the first piece of foil ought to be. 

Roman hung the unfinished work high on the wall, where nothing should be able to crush the delicate flowers. He glanced at the clock, which was now beside the incomplete masterpiece, and realized that he had been working on it for another hour. He had known that it took time to make the tiny, delicate flowers, but not that much. 

Well, every challenge only made the goal more worth reaching! Now, how was he going to get the next piece?

He could always summon a bunch of candies, but that seemed like cheating. Especially since he couldn’t eat very many of them himself. (A princely body had to be maintained) Maybe he could find a way to give them to the other sides and get the wrappers. 

••^*^••

“I am so confused.” Virgil said, once his door was shut. 

Princey, Roman Sanders, had just given him, completely unprompted, a bag of candy. 

Maybe Patton had something to do with it? It certainly seemed a more Patton-like thing to do. Unless it was poisoned or something. 

He set the bag on his bed. If he cut one open, would the poison be obvious? 

••^*^••

“How did you know?!!” Patton said, clutching the bag to his chest. “These are my favorite!”

Roman chuckled, a bright sparkle in his eye. “I thought I saw you with one earlier, and guessed that you might enjoy some more.”

Patton hugged Roman. “Thank you!”

••^*^••

“While I appreciate the gesture, I am not fond of chocolate,” Logan said, trying to decline gently. 

“Oh. That’s fine.” Roman waved the bag out of existence. “Sorry to bother you, specs.”

••^*^••

Deceit’s eyes flickered between the bag and the person offering it. 

“You came all the way down here— just to offer me candy?”

“Uh, yeah,” Roman said, shifting his weight slightly. 

Deceit didn’t need to be able to sense lies to see through this one. He leaned out a bit farther from his doorway. “And what do you want in return?”

“What? Nothing. Can’t I give a gift?”

“Liesss,” Deceit said, his tongue flickering out involuntarily. 

Roman put on a dramatically offended face, and opened his mouth to protest, but then stopped. “Fine. I want the wrappers when you’re done.”

Deceit’s mind went immediately to the basket of foil wrappers Roman had given Remus to get him out of the light side. Remus had cut each one into tiny sharp confetti, which he loved to dump over the head of an unsuspecting side. But still, it seemed suspicious, even when he could no longer taste a lie. 

“That’ss all?”

“That’s it!” Roman said, smiling, assured of victory. 

Deceit narrowed his eyes, but accepted the bag. “I make no promisssesss…”

••^*^••

It was like a quest! Roman searched the mindscape every day for the wrappers, taking them back to his room to form the flowers with them. The very challenge of doing it without the others knowing made it feel so much more satisfying. 

He stepped back to admire the poster. One bunch of flowers was now outlined, and there were a few other flowers sprinkled around. This was going to take time. And more candy wrappers. Honestly, he was so pleased with the candy wrapper idea. They were almost gem-like in their colors, and the foil was thin and soft, easily shaped, though also easily ruined. He snapped, and a glass case covered the work of art, protecting it from any accidents. 

••^*^••

“I’ll take it, you don’t need to get up,” Logan said, gathering up the trash Patton had beside him on his way to the kitchen. 

Roman’s eyes followed him, and soon so did the man. Logan had been noticing that he was acting strangely, but hadn’t thought it to be too strange. Perhaps just a side effect of being in a slow period, at least as far as Creativity was concerned.

Logan tried to ignore him. He reached up into a cabinet with his free arm, distracted enough for the moment that he only thought of his original purpose, retrieving his jar of Crofters. But it wasn’t there. He looked in the fridge. But again, no. 

“Hey, jelly maniac,” Roman said. 

Logan turned to him. He was wearing an infuriating smirk, and holding the Crofters. 

“I’ll trade you,” Roman continued, gesturing towards the handful of trash Logan still held. 

For a moment, Logan frowned, deeply confused. Then, all at once, the pieces clicked together. 

