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misterewrites · 3 years

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Threads of Fate 2: Electric Boogaloo (Jason Todd X reader)

Hello everyone, E here with another story! this time it’s part 2 for the story i wrote for my good friend @hains-mae last year for her birthday! so naturally it’s her birthday again cuz that’s how they work! Red Hoodie X reader. I hope you all have an amazing week. I will be trying to write my original story and post it sometime this/next week but we’ll see what happens. Stay safe, take care of yourself, for the love of all that is holy stay inside! wear masks! PLEASE! GET THE FLIPPING VACCINE IF YOU CAN!

E out, byeeeeeee! HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAE!

Here’s both parts conveniently in one place for you (cuz tumblr hates me and my tags)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29955270/chapters/73737858

“Romeo and Juliet? You’re so cliché that troupes are rolling their eyes at you.”

I shoot him a dirty glare “Says the guy that has Pride and Prejudice in his jacket pocket. Yeah yeah” I cut him off before he begins to throw out excuses “I know you say it’s thick enough to stop bullets but you’re not fooling me. You love some classic romance.”

“You’re no Lizzy Bennet” he grumbles behind his mask.

“And you no Mr. Darcy yet I tolerate you all the same.”

“It’s for my charming personality.”

“Certainly not for your face.” I playfully throw back “Smooth, featureless and red isn’t exactly my type.”

“I’m surprise you have a type given your lack of taste in books.”

I roll my eyes “Oh great now the former crime lord is giving me crap about my tastes in book.”

He rose his hands in surrender “Hey, that was my edgy phase.”

“Was? You’re still dressing like a goon from indie action film.”

“You kidding? Goons wish they looked this good.”

“I don’t think any respectable goon would shop at the thrift store.”

“Low blow. Low blow.”

I give the costumed vigilante a sideways smile as we settle into a comfortable silence.

It’s been about two years since Red Hood decided to intrude my quiet life (well as quiet as life could be in Gotham) and we have developed this strange friendship.

Every moment he wasn’t on patrol or at a briefing (coughfamilymeetingcough) he spent here. At first, I thought it was just him checking up on me like some overburdening mother worried their child couldn’t handle a minute in the backyard but I soon realized this became some sort of haven for him, a place for him to just exist. Not quite relax and let his guard down but just to be. No appearances of brutality to keep up, no disappointed glances from his estranged father figure. Just him picking on me because he’s a jerk.

But then again so am I.

I nervously glance at the red string tied snugly around my finger. It pulled off to the side though not too much further from me as its other end was wrapped around Red’s finger.

Strings of fate mom used to call it. My power to see the threads of destiny tying two people deeply together. At first I thought it was love or something junk like that but now I’m thinking maybe it just leads you to someone you need and someone that needs you back.

Or maybe it is love, what do I know? All I know about my power is it makes walking the streets harder than it needs to be. Ever see those old pictures of cities with powerlines just in every freaking direction? The strings are at least ten times worse than that! Luckily they’re not real? Well more an abstract concept that I see and not physical and you know what don’t worry about it.

“So” Red spoke up after a moment “Hungry?”

“After you insulting my taste in books?” I gave a fake pout “Starving. Oh shoot, I forgot to go to the store.”

Red chuckled “You didn’t forget, Penguin decided to try to extort it for protection money.”

“Oh” I blush in embarrassment “Right.”

“And you fell back asleep.”

I waved him off “Sometimes you just wake up, see the news and decide it’s not worth it.”

“I never get to sleep in.” Red rose to his feet “but honestly I’ve always had trouble sleeping.”

The nightmares. He mentioned it once in an off hand comment when he asked me why I toss and turn at loud noises. Gotham just does that too you. Eventually you learn to get ready to bolt at any loud noises over 190 decibels. Fun fact, that’s the noise level of a shotgun fired by your ear or a rocket taking off.

Or Joker laughing on the roof of your apartment building. Let me tell you, nothing’s louder than that madman. Thunder sounds like cats and dogs once you hear the Joker’s manic chuckle just a few feet away from you. One time years ago and I can still feel the chills run down my back whenever I think of it.

“So are you going to order pizza or what?” I asked quizzically “Since you’re aware I don’t have any in the fridge.”

I could practically hear the sarcasm dripping in every word out of his mouth as he held a bag of groceries aloft “I was trained by Batman. I’m always prepared.”

Batman. Whatever his relationship with the dark knight currently is, he always spoke of him with a soft, gentle voice. A quiet pride that out of everyone in the world, the Bat chose him. But with that pride was a hint of shame. Everyone knew Red Hood hadn’t exactly made it easy on the old bat and while Hoodie was changing his ways, there was still some friction between them.

I didn’t say anything though. No point. He knew where he stood with his father figure and bringing it up would just make him sully. Besides I was way too curious to know how good of a cook he was.

I marveled in an awe silence as he expertly placed the various ingredients across my messy counter. He chuckled to himself as he cleared it to make space for dinner. I could feel my cheeks burn.

