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danny-chase · 3 years

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Do you think that Tim saved Dick in a way? Because we see Dick getting better as he gets closer to Tim and healing and getting back into the family, and ig it’s Tim who initiated that.

I literally don't have a yes or no answer for this... like most things in the Batfam - it's complicated. (Following answer is informed by 90s-00s comics, i can't really speak for new52 because it just... has so many issues one of which being erasing the relationship between Dick and Tim for *checks note* no discernable reason other than possibly *checks note* Didio hates legacy characters and wants only bad things for them so he could have excuses to kill them off or cancel their comics... idk just a guess)

Warnings: for Bruce stans - just look away i'm about to bring up bits of canon you most likely don't like, for Dick stans - Devin Grayson's run is mentioned, for the lovely anon - i wrote an essay, hope you are prepared

Tim coming into the family gave Dick a reason to occasionally hang around Bruce and i'm not sure if this is an exaggeration or not but he did sort of save that relationship - but whether that was a good or bad thing at the time, i can't really say. For sure - it starts off good, Bruce is actually trying to be a good dad (he comes down to Blud to check on Dick, adopts him, trusts him with his own city, calls him for backup, etc.). But we also see throughout Bruce Wayne: Fugitive/Murderer how unhealthy the relationship between the two can be. Dick built his core values around Bruce - if Bruce had actually killed here it would have been devastating for Dick (he was pretty much on the verge of a mental breakdown simply because they couldn't find proof Bruce wasn't guilty). The two literally got in a fist fight during the arc because Bruce was being uncommunicative and Dick couldn't take it anymore, snapped, and punched him when Bruce said "Bruce Wayne is dead only Batman now" - this tied into Dick finally having the relief and validation of being adopted and he couldn't handle Bruce stripping himself (and by extension, his fatherhood of Dick) away. In this era of comics Bruce had gotten physical with Dick before (here's me venting like an annoyed loser), and here's a clip from Bruce Wayne Fugitive that i just, *sigh*, canon Bruce, my detested.

Now on the other hand - getting Dick involved in the batfam more doesn't just mean he was hanging out with Bruce. His relationship with Tim is pretty great and I can definitely see where it was healing for a while - but also - to give credit where credit is due, the healing he goes through during this era of comics can also be attributed to Barbara and the Titans (the fab five specifically). Wally literally joins the Titans to give Dick a "social life" (me - it's because he's gay and wants to spend more time with Dick, actually, screw you DC you know i'm right). Donna plays a major part in keeping Dick's emotional well being in check. So like everything was going fine - Dick was healing, spending more time with friends, spending a lot of time with people he loved, like Tim, except he was neglecting his health and not sleeping - but overall he was in fact, managing, and moving past the deaths of Jason and some of the other Titans. With the current Titans - he was a hardass (which like ~trauma~ so I understand), but like things were going relatively okay.

And then Donna and Lilith died. And hooof Donna dying was like really really bad for his mental health.

Teen Titans/Outsiders Secret Files (2003) #1

[Image ID: Dick sits in a room staring at a photo, the phone rings in the background, and he doesn't even acknowledge it, the voice mail plays: "I'm not here. Leave a message after the beep." The photo is shown closer in the next frame, it's of the five original Teen Titans - Roy kisses Donna on the cheek, tipping his hat his other hand making the okay sign, Donna has an arm around Roy, the other hand on Dick's shoulder, Garth proudly stands beaming with his hands on his hips, and Dick has both his arms around Wally's neck. Everyone is smiling in the photo. A voice plays over the answering machine: "Dick, it's Roy - pick up the phone... c'mon... please... I know you're there... just pick up. Dick, we need to talk... you can't just... please..." End ID]

For context - the previous page noted that this is Dick SIX WEEKS after Donna died. Usually Dick's the one who moves on quickly, but Donna dying broke him in a way nothing else had before - and that could be partly because he was still recovering from everyone else's death.

Up to this point, Dick had been healing and Tim was definitely a part of that, but then DC decided to throw the absolute book, bookshelf, and library at him. Reading Outsiders (2003) it's very clear he's very traumatized, and around the same time, Devin is literally whumping him like it's the whump Olympics, breaking him and Babs up, burning down his childhood home, blowing up his apartment complex (killing all but like two of his neighbors), he's literally sleeping on fire escapes using newspapers as covering because he has nothing, and the bad thing i don't like to think about (i'll let you know if you ask but that one needs lots of tw, but if you know where i'm going you know what it is already), Blockbuster is killed and he blames himself - and loses it over breaking Bruce's one rule, Bludhaven is nuked, and he pretty much tries to kill himself.

So basically, he was on the path to healing (with Tim as part of that) before he got absolutely destroyed (and almost killed off by Didio in one of the crisis). Tim in his own right, was also going through a lot in the meantime, his dad died, Steph died, Kon and Bart died, i don't remember what else happened and i haven't read that era of Robin yet. Things were good until they weren't anymore, and sometimes i think Dick would regret ever exposing Tim to the life they live, and questions whether he should have just sent Tim packing x2. They do get to spend a year together on a mental health cruise, but then Damian comes into the picture, Battle for the Cowl happens, and they have their falling out. But whatever happened on that cruise must have been really healing for Dick because he actually kind of rocks it in this era - he keeps things light with Damian, Alfred notes at one point how he makes things easy because he has lightness in him, and he patches things up with Tim - catching him in that panel of Red Robin - from there they kind of go back to normal, there's a lightness to the way they banter with each other (also here) and Tim returns the favor (from the Red Robin incident) by pulling Dick out of the water.

They've saved each other multiple times over (physically), and in both in the Black Mirror and Gates of Gotham, Tim helps out in a period where Dick is starting to fall apart from the pressure of holding things together for so long (something Tim might feel guilty for, because he did run away from Gotham on a wild goose chase for Bruce). In that period, it's really clear that Dick saves Tim (he reminds him in RR, that someone does actually care for him) and then Tim saves Dick from being torn apart by Gotham.

I should point out - Damian, while starting off as kind of a hinderance, does eventually start helping Dick as well. By the end of their relationship (before the New52 destroys everything i love), Dick has helped Damian grow emotionally, and through that process Dick probably finds meaning and value in their time together, probably a lot like he used to feel with Tim. And of course, physically, they've both saved each other multiple times by the end of the run.

So yeah. I think Dick finds meaning in growth in mentoring his younger brothers, and it's likely a healing process, that healing just has some twists and turns along the way, and sometimes, on bad days, he probably feels like maybe he shouldn't have intervened at all, but i think on most days, he's proud of what Tim's become.

...I hope this is coherent lmao

#the old: blame everything i hate about comics on Didio #thank god he got fired #tw suicide #i am so long winded oop #i'm in too deep #does this count as character meta?#maybe #Dick Grayson meta #Dick Grayson #Tim Drake #i'm kinda sad that Dick and Tim's relationship is misunderstood in a lot of fanon - because it's something that can be so personal #it's not as black and white as people seem to think #as in like... they're usually really good for each other and have a healthy dynamic #even in RR (I haven't read all of it) people take things out of context and just... ignore that Dick reached out to Tim afterwards #and like asked him to go to therapy (not arkham why are y'all obsessed with Dick throwing his brothers in arkham get help)#Tim also straight up throws Dick over his shoulder and starts a physical fight in that series #so... it can be a toxic relationship too but idk i like to highlight the good parts #i see a lot of - Dick begs for Tim's forgiveness for taking Robin away fics out there #but like there relationship isn't that simple #if they ever talked it out in canon - they'd have to address Tim lashing out physically at Dick (Dick would probably not be having it)#and the writers might then be like - hmm maybe we should address all the times we had Bruce hit him too #so like yeah i get why we never saw their reconciliation on panel (they just kinda were like okay we're fine now :D)#but still it's something i'd like to see explored from a more balanced perspective - instead of a - i project on Tim so he's always right #i probably also wouldn't be the best person to write it because i project on Dick too much #not that i would make Tim beg for Dick's forgiveness - Dick would forgive him in like .000001 seconds and def doesn't hold it against him #that's just how Dick is (he'd probably prefer if it wasn't brought up and they just pretend it never happened)#but also knowing Dick he probably feels guilty as fuck for the way RR went - which like *sigh* martyr #batfam #batfamily #batfam meta

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wellthatjusthappend · 3 years

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hey do you think you can write something where Dick is touch starved bc the members of the batfamily are not that into giving or receiving comforting touch like hugs so he's feeling awful and acting kind of distant with the other bats bc he doesn't really want to bug them by asking for a hug and it's Jason that notices something is wrong and ends up giving it to him

Dick being touch starved is my jam. Especially when I get to give him what he needs.

Man, this prompt got away from me a little, I meant to do a small fill but, well, now you can read it here or on Ao3.

“What the hell is going on with Dickhead?” Jason grumbled. He’d totally cashed Jason’s case recently, and nearly bit off Jason’s head when he made a sarcastic quip.

Usually, that meant that something had happened, but Jason had dug around after hadn’t found anything other than a slow and steady escalation of violence the last several weeks. Seemingly from no cause.

There had to be something Jason was missing. Not that he cared or anything, but if Golden Boy was falling off the edge he needed to get ready. Or maybe he was just being nosy. Both were Bruce approved approaches.

Jason frowned as on screen Dick let several punches land that he could have avoided and choose to punch back rather than use his sticks.

“Ah, Dick is fasting again?” hummed Kori, coming to curl up next to Jason like a cat, her hair winding and winding itself around them in a way that still a little uncanny as it was soothing.

“Fasting?” Jason asked with a frown, “Like, skipping meals and stuff?”

“From love,” Kori corrected him, “and from touch. He needs it like food, but sometimes he chooses to deprive himself of both for long periods of time. He would get like this from time to time as a Titian. Quick to pick a fight and extra physical when he did… violence is the only touch he allows himself during this time, so he seeks it out constantly.”

That… tracked.

“Yeah… Bruce would have us believe that none of us needed things like that,” Jason murmured, watching Dick wrestle another small time crook to the ground and punching him repeatedly.

“But you know better now, don’t you?”

Sometimes. But other times… Jason could sympathize with Dick’s plight a little too easily, and physical touch wasn’t even his love language.

“How’d you used to get him to snap out of it?” Jason asked.

“Make love to him all night long,” Kori replied, her eyes going distant.

“Ah.” Jason knew he was flushing a bit.

“Or, sometimes Wally or the others would insist on a movie night and coax him into a spot close between everyone’s bodies,” Kori said, a faint, sad smile on her face.

That was probably no little feat when Dick was hellbent on acting like a mini Bruce.

“Sounds nice,” he said, rather than unload all the mean and bitter commentary in his head. It wasn’t like he had someone to do that for him back then.

“This is nice too,” Kori rested her head on his shoulder, “with you and Roy.”

“...Yeah. It is.”

*****

Jason couldn’t stop thinking about it as the week went on. How he ever ended up with nonviolent touch in his life and Dick didn’t, Jason didn’t know.

Maybe that was why he was outside Dick’s doorstep now.

“What?” Dick answered his door. He looked terrible; dark shadows under his eyes, his skin a little pasty.

“No hello? I’m hurt Dickiebird.”

“Hello. What are you doing here?” Dick said, already looking annoyed.

Jason wished he knew.

“Brought over some extra food. You look like you haven’t had anything but takeout in a while, so…. You want it?” Jason held up the bag to show him.

“You brought food,” Dick stated, looking suspicious, “Why?”

“I just said I made extra, keep up Dickhead,” Jason shot back.

He was no good at this. He should have just bothered Wally into visiting. Someone who could get away with a casual hug.

Jason was not much of a hugger, casual or otherwise. He wasn’t too touchy-feely in general and he didn’t know why he was there… but since he was there he wasn’t going to be driven away so easily.

“Did Bruce send you here?” Dick demanded.

“Bold of you to think Bruce can make me do anything,” Jason retorted.

Dick seemed to accept that. As he should.