“It’s your raccoon instincts. That’s why you’ve handed out candy to everyone. Candy in bright foil wrappers. It’s also why you’ve been eyeing piles of garbage as if they might contain gold. I see now. Yes, you may have it. Feel free.”

“I-it’s not raccoon instincts!” Roman blustered. “I’ve been creating with them.”

“That does not negate the possibility that your instincts are at play here. Likely combining it with your creativity has only made the impulse stronger, especially since you’ve had less of a creative outlet recently.”

Logan held out his hand for the Crofters, and deposited the trash in Roman’s hand. Roman picked out the foil and dropped the rest in the trash can. And then, Logan had an idea. 

••^*^••

“Virgil, have you also received chocolate from Roman?” Logan asked. 

“Yeah, a couple days ago. Did he give you some too? Is it like a new holiday or something?”

Logan waved aside the questions. “I wanted to know if I could have the wrappers when you’ve finished with them. There is an experiment that they may be useful for.”

“What kind of experiment? And didn’t he give you some?”

“He has offered some to me, but at the time I was not conducting the experiment, and saw no use in them.”

“Ah. I haven’t eaten mine either.”

Logan nodded. “And would it be possible for me to have the wrappers?”

“I mean, sure, not like I have a use for them.”

The next day, Logan had a small stack of seven. Now his experiment could really begin. Now he just had to think of something Roman wouldn’t want to give him. 

“Roman, I want your sash.”

“You—What??? Why?” 

“The reason why is immaterial. What matters is that I want your sash and I am willing to give you something in exchange.” Logan held up one of the wrappers, which he smoothed out into a perfect rectangle. 

Roman’s face, which was already comically confused, now had a distinct note of greed in it. “I can conjure you one—“

“No.” Logan interrupted. “I want the one you’re wearing.”

Roman’s face went back to confused. “But why?”

“As I said, the reason why is immaterial.” Logan said, pulling another foil from a different pocket. 

“How many do you have?” Roman asked breathlessly, his eyes widening. 

“At the moment, I have three.” Logan replied, which was true, he had left the others in his room. 

“I’ll give it to you for three,” Roman said, already pulling the sash off. 

Logan completed the trade successfully. As he left, Roman conjured himself a new sash. 

The results were as he had expected. The next step would be to see how far Roman could be pushed to go. He would probably have to get more than four wrappers. 

••^*^••

“Roman? Did you need something?”

Roman shuffled, embarrassment clear in every line of his body, if the beet red of his face wasn’t enough to go by. His head snapped up. 

“Logan is the best side. He’s the smartest and always knows the right thing to do. He knows more than we do and we always need his input. You should listen to him more often than you do.”

Then he tried to sink out. 

“Oh, no you don’t!” Thomas said, pulling him back. “What was that all about? Did you lose a bet?”

Roman groaned and slouched onto the couch, covering his face with his hand. “Don’t make this any worse than it has to be, please.”

Thomas summoned Logan. 

Logan was full out giggling. He had his hand over his mouth and was hunched over he was laughing so hard. “I-I’m so-sorry, Thomas, this is-is unpro-“ his words were broken up by another round of laughter and Roman groaned again. 

Thomas started laughing despite himself. He was inclined to feel bad for Princey, but it really was funny, and Logan’s laughter was surprisingly contagious. 

“Oh, not both of you!” Roman wailed, sending them both further into hysterics. 

Thomas was distracted enough that he missed Roman sinking out. He’d have to summon him back. 

“Let him—let him have some time,” Logan said, as if he could read Thomas’s mind. Though that was actually very possible. 

“What was all that?” Thomas asked. 

“I can’t. I already laughed at him, if I told you too he really would get upset.”

And so Thomas was curious about it. His curiosity remained, waxing and waning, for about a month, before being sated. 

“I—“ Roman cleared his throat. “I have a present for you.”

Thomas gasped. “A present? That’s so sweet! It’s not even my birthday.”