Watching him was oddly mesmerizing: His movements were precise yet graceful for someone with his build. He glided across the floor effortlessly, smoothly dicing whatever he brought one moment then by the time I blinked, he was warming up the frying pan by the stove.

Soon an incredible smell filled the air while the sizzling of meat practically had me drooling.

“Your chin.” Red motioned to my lip with a spatula. I brought up my hand and flinched at how moist it was. Okay so it was drool. Sue me! You’d be drooling too if you had to deal with waiting for whatever heavenly meal he was cooking, okay?

Desperate to change the subject, I piped up “Should be I concern how well you handle that knife?”

He gave a casual wave with said instrument “I hold the power of destruction and creation in my hand.”

I raised an eyebrow at him.

Red coughed loudly “I’ve trained with various weapons knives included. You’d be surprised how much overlap happens between cooking and weapons handling.”

“Right. Sure. That’s a totally normal statement.”

“What about me” He gestured to himself “Is normal?”

“Fair point.” I conceded.

-----

“Am I forgiven?”

I grumbled a half answer as I tried not to let on how delicious this meal was. I don’t make the best money and let me tell you before this the fanciest thing I ever ate was some overpriced pasta from some restaurant chain. This easily beat anything I have ever tasted except mom’s cooking but I hadn’t had that in years.

Red snorted, his voice smooth and melodic not filtered through some robotic alternation. I didn’t really had a dining room or a dinner table so we sat comfortably on my couch, tv playing some nonsense in the background as we both took in the sight of the city beyond my modest window. The lower part of his mask retracted backwards via some kind of high tech witchcraft and allowed him to eat his food without needing to show the rest of his handsome face.

I mean I think it was handsome. I assumed it was handsome given I accidentally figured out who was under the whole persona he set up for himself. I never told him that I knew though I suspect he knew that I figured it out. He was smart even if he acted like an idiot and it really was for the best. Plausible deniability. If I never asked, he never needed to answer.

“You know if you want me to cook again, you need to forgive me. Otherwise I’m not gonna waste my time anymore.” Red threatened with a tease.

I let out an exasperated groan “Fine, fine! It’s good. It’s the best food I’ve ever had! Is that what you want to hear?”

“Naturally. Though I could never compete with Alfred. He has no equal in the kitchen. Better than my brothers though. They can’t cook to save their lives. Tim practically lives on fast food.”

I stopped shoving food into my maw as an icy chill ran through my body. The comfy silence that filled my humble apartment turned tense.

One of those names I could pretend away: Tim? Alfred? Every day common names. But together? Tim AND Alfred. Everyone knew every member of the Wayne family because they were the only rich family in Gotham who didn’t want to screw everyone else over. And he brought up his brothers. That was the final nail in the coffin.

I put down my fork slowly. I could feel myself breath heavily but I refused to see him. I refused to meet his mask with nothing but my own shocked reflection to look back at me.

“I know you know who I am.” He said simply.

I could feel the syrupy urge to look at him ebbing at my resolve.

I swallowed uneasily “What now? What happens to me?”

‘Us’ I left unasked.

Silence.

“I don’t know”

I tried to calm my breathing but I could feel panic grip at me: Does this mean he’s not going to come anymore? Does this mean I have to go into witness protection? Is Batman going to scold me?!

“But I want to.”

I couldn’t help myself. I turned to him and for one of the few times in my life I was left speechless.

I was not staring at Red Hood. I found myself not looking at the smooth, featureless mask I had grown accustom to these last two years but Jason Todd.

Out of all of Bruce Wayne’s children, Jason was the one who seemed to just fall off the face of the Earth. There was a rumor he had died a few years back but those were debunked when he appeared without warning, just walking the streets of Gotham like he went on an extended vacation.

There wasn’t too many pictures of the enigmatic Mister Todd but that quick glance I had gotten forever ago did not do him justice: He was my age. His eyes were a piercing blue that I did not know could be that shade. I know it’s cliché but I felt like he was staring directly into my soul. His face was rugged, rough but still handsome. His hair was a messy jet black but there was few streaks of white that looked too natural to be dyed.

“I….didn’t see anything?” I offered helpfully, giving him a chance to put the mask on and pretend this none of this ever happened.

His nose wrinkled as he gave me a playful scoff. I could feel my heartbeat roaring in my ears.

“I’m not that ugly. Better looking than Dick.” he joked playfully.

“I dunno. Dick’s got the better ass.” I mumbled out, still too caught guard from the whole reveal.

“But I got the muscles.”

“Yes you do.” I eyed his body carefully then flushed a bright pink.

That knocked me out of my stupor.

“Are you sure you want me to know?” I whispered, unable to keep the fear out of my voice “I mean I didn’t mind pretending I didn’t know.”

“I do.”

His face soften and for a moment he didn’t look like Jason Todd, wayward son of Bruce Wayne or the Red Hood, moral gray compress of the batfam.

He just look like a regular guy who needed someone.

Evidently me it seemed.

I took a calming breath and offered my hand. He stared at me like I’m crazy but I kept it outstretched.

He took it gingerly and shook carefully, still unsure what was going on.