“Fine, whatever, just… you didn’t drug it, right?” Dick asked as he moved out of the way and let Jason inside.

“Who the fuck do you think I am, Alfred? If I was gonna drug you, I would slip it into your delivery, not some home cooked meal,” Jason scoffed.

It was really messy. It made Jason’s fingers itch for some cleaning supplies, but that wasn’t why he was there.

“Home cooked?” Dick’s eyebrows raised curiously.

“Curry,” Jason said, pulling out the containers from the bag in the little spot on the table not covered in case files, “I always thought it tasted better the day after anyway.”

“Did you make this?” Dick hesitantly came over, curiosity seeming to win out over defensive aggression.

“Who else would have?” Jason rolled his eyes, “here, heat this up will you?”

He passed over a container of rice. Their fingers brushed and Dick’s hand spasmed for a moment.

Jason didn’t comment. He knew what that was like. Going so long without any kind of touch that the slightest brush of skin felt like getting electrocuted.

“Why me?” Dick asked, hurriedly turning his back to him and fiddling with the microwave.

Because you need it.

“Oh, you know, if your ass gets any skinnier, the community will collapse on itself. Can’t have that,” Jason said breezily instead.

“What a saint.”

“Right? They should put me up in the little chapel on 5th St. I’ve already died and everything, I’m totally qualified,” Jason said, then changed the subject, “You have a toaster oven?”

“Why would I have a toaster oven?” Dick grumbled.

“Because they’re damn useful? Never mind, I’ll just use the oven,” Jason said, nudging Dick out of the way so he could reach the nobs. It wouldn’t need too much, it was just to lightly heat the naan.

“Are you eating here too?” Dick asked hesitantly.

“Might as well, it’s dinner time,” Jason shrugged.

Dick didn’t say anything to that. This time when Jason passed him the next container to heat, he didn’t flinch when their hands met, but he pulled away much more hesitantly.

This part felt a little unnatural for Jason, because he… didn’t really let people touch him who weren’t super close to him. And he and Dick- they just weren’t. It wasn’t bad, per-say, just decidedly uncomfortable.

He wasn’t planning to let that show though.

Jason bullied Dick into bantering with him as they prepped the rest of the food, all the while finding reasons to brush up against him. Let their hips touch when he checked the heat on the food, a hand on Dick’s arm to move him out of the way to open the oven, steading his hands as he stacked plates and utensils into his arms.

Dick was mostly past the shockieness and onto the needy phase by the time they got to actually eating the food. It felt a little manipulative to sit down right next to him on the couch while they ate so their legs and arms could casually brush every now and then.

The nice thing was that Jason didn’t have to initiate anymore. Now that Dick had figured out that he wasn’t going to be pushed away and that Jason was pretending not to notice, he was pressing close with every possible excuse. As he did, he chattered away about this and that, a slight nervous jiggle of his leg.

It was strange, like watching someone slowly come alive again. Like a dry plant perking up at the first taste of water. Jason wanted to somehow give him even more, but he didn’t know how. So he just stayed close.

Dick didn’t ask him to leave when they finished their food, so he didn’t.

Jason turned on the TV.

It was funny, Dick’s commentary slowly started to die down as his eyes started to drupe.

“Maybe I really should have drugged you food, when’s the last time you got a full night’s sleep?” Jason noted, reaching over to touch his forehead. He was a little warm, but not too bad.

“When’s the last time you did?” Dick shot back, but his eyes dropped closed under his hand and he didn’t push him away.

It felt a little too intimate for Jason though, so he pulled away. Dick swayed forward a little when he moved, like a part of him want to chase his touch.

He probably did.

Jason looked away and shrugged, trying to remember what they had been talking about. Sleep. Right.

“I actually do these days, Roy or Kori kick my butt if I don’t,” he said.

“They take good care of you,” Dick said softly.

“They do,” Jason agreed, his chest feeling a little warm at the thought.

“Good,” Dick said, his expression distant as he turned back to the TV.

Jason wondered if he missed them, but didn’t ask. Dick couldn’t have burned those bridges any better if he’d tried.

They watched TV silently for a while, Dick’s finger tracing patterns on his own leg, back and forth and back and forth.

Jason felt an impulse to grab his hand, but pushed it down. That wasn’t them. Roy and Kori must have been rubbing off on him.

When Dick’s motions stopped, Jason glanced over and snickered when he found that he had dozed off. When he started to tip, Jason raised his arm so he would settle against his side instead of tipping forward and jerking awake.

He didn’t know why he did it- since it effectively trapped him for however long Dick was asleep- and he told himself that it was because Dick needed the sleep, which he did, but-

Dick made a soft little sound as he positively melted against him, even in sleep. It was such a fragile thing, so relieved, just on the edge of broken… it made Jason’s chest ache.

He let him sleep.

Jason might not be able to bury him in a pile of close friends or make love to him all night or whatever, but… he could do this.

He hesitantly carded his fingers through Dick’s hair and watched him lean into the touch desperately, lips parting in a content sigh.

Maybe for this, Jason could be enough.

#touch starved #dick grayson #jason todd #background joyfire if you squint #this could be the start of something #story requests #story prompts #my writing #Anonymous

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thrillingdetectivetales · 3 years

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Author Interview

I was tagged by the lovely @ianandmickeygallavich1

(Throwing a read more in here because this bitch got LONG!)

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

I have 136 works across 45 fandoms, just to give you an idea of what a shameless fandom hopping multishipper I actually am.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

My total WC is 676,938.

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

By a Thread, By a String, By a Rope The Magnificent Seven (2016), WIP, Kudos: 987

Matinee Suits, 5125 words, Kudos: 947

Careful Application of External Pressure Grimm, WIP, Kudos: 876

This Night Ain’t for the Holy Man The Magnificent Seven (2016), 5578 words, Kudos: 875

Catch It Like a Butterfly Leverage, 1497 words, Kudos: 658

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try really hard to respond to every comment, but sometimes they pile up and the anxiety of seeing the number gets to me and I just mark them all read and start over with a clean slate. So, apologies if I skipped you. I promise it was nothing personal, just me trying to practice some fumbling self-care.

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Probably Curtain Call, which is a Roy Harper-centric DCU fic exploring his feelings in the aftermath of the 2015 Red Hood/Arsenal run.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Pretty much all my fic have happy endings, so I’m not sure which one is the happiest. I feel like that’s a subjective question, haha.

7. Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I do write crossovers! I love crossovers and crack fic premises and wild “okay but just go with me here” scenarios, haha. They’re the most fun to figure out, imo. The craziest one I’ve ever written is probably the Shameless-meets-Ducktales crossover I did for Tumblr Jukebox a little while back, though the one I picked up as a pinch hit for the Crossworks Fandom Exchange just last month, crossing over Brooklyn Nine-Nine with Dragon Age: Inquisition is definitely a contender for that spot.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I received a couple of snide comments on a Matt/Foggy Daredevil fic I did under a different name back when I was in college, but that’s about it.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do! I don’t think I’m particularly bad at it, though I do find it very difficult. I’m not sure what the “what kind” question is asking, exactly, but I actually do a smut writing challenge called Monday, Slutty Monday that includes a list of kinks I’m willing to write. You can give it a gander here, if you’re curious.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No, though I have had someone ask if they could use the concept of the lover’s noose from By a Thread, By a String, By a Rope for their original works. I said no, largely because it’s a concept I intend to use in my own original works, though I welcome transformative, not-for-profit works to remix or reimagine or play in any of my sandboxes.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have! I was lucky enough to have Doomed to Play, a Magnificent Seven werewolf/vampire AU, translated into Russian several years back!

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have not! I am extremely interested, though, as I’m a huge fan of old-school, forum-style roleplaying and I really, really love collaborating on projects, so if you’re interested, please feel free to reach out to me and ask! I can’t promise anything, because I’m lucky enough to live a very full and busy life, but who knows!

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

I am not really sure that I have an all-time favorite ship. I have a few oldies but goodies that I revisit pretty regularly, including Harry/Draco, which was baby’s first ship, and Fraser/Kowalski of Due South fame, but I don’t think I’ve ever had a true OTP.

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

God, so many of them, haha. I’m terrible about finishing WIPs because I have a very short attention span, but I’m not fully willing to write any of them off because I do periodically poke at the GDocs for a lot of them, even if they haven’t been updated in years. The only one I truly don’t foresee finishing is So Let Us Not Be Lonesome, which is a Magnificent Seven ghost/medium AU, and the only reason I don’t foresee finishing it is because I hope to one day revisit it as an original work.

15. What are your writing strengths?

I’m pretty routinely cheered in comments for writing true-to-character dialogue, really lush sensory descriptions, and tempting food descriptions, so I’ll go with those.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

I tend to overwrite and I really fucking love adverbs, haha. I was a big reader of doorstopper fantasy in my youth, which tend to be really, really purple in their prose, so I lean in that direction. I have a lot of betas whose opinions I trust tell me I go too purple quite often, but I love my descriptive language so I’m not sure it’s a weakness I’ll ever overcome. Let’s call it a stylistic choice, for now, haha.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I do it all the time, and I really enjoy it in other folks’ fic, so long as the dialogue is something that a non-speaker can still understand from context. I think I probably wasn’t great with that when I first started writing Spanish-speaking characters into my fic, but I like to think I’ve gotten a better handle on it since then.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

I think it was honestly Ronin Warriors, an anime that used be on Cartoon Network’s Toonami block way back in the day. I had a lengthy and involved Mary Sue self-insert fic that got be like, a few hundred pages long, though it never saw the light of day.

19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

The two currently at the top of my list are Ted Lasso and 9-1-1, though I can hardly watch a piece of media these days without seeing something in it I want to explore that the creators didn’t have the time or inclination to explore, or that didn’t fit their narrative.

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Oh, this is so hard! I honestly don’t know. I don’t tend to go back and re-read my own fic too terribly often, so I’m really not sure, but I will say that one of the ones I think is underrated is The Lady and the Knife, which is a Luther/BBC Sherlock fic that came about because I got tired of Sherlock stans claiming his behavior should be forgiven because he was a high-functioning sociopath and thought it would be fun to see what happened if he ever crossed paths with someone who was actually a high-functioning sociopath and not just a dick. (Don’t get me wrong, I really enjoyed the early BBC Sherlock and some of the fic is chefkissingfingers.gif, I just really hate it when people require their characters to be morally upright at all times. Let them be villains! Let them be dicks! Don’t apologize for finding that interesting!)

I am tagging @thesummoningdark, @blahblahblahclintnickiscanon, @townhulls, @ksansart @rubinecorvus @persipneiwrites @irolltwenties and anyone else who feels like participating! I have a lot of mutuals who write fic and I’m really bad at remembering everyone’s various handles, so please, if you want to participate but I didn’t tag you, go ahead and do it and @ my ass anyway!

Luh ya bbs.

#tec does a meme #tec writes

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bigskydreaming · 4 years

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Thinking about the Church of Blood story in general now, like, the big culmination one, and it had some really great Donna and Joey moments, as well as some great scenes between Kory and Jason actually.

I’ve talked a little about my disconnect with the Kory - Jason - Roy trio in general in the past, in terms of their New 52 dynamic vs their history pre-boot.....but this story in particular makes it stand out for me, because like, both Roy and Kory thought Jason was precious as fuck, but he was very very much their friend/boyfriend’s kid brother. Not in a dismissive or condescending way, but just like.....hmm, hard to describe exactly. But it also went both ways, and personally, I’ll never be able to look at the three of them and NOT see Jason as always viewing them through the lens of how he first knew them.

Because one thing that I really really think has so much potential to be explored after Jason’s return and when he starts to get closer with the family again, is......so like, if you’re going off of pre-boot continuity, whether you ship DickKory or DickBabs or DickRoy or whomever....I think if you play off of the idea of DickKory’s canon relationship at all, to any degree, like......Jason is Gonna Have Opinions and Feelings about them not being together by the time he returns to Gotham. I think it absolutely is gonna be a big deal to him, whether he voices that or not, and hell, whether HE even consciously processes why that is or not.