Roman shrugged, but a smile crept up over his face. He turned to the wall. “So to make sure it gets here alright, can we move some of these?”

“Uh, sure. Is it that big?” Thomas took down a picture. 

“It’s… not very small.”

They cleared the wall and stood back. Roman snapped, and a massive picture hung on the wall. It was a branch of a tree, covered in glittering flowers of all colors, with origami leaves that were a bright metallic green, against a dark night. 

“Roman… this is beautiful.”

Roman swelled up with happiness, and his smile looked ready to split his face. He looked at Thomas, his eyes bright with hope. “You really like it?”

“I do. I really do.” Thomas grabbed Roman in a hug. “It’s amazing. Thank you.”

#roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #platonic logince #character!thomas #more than the sum of our parts

[tearsofthemis]

Tears of Themis : Chapter 1 “Social Snobbery” Part 1

[Masterlist] | [Next Part]

Location- Industrial Warehouse

(Early in the morning, a bustle of movement disturbed the quiet night at a raw chemical warehouse situated in Stellis City’s Industrial Zone. A group of warehouse clerks that should have been on break opened the warehouse doors as they manned robots that lugged barrel after barrel of raw materials which were loaded on carts.)

Man on Comms: “Raven, please report on the investigation progress.”

(The man called Raven moved to hide himself behind storage containers, and adjusted his night-vision goggles, turning on thermal imaging.)

Man on Comms: “Raven, do you copy? Did something happen to you?”

(Raven tapped on his earpiece three times and silenced it. The voice in the comms was effectively cut with it.)

Warehouse Clerk A: “These late night shifts are awful, what sorta business couldn’t we have left for tomorrow morning?”

Warehouse Clerk B: “Shut your trap; the sooner you stop complaining, the faster we can finish our job.”

Warehouse Clerk A: “Speaking of, where did Minister Xu go? He was…”

Warehouse Clerk B: “I told you to shut it! Are you daft?”

(The reprimanded clerk scratched their neck and went quiet. Soon after, the raw materials were loaded into the truck, and they drove away. The opening and closing of the warehouse doors, and even the workers’ small dispute, was semi-audible through Raven’s earpiece. His brows furrowed. He must have picked up something in their conversation… either that, or he was simply dissatisfied with the quality of his gear.)

Raven: “An abnormal delivery…”

(His fingers were like a blur as he typed away on his smart watch, pulling up information on the warehouse owners. Raven pressed his earpiece, and sent his last transmission of the night.)

Raven: “He Yin, Ya Ning, no anomalies detected. Mark Hai O’Sen.”

Without waiting for a confirmation on the other end, Raven turned and stalked away with the stealth of a black leopard, fading into the pitch black tar of the night…

~~~~~~

Location- Outside the Law Firm

(It’s Saturday morning, and the CBD building is quiet. Compared to the usual hub hub from workers rushing about on a business day, the silent streets were quite unsettling.)

MC: “Should I go pick up something sweet? It’s been tough working overtime to prepare for the exam, I ought to treat myself! I guess that’s decided!” 

(Just as I walked through the office doors, I nearly crashed into a deliveryman as he halted me on the way to the dessert shop.)

Delivery Man: “Excuse me, is uh… mis Law Firm in this building?”

MC: “This is Themis Law Firm, who are you looking for?”

MC: (Themis, the goddess of good council’s, name is difficult to pronounce… Even if Zhai Xing came up with the name with good implications, she seems to have failed to consider whether or not the name would even stick with others.)

Delivery Man: “Does Zuo Ran work here? I have a package under his name.”

MC: “Lawyer Zuo? He’s off today, so he won’t be in. Can I accept the parcel on his behalf? I’m also a lawyer at Themis, I can show you my work badge.”

[Game Instructions: Enter your name]

Delivery Man: “By our policy, it does have to be the intended recipient… but a lawyer is worthy of being trusted; I’ll have to ask you to forward it then.”

MC: “I-it’s heavy! I should put this down before heading to the dessert shop.”