“Hello Jason Todd.” I beamed cheerfully “It’s nice to meet you!”

He said nothing, instead opting to smile softly.

“Nice to meet you too.”

I stared at the metaphysical string that tied us so neatly together.

I have never seen it that red before. And has it always been that thick?

I wonder what that means.

Eh, it’s probably nothing. I had other things to worry about.

#My story #Red Hood #Reader #Red Hood x Reader #Birthday!

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crispyapplepies · 4 years

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AkuRoku Defense pt 2

Axel and Roxas’s ship has had one of the most bizarre fandom journey’s i have ever come to witness. It has gone from being one of the most popular ships maybe ever, to being dead cancelled over a supposed age gap and I find that completely unfair, especially when it speaks to so many innocent people who emotionally depend on the ship, (yes innocent includes the spicy people because art literally is not a crime). So its time to defend it.

Brief Review on Nobodies vs Aging

First of all, l already explained in part 1 what the Nobodies Don’t Age thing means but I’ll go over it again briefly, since it can be confusing, though also many people seem to demand their hands be held rather than use their imaginations to understand. Even so, here’s the short version just for a review:

-A person in KH is made of a heart, body, and soul.

-The body reflects the heart in KH. (See: replica bodies taking on the appearance of the heart that’s inside them).

-A nobody lacks a heart, making them just a body and soul. They’re advanced zombies of sorts.

Nobodies do not age because they have no heart for the body to reflect. This is why they won’t change until they form one. Change includes age

-Ergo, you can imagine any age you like for Axel to be nobodied, cuz he was frozen at that age and did not change for 10 years. Not until he met Roxas.

We’ll come back to this again later.

Axel Loves Roxas Canonically

Second of all, Axel loves Roxas and you are allowed to interpret that as platonic, familial, or romantic, I don’t care as long as you’re not forcing that idea on others like the ship police. That said, people are allowed to explore how romantic this love potentially is.

And what you might like to know is that the canon is even open to this. Axel’s love for Roxas is canonically expressed, and if you would like, you can even interpret that love as romantic. See below:

We are going to look at the japanese translation because AS ALWAYS good old SENA is here for the straights and erases the gay, like clockwork.

In English, Axel says this:

Axel: I wanted to see Roxas. He...was the only one I liked... He made me feel...like I had a heart. It's kind of...funny... You make me feel...the same...

Axel’s line here in Japanese:

Axel: I wanted to see Roxas... I loved him. Being with him... it made me feel like I had a heart. I feel it from you, too... the same kind of....

You may notice that as romantic as the line “he made me feel like I had a heart” sounds, the original can be read as wAY gooier, specifically cuz of this word:

好き: "suki"

Now here’s the thing. Japanese is a pretty vague language which is why context is so important for these things, as well as what you say, and what you don’t say.

“Suki” is a very key word here because it is often used in romantic confession scenes.

(I have no idea what this panel is from, I apologize lol)

It CAN mean something casual, like “I love video games”, but considering Axel is saying this with his dying breath, I don’t think we should be treating it as some hyperbole. He is referring to a person and it is meaningful. However. It is still a word with plausible deniability. Japanese has several words for love, “ai” for example being one of the most inarguable means of referring to romantic love. So choosing “suki” still leaves room for the homophobes to disregard it as something not romantic. Which makes it objectively inconclusive. Here is the thing though… they specifically chose that word, suki, a word which IS so often used in a romantic context in many anime and manga.

They also chose to use that word rather than something objectively platonic. Which means you also cannot conclude Axel did NOT mean it romantically. Given his devotion to Roxas, and the fact that they chose this word of all words for him to say… I’m personally going to assume it’s romantic. You are free not to interpret it that way. But I am because I am considering the fact that they did not choose something strictly platonic.

(My translator friend actually freaked out when I showed her this, she’s translated and seen enough confession scenes to know what connotations that particular word comes with lol).

If you’ve read my queer coding doc, you may recall I also go over how this is one of the most important tricks with queer coding. You write something that CAN be viewed as queer but with plausible deniability for straight people to ignore it. It’s a means of protecting oneself and the text from homophobic oppression. It is a legitimate practice. So even though it can be denied as a queer text, it can also very very well be viewed as a definite queer text. We are choosing to queer it here. It is not as explicit as it could be, but it is still very bold, suggestive coding considering the homophobic world we live in, and especially with KH2 being released in 2004.

“But Age Gap!” (ughhhhh)

We’re back to this cuz I also finally have the Japanese version of that infamous page in the Day’s novel to look at.

I hope you’ll forgive me if I get a little bit salty but I don’t like to repeat myself lol so I’m gonna try to keep this section short and to the point.

In this interview with Nomura, he expresses that nobodies do not age, and they exist as they were at the time of becoming a nobody. He then suggests Xemnas seems 30 ish.

Now I truly do not care to hold your hand through the process of thinking creatively because you should be using your own imagination, if you have one, to think critically and creatively about what this idea means.

Kingdom Hearts is a FANTASY game. Nobodies are a FANTASY concept. They can break ALL the rules about real life that you want them to. But I will go ahead and explain this for you even though I’ve already done it many times, in this very document even and in other meta posts.