And that’s because canon DickKory IMO was quite literally Jason’s first look at a happy, healthy and mutually respectful adult romance.

Jason’s never cited any real memories of his parents being happy together, frankly. And for the three or at most four years he lived with Bruce, its not like Bruce was in any committed long-term relationships other than his flirtations with Selina. And while Jason was never quite as removed from Bruce’s Justice League circle of friends as a lot of fanon takes for granted, its not like Bruce was hosting weekly gatherings and thus giving Jason a lot of up close encounters with Clark and Lois as a couple, or Ollie and Dinah or Barry and Iris.

So for pretty much Jason’s entire existence as Robin, the relationship he had with Dick and by extension Kory as his brother’s girlfriend....literally WAS his first and most formative view of what two adults in love COULD look like.

And throughout that time, Dick and Kory were SOLID. Like, they were together for a very long time, and the issues in their relationship pretty much existed at the start of their relationship when they were first getting together and working through their very different at times outlooks on life....but with this predating Jason’s debut.....and then like.....conflicts in their relationship pretty much only then started appearing at the tail end of Dick’s brainwashing, with Kory’s wedding on Tamaran - which Jason wasn’t witness to, and didn’t last long at all as Kory returned in time to help rescue Dick and with Jason having a front row seat to her concerns for him and desire to reconcile and put all of that behind them. And then again AFTER that....Kory and Dick were once again quite solid for awhile, up until and after Jason’s death, with her pretty much being Dick’s rock through all of that....and their ultimate break-up basically only happening around the time of Knightfall, when Tim was already firmly established as Robin.

So for basically the entire time Jason knew Dick before he died.....he knew Kory too, and the fact that his brother and Kory were very much in love and very happy and very GOOD together. And then years later, Jason returns, and finds that at some point in his absence.....the literal golden couple, the two people whose relationship was literally his introduction to the concept of a healthy adult relationship, hell, probably the only reason he viewed such a thing as even POSSIBLE.....had broken up, and not only did nobody ever talk about this or bring this up....if Jason HAD looked for details....the reality is very few people probably even had a clue WHY....beyond just being able to tell him vague facts like “oh they were engaged, but something happened on their wedding day, and then they called it off, and then Dick left the Titans around the same time and they never got back together.”

I mean, if I’m Jason, and I come back and that’s all anyone can tell me about why my brother and his girlfriend, the two people who I thought were more in love than anyone else I’d ever in my life known two people to be.....

I’m gonna be like....dude, what the FUCK HAPPENED??!?!

But at the same time, probably not wanting to actually ASK Dick that, because sensing that anything to result in this probably isn’t something he remotely wants to talk about, or be reminded of just how good they used to be, back when Jason knew them.....and also there’s always the possibility that on some level Jason doesn’t fully WANT to know what happened, as he doesn’t want to ruin the mental image/memories he has of this formative-on-his-view-of-romance couple’s happier times by knowing just what exactly did happen to destroy that.

But that doesn’t mean he’s not gonna definitely have some thoughts about all that and a whole lot of confusion and likely some mixed feelings....

And it DOES also mean that if and when he DID find out about various factors that contributed to the end of their relationship, like the role Mirage played in that as well as the one-sided nature of how the Titans as a whole reacted to Dick in that storyline.....IMO, its not going to be as generic or removed a situation for Jason as most Jason-finds-out-about-Tarantula-and-sometimes-Mirage takes often assume it to be. For Jason, its likely to be a bit more personal than that, especially compared to the way Tim, Damian, Steph or others who came along later would view that revelation.

And this too, plays into why I’m big on “no, actually Dick and Jason did have a sibling relationship k and thx, this is kinda key and crucial to some very poignant story beats”....

Because Jason was THERE, back in the day. He SAW Dick and Kory together. I need to grab some panels of Jason and Kory from the Brother Blood story because they had some cute moments and like.....I mean, we might not have seen much there but what we did see, he was Team DickKory. The end of their relationship would not be some abstract piece of history the way it would be for most of the Batfam....because given that Jason literally interacted more with Dick during the time he existed as Robin than even Bruce did during that same period.....Jason is the one and ONLY member of the Batfam who could ever possibly have an actual clear image and view of just what Dick LOST due to the end of his and Kory’s relationship.

Because he’s the only one who ever really got a chance to see what Dick HAD there....back when he had it, and it was good.

#definitely still no agenda #you can trust me Im a doctor

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talesfromatabletop · 4 years

Text

RP Headcanons: DC Edition, pt 1

Batfam

Bruce cares, tries, and fails, but generally keeps trying for his kids.

Baby Terry McGinnis is the cutest thing ever and his dinosaur t-shirts reinforce this.

Slade Wilson - terrible person, great assassin, loving (if strict) parent.

Dick and Bruce fight constantly! Once Dick gets mad about something, everything makes him more angry until he and Bruce eventually resolve the first problem. It's sometimes big stuff... sometimes really petty shit.

Steph loves waffles. She will trade Tim for a 4-stack with chocolate chips.

Everybody wants to pair with Bruce on Gotham patrols. He gets the best fights and he brings snacks in the belt - it's a 50/50 if it's protein bars or trail mix, though.

Nobody wants to pair with Bruce on Gotham patrols. He won't let you make Social Media posts or stop for a hotdog at Rico's corner stand.

Jason and Dick actually fight a lot, still. Jason knows how to push Dick's buttons and he uses that as a self-defense tactic when he doesn't want to talk. ("Get Dick mad and he won't ask if I'm okay!")

Cass loved Steph before Steph loved Cass. Stephanie figured it out... eventually.

Lucius Fox only helps with the really weird shit because Bruce trades him Alfred's secret holiday recipes sometimes. Alfred's recipes are the true treasures of Earth.

Duke does his best not to get swept up in the weird, wild lives of his batsiblings tbh.

Tim doesn't babysit, he gets babysat.

Ace is the Good Boy™ but he will try and take Krypto down.

Titus is trained, we swear, but he's goofier than a ferret on drugs sometimes. 10/10 derp.

Sometimes Dami gives Batcow walks through the garden to help her relax.

Every Batfam member will stab the other for the last piece of Ma Kent's apple pie. Even Alfred.

Superfam

90s Kon and YJ Kon both deserve to exist. What better combo than the Insta-famous, outgoing showboat and the blunt, introverted buffbaby?

YJ Kon is way more of a "Conner" than 90s Kon. 90s Con is now "Carter."

Carter + Tim = Flashy Disaster Couple

Conner likes Wally's freckles.

Ma and Pa Kent accept any and all grandkids, time-travel or dimension-hopping be damned because "They're our boys, now, Clark, of course we want to see them!", and there are family trips to the farm.

Clark will bribe his friends and teammates with his mother's cooking. He can't bribe with his own, though, because he's terrible at it.

Jon would happily fly to Gotham for dinner before eating what his father burned made for them.

Krypto would probably go, too.

Clark doesn't know what to do with all of his sons but at least they aren't like his cousins.

"It's not about whether the boob window would look good or not, guys! It isn't happening!" is still something he's had to say before, though, and Clark's mildly ashamed of it.

With three superboys up to bat, the real issue is that none of them want to share the name. Jon had it first and that's fine with his brothers, really. Conner looks and feels like practically an adult, so he's meh about it. Carter wants something catchier to say. The result? Superboy, Kon and Rao.

Jor-El had a conniption when Carter named himself "Rao" as a hero. "You named yourself after OUR GOD?!? You disrespectful little-!"

Lex thought it was hilarious.

The boys are constantly in the background of Carter's posts and there's a few Insta vids of Lex trying and failing to hide that he's mildly amused by his son's shenanigans.

Flashfam

Barry is face-blind (has prosopagnosia). He can gradually memorize specific elements of a person's face ("Uh... Ollie's hair is like mine, right? So he's blond! And I know he has facial hair.") but has trouble associating them together unless he's had long periods of exposure to the person.

Wally is a nervous bundle of anxiety. All of the time.

Barry is practically incapable of looking on the dark side of things, and tends to believe the best of people - this extends to his villains.

Cisco is his bro, Caitlin is like the ditzy aunt, and Harrison is the exasperated father-figure that just wishes his kids didn't drink so much coffee.

Speaking of coffee - Barry doesn't drink it on the job. It makes him antsy.

Captain Boomerang - Digger, to his friends - is always on the edge of getting out of the game. Raising Owen ("Little Diggs") is a higher priority than his Rogues work. He waivers between retirement and always that "last" job that'll set him up to take care of his son.

Little Diggs is too pure for this world, and a fan of Flash even though he knows his father is a villain.

Wally isn't as forgiving with the Rogues as Barry is. This is especially true for Heatwave, Glider and Cold, since they've all double-crossed the Flash before.

Cold isn't fond of Kid Flash. Barry earns his respect and, in some ways, his admiration - this doesn't extend to Flash's smartassed sidekick.

Lisa and Mick are a surprisingly functional duo despite their dysfunctional dynamic. Lisa is generally in charge in their relationship, and Mick knows Len would ice him if he ever raised a hand to Lisa.

Len and Mick are best friends, despite the friction from their clashing personalities.

Lisa keeps pushing Len to either date or pick a favorite hooker - anything to get him laid and chilled out for once.

Len is practically addicted to puns. Not even just cold- or ice-related puns, either! He will make puns out of anything when given an opportunity, and genuinely is amused by them.

Arrowfam

Oliver is never in control of his daily life. He's barely in control of his personal choices most of the time.

Felicity runs it all - the team, the company, organizing his assignments from the League... everything other than doing the hard stuff herself.

Ollie really is a capable hero, but he doesn't believe it. He also doesn't particularly believe that the League needs or wants him there, but couldn't tell you why exactly they keep him, then, if questioned about it.

Roy has totally given up the flash and mystique of heroism tbh. Trucker hat? Check. Bow, arrows, and backup guns? Check. Flip-flops? All the better to chase people with. The slapslapslap of justice will strike terror in the hearts of muggers everywhere.

Oliver spoils Lian relentlessly.

Artemis is glad to avoid the weird shit that Roy and his clones get up to when Ollie isn't paying attention. She's never been more thankful that she isn't one of the adopted sidekicks.

Jim: Big, friendly, easily guilt-tripped, the pretty one.

Will: Mature, down-to-earth, does the guilt-tripping, the mom/dad friend.

Roy: Trash, amger!!!, can't be guilt-tripped but can be blackmailed, has no clue what he wants in life yet.

Lian will either murder you in your sleep or you are now a member of her family. There is no in-between.

No pets. Ever. They will get shot with an arrow by accident and nobody in the house is willing to deal with that emotional burden.

Oliver wants exactly 0 people in the "Arrowfam" but will kill you and/or himself over losing any member of his Arrowfam.