~~~~~~

Location- Zuo Ran’s Office

MC: “Huu… what a heavy package. It must be case files again, why can’t they just send it over electronically…”

MC: “Eh? Lawyer Zuo?!”

(I-is this the Zuo Ran I’ve come to know? The chief of Themis, the youngest elite lawyer in the industry, Zuo Ran? He sat, slouched in the leather chair, as the first rays of the morning sun shone through the windows and onto his face, but it did little to erase the fatigue that had settled between his brows. At this moment, he appeared almost as if he were a traveler who had just returned from a perilous and long journey, and had finally put down his heavy bags and had a moment to breathe. But not before the weariness settled in.)

MC: “Lawyer Zuo, you....” Zuo Ran: “MC, it’s you?”

MC: “I- I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were in here, so I entered without knocking…”

(Zuo Ran loosened his tie and sighed. Compared to his usual immaculately pressed suit, seeing him like this was like unlocking something that wasn’t meant to be seen by others.)

Zuo Ran: “It’s alright…”

~~~

[Investigate Zuo Ran’s tie]

MC: (Lawyer Zuo changes his tie everyday… This is the same tie that he wore yesterday, it seems like he stayed overnight at the Law Firm.)

~~~

[Investigate books]

MC: (What’s this? I’ve never seen these books in Lawyer Zuo’s office before. “Undecided Event Book”... the name is so strange. Is this Lawyer Zuo’s new case? Unless… it’s some kind of weird novel he’s been reading?

~~~

[Investigate papers]

MC: (Isn’t this in regards to the trans-national trade dispute? The client has been quite unreasonable; perhaps that’s the reason for Lawyer Zuo’s troubles. Zhai Xing has urged Lawyer Zuo to find someone to help him with his workload many times. Although I don’t know how Lawyer Zuo feels about her suggestion.)

~~~

MC: “Lawyer Zuo, you look really pale, are you sick? “

(Zuo Ran pressed his temples as his brows knit together.)

Zuo Ran: “I’m alright, nothing’s wrong.”

MC: (Are you really alright?)

(Zuo Ran’s voice sounded raspy. It seems like he is mustering up strength just to respond to my questions.)

MC: “I’ll go make you some coffee, I’ll leave your package on the ottoman.”

Zuo Ran: “Alright, I’ll have to trouble you for that much.”

~~~

Location- Break Room

MC: “Lawyer Zuo must’ve worked overtime the entire night, right? Those strange books and files on his desk… did he take up a new case? If that’s how hard elite lawyers work, I have to ramp up my efforts! I must pass the intermediate exams!”

(An enticing aroma wafted from the coffee maker. Just as I was preparing Zuo Ran’s mug, someone’s device started vibrating.)

MC: “Hm?” (The notifications were coming from a tablet beside the coffee maker. I pressed the power button, and the screen lit up to life.)

~~~

[Investigate notification]

MC: “‘Sky-high copyright lawsuit verdict: XueYu Jewelry won the case!’... The push notification is from a news outlet. XueYu Jewelry’s case was handled by Lawyer Zuo; of course he would come out on top! I’ve never heard of Lawyer Zuo losing a case, but everyone else claims he wins 99% of the cases he handles… perhaps he lost a case before he came to Themis?”

~~~

[Investigate passcode]

MC: “Unrecognized fingerprint, I can’t unlock it…”

~~

[Investigate back of tablet]

MC: “A YingYuan sticker? Isn’t this the idol that ChengCheng has been obsessing over? This must be ChengCheng’s tablet. She’s so scatterbrained, always misplacing things. I bet she’s probably at home searching for her tablet...”

~~~~~~

(Just as I was about to set the tablet down, the screen lit up with yet another notification.)