The body reflects the heart. Nobodies are frozen as they are from the moment they are “born”, which is to say the moment they are created. Glorified zombies. They aren’t going to age unless they form a heart. Why does Xemnas look 30? He has a heart! Or he was formed 10 years after TerraNort defected. You tell me. Why did Ienzo age? I dunno, you tell me! Either he formed a heart and didn’t know it, (he’s passionate about his work, he loves Ansem the Wise, any number of things could’ve made him form a new heart), or he was nobodied later in life. Axel is frozen at whatever age he was when he was nobodied, all the while Ienzo could’ve been nobodied 10 years later. It’s a fantasy, and these are fantasy rules. That scenario can happen. YOU decide. Until the canon tells us for sure, your imaginations can run wild with explanations. Even if the canon does tell us, you can still imagine whatever you want for your own headcanons. Freedom is amazing, it’s salty and sweet.

Now let’s talk about that annoying page in the Days novel people keep shoving in my face.

This one right here. The official english translation is this:

That’s not the worst translation I’ve seen them put out there. But let’s look closer at the Japanese:

Here, Axel says he thinks Roxas is about 10 years separate from himself, but things like age don't exist for nobodies.

Already that’s making a lot more sense to me for nobodies since we are told nobodies do not age. As such Axel speaking like he is 10 years older would feels almost contradictory when he has no heart and cannot change.

This wording is important. Recall me saying that Japanese is very vague so all of the context matters. No one is denying that 10 years passed between Birth By Sleep and Axel meeting Roxas. However. Nobodies don’t age.

(please dont make me explain that a third time in this essay alone)

The Japanese and English both express that age does not apply to nobodies, (as discussed above^^^^) and the Japanese furthers this with its wording. They have 10 years of separation between Axel being nobodied, and Roxas existing.

Axel saying in English that Roxas is simply 10 years younger than himself is rather misleading considering the ambiguity of the original. I can’t fault the translators too much for not understanding this nobody concept so well because it is obviously confusing. However, I do not think Axel was saying Roxas is literally, in real life human somebody terms, 10 literal physical years younger than him. He is expressing that he became a nobody 10 years ago whereas this guy became a nobody very recently, and it shows with how little he can even function right now. A zombie who has been wandering around with no heart for 10 years meets a fresh zombie wandering around with no heart for 1 day.

I know antis are gonna use it against us no matter what, but at least know that akuroku is not inherently pedophilia nor is it inherently an adult/minor ship.

In many of our headcanons, Axel was frozen at age 18 or 19, with Roxas being 16. Absolutely no one is required to view them with a big age gap because imagination is free and you literally have no right to police it, but also because the canon expresses these nobodies as beings outside of the realm of age. They do not operate under real life rules or somebody rules. Think of Steven Universe where Rose was thousands of years old but only “grew up” as a person when she fell in love with Greg, a human in his 20s-30s who asked her to consider other people’s feelings. Consider the mind of a nobody as a state of Neverland. You aren’t gonna age unless you step out of it and change. Mature. Isn’t it sad that Axel did not feel like he had a heart until Roxas? No wonder people ship it!

Coding is Obvious

Finally I wanna conclude on a simple thought. This interview right here? I’d be curious what the original Japanese actually says lol but the english translation of it says that romantic akuroku was not Nomura’s intent.

Here’s the thing though. If you know anything about queer coding, you know that using romantic coding between 2 male characters is signaling something. It is not something you should ignore. It would not be there if the characters were meant to be viewed as objectively straight. And for something “unintentional”... there sure is a lot of coding at work here.

From Axel pinning Roxas down and asking him to come home in a very sexually suggestive pose,

to watching the sunset in sheer bliss together just enjoying the peace of reunion,

to watching the sunset together while talking about what LOVE is, specifICALLY romantic love,

To this. And I already told you what this was in Japanese.

I’m not saying Nomura lied…

But I am saying that a whole staff worked together to create these games, and it is very difficult for me to believe that no one thought to say “these characters appear to be romantic, let us change the scene to be more platonic” if the characters were not meant to be romantically suggestive.

Tl;Dr I wanna live in the timeline where people let you ship akuroku lol

#akuroku #akrk #axel kh #roxas kh #kingdom hearts

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bigskydreaming · 5 years

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The Ric Grayson AND Talon storylines both end at the same time, and in the same way:

Great Grandpa Creeper Cobb successfully manipulates Ric into position to be brainwashed and become the Talon that Willie the Weenie has always wanted him to be.....this happens for like, two issues.

Then Grandpa Get Ye To A Graveyard Already fucks up....he accidentally brings Talon Ric within sighting distance of the Court’s latest crop of prospective Talon recruits, including a wee baby ten year old orphan being trained to be a future Talon.

And the essential corn kernel of Dick Grayson’s essence, deep down in his psyche, just fucking POPS like its Orville Redenbacher and someone just nuked it in the microwave.