#dc comics #headcanon #dc headcanon #there is so much more #snippets with Azzy

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cosmicheromp3 · 4 years

Note

Hi, I’m kinda new to the fandom, and I wanted to read more about dick Grayson and the batfamily. Do you think you could recommend some comics I should start with?

hi, of course! i actually have a comic recs blog @whatthefuckisacomic, where there’s a batfam tag and a dick grayson tag that you can browse, plus a page dedicated to tips for starting out with comics. the batfam is a bit hard to rec for because quality can vary drastically from comic to comic, and it’s hard to go “you might have to read this because the event is important to understand what’s going on, but it’s a pain because the writer sucks”. for a starting point i’ll try to stay away from those, though.

under the read more i more or less ended up following a timeline for dick, but i tried to give you options in case something isn’t up your alley and you want to move on to something else. i hope it’s still easy to follow, and don’t hesitate to ask me any follow up questions! these are all gonna be pre-reboot recommendations, because dick’s characterization was very watered down with the n52 and i frankly prefer to just stick with stuff from before.

let’s get into it!

a good starting point for dick, because it’s easy to read and quite beginner friendly, would be robin: year one – i don’t like chuck dixon’s writing in general, but this is one of the exceptions where i would recommend it. an enjoyable origin story you can also read is batman: year three, published in batman #436-439, which mixes present time events (set after jason todd’s death) with flashbacks to dick’s origin. it’s not necessary to read batman: year one and year two before to understand what’s happening in year three, but they’re important batman stories, so if you’re interested in bruce i’d encourage you to read those too.

while we’re still on origin stories, if you want a comic that goes straight to the facts, thoroughly but superficially, and is quite useful to get a good idea for how dick became robin, formed the teen titans, then became nightwing, you can check out secret origins (1986) #13. just keep in mind that it details the pre-crisis version of events, so some of it has been retconned and it might conflict with other stuff you’ve read, or will read.

personally, i find that dick’s most enjoyable stories happen when he’s with the titans, so i strongly encourage you to check out the new teen titans, if you don’t mind older comics style.

as for dick becoming nightwing, you should read the original story where it happened, which would be the judas contract, an arc published in tales of the teen titans (it’s collected as a tpb for easier reading). marv wolfman recently wrote a story set during this time in the robin 80th anniversary special and it has great dick and bruce characterization imo. i don’t recommend reading the whole special if you’re not familiar with the robins already because there’s a lot of callbacks to other comics, but after you’ve read the judas contract you can check out wolfman’s story at least. again, these follow pre-crisis continuity, but they’re very much worth it.

then there’s the nightwing (1996) solo which is... a mess, mostly. tomasi’s run (collected under nightwing: freefall and nightwing: the great leap) is usually regarded as the best from that comic. other than that this solo can be mostly boring or plain bad at times. i read all 153 issues of it (it was one of my first batfam comics i read), and i’ll say that while it could be a drag it was useful in that following a comic going from 1996 to 2009 helped me find some important events in batman history when it crossed over – same can be said for the robin (1993) solo. i’d only tell you to check it out if you have a lot of time in your hands and very low standards, but please don’t start there. i’m only saying this cause it was useful for me when i was in a moment when i wanted to read everything. if that doesn’t apply to you, better to stay away.

that tangent out of the way, let’s go back to comics i do recommend lmao. nightwing: old friends, new enemies is a good one where he teams up with roy harper. another one to go with my dickroy agenda is outsiders (2003), but before you read that you need to read titans/young justice: graduation day to understand the context under which the outsiders are formed. dick’s characterization during outsiders is very particular because it’s set at a low point in his life after he’s lost donna troy; he might seem different than in other comics, but it’s very important to understand him as a character.

lastly, dick had a pretty solid stint as batman after bruce “died” – i always say that while being batman wasn’t good for dick, dick was good as batman. for this period in his life, you have batman: long shadows, then batman: the black mirror. for more batfam interactions during this time, you can read gates of gotham, and for his relationship with damian there’s batman & robin (2009).

these should give you a good idea of some important things in his character’s history. just as a reassurance: don’t be intimidated by the amount – he’s a very old character so it’s only natural there’s a lot –, and any of these you could probably enjoy without having read everything before (except i wouldn’t recommend you start with a comic like outsiders without being acquainted with his character first, since it has very specific characterization).

as for more general batfam comics, i know a lot of people point to gotham knights for that, but i personally haven’t read it so i can’t speak for it. and i can’t make this post without recommending batgirl (2000), because it’s just great. you might also want to read jason’s death (a death in the family) and tim’s subsequent introduction (a lonely place for dying) just because they’re so often referenced, and i could go on with other important events... but there’s so many i’d rather tell you to follow another character’s reading list, than read important comics without context for the sake of reading them. this is where i plug in my sideblog again; if there’s any other batfam characters you’re interested in reading more about, you can find them listed in the tags page.

as a final note i feel like it’s my duty to encourage you to branch out to comics other than the batfam, which is what people new in the fandom tend to read the most just because it’s the most popular. i still love them and i still read their comics but there’s a lot of good comics for other characters, a lot of them better than many batfam comics since, like i said, they can be a gamble as to their quality. sometimes there’s dynamics that the fandom demands for batfam comics that can actually be found in canon for other dc families.

if you want to branch out but you’re unsure about jumping straight into another family with zero knowledge, i recommend reading team comics that include batfam members and using those to get to know more characters. i actually recommend doing that even if you’re not trying to branch out yet – reading about batfam characters outside of the gotham context, which can be very isolationist, usually adds a different dimension to them and you’ll find interesting takes on these same characters. for example, some of my favourite characterization for tim happens in young justice (1999) – another very fun beginner friendly comic i recommend –, and i enjoy bruce more when he’s with the justice league or alongside superman than i do in his solo comics.

and that’s it! don’t hesitate to ask me or DM me for anything else, and just remember that recommendations are very subjective. when reading comics what usually happens, to me at least, is that you pick something up, maybe leave it for a while, check out something else, come back to the first thing, and so on. while following a list or something you might find a different character that you enjoy and want to know more about, you might see an event that catches your interest, realize you like a writer and want to check out their stuff, and in my opinion allowing yourself to follow what you like is the most effective way to make reading comics an actually enjoyable experience.

i made it into a list in case you don’t want to read through my ramblings every time, ordered a bit better:

robin: year one

batman: year three

optional before: batman year one, batman year two

secret origins (1986) #13

the new teen titans

the judas contract

nightwing: old friends, new enemies

outsiders (2003)

for context read titans/young justice: graduation day

nightwing: freefall

nightwing: the great leap

batman: long shadows

batman & robin (2009)

batman: the black mirror

gates of gotham

not dick specific

batgirl (2000) - for cass

young justice (1999) - for tim

good luck!

#dick grayson #batfam #rec list #comic recs #i was gonna make this a bullet point type post but i can't mention anything w/o commenting lmao #Anonymous

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dottie-wan-kenobi · 4 years

Text

So @whateverrrrwhatever and I have decided to work our way through a list of prompts over the next however long, which means I’ll be writing little unedited ficlets periodically and sometimes sharing them here. This one is for “Sharing a drink with them from the same straw.“

----

“So,” Donna says, leaning forward. She’s smiling, and though her eyes are hidden behind big, tinted glasses, Kory can imagine the corners of them crinkling. “I got to try out the new reinforced punching bags.”

“And?” Dick asks, just as excited as their friend. They’ve all been waiting for the new equipment for weeks, Kory especially so. Between her and Donna, Dick’s had no choice but to feel the same. “How were they?”

“They’re amazing. You’re gonna want to try them, too, Kory. Give those big muscles a proper workout for once.” She reaches out and pokes Kory’s arm, jerking back before Kory can retaliate.

Dick laughs at them both, shaking his head. He stabs a chunk of steak and brings to his mouth, not getting involved as Kory half stands and lunges over the table to poke Donna back on her forehead.

Donna’s loud laugh fills the air, and people walking past the expensive restaurant’s patio turn to look, eyes widening when they see the trio.

“My muscles get plenty of exercize,” Kory tells her, falsely serious. She brushes her hands down her pants as she sits. “You don’t need to worry. Not for me, anyway.”

“Yeah, just for me,” Dick jokes, rolling his eyes. “I wake up every morning feeling like I couldn’t possibly get more sore, and then somehow, I do!”

“Oh, you’re just a big baby,” Donna replies. “Like having fantastic sex with your alien wife is such a hardship.”

Kory tries to stifle a laugh at the way Dick’s eyes widen, shocked that Donna would come out and just say what they’re all thinking. “Yeah,” he says after a second, “Real hard.”

“Oh my god,” Donna immediately complains. “You’re so annoying. I’m only here for Kory, I hope you know that.”

“I can’t blame you,” he shrugs, grinning over at Kory.

She sips at her drink, enjoying the time alone with her husband and best friend. They’re meeting up with Vic afterwards, too, and she can’t wait to see him again. It’s been too long since they all got together, over a month she thinks, and too long until their next scheduled dinner.

Lost in thought, she doesn’t notice as Donna and Dick keep talking, Donna gesturing as she regales him with some tale. Kory only tunes back in when Donna accidentally smacks her wrist into her cup, which goes down.

“Ah, shit.” She stands, reaching out for some of the napkins. Dick mimics her, and they have the mess cleaned up before the waiter can even see something happened.

“It’s okay,” Kory says, once they’re both sat down again. She holds her cup out. “You can have some of mine if you want.”

Donna grins at her in thanks, taking the lemonade. She takes a pull from the straw, and exaggerates a pleased lip smack just to get them both to smile. Handing it back, she says, “Now, as I was saying, Roy was hanging on for dear life….”

#dickkory #donnakory #koriand'r #donna troy #dick grayson #practiceprompts #my writing

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batb1tch · 5 years

Text

It’s my boy’s birthday so here are some Jason Todd head-canons 🎉

Probably 3rd to last (Alfred and Bruce) on the list of ‘understanding internet slang’ in the household. He died and just sort of fell behind on the times (including memes, pop culture references,etc..) I know he’s known for making snarky quips and sarcastic comments but I have no doubt his siblings would call him out on his outdated references. It’s likely it’d really piss him off too like, knowledge is really everything to this kid and here he is with a group of teenagers who are always on top of shit (Steph, Tim, Duke, even Dick) and he doesn’t know what they’re talking about the majority of the time. Can’t figure out how to use Twitter or Snapchat and he does not have the patience to learn. It’s a genuine sore spot for him regardless of the humorous side.

Has an inner city accent that will never leave him. Still pronounce “on” like “awn” and frequently drops his r’s (which Bruce acts like he hates but really he finds it endearing.) Drops his “ing”s like “nothing” is “nothin.”

Fantastic chef, learned from the best. Very good at making something out of nothing and making it last. Steph has been showing him how to can things like fruit and vegetables. She’s basically just enabled his doomsday prepping behavior.

Speaking of, if you think Bruce is bad with the backup plans (yes there is always a b c d — z) where do you think Jay got it from? Absolutely anal about planning and contingencies. Has a backup for his backups.

Has a small hoard of books hidden in an end-table back at one of his safe houses. His favorite classics (mostly gifted by Bruce.)

Loves the smell of paper.

Definitely could use them but refuses to get glasses. Babs teases him for his squinting when she gets the chance.

“Just join the club book-worm, promise it won’t ruin your badass reputation.”

Jason ~squinting~ “I’d rather die....again.”

Collects cool bookmarks.

Definitely names his guns.

Favorite meal is literally any Spanish/Mexican dish followed by a good chili dog & a coke.

Can pack away enough food to feed a horse and keep going, not even Bruce knows how he does it. Alfred acts like he’s a pain in the ass to cook for but loves feeding him anyways. “You’ll eat us out of house and home someday my dear boy, good god.”

While we’re at it, he is 100% taller and wider than Bruce. You might think it makes Bruce a bit uncomfortable when standing right next to him (I mean...it does lol) but he absolutely loves when Jay throws his weight around because the malnourished string-bean of a child that he met on the street could now powerlift a small automobile and he is so fucking proud and happy that he grew up to be big and healthy (that he managed to grow up AT ALL mind you) how could he be mad? He probably tears up at the dinner table after Jay fills his plate for 4th time that evening and still intends to stay for dessert because he loVES HIM.

His feet definitely hang off the end of his bed by like, the shins because his room only has a full compared to everyone else’s king/queen. It never got upgraded when he hit puberty (because he was dead) and then he wouldn’t let anyone change it once he came back because that’s his bed “don’t fucking touch it I still fit just fine.” (Even though he’s like 22 and there’s a dip in the mattress that could put the Grand Canyon to shame.)

Still has a picture of Catherine hidden away. Visits her grave on the anniversary and always brings her favorite flowers (Lillie’s.)

His hands get cold really easily and they’re always dry/calloused.

Snores. Loudly.