MC: “A Genetic drug for cancer treatment released, YanNing Biology Company writes a new chapter in medical advancement! A new medicine, again? There’s been a lot of funding being invested in the development of medicine. Aside from YanNing Biology, the HeYin Pharmaceuticals development isn’t trivial, either. That market’s competition must be fierce! Though, that’s just good news for patients.”

~~~~~~

Location- Zuo Ran’s Office

MC: “Lawyer Zuo, coffee’s ready.”

Zuo Ran: “I appreciate it, thanks.”

(By the time I came back, Zuo Ran had begun to organize the case files. He was focused as he poured over the information, and the fountain pen between his fingers did not rest as it took notes and circled important details. Judging by the parcel wrapping in his trash bin, I’m guessing he has already begun looking into the new case. I carefully brush aside some of the documents and place the coffee mug by his hand.) MC: “Is this an urgent case? I think you should rest for a bit.”

Zuo Ran: “No need. It’s Saturday, why are you here?”

MC: “I’m preparing for the intermediate lawyer exam. I thought if I studied at Thermis, it would be easier to reference information.”

Zuo Ran: “I see. If you need help, you can come find me, I’ll be here the whole day.”

MC: “That’s great! Thank you, Lawyer Zuo! Lawyer Zuo, you probably haven’t had anything to eat all day, have you? I’m about to go…”

(The office doorbell suddenly rang.)

Zuo Ran: “We have guests?”

MC: “I’ll go take a look.”

Zuo Ran: “If it’s anything you can’t handle, send them to my office.”

MC: “Will do.” ~~~~~~

Location- Themis Law Firm’s Reception Area

(By the front door, a man and a woman are arguing.)

Man: “Xue XinRan, the old man has already accepted his fate. Why do you need to go to such lengths? Filing a case is just a waste of money. If you really wanna go through the hassle, why not employ our MeiWeiKa PR agency? We can guarantee your ‘QingPing Restaurant Scandal’ be served without any dirt.”

Xue XinRan: “What nonsense! Lu HaiYang, you’re lying through your teeth! MeiWeiKa only looks to squeeze money from us merchants; you’ve never cared about anyone’s well-being!”

(Suddenly, the man named Lu HaiYang stepped toward Xue XinRan and grabbed her wrist.)

Lu HaiYang: “Watch what you say, Xue XinRan. Our company has prestige, and it isn’t something that can be uprooted by the words of a country bumpkin.

MC: “Sir, this is a Law Firm, I ask that you remain respectful!”

(I separated the two, and pushed XinRan behind me.)

-------

[Masterlist] | [Next Part]

-------

《CREDIT》 Translator: @humi-and-co Editor: @hallowsivy​ 《未定事件簿》Tears of Themis is a 2020 Chinese otome game by 米哈游Mihoyo. All original credits go to 米哈游Mihoyo. 

《VOICE ACTORS》 Xia Yan | Jin Xian: https://weibo.com/riceranger Zuo Ran | Zhao Lu: https://weibo.com/mzhaolu Lu HaiYang | Zhang Pei: https://weibo.com/u/1937059462 Xue XinRan | V17-Su Wan: https://weibo.com/u/2925530143

《OFFICIAL ACCOUNTS》 Official website: https://bbs.mihoyo.com/wd/ Official WeChat account:  未定事件簿  Mihoyo official website: https://wd.mihoyo.com/

#tears of themis #tears of themis translations #otome #otome game #otome game translations #otome game trans #zuo ran #未定事件簿 #左然

[theculturedmarxist]

leviathan.naked_lesbian_makeout_blonde_sluts.mp3.mov.jpg.exe

On the one hand, yeah, definitely fuck Zuckernerd and Facebook, and the other tech empires.

On the other hand, it’s not like these are even the grossest examples of monopolies, with even larger and more insidious corporations given the green light to bloat even larger. The motive definitely isn’t to protect the consumer or to encourage competition.

I doubt it’s to make an example of Zuckerberg for accumulating such a hoard of wealth, either. Billionaires have become more stinking rich out of the pandemic, but Zuckerberg isn’t even the one that won the most.

Amazon.com founder Jeff Bezos has enjoyed the biggest bump in personal fortune, according to the analysis from Americans for Tax Fairness and the Institute for Policy Studies, two left-leaning groups. Bezos' wealth has jumped by $90.1 billion, to $203.1 billion, from March 18 through October 13[...]

Other billionaires whose fortunes have risen during the pandemic include Microsoft co-founder and philanthropist Bill Gates, whose wealth has jumped 20% to $118 billion since March, and Facebook co-founder Mark Zuckerberg, with an 85% gain to $101.2 billion, the analysis found.