And the real Dick Grayson comes SHRIEKING to the forefront of Talon!Ric’s brain, nothing subtle about it, and the next thing his Rancid Relative knows, he’s being fucking impaled by his great grandson’s blades as said great grandson, who is SUPPOSED to be docilely brainwashed, wtf, is already halfway across the room, diving into the mass of other Talons like they’re a collection of bowling pins and he’s a wrecking ball straight out of a Miley Cyrus music video, but instead of the caterwauling lyrics “I never hit so haaaaaaaard in love,” Dick’s accompanied by a soundtrack of him screaming:

“I WILL PROTECT YOU SMOL CHILD!!!”

As said smol child is just standing there, staring, like....dude, wut?

And then Dick finishes absolutely DESTROYING everything undead and nefarious in sight like he’s the Tasmanian Devil on meth, and he turns to said smol child and begins the process of Smothering, as his hands flutter all up and down checking for injuries but not touching, like:

“Did they hurt you are you alright you’re safe now cough once for I’m all good or punch me in the no-no’s if I’m making you feel unsafe, I will make sure you are totally safe from here on out, you are my baby now, I have decided, but like, only if you want to be.”

And smol child is decidedly overwhelmed but Man-Who-Speaks-Like-He-Has-Pixie-Sticks-In-Place-Of-Blood-Vessels seems harmless, if weird, and is definitely preferable to the weird Bird Men who kidnapped him off the streets and tried to teach him how to kill people and make death threats out of nursery rhymes. And he doesn’t have a lot of experience in OTHER subterranean lairs to compare this one too, but he’s decidedly not a fan, so when Dick asks if he would like him to take him to see Batman and Batgirl and Robin and other superheroes who can also reassure him there will be no more homework on How To Torture People Good, he’s like....”yeah I guess. If you want.”

And so Dick scoops him up with glee and takes off through the tunnels, yelling back over his shoulder: “Bye Greatly-Gross-Grandpa, hate you lots, don’t call, don’t write, you’re officially off my Christmas card list, hasta la neeeeeeeeeever.”

Thereupon swiftly grappling across the Bludhaven rooftops, yelling PARKOUR! just because he can and its fun, and its weirdly relaxing for his wee passenger, because look, this dude may be weird as fuck, but he’s clearly got the moves to protect him from the Undead Legions of Ornithologists and he seems too....fun to be evil, like not in the Joker kinda way like he’s seen on TV in previous foster homes where its like, jeez dude, try hard much, but more like an adult who just quit a soul-crushing cubicle-dwelling corporate-craphole job and has suddenly been reminded that the sky is blue, flowers smell good, and there IS a Santa Claus, Virginia.

Thus by the time they arrive at Wayne Manor, with no attempt made to hide where they’re going from his wee passenger’s eyes - Dick has already decided he’s keeping the kid, pending said kid’s approval but look, kids like him and he’s determined to bring his A game to the pitch meeting, so he likes his chances - said wee passenger disembarks in the Batcave but stays close by, clinging to Dick’s side in an ever so slight way that allows for plausible deniability later, once he gets his bearings and also his bravado back.

“Dick?!” Comes the chorus of voices from the rest of the family, who are all there already, by great coincidence and in great defiance of the crapfests in their own individual titles, but also who the fuck cares. And Dick puffs out his chest, cuz he’s putting on a good show for his new kiddo, first impressions are important...

“Tis I, fam! The one true Dick Grayson has returned! Huzzah!”

Look, being completely oblivious to his Greatest Dork Energy coinciding with his Times He Most Attempts To Be Impressive, is like, Peak Dick Grayson characterization, you can trust me, I’m a doctor.

And Tim’s like, “Why are you dressed like a Talon?”

And Dick’s like, “Isn’t the better question why AREN’T you dressed like a Talon?”

Which makes no sense but shhh, I’m running out of steam here, don’t question the atmosphere, just let it be.

And Bruce is like, “Who’s your friend?”

With like...designs and agendas already in mind, because said wee Talon-to-be is cute and adorable and bravely trying to act like he is not at all intimidated by his surroundings and is in total control of what’s going on like, he meant to be here, this is all according to plan, yes, excellent, everything is progressing nicely....

Which as everyone knows, are the three key essential traits Bruce looks for in prospective adoptees....

So Dick snarls and later blames it on residual Talon-ness, they’re very territorial bird...assassin....people....anyway, the adrenaline is still high and also he has swiftly become attached because whether kiddo knows it or not, Dick 100% credits him with the brainwash-breaking and thus when factored in with the cuteness quotient, what we have here is an instant recipe for Protectiveness slash Possessiveness that would be creepy and inappropriate if this wasn’t pure crack.

But crack it is, and thus Dick curls a protective arm around the kiddo like the lap-bar on a particularly turbulent roller coaster and applies G-Force sufficient to keep even Superman from prying him out of his hands - but in a gentle, non- ’crushing kinda way that might hurt the kiddo,’ even though physics doesn’t work like that, except look, these are CRACK PHYSICS, they can and they do work like that.

And he’s all, “I already adopted him, so back off, Bruce, I’ll cut you. But also hi dad, I missed you. In spirit I mean, like I had amnesia and then I was brainwashed so technically its probably a reach to say I missed anyone but just roll with it. Also I can haz hugs now, please?”