The Lazarus pit did NoT heal his autopsy scar that shit is there for life and it is big and it is ugly. He doesn’t like taking his shirt off because of it and the look on Bruce’s face when he sees it could strip wallpaper.

Stopped dying the lock of white hair on his head.

Has spring allergies that turn him into a giant snotting watery eyed whiny baby.

He’s claustrophobic and not a fan of the dark. It’s why his helmet has night vision.

(While we’re at it, that helmet has to be the equivalent of like, iron mans on the inside. Definitely has built in comms, scopes, analysis systems, navigation, etc etc. the WORKS. whICH he designed and created himself because he’s brilliant.) (Actually Roy might have helped a little but don’t tell him that.)

Has a work-in-progress bike in the cave that hasn’t been finished for over 2 years and it will never be finished because he uses it as an excuse to hangout and spend time with Bruce. Drives Steph crazy to see it sit there but she gets it.

During his first Thanksgiving with Bruce and Alfred he cried for 15 minutes before dinner (which he’s still embarrassed about to this day) and then ate until he literally puked. He hasnt missed many Thanksgivings since he died.

TERRIBLE at 1st-person-shooters and super pissed about it.

“That’s not even realistic, an HK-416 doesn’t even have a 200 round drum. It’s bonkers! It’s madness Tim!”

“Shut the fuck up Jason you haven’t even been facing the right way since we started.”

(He’ll stick to Space Invaders and Mario fuck you very much.)

Really good at piano. Bruce asked him to start playing seriously when he moved in because “learning a musical instrument teaches self -discipline and versatility” but really it’s because one day during his Robin years Jay sat down and started plinking on the keys to a song he learned at the public youth-center on the “old shitty out of tune” wood one they had and it just happened to be a song Martha used to play Bruce all the time. He wanted to hear it fill the halls again.

Gets in a screaming match with Bruce nowadays and instead of lighting up one of Penguin’s underground casinos (like he might of used to 👀) he’ll disappear for a month to cool down. You can always tell when he gets over it though because he sends the family a postcard from wherever he is in the world. (Alfred puts them all on the fridge.)

Pit symptoms used to (and occasionally still do) include horrific night terrors, black-out rage, and brief moments of hallucinations or flashbacks. He had to relive the period of time shortly after he was pulled out through graphic and warped recollections (typically after not getting enough sleep or engaging in physical altercations.) He really only started to work through this after Ducra had suggested keeping a log and writing down everything he could remember. After a time he was able to piece together the things he had experienced or done (mostly to others) and as awful and horrible as knowing may have been, he could at least start to move on.

The more time he spent with Damian after he came back the more he could remember as well. He will occasionally speak to him in Arabic & not even realize he’s doing it (which scares the pants of Dames, himself, and Bruce.)

He does feel closer to the little gremlin because of it though. Talia likely had him as a baby with her the majority of the time after he was born and Jay was recovering/training, so he spent a substantial amount of time with both of them.

Bruce bought him a kindle for Christmas one of the first years he was back and he was (and still is but don’t tell the old man that) elated.

Occasionally mumbles in his sleep, usually in a variety of languages.

He does smoke, mostly only when he gets stressed out (because everyone reams him for it otherwise.) You’d think it’s a rebellious street kid thing but it’s actually because Catherine used to smoke the same brand and the smell reminds him of her.

His shoe size is a 13.

The time shortly after he crawled out of his own grave he could see ghosts (and I’m talking straight up dead people.) He can’t recall much of this or the time spent actually deceased (even after his dunk in the pit) but even now he’ll see things move out of the corner of his eye or get cold chills or feel like he’s being watched. When he hasn’t slept for like, 4 days and is bordering on manic depressive and harmful behavior, he starts seeing them again. Constantine prob finds him real interesting.

My guess is that he did see Catherine when he died but overall ended up in some sort of purgatory-like state which he can’t recall.

When he blushes it’s the hollows of his cheeks, back of the ears and neck and all the way down the front of his chest. The autopsy scar shows up white against it.

Has those hands that no matter how many times he washes them the oil/gun cleaner doesn’t come out of the cracks. Looks like a mechanic.

Tends to wear thicker work/type clothing like carhart fireproof pants and boots. Obviously his jacket too.

Not a fan of cold weather at all. His nose and cheek get really red and he shivers (as unmanly as that is)

OCD. His apartments are spotless, weapons and ammunition categorized and logged, etc.

Had asthma as a child and sort of grew out of it but sometimes his endurance suffers as an adult because of it.

Has this particular phone case 💀

#jason todd #jason peter todd #dc #batfam #red hood

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elareine · 5 years

Text

A fool to believe

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, mention of war and injury Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Regency, Alternate Universe - Jane Austen Fusion, Alternate Universe - Daemons, though they barely feature here tbh, Getting Back Together, Misunderstandings, mention of serious injury, but no details given, Fluff, the lightest of angst, Epistolary Series: Part 3 of foolish, perhabs AO3: /18771535

When Jason Todd is tired, frustrated, angry, happy - in short, when he feels any emotion at all -, he writes a letter. Here are six letters he never sent.

A letter that was torn up by the writer in disgust at himself:

Dearest Dear Tim,

I know what I’ve done will be a shock to you. I know you will be angry. So am I. As I write this, I am in London, waiting to be shipped out to France, maybe Spain.

However, what could you expect if your father tells me that your family will never accept me us and that we’re over? Of course you choose them. Why wouldn’t you? I understand. But you could’ve at least told me yourself, not through your father! He’s always looked down on me. I could tell he was utterly convinced he was saving you.

I expected better from you. I thought you would at least tell me yourself. Why didn’t you? I don’t understand.

Do you even remember what you told me? How it didn’t matter that I don’t have a family anymore, because we would make our own? Ha.

Was I just a diversion? An amusement because you were bored? Do you not love me?

Why? I just don’t understand

Damn it

A letter that was replaced by a terse note of acknowledgement:

Tim,

I see that I have my answer then. I was wondering - hoping, even - if it hadn’t just been a misunderstanding, your father testing me, perhaps, that somehow, you still loved wanted me. But no.

“It is obvious that our visions for the future do not match.”

What vision was that, then? A vision where I am somehow highborn, with rank and income enough to impress your family? Because it can’t be the future we have been talking about, with us together, come what may, for better or worse, in sickness and health, or you wouldn’t have had your father deliver the notice and only write me yourself weeks later.

Could you at least explain yourself? Tell me what made you change your mind? Was it really just the pressure of potentially losing your family? What did I do wrong? I love loved you so much; why wasn’t that enough?

A letter that Roy found and threw away because it wasn’t legible:

How is it that I still find myself talking to you in my mind? I want to tell you about the people I met here. About General Prince, who is the most amazing fighter I have ever seen and the best person, too.

It wasn’t her fault. Sometimes, the enemy is just too strong.

I made friends, you know. I talk to them. I’m not alone but for you anymore. One of them carried me out of that hell.

And still, I keep thinking I hear your laugh. Or, more likely here, your sarcastic comments. You would have had that coward cowing at his knees…

I’m not making any sense, I know. They fixed me up, we thought, but fever is setting in. My hands are shaking. I just wanted to say… I miss you very much.

Maybe your father was right. You would have been a widower within a year.

A letter that was thrown into the fire, unnoticed by cheering sailors:

Dear Mister Drake Wayne,

I would hereby like to inform you that I have just received my commission as an officer. I am navy, now. The General saw how I fought and gave me an opportunity to transfer and buy my commission. I must confess to being very pleased. Not only does this mean a much better income and chance to advance, but I have also always longed to see more of the world than an infantry soldier could.

My new rank also means that I was informed about your and your family’s activities for the Crown, by the way. I cannot escape you, it seems. So there is no need to keep that a secret anymore.

I suppose you wonder why I am writing to you, three years after we’ve broken our engagement. I must admit that there is some curiosity still lingering after that event, that I would hereby seek to satisfy.

Back then, you spoke of different visions for the future. My lower social status, in particular, was objectionable, as you insinuated. What do you think now? Would I fulfil your standards? Or would my birth still speak against me? Am I good enough now?

I am glad to inform you that others do not find me as repulsive. Now, if only I could stop comparing everyone to you and find them wanting. Hopefully, I will find myself married soon enough, so that we both may be spared any embarrassment when I return to Gotham eventually, as I am sure you have found another long ago. Is it the oldest Kent boy? Some wealthy stranger, perhaps, sweeping you off your feet, giving you everything I never could

A letter that would have arrived in Gotham after the writer did, anyway:

Dear Tim,

How are you? I’m doing well, thank you for never asking. It’s “Captain” now. Captured two ships, made money, made the General proud. I was even able to pay her back.

So now it’s back to England for us. I will not leave the navy - where would I go? - but we have accumulated many days of leave, and Roy Harper wants to go to his best friend’s wedding. That’s Sir Roy Harper, now, in case you are wondering, and that best friend is your brother. Small world, huh? He wants me to come along, and I have no excuse to give.

I suppose I should have known that I couldn’t avoid Gotham forever that this day would come.

You told me about Dick and Barbara Gordon. I remember the exasperation in your voice when you spoke of his puppy love and their inability to see how true it ran. There will be no way to avoid seeing each other at this wedding.

I don’t know how I feel about that. I miss you - I can admit that now - but I don’t want to see you. What if you are still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen? What if six years did nothing but make me love you more?

What am I saying? We both know that my pride and temper will prevail once I see you.

Hopefully, our meeting will show me that I have been holding on to a phantom all this time. My idea of you, that idealized memory tainted by nostalgia for peacetime, cannot possibly compare to reality.

A letter that the writer left on his writing desk, but that Tisiphone and Lachesis hid under Tim’s pillow for him to find upon waking:

Dearest Tim,

Do you know how many times over the last seven years I have found myself in this exact position? Sitting at my desk, thinking of you, writing a letter that you will never read… Yet today I write with the hope that it will be the last time, for tomorrow, I will stand in front of God and vow to be with you for the rest of our lives.

I do not kid myself that we will never be apart. You have your work, and I have mine. We are both quite stubborn about it, too, which I think we have adequately proved in this lifetime. But I swear to you that I will not let words go unspoken anymore. Everything I write here, I have told you or will tell you, if need be, again and again. I will not see us hurt for lack of communication again.

When I returned to Gotham, I was so angry to see you behaving as if nothing had happened. You introduced me to eligible bachelors - it seems so ridiculous now. What in God’s name ever possessed us to do such a thing?

Still, I knew you better than we both remembered, and I couldn’t understand how you could look so sad even as you were smiling and surrounded by your family. Yet something in me recognized that feeling and echoed it. It’s a loneliness that’s not borne out of a lack of friends or family, but out of want for a heart that calls to your own.

There is, simply put, no one else I could ever imagine spending my life with.

I know what marriage means. I know it means more than just declarations of love and long walks together; that there will be hard times. I swear to love you even when you are in a foul mood or withdrawn; when we fight again and again over the small and big things; when one of us has to leave for long periods of time, and we don’t know when we will see each other again; when one of us wishes the other would just go away for need of some quiet. I will even endure weekly dinners with your family. Yes, even Damian. There, that is a proper declaration of love, is it not?

I started writing this as a way to prepare for my vows tomorrow. Now that I think about it, though, I am reconsidering my strategy. As much as you’ve always secretly appreciated my letters (and you needn’t lie about that - Lachesis told me), public displays of affection still make you blush.

Well. With the notable exception of the day I proposed a second time, of course. You always know just what I need.

Still. Perhaps you would not appreciate it if I poured out my heart in front of everyone. I think I will keep my vows to the most crucial point, the one thing you need to know:

I love you.

Yours,

Jason

#jaytim #foolish perhaps #jason todd #tim drake #elareine writes #fanfic

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bat-lings · 5 years

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@sarv70 asked: “i see a lot of people claim Dick shouldn't be with Barbara cuz she "chains him down to gotham and to being Bruce's sidekick" instead of being the heart of the dcu and I can't help but find that comment grossly inaccurate and kinda dismissive towards Babs. She's more than just an extension of batman and has established her own place in the dcu as the hero everybody goes to when they have questions. Do you think there are any pros and cons to him being with a fellow bat?"