Facebook isn’t the only tech conglomerate to have an anti-trust suit brought against them. Amazon, Apple, and Google have all been hit with suits, ostensibly about unfair trade practices or similar accusations. More curious is how deeply in bed with the US government these corporations are, like Amazon’s partnership with the US Military, or Google’s collaborations with the government. Maybe a clue is hidden in the essay by Eric Schmidt and Jared Cohen:

In an era when the power of the individual and the group grows daily, those governments that ride the technological wave will clearly be best positioned to assert their influence and bring others into their orbits. And those that do not will find themselves at odds with their citizens.

The election of Biden is definitely the effort of The Establishment to put the Trump genie back in the bottle. His election was an undesired outcome, an anomaly in a system that they want to run regularly, and to produce regular, predictable results. The wealthy are wedded to the political system, have regular mechanisms and controls to manipulate and interact with it, and Trump leap-frogged the whole dog and pony show. But he didn’t do it alone.

So was Facebook responsible for Donald Trump getting elected? I think the answer is yes, but not for the reasons anyone thinks. He didn’t get elected because of Russia or misinformation or Cambridge Analytica. He got elected because he ran the single best digital ad campaign I’ve ever seen from any advertiser. Period.

To be clear, I’m no fan of Trump. I donated the max to Hillary. After his election I wrote a post about Trump supporters that I’m told caused colleagues who had supported him to feel unsafe around me (I regret that post and deleted shortly after).

But Parscale and Trump just did unbelievable work. They weren’t running misinformation or hoaxes. They weren’t microtargeting or saying different things to different people. They just used the tools we had to show the right creative to each person. The use of custom audiences, video, ecommerce, and fresh creative remains the high water mark of digital ad campaigns in my opinion.

That brings me to the present moment, where we have maintained the same ad policies. It occurs to me that it very well may lead to the same result. As a committed liberal I find myself desperately wanting to pull any lever at my disposal to avoid the same result.

Google makes most of its money through advertising, and according to the NYT, “Google’s share of the search market in the United States is about 80 percent. “ Facebook is itself a monstrous social media entity, and owns two more of the largest SM platforms on the internet, Instagram and Snapchat, which:

Instagram: Active 1 Billion users

If your target demographic is under 35, Instagram is a gold mine: 63% of users are between the ages of 18 to 34, with virtually even split between male and female users. 

Snapchat: Active monthly users 360 million

The most active users are Snapchat are 13-year-olds, and they’re spending upwards of 30 minutes a day on the app.

Twitch is a subsidiary of Amazon, which apparently has 140 million users, who I would imagine also skew younger, and who watch on average an hour and a half of content on the website a day.

We do know, through Twitch Tracker, that the average number of concurrent viewers stood at 1.4 million over February 2020, with peak Twitch viewing figures just a shade shy of 4 million – a threshold exceeded during the coronavirus lockdown that followed.

This puts Twitch well ahead of many traditional media outlets. Indeed, by early 2018, Twitch was outstripping MNSBC and CNN in terms of peak concurrent viewership (885,000 and 783,000 respectively). Fox News and ESPN were logging 1.5 million at this point.

The bourgeoisie have many glaring blindspots, but they aren’t themselves blind, or altogether stupid. The Arab Spring showed them what connected populations could do, and social media platforms have been instrumental in coordinating and organizing resistance efforts in the US, as well as spreading uncomfortable and uncontrolled information that the government et al would rather not be known. I would be willing to bet that there were many government and corporate analysts looking at the numbers, reach, and growth of every video of a black man getting shot this past summer that lead to civil unrest.