And then Damian apparates in front of Dick amid a cloud of Disapproval that’s really just a cover for OMG-I-Was-Without-You-And-It-Was-Terrible-And-I’m-So-Glad-You’re-Back-But-Also-Who-Is-This-Interloper-And-Why-Is-He-Stealing-My-Hug.

“Tt. Grayson. Your absence was...less than desirable. See to it that this doesn’t happen again. Also what is that and why is it here.”

“Aww, Dami, I’m sorry. I promise to install a “please have the nearest available psychic reboot my brain in case of future brain damage slash amnesia” clause in my living will, and soon as I get a free second, I’ll break the fourth wall and blackmail the DC editorial staff into declaring me off-limits for all death, brainwashing and/or kidnapping plots for at least the next four major crossover events. I have naughty pictures. They’ll cave.”

“Hmph,” Dami says. He resumes staring pointedly at the kiddo, who juts his chin defiantly and stares back while clinging more tightly to Dick, because he may have very little clue what’s going on, but he’s a quick one and has at least picked up on the fact that Dick wants him and this other kid wants Dick. Which combined with the rescuing and the kicking of bad guy ass means Dick is probably Quality and In Demand and Of Value, and thus he might as well stake a claim now and worry about whether or not to act on that or skedaddle later, once he’s got more intel. He’s a natural Bat, this one, but then, that’s probably why he was in Toddler Talon Boot Camp, he scored high on whatever weird aptitude tests they used to scope out talent, and by talent we mean murder-skills.

“Dami,” Dick admonishes then, “This isn’t an it, he’s a person, and he was recently traumatized so promise me you’ll be on your best behavior or at least your ‘engaging in shenanigans with Jon’ behavior. And he’s not competition, you’re my Dames and my little bro, and he’s potentially your nephew, which is a whole separate category and no threat to you and your baby bro status at all, so retract the claws. If anything, the real danger is Pops adopting him and thus supplanting you as the official Baby Bird of our generation, so make like an ally and help me get that dangerous “I’m gonna adopt this kid so hard” gleam out of Bruce’s eye before it gets any gleamier. We’re still only halfway through my tearful reunion and having to cut Dad before we even get to cake would be a major mood-killer, but I’ll do it, I swear. Also, get your Baby Bird behind over here and hug me already, I have two arms.”

Damian rolled his eyes but obediently disappeared and reappeared nestled against Dick’s other side in the blink of an eye. The proper application of ninja skills has always been the pursuance of hugs and cuddles. Thus sayeth the crack.

“Hey, I do get cake, right?” Dick asked suddenly, looking around dangerously. “I was amnesiac and also brainwashed, I deserve cake, TELL me there’s gonna be cake.”

“Well that answers whether or not we should be worried about this being an attempted infiltration or not,” Jason says, strolling over casually. “No impostor or brainwashing script-writer could ever duplicate the Essence de Dick so perfectly. Hey squirt. Welcome to the madhouse. I’m Jason, what’s your name?”

“Oh right,” Dick realized, cocking his head. “Hey, what is your name?”

“Really, Dick?” Tim sighed, fondly exasperated. “I realize you like to jump from A straight to Z whenever possible, but steps B through Y aren’t usually just mere suggestions.”

“It hadn’t come up yet,” Dick defended himself.

“Yes, why would it have,” Duke mused from where he was leaning over and snapping his fingers in front of Bruce’s eyes, in a futile attempt at tearing his gaze away from the viable adoption candidate within 20 meters from him. It was probably best that they get this adoption thing inked out and signed off on as soon as possible - it was the only thing that was definitively going to get that “Argh, I’ve spotted treasure ahoy” look out of Bruce’s eyes. And Alfred had been very clear :Bruce was forbidden to adopt any more kids himself until he got a better handle on juggling the six he already had. Which. The past year had...probably not met Alfred’s standards on, so it didn’t seem likely he’d be waiving that requirement any time soon.

(And nobody wanted to get in between the Unstoppable Force that was Bruce’s ‘must adopt all the orphans’ and the Immovable Object that was Alfred’s ‘must maintain at least a reasonable fascimile of order in this household, even if it is a total sham, appearances matter.’)

“Hey!” Dick protested. “I’ve been busy, okay? There was fighting and then there was parkouring and now we’re reunifying, and it wasn’t like I was just calling him ‘that kid’ in my head, I was calling him ‘my kiddo’ which is a perfectly reasonable identifier and thus more specific detail just....hadn’t been relevant yet!”

“So uh, bee tee dubs, what is your name, buddy?” Dick asked, looking down. His kiddo looked back up at him for a long, measuring moment, and then he shrugged.

“I’ll tell you in exchange for some cake. You said something about there being cake, but I don’t see any.”

Dick got misty-eyed at that. “See? He already prioritizes like me. This was destiny! Also, you heard my kiddo, do we not deserve cake? It has been a very long day, there was murder and mayhem and more. Also, my creeper great grandpa was there being icksome, and you know how much that weirds me out.”