I just… fail to see the logical jump tbh. I don’t think there’s any automatic “pros or cons” to Dick dating a fellow bat; Barbara’s identity and whatever she brings to a romantic partner can’t be summed up to her being Batman’s ally.

Something not to forget is that Batgirl is the equivalent to Nightwing, not the equivalent to Robin. Barbara wears the bat, it doesn’t make her submissive or dependent of Batman; or so bound to him that she automatically chains her loved ones to him. Unlike Dick, Barbara was never a sidekick. Not for one second in canon. She was established as an independant figure from her very first appearance; by appropriating the batsymbol to do her thing with it.

[Detective Comics (1937) #359]

[Batgirl: Year One #4]

That stayed a constant throughout her episodes as Batgirl. She took on missions by herself and never referred to or asked Bruce for permission. See both Batman:Batgirl 1997 & 1998, for example.

Barbara, through Batgirl or Oracle, was always Batman’s ally and equal the way Nightwing is. She was always very vocal about calling Bruce out on his shit too. There’s a reason Bruce bossing her around never bode well in the few occasions he tried. He was out of place the way he’s not when addressing Robin, and the writing & framing always made that obvious.

About whether Babs, simply by being a bat, ties up Dick to Gotham/being Batman’s sidekick… again, I don’t get the reasoning. Dick can’t be his own man and have strong bonds with a bat? He shouldn’t be close to Tim or Damian and should instead remain solely with pals like Roy or Donna or Wally? He should cut off all bonds with his father-figure too? How does being involved with Babs, or getting close to any bat, nullify his growing & emancipating process?

She’s not tying him up to Gotham either since he was in Blüdhaven for most of the time dickbabs was a thing, and the distance was never a problem in their relationship.

Maybe Babs keeps Dick from moving on in a way other bats don’t? There is nothing in their narrative that implies Barbara chains Dick up to Batman. Actually, saying she might is reversing the entire narrative.

Whether her perception is true or not (and whether the writing that made them break up over it should be put on a pedestal or not ooops), Barbara sometimes felt Dick couldn’t let go of their Batgirl & Robin days and couldn’t let them both emancipate from that part of their life/acknowledge they’d changed.

After KJ, she initially pushed Dick away because she saw him as a relic of a past that was too difficult to remember. This stunted their getting together; and when DC decided it was time for dickbabs to end (because, y’know, couples can’t stay together in comics ever), this is the root problem they chose to exploit.

[Nightwing (1996) #38]

[Nightwing (1996) #87]

(I have a lot of issues with how their whole break-up and what lead to it was written; parts of it were OOC esp for Dick and it seemed they, as a couple, had moved on from the whole "stop thinking about the past" thing until Grayson chose to re-use it. But the point is, Babs was never written as holding Dick back. Even at dickbabs’ worst.)

Barbara is nostalgic of her Batgirl days, yes, but moving on is vital for her after what the Joker did to her. She never had any interest to stay attached to that period. Not that Dick particularly was either, but in any case let’s not put Dick’s own nostalgia of their Batgirl & Robin days on Barbara.

No, Barbara isn’t chaining Dick up to anything. Yes, dismissing her as an extension of Batman is an overlook of her character. She’s related but independant from Batman; she was a fully independant figure before Dick ever was. She was never, through what she is or through how she acted, an obstacle to Dick’s emancipation or independance.

Of course Dick will always remain loyal to the bats. He was before he and Babs were a thing, and he remained so long after they were over. Barbara is not a factor in Dick’s involvement with the batclan.

So nah, maybe I’m missing a central part of the reasoning but I’ve never read Babs as an obstacle to Dick’s growth. If it were the case he wouldn’t have gotten involved with her in the first place, I mean look what happens when Bruce has trouble acknowledging his autonomy lol

#dick grayson #barbara gordon #meta #dickbabs #zae chatters #asks

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fmdtaeyongarchive · 3 years

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↬ we are no more than friends, i know.

date: august 2020 / october 2020.

location: kiha’s studio / ash’s apartment studio

word count: 2,048 words.

summary: idk. ash has issues other than the vogue korea september issue if you catch my drift. the ending of this is so melodramatic but so is ash, leave us alone

triggers: alcohol mentions + metaphorical suicidal imagery and gun violence imagery. also metaphorical blood imagery. yeah, ash is on his love = death shit again. i’m sorry. he’s not taking his antidepressants in the later parts of this + he’s read too much about bonnie and clyde for this song + meningitis causes “emotional disruption” so please just blame it on all of that.

notes: creative claims verification. more mentions of youngjoo. also… an appearance from npc ash’s producer crew friend kiha so i gotta say now that kyung and kiha have both made appearances in ash solos... erin is the only one of ash’s npc crew trio friends with a brain to mouth filter, which is why he gets along with her the best.

ash doesn’t have much experience with unrequited love.

for someone who’s defined so much of his music-making by the heartbreak he’s been through, he knows the heartbreak of once-requited or still-requited feelings far more than he does the heartbreak of loving someone who doesn’t feel the same way. perhaps it’s one small way in his life that he’s been lucky. rarely have his feelings that weren’t returned ever gotten very serious. he knows getting starry-eyed over someone who doesn’t know he exists or affection for someone who doesn’t see him as an option, even yearning for someone he suspects might be yearning for him in return without confirmation, but love? love is a two-way street.

which is why he’s caught off-guard when kiha asks him if he’s in love with some chick who doesn’t love him back when ash shows him the latest song he’s been working on.

“huh?” the shock on ash’s face is genuine, but kiha laughs like ash is fronting for the sake of evading their conversation.

“come on, man. no one who actually doesn’t care writes a whole bryson tiller knockoff with the lyrics ‘just friends, who cares?’ that’s rule number one of the friendzone.”

ash scoffs and turns back around in his seat, trying not to show that the other’s words had caused some hurt, which only earns another chuckle from his friend.

kiha really gets on ash’s nerves sometimes. being his go-to clubbing buddy doesn’t make him an expert on what’s going on in ash’s life, and ash doesn’t even believe in the friendzone anyway. that’s for people who believe the world revolves around whether or not they can have sex with each person they have in their lives.

he only gets more annoyed as kiha speaks yet again. “what? too much of a hot shot for the girls and guys not to jump at the chance to get with you?”

kiha is joking and ash knows, but it strikes a tender nerve that ash would very much prefer were left alone. there come times like this when their different worlds clash too strongly. kiha finds the whole idol thing to be a joke and, frankly, so does ash, but that doesn’t mean he wants to deal with his friend mocking his entire public image.

he burns red with guilt at the simple fact one person immediately comes to mind as kiha drones on about ash ‘getting in his feelings’.

it’s not like he thinks he and youngjoo have anything in common with infamous american criminals on the run, but he has to channel feelings from somewhere and despite his best efforts to pretend otherwise, ash knows very well where nearly all of the romantic feelings he lays bare in his music come from these days.

it’s not that ash hasn’t considered that what he feels for youngjoo isn’t reciprocated, but then again, there are times she says things and does things and he lets his hopes get the best of him in believing he isn’t the only one feeling what he does. and even if she feels nothing for him, that’s fine, too. it’s not like he’s fallen head over heels, unable to get up, can’t eat or sleep without her. he has a little crush, and that’s fine. he’s not the first person on earth to have a crush and he won’t be the last and, considering their history, it’s only natural that sleeping together again for such an extended period of time would reawaken once-dormant feelings. he’s let himself get comfortable, that’s all. he could stop feeling the way he does any time he wants to.

it doesn’t matter whether her feelings for him go beyond what they have or not, anyway. that’s the point of the song. nothing’s ever going to happen between them again besides what they have now, so it doesn’t matter if they’re just friends or if either of them want more. that’s where the bonnie and clyde metaphor had come in — doomed no matter what they do, playing with fire, not belonging to each other.

after all, bonnie parker had been wearing her wedding ring from another man when she’d died by clyde barrow’s side.

bonnie and clyde may very well be lovers immortalized in name together and romanticized in media, but sworn to one another is something they’d never been.

as if on cue, ash’s silence prompts kiha to speak again. “and what’s the bonnie and clyde thing about?”

“american bank robbers? the quintessential romanticized reference of doomed lovers, if you aren’t counting romeo and juliet.” ash doesn’t bother to turn around from where he’s fiddling with one of the vocal lines to check and see if recognition lights up kiha’s eyes or not. if he’s going to be a dick, ash isn’t above being a little condescending about his song inspiration. “bonnie and clyde died for their crimes instead of as casualties of a violent feud between families, though. they saw their death as inevitable, if bonnie parker’s poems are to be believed. nihilism in the form of passionate love. i’ve been reading up on them here and there. they’re pretty interesting, actually, once you shed the lore around them and look at them as real people who did some bad shit.”

“damn, you’re ready to die for some girl?”

of course that’s what he’d taken from everything else ash had said. all ash had wanted was to ask kiha if he thought the vocal delivery should be looser or not, and this is where he’d gotten. he isn’t sure why he’d expected anything better.

“that’s not what i said, kiha.” ash rolls his eyes, knowing full well that the older man can’t see him, as he puts the finishing touches on his work before saving it and beginning to pack his things up as fast as he can manage while still looking unaffected. “it’s probably best if i go. it’s getting late.”

“never knew you were so masochistic. that just emotional or does it make you freaky in bed, too?”

the look on kiha’s face tells ash he’s finally realized too late that ash isn’t in the mood for the kind of jokes he’s cracking about the song or the untold story behind it. kiha doesn’t try to stop ash from leaving, though, and he doesn’t open his mouth again until ash is in the doorway and turns around to concede a goodbye.

“hey. you don’t strike me as the hell-raising clyde type, but if some girl, this ‘bonnie’ of yours doesn’t like you back, you gotta get yourself together and move on. why would you put everything on the line for some girl you have to fake not caring about? you gonna repeat history? sounds like bonnie and clyde didn’t get their happily ever after the first time around.”

ash forgets why he’s friends with kiha sometimes. the other man is a great songwriter for someone who seems so unwilling to experience his own emotions and so willing to give advice ash hadn’t asked for.

he has the misfortune of thinking kiha is done right before he pipes up again. “i know you’re done with relationships or whatever, man, but no one who doesn’t want to be loved back writes the shit you come in here and show me, so… i don’t know. go out there and find someone who will love you back so i don’t have to sit through your weird double homicide, dying side by side love fantasies until we’re old and grey and that pretty boy face can’t work its magic from our rocking chairs anymore.”

“hey, kiha? didn’t ask.” that’s all he gets for parting words before ash leaves and forgets everything kiha had said under more shots than he can keep track of.

it doesn’t bother him that kiha cuts right through every layer of armor he’s constructed so easily without so much as lifting a finger when all ash had wanted was some objective musical criticism.

no.

ash wants a drink after a long day. that’s all.