None of this proves that the US government is angling to take over social media, but I think it’s notable that Twitter is already playing ball with censoring uncomfortable stories, and doesn’t appear to be getting hit with the same sort of lawsuits as its competitors, despite its own relative monopoly.

The bourgeoisie are increasingly running out of options. Unwilling or unable to actually win the votes of the electorate by making concessions and other broadly demanded and popular reforms, it must increasingly rely on propaganda campaigns and other manipulation in order to keep the charade of government and control functioning. I would posit that the very narrow defeat of Trump last month, in spite of four years of constant fear mongering and concerted efforts to demonize him on the part of the bourgeois media, the alliance between Republicans and Democrats, and the collusion of the governments various branches of intelligence services and secret police, was the last straw—if the internet is such a disruptive and unpredictable force, then it must either be controlled or destroyed.

#antitrust #trump #biden #amazon #google #apple company #internet #internet culture #social media #conspiracy #speculation #facebook #snapchat #instagram

[logicalstansadvice]

If the paps were called for both sets of pictures, do you think it was Seb's team or her's?

This is for vamp, I agree that the pictures look staged but what I don’t get is why would seb need an unknown actress for pr? I get how she benefits from this, but what does seb gain?

Disclaimer: what I'm about to say is MY OPINION ONLY. It is not absolute fact, just my thoughts based on the pics released, the media coverage, my knowledge of how paps work, and some insider info.

If the paps were called, I would place my bets on her team.

First off, to get these shots the photog had to be on a boat or jet ski. These types of pictures take some effort.

To be fair, there is a chance the photog was jetting around looking for someone else and came upon Seb but that is less likely.

Why do I think it was her team?

I think most of us can agree that this very public display is uncharacteristic of Seb when you consider his behaviour in past relationships. The man thought twice about going to his window in fear that fans would recognize his street but suddenly he's pulling a Leo in Ibiza. It just feels off.

The first outlet I saw reporting on the new couple was JustJared. Based on the past few years, JJ seems to be favourable towards Seb. They are one of the few outlets which consistently post about him. Notice the language in the header - they include the word "girlfriend" and her full name. How did they identify her accurately? It's not that she's a recognizable name or face. Hell, most trades would probably have a hard time identifying Seb. It stands to reason that JJ were feed the story by her team and provided the particulars. Girlfriend? Based on what, a 2 pics? JJ wouldn't just come to that conclusion unless they were coached. An assumption like that could damage their relationship with the Seb's team and cost them exclusives in the future.

Notice also in the JJ article they listed Ale's work - that is usually a telltale sign of which team requested the item.

Compare this coverage with People's item which didn't mention the word "girlfriend" and went as far as to call them Boat Buddies. Not very romantic.

If there was confirmation that the pics snapped on land were the taken the same day as the yacht pics but just released later, I would argue that the People blurb was Seb's team trying to downplay the girlfriend angle (classic PR tactic) but alas....

So now the question why all this? Well, provides a little benefit to Seb in that it gets some coverage (though minimal) but the largest win could potentially be for Ale.

I would love to hear from anons who live in Spain on how this story compared to previous ones about Ale in respects to coverage. (ie. less, more, same)

If she was however hoping for a bigger bang State's side she must have been disappointed as this barely made waves.

Again, all of the above is me playing around with the notion that she called paps. In reality it could have been Seb but I would hope his team would do a much better job with the narrative and coverage if they were pulling the strings - it just feels so amateur.

We should also consider that this could be Seb going rogue and trying to help a friend get some exposure. She gets some press, he gets some fun in the fun. Win-win.

Vamp

#logical stans advice #anon asks answered #asks inbox is open #pr #sebastian stan opinion blog