“Come along, Master Dick,” Alfred said then, appearing out of nowhere thanks to his Bat-Butler Magic. “And your young charge as well. I already have your favorite baking in the oven and it should be done shortly. Lemon meringue with raspberry layers.”

“That’s disgusting and I will not participate in any ceremony that treats that as part of a celebration instead of just a weird kind of laxative,” Jason said loftily, though it escaped no one’s notice that he was the first to the stairs.

“Shut your facehole, its delicious and amazing and you will like it or I will kick your ass,” Dick said, equally loftily.

“Boys,” Bruce said with a long-suffering sigh, as the threat of brotherly bloodshed was enough to finally shake him out of his orphan-induced stupor.

“At MARIO KART. I will kick his ass at MARIO KART, ugh, jeez, B, why do you always assume the worst of us?”

“Precedent,” Tim said dryly.

“Who the hell asked the Oompa Loompa Brigade to weigh in with all ninety of his pounds?” Jason called back from the top of the stairs.

Cass came up on Dick’s left, where the kiddo was one half of the sandwich made by him and Damian on Dick’s other side. She smiled down at him when he directed his still very wide-eyed gaze at her, landing on her after his latest sweep of the cavern and all its contained chaos, as if trying to take it all in - most likely in the hopes that if he could manage that, somehow the last 72 hours of his life might suddenly make sense. He really was adorable.

“Don’t worry,” she beamed at him, reaching out to pat him comfortingly on his shoulder, right above where Dick’s arm was still curled around it like a warm blanket - albeit one with the tensile hold of a python. “They’re all crazy, but only in the good ways.”

Duke scoffed as he slipped ahead of them and started taking the stairs two at a time. “It’s funny how you say that like you’re some kind of exception to the rule.”

“Bold words, little brother,” Cass called after him. He only shouted back from the top in a booming voice, his words echoing down the narrow stone stairway dramatically.

“Am I not Batclan?”

“Oooh, is that a new thing we’re doing?” Dick asked excitedly. “Somebody catch me up, I demand context. I smell a story there.”

“It was Jason’s fault,” Tim said automatically. Dick nodded.

“Sure, that tracks. Continue.”

Bruce trailed after his brood of batlings and birdlets, sidling over to where Barbara was waiting for the elevator. The latter having hung back to watch the commotion with the air of one taking notes for repurposing in the form of future blackmail material. Her ever extending network of spies and informants made so much more sense, suddenly.

He cleared his throat while they listened to the hum of the elevator’s machinery as it descended to their level.

“I wasn’t really thinking of adopting the boy,” he said. Not at all sullenly, nor with a trace of defensiveness to be found.

“Of course you weren’t, Bruce,” Barbara said. She patted his arm fondly, with all the conviction of a kindergarten teacher whose student was attempting to claim innocence on the matter of a paint disaster perfectly matching the paint stains on his hands.

“I wasn’t,” Bruce muttered as she preceded him into the elevator.

Why did nobody ever believe him?

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waywardsparrownz · 4 years

Text

Beginnings or Endings

“I had let go of the mask, but the mask wouldn’t let go of me…”

“Hmmm… Would make a good opening line for a novel don’t you think?”

“What sort of novel?” Finchly peered down from the rafters inquisitively.

“Well, it would have to be something reflective. Memoir style.” I mused, chewing slowly on my words. “Some doctor who’d given up on his trade and gone to live in the Himalayas. Years later finds his services required to save his mountain community from an outbreak of disease, or perhaps heal soldiers during a war that arrived on his doorstep. A man disillusioned from his former life forced to pick up a mantle he’d left behind. Confronting the demons that overcame him in the first place…” I trailed off lost amongst the multitude of options.

“Gettin’ awful dark there bud; you sure you’re alright?” Finchly sounded concerned. “Anyway I think it sounds way more like an old-school superhero. Puts down the mask & suit for a quiet life, then called to put them on again & save the world once more! Sorta like me when I bothered you about starting up the blog again.” And then the concern was gone. Sometimes the best friends are the ones who remind you they care at the start of a comment, before turning it into a joke at your expense.

While my novel opening had many possible translations I’d conceived it as more autobiographical than anything else. Before embarking on my New Zealand adventures I had been a metalworker for the better part of 6 years. An interesting time indeed, which had taught me a great deal, but a life I’d felt quite certain I’d left behind. Six years of wearing high end full face respirators doesn’t often leave wearer with much nostalgia for such contraptions. And yet here I was in the entryway of the local grocer wearing another one (albeit a much lower quality cousin of the standard foundry-worker’s getup) of the goddamned stuffy contraptions. As previously stated: I had let go of the mask, but the mask wasn’t quite ready to let go of me. Somewhat ironic really.