_____________________________________________________________

that’s all.

ash finds himself mentally repeating the phrase more and more as time races on.

kiha hadn’t said the song was a stupid idea, but in the days following their conversation, ash wonders if it is. the concept had been a spur of the moment one, based on a first verse spinning off into something new when he’d fallen down a rabbit hole online one night and he’d begun to wonder: in a different life, would he be a clyde barrow or a roy thornton? the thrill ride or the one that gets left behind?

because those are the only two options for someone like him in a situation like he’s in, in the end.

the song teeters dangerously on the edge of low synths and hi-hats, distorted brass and whispers under the track, a sonic mirror image of the clashing in his head. he thinks if he asked someone with more experience to their name with writing hits, they’d tell him it’s too busy to ever be a fully mainstream record, but ash is past writing for the mainstream with this song.

he doesn’t know if he even wants anyone to hear this. will they pity him? mock him? know him more than he wants them to, like kiha had when he’d reached right into the center of ash’s chest and squeezed around the bloody pulp his heart has become?

each time he ponders any one of the one hundred questions swimming through his head for too long, he’s tempted to leave everything behind again to find his way to the nearest club with a semi-safe standard for who they let in their doors. instead, he gets catharsis by kicking up the percussion up a few levels in volume and re-recording vocals over the parts that feel too soft listening to them back. his tone is darker now, more destructive instead of the romantic interpretation he’d taken on the first demo recording, but everything falls apart after the second chorus and in a peak-climbing moment of emotion, he exits the file completely, leaving him with two-thirds of a track and the remaining self-preservation not to come back to it while it’s playing games with his mind.

his self-preservation must get dropped somewhere in the ocean during his plane trips from seoul to indonesia to malaysia to seattle back to seoul, because coming back to the track happens only a few months after he abandons it.

the first night he returns to it, he weighs it down with the sound of his heart — a call that can’t be made.

if his heart is a payphone, he doesn’t have any change left to sound out a call for help, for forgiveness.

if he were to call her, would she answer or has she already cleared his number from her phone and blocked it permanently?

the track drops out and mellows where he’d left off.

even still would you remember me? nah, nah, i’m just...

he’d only hate himself more if the goodness of her heart could be great enough to give him a second, third, tenth chance.

the head-pounding bass kicks back in and then all of the air is sucked back out of it like being flung out into the black abyss of space.

a gunshot.

it’s the closest he can come to describing what he’d done to himself in his bedroom that night. he’d grabbed the gun and put it to his own head. there’s no one else to blame.

_____________________________________________________________

only a few days later, he opens up the file bonnieandclyde again, this time in his studio with full awareness of what it is and where he’d left it. the tequila shots he’d had to celebrate his return home to a dark and empty apartment after the end of his day aren’t enough to get him past the outskirts of tipsy.

the confusion of loss he’d left off at isn’t the correct ending anymore. a week after, and he knows the song doesn’t end with the trigger being pulled, but the last thoughts he’d had as every held-back thought had trickled out of his head in a bright red stream onto his carpet, his own heart beating in his ears — the only part of him foolish enough to keep fighting to stay alive.

i want, want you to know baby, i want you to know how much i love you how much i need you

#fmdverification #suicidal ideation tw #gun violence tw #death tw #&& when you're screaming but they only hear you whisper | self para #i wrote a whole essay in the tags initially but it felt annoying so i'll just leave a smaller note saying that the suicidal ideation #& death fixation that peeks through in some of these verifications esp. related to youngjoo aren't meant to romanticize it or imply they're #direct result of youngjoo or ash's non-relationship with her #those thoughts aren't limited exclusively to these moments i #just don't like to write about those things a lot in general because they can be triggering for me but considering the songs ash is writing #for his album moments of that particular mental health struggle of ash ended up appearing in some of these verifications #he needs more help than he's getting with his mental health + those moments aren't actually romantic even if he acts like they are + etc etc #&& queued

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muthur9000 · 7 years

Link

Thanks to @londonjb for the lead.

This article explains a lot of the psychological motivations of the Prometheus Crew and David. Very long and may require a tea, coffee or whisky.

There's been a lot of speculation around Prometheus, mainly over whether certain elements of the plot constitute sloppiness on the parts of Damon Lindelof and Ridley Scott, or whether they are intentional elements of a puzzle film. In a way, the reception to the film is a lot like Blade Runner, and the film shares as much DNA with that Ridley Scott work as it does with Alien. In fact, I could imagine the three pictures now representing three points on a single timeline of future human history. Certainly, the interpretation of Phillip Dick's Replicants in Scott's Blade Runner and his portrayal of synthetic humans in Prometheus and Alien express certain misgivings over the nature of humanity and whether we are too immature to be creators of responsible entities. They are related metaphors from a single author.

The current brou-ha-ha in the web community is, of all things, "were the Engineers mad at humanity for killing Jesus?" I'm going to leave this to theologians who like science fiction. In short, this way-out-there question is based on the fact that parts of the facility in the film were about 2000 years old, and that Ridley Scott seems to have implied in a recent interview that he and Lindelof discussed whether Jesus was an Engineer sent to redirect humanity at the start of the Roman Empire. Much like the "Is Deckard a Replicant?" question from Blade Runner, this will provide fans with decades of debate that is largely besides the point. It is true that the film can be seen as a twisted spin on the New Testament, with wanderers arriving to an inhospitable desert sanctuary on Christmas Eve, an impossible birth announced by a sexless homunculus, isolation to a "manger" for an impossible delivery, an amoral potentate seeking miracles without redemptive faith, shattering of a "Temple Curtain," a resurrection of the Impossible Child from his tomb, and bodily assumption of the Mother into Heaven. The designation of the moonbase, LV 223, apparently leads to a verse in Leviticus (22:3) that has to do with defiling the Temple and angering the Israelite God. But again, these are matters beyond my ability to discuss them above a cocktail party level.

Instead, let's just deal with two main aspects of the film, and where psychiatric theories can give us insight and further appreciation of the narrative. Both concern the filmmakers' ideas about empathy versus individualistic survivalism. One thread runs through the relationship between the Engineers and Humanity, as illustrated by the puzzle in the film, the responses of different crew members to the Engineer trap being sprung, and Liz Shaw's story. The other thread concerns the very odd familial triad of Weyland, his daughter Vickers, and most importantly, the inhuman "child" David. I'll get back to this triad in the next diary, and touch back on Blade Runner and Alien in the process.

At its simplest level, the conflict between empathy and individualistic survivalism is one of sacrifice versus self-preservation. The latter has always seemed to be the evolutionary imperative, the "animal" nature of humanity, leaving empathy seemingly in the provenance of theology and certain secular philosophies. Even the early psychoanalysts saw the "base impulses" of Id to be primary, consuming and reproducing as the animals did, and the "civilizing influences" of Superego to magically appear through the ministrations of parents and societal rules. We are now just coming to challenge these notions in earnest, as we find brain circuits vital to a sense of feeling the pain of others, and realizing that they are highly overlapping with the social learning circuits that likely gave our hominid ancestors a literal "leg up" on the quadrapedal competition through the manufacture and instruction in tool making/use. Cognitive neuroscientists like Jean Decety have found that self-reflection, painful remorse, identification with others, social responsiveness and autognosis (understanding one's own emotional/cognitive state) are all dependent on some of the same cortical real estate, and that learning from others is intimately tied into all of this on a basic wiring level. Paleoanthropology has begun to debate to what extent our balance of individual autonomy and group dynamics gave us advantages over other primates, apes and hominids. Richard Leakey succinctly expresses this as the idea that a bipedal creature will have great evolutionary pressure to cooperate, as an asocial biped with a broken leg will not be likely to survive. It doesn't just take a village to raise a child, it takes a village to live long enough to conceive one.

On its surface, of course, Prometheus is a Von Daniken-Esque story that steals back the holiness of empathy from these scholars of human brains, development and evolution. We have these impulses because our creators were the kinds of beings who would kill themselves in order to seed new worlds. They were also white and blue eyed, but let's not get too far off track now. The thing is, the film never conclusively establishes that they made us. The mythos hints at their visiting periodically and influencing cultures, as well as having a change of heart sometime in the early Roman Imperial period (although the root cause may have been in Asia or Africa or America or everywhere at once). It also states clearly that they are related to us genetically, and by extension, to Bonobos and Chimps. The thing is, the mythos is open-ended enough that it doesn't negate what we know scientifically, and several characters raise the incongruity of Shaw's interpretation with known biology. She sees the DNA match as validating her theories, but it only establishes a common lineage. The Engineers may have been a culture of humans so far advanced that they left Earth tens of millennia prior. Ridley Scott states that the opening sequence is meant to establish the Engineers' psychology, rather than it showing what happened on Earth. They are seeding many worlds, and they have an aim for the hominids here on Earth. More than that we do not find out.

Thus, Von Daniken-Esque or not, the story is one of humanity falling short of loftier goals that involve the denial of self-preservation. This isn't just the Prometheus crew, or us chimps down here on Terra, but the Engineers of the LV 223 installation. The first we see them on LV 223, in a holo-playback, they are fleeing something. This something leads to widespread death and bodily defilement. It is the interaction of the bioactive muck with them that has led to this something. However, we know that the muck can do different things to different beings. It may have mutated some of the worms on the planet into body rending serpents. It turns the craven geologist into a rampaging wendigo gone amok. On the Engineer head with the panic center (locus ceruleus) activated, it is literally explosive, a dark mirror image to the gradual dissolve at the start of the film. And mixed with reproductive cells in humans, it leads to a rapidly gestating Xenomorph face hugger. At least one Xenomorph has already been unleashed by this process before the Prometheus gets there, as it is in a wall mural in the storage room, and this may have been the Something that hunted down the Engineers. But this is ostensibly the same (or similar) muck to the stuff at the start of the film, which is harsh but ultimately benevolent in result. Is the muck different, or does its effect depend on the user? What if the fear in the LV223 Engineers is what weaponized the substance? And conversely, what if the subtle effects of the substance on the Engineers made their motivations darker than that of their brethren? If they were as willing to die as their kinsperson at the beginning of the film, they could have launched a suicide mission, loaded up with the goop in their own bodies, and unleashed it upon landing and coming out of stasis. That isn't their plan. And that mural of the Xenomorph doesn't look like a warning. It looks like a shrine. Something is different about the psychology of these Engineers.

I wouldn't be a Science Fiction fan without my own pet theory. What if they never turned on us per se? What if they had some of this muck in select locations, away from most people's view, in various places on Earth? Then, whatever we did that was so messed up, whether it was unseating the Roman Republic, crucifying Jesus, destroying the Holy of Holies in Jerusalem (that's a good place to hide bioactive muck), having Russell Crowe fight Joaquin Phoenix, or some Dynastic Coup in China ... whatever it was polluted the goop with hostile intentions, and the Engineers took it to the LV 223 "Human-Engineer Visitor's Center" to see if they could fix it. This makes more sense than setting up a weapons facility on the moon to which they gave directions already. The Earth Embassy was retconned into a decontamination site for the Earth biomuck. This failed. It unleashed nightmarish biotech, but also changed the Engineers on the moon itself. At some point, the muck changed the thinking of the Engineers on that world, hence the mural deifying the Xenomorph and the stockpiling of the muck to unleash (or perhaps to venerate).

The best evidence for this failure of empathy on LV 223 is that one of the Engineers finally decides: "Screw this. I'm safe in this ship, so I'm going into stasis." When he comes out, he is not a high-minded angel. He is disappointed at Weyland, and responds by using the human's creation (David) as a blunt weapon. Now, he doesn't owe Weyland any more of an explanation than Dr Tyrell did for Roy Batty, when Roy had the same wish to look upon his creator and ask for more life. But when Tyrell hems and haws and refuses to try, we are supposed to see it as a flawed human move, and we almost sympathize with Batty's extreme reaction. Here, the clearly flawed being is the Engineer, and Shaw merely asks what went wrong. The Engineer believes itself to be above its creations, above its dead comrades, and above reproach. When it is stopped by an act of sacrifice by the Prometheus flight crew, it does not question its judgment of the little humans. It goes on a rampage to kill the human who questioned it. There is a lot of dialogue devoted to the flawed nature of David's creation and tutelage, but the implied narrative about creation is that our "guides" are also a decidedly mortal/flawed lot. David is the only character to explicitly state this, but the behavior of the Engineers, as much as it can be deciphered, is one of seemingly condemning behavior that they themselves are prone to carrying out. In a pinch, or under the effects of bad bioactive muck, or both, they opt for saving their own skins and lashing back at any and all who would threaten it.