While a new virus rampaged across China, then Europe, & eventually the rest of the world; Finchly and I enjoyed an extended period of blissful ignorance. Ski resorts tucked away in the Wyoming mountains are some of the last places to receive worldly tidings, & even when they eventually do don’t tend to stir up much of a response anyway. After all we’re generally too busy skiing, snowboarding, or ice-fishing (there remains the small possibility that some of the ice fishers are still thawing their toes by the lake huts & haven’t yet heard the news, but that’s another matter entirely). Anyway, while the world disintegrated into chaos, nothing of note really changed in our little valley for most of the winter. That is until everything in the state of Wyoming shut down all at once. Perhaps it wouldn’t have come as a shock had we been paying more attention, but as I said: we were busy skiing. For those who don’t already know: skiing (and its surrounding activities) can be a very distracting pursuit.

With that extremely thorough synopsis of world (and Wyomingside) events behind us, we now arrive in the present. Being a tourism based industry, Jackson Hole ski resort is currently closed. Finchly is now gainfully (we’ll get to that in another blog post) unemployed, & I’m halfway through my shift as a shopping cart sanitizer. Yes that is a real job. Officially I’m a grocery clerk, but there were too many checkers in today so I’m a “Cart Sanitizer” for the afternoon. Not a bad spot really. Getting paid & talking to a sparrow while while watching the sun fall behind the jagged peaks of the Tetons.

“Excuse me!” A middle age lady approaches, looking terribly worried.

“Hello, do you want me to clean off a cart for you?”

“Well yes, but first I need you to clean off my gloves.” She holds out a pair of brand new latex gloves (somewhat of a hot commodity these days), indicating I am to spray the inside of them with my little spritzer bottle of bleach.

I’m a little confused & slow to respond. “I, ugh… I don’t think you want me to do that… This is bleach - nasty stuff for your hands.”

“But I want to be clean.”

“It might make the gloves hard to put…”

“Just do it!!!”

Can’t object to that logic. I spray her brand new gloves inside and out with bleach & carefully swab down the cart as she struggles to put them on. By the time I’ve wiped down every surface of the shopping cart twice she’s managed to rip one of the gloves in half trying to get it on & grouchily points to a spot I missed near the wheels. As I’m finishing up another lady dashes in and douses her hands in Purell from the door dispenser. She then washes her face in it, yelping when she accidentally gets a large dollop in her eye. I lean against the wall & close my eyes, groaning at the level of idiotic eccentricity which has somehow become normal overnight. Finchly chuckles the whole while. The Purell addiction has arrived in Wyoming at last.

“So what’s for dinner anyway?” Finchly asks, pulling me out of my more morose thoughts.

“Pulled pork nachos obviously! And this time we’re making them with Doritos.” Like everyone one else stuck in various forms of quarantine or lockdown I’ve gotten pretty creative with home cuisine as of late. Besides we couldn’t find any regular corn chips. “ Yuh know, maybe this time you should pay for…” I was cut short as something strange caught the corner of my eye. Outside the main doors the was a large barrel of Purell donated by the local breweries. Following the theft of a larger barrel last week the grocer had chained this one to a nearby pillar for safekeeping. Unfortunately this preventative measure wasn’t looking too promising. A burly man in his 40s knelt behind the pillar, holding the chain tightly clamped in a pair of bolt cutters. I mulled the situation over for a moment before purposefully looking away. Yesterday one of my coworkers had gotten yelled at by an angry fellow who had tried to fill a 2 liter jug from the communal barrel. I had no interest in the sort of trouble the current situation was bound to cause. Plausible deniability is often one’s best bet.

“Aren’t you gonna do anything?” Finchly fluttered down onto my shoulder hopping about excitedly. “We could save the town Purell and be heroes! I bet they’d even put us on the front page of the paper!” He ruffled up his feathers trying to look fierce.

“Keep it down!” I hissed, “First of all: hardly anyone reads the paper. Secondly: look at that dude, he’s at least 6 ft and twice my weight! Today is not a good day to die my friend. Think of the nachos!” I looked at him pleadingly.

Finchly seemed pretty determined, but the mention of nachos gave him pause. Meanwhile a quick glance over my shoulder revealed our thief had managed to cut the chain & scurrying off towards an idling truck with the barrel precariously balanced on his shoulder. I turned back to my friend. “Nachos or justice? It’s your choice Fin…”

“Hey you! Where do ya think you’re going with that?!” my dramatic monologue was cut short by a commotion outside.

“None of your biz… Ahhhh!” SmAck! THUMP!!!! Finchly flew out the doors with me in hot pursuit. The scene which unfolded before us was somewhere between insane and hilarious. A small semicircle of onlookers surrounded the would-be thief, who lay spreadeagled in the parking lot knocked out cold. The Purell barrel had fallen on top of him, breaking open and spilling its contents all over his torso; creating a miniature lake in the area.

“What happened?” Someone asked, whistling.

“Well I yelled at him. Must’ve spooked him, cuz he started running. Made it about three yards and slipped on a rubber glove! Barrel flew like six feet in the air an’ landed square on top of him. Darnedest thing I’ve seen this year!”

I looked over at Finchly, and couldn’t help thinking this wouldn’t be the weirdest things were yet to come. “Well man, I think we”re in for a strange summer.”

“At least you’ll have plenty of material to write about.” He chirped back, winking mischievously.

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