Maybe, then, the Engineers are the stand-in for the innate capacity for great acts in either direction. They are not the past, so much as what we could become. They are what we know instinctively is "in us." We can elect to take an inclusive view that sees all our acts, creations and neighbors as carrying pieces of us, and that leads to a wide net of preservation that may motivate us to act in a fashion that does not prioritize our own immediate interests or even our immediate safety. Or we can focus on threats, excluding others, attacking others, and seeing legacy in a very narrow light. As Pinker points out in "Better Angels of Our Nature," you can't take the group minded view if everyone around you is slashing their sword, so neither is automatically more adaptive. The flexibility to go back and forth is adaptive, so long as the overall trend among all people is towards the broader view. This is also not purely partisan, for those keeping score at home, although it is political. Here, most people would say, "Oh, we're progressives, so we take the altruistic view." Not when we focus on the threat from conservatives, and from my POV, rightly so. In fact, the "pearl clutchers" vs. "red meat progressive" arguments here are between the empathic vs. survivalist viewpoints. And I myself have alternated camps, depending on the item being debated.

But back to Prometheus, and how the crew of tiny people is as variable as the Engineers. With the exception of three members, the crew is representative of a humanity without mythos. Here at DailyKos, we might see this as a good thing, an Earth clear-eyed and unbound from ancient superstition. However, mythology is a good thing. As first articulated by Henry James and later by Carl Jung, myth provides metaphors for the unfathomable, and allows people to cope with capriciousness in life. Not everything can be known in one person's lifetime, and this will confound the person who lacks stories to root his or her experience. Failure to have a sense of one's own story at the end of life is associated with despair or desperate actions, as per Erikson, and this task is difficult to achieve without a broader cultural story. Carrying myths is not the same as substituting belief for knowledge, as secular individuals who avidly read speculative fiction have a cosmic mythos without any degree of faith in it. Prometheus' crew, for the most part, are not these kinds of secular individuals. They speak in terms of money, sex, power, and discoverable fact. Even Weyland, who has some degree of unscientific belief, does not want a cosmic framework for his life, only cosmic powers; he has not achieved Eriksonian ego integrity at the end, serving as an Ozymandias figure placed into space opera. It is really Shaw and her partner who strive to rediscover a mythos, and neither utilizes it to allow for mystery. They must have a personal relationship with the Engineers, which places them on equal footing. Given that the Engineers are not gods, this is logically reasonable, but in so far as they are inscrutable this is not a recipe for success. Perhaps we could even go so far as to say that the rise of personal-level theology and the decline of mystery about 2000 years ago is what caused the catastrophe with/among the Engineers.

Many of the crew have been locked in by a lifetime of exposure to corporate materialism. The geologist is so set on his job that he is more frightened of the mission expanding into archeo-biomedicine than he is at the sight of the dead bodies or malevolent biotech, although the latter disturb him plenty. He has become overly specialized.

The biologist is almost a parody of how fundamentalists see many of us here, unwilling to challenge past theory and implicitly trusting of fauna that clearly looks sinister to us. Neither of them can see well anymore, nor critically examine information outside their training. No wonder we witness signal glitches and errant static and broken visors do them in: outside data is increasingly meaningless to their thought processes. And the LV 223 trap plays on their flawed singular-mindedness when it transforms them. The more motivated biologist is hollowed out by the creatures he wishes to study. The greedier geologist is transformed into a singular minded killing machine, mowing down anything living in his path.

Even the doctor, who does not meet a bitter end, merely acts as a functionary. Eventually, unquestioning of her directives, she is a willing pawn in David's side projects. She has become slave to a machine, less creative than a robot. There is no meaning left in any of these professionals' lives, a lack which is merely made explicit as the Prometheus mission goes off the rails. The corporation has hollowed out and stripped much of the empathic thinking from these people. More tragically, their survivalism is no longer individualistic, having been utilized by Weyland Corporation as a subversive means of control. Slavoj Zizek, a popular psychoanalyst and philosopher in Slovenia, has written volumes on the lack created by the modern materialist imperative to continually consume in the pursuit of individual enjoyment. I await his response to this element of the film, as I am pretty sure he will carry out an even more detailed analysis of it.

This control is not absolute, however, as the flight crew manages to break out of it. For much of the film, they speak flippantly about bets and sex and collector's items they have bought. They retaliate impotently against their female boss by using objectifying language, brought to a head by Idris Elba's captain challenging her humanity by daring her to have sex with him. If she can satisfy lust, then she's not a machine, recapitulating the erroneous thinking of the humans in Blade Runner. Even his devil-may-care warbling of "Love the One You're With," which elicited a chuckle from the audience, has a darker undertone that the sexual revolution has reached a flaccidly unsatisfying and meaningless hedonistic conclusion. To touch back to Freud, there is only Id craving other things, with atrophied Egos that cannot generate complete senses of autonomous selves. Yet, faced with the destruction of the planet, these men find something else to prize on it. We never know their individual motivations in detail, although the Captain speaks for a time on the imperative that the rest of humanity be able to go on. They will not receive things or even recognition for this. They will not collect on their bets with each other. It does not seem that they anticipate heavenly reward either, although they allude vaguely to "the other side." Instead, the idea that they share enough basic humanity with those back home is sufficient to trigger the "other circuitry" that acts in opposition to consuming and persisting. Even unrecognized, something of themselves will remain in distant and close relatives who will live to see another day. They cannot articulate it, but their bravery speaks it. And it is instinctual, whereas the other impulses have been reinforced by the civilization, in concert with more recent psychological theory that does not see one or the other impulse as more innate.

Let's finish by looking a bit at Shaw. She has been turned into an outsider by her own life circumstances. She has serially lost both parents as a child and has discovered she is infertile. Thus, she is cut off from the most immediate level of the biological thread early on. Her deeply held theories on human development are not widely accepted, as she must rely on an eccentric billionaire for funding (although the state of governmental grants is unclear in this world's backstory). Her talents do not readily bring her acclaim or power. There is nothing driving her other than personal satisfaction. She wants to be proven right, but since she already believes she is correct, data is always spun into confirming her narrative. There is very little narcissistic weakness for the world of 2089 to play off of and manipulate. That said, she is hardly concerned with humanity as a whole, except as a study piece. She and her partner form a pair walled off to some extent from others, and she herself seems largely walled off from instinct. The drive present is one to know. In some fashion, she is the character most alike to David, rather than Vickers.

According to Jeffrey Arnett, who formulated the concept of Emerging Adulthood about 20 years ago, the transition from adolescence to full adulthood in the modern age is one of determining where to live, what to do, and who to love. His ideas are an expansion on concepts of adult identity first articulated by the first generation of Freudians, as well as the young adult conflict of Intimacy vs. Isolation postulated by Erikson. This phase of development is supposed to be marked by repeated failure, as well as multiple breaks and rapprochement with the elder generation. Inability to have a solid sense of answers to the three lifestyle questions by the mid-30s is often associated with continued immaturity in interpersonal interactions and/or a midlife crisis. Shaw, who has been robbed of an elder generation and does not appear to have replacement proxies, has followed the example of her widowed father. There has never been a chance for rebellion. She sees her life's work as primary, which determines her partner and her world-traversing lifestyle. She enters her mid-30s without a hint of crisis, but also without much ability to interact with people outside her work. This is not the careerism present in the other crew, as she can think critically about a wide range of topics, but her social development seems frozen. She relies upon her partner as the spokesperson and interlocutor for much of the first half of the film. In fact, until the crisis reaches its climax, she almost appears to have a less rich emotional inner life than David (who as we will discuss in the next diary, is likely hiding his responses).

This changes as her partner is ripped from her. This not only challenges her assumptions about the benevolence of the Engineers, but strips her of her intermediary. She is exposed to the hostile world for the first time since the death of her father, making David's touch back to this event all the more cruel. Having opted for one clearly intimate relationship, she can choose total Isolation or find a way to rely on others. As she is betrayed by David, by the medical crew, by Vickers and Weyland, and by the Engineer, she relies more and more on her life's mission. Her quest for answers, never at odds with whatever the details of her Christian faith are, becomes even more central. And her Christian faith cannot be that of the literalist, even if she believes that Jesus and the Engineers are one and the same, as she has ideas clearly divergent from the account in Genesis. Pursuing that mission first takes her on a survivalist path, and then shifts to a more inclusive view.

The medical bay Caesarean is a survivalist action in some ways but not others. On one level, she is the archetypal female action heroine, socking out anyone standing between her and the med bay. She endures pain and injury to live another day. However, here, it is an unearthly child that threatens to kill her. Her child, in a sense, as it shares some genetic material with her, or at the very least with that of her partner. But Shaw is uniquely qualified to recognize that this creature is an invader rather than part of a continuing biological thread, as she already sees herself as outside that ongoing chain. Since this is not reproduction, there is no primal level gain in sacrificing herself for it. I am shocked that the Fundamentalists have not seized on this scene as a grotesque of the Virgin Birth, but more surprised still that either side in the Culture Wars has not seen how this is a reflection of the zeitgeist as we confront questions of delivering or terminating pregnancies with foreknowledge of congenital/genetic malformations. The dedicated modern woman, with an adult existence centered outside of home and hearth, who elects to live another day rather than bring something she does not recognize as hers into this world. This is not to boil down difficult questions to simple science fiction struggles for life and death: no potential mother (or her partner) can see any real world pregnancy as merely an alien invader. Nonetheless, uncanny narrative threads in horror or gothic or any speculative story where reality's rules are suspended ends up reflecting that which cannot be spoken of comfortably in the real world. This is what Freud called Unheimlich, which means both Uncanny and "The Un-Hidden." This pregnancy, both enabled and poisoned by the Man of Technology (who is also a Corporate Man!), is only a terrible choice thrust upon her. And she must rely upon yet more corporate technology to save her, which she must both appropriate forcibly and then convince/reprogram to do the job. Is this not the impossible nightmare our moral arguments and advanced knowledge have thrust upon every woman, the seemingly barren and the fertile alike? Even now, do we not hear the Corporatist funded scolds redirecting women and their physicians to always choose measures to bring every pregnancy to delivery, like David and his effortless take-over of the Weyland med crew? Even in nations where access is not an issue and pollution is being addressed, is the foreknowledge we can now have not the genesis of such nightmares, made all the more scary by the fact that the developing fetus is part of our biological chain? This is survivalism turned in on itself.

Having made the terrible choice to rip a creature from her womb, Shaw is now met with almost preternatural calm by David, Vickers and Weyland. She is not taken back to the cryo-beds, nor arrested, or even reprimanded. Weyland is more concerned with her accompanying them on his quest for more life. The corporation and its godhead must persist. The implied option is: "If you will not bear a child for the corporation, will you nurture the corporation itself? If you will not act solely for yourself, can you broaden your worldview to support me?" However, these are purchases, not empathic pleas. Weyland does not come as the weary senescent in need of help. He announces that this has been his plan, that he is in control. Having just come from one crisis of modern feminism, are we now not smack dab in the middle of the other? If you will not bear a child, then you must be a company man. This is also the crisis of our aging population, where so much of the work is now in health care and elder care. Vickers and David are along for the ride, both for their own ends, and we will return to this in the next installment. But neither accompanies Weyland entirely because they want to take care of him, even though David has followed his programming and been attentive. They have farmed this work out to others: the scientists, the crew, the technology, the medics, and the Engineer. People who take "pink collar" jobs in our world may often start off entirely fueled by empathy and purpose, but can quickly get drawn into much more materialistic and unempathic motivations. This is survivalism masquerading as an emphatic plea. Shaw does not take the bait, agreeing to go along but beginning to remember her core motivations.

Everything changes when she witnesses the battle between the Engineer and Weyland. Denied his individualist/survivalist aims, Weyland is struck down by the Engineer, who is unimpressed with the narcissistic achievement of arriving to wake him up. Nevertheless, the Engineer is no less driven by the same instincts, refusing to engage in a discussion about actions/morals and simply maneuvering to continue his own existence. False gods abound in this room of mere mortals. Remembering her discussion with the Captain, and how his motivations are already in the process of change, she takes a chance and reaches out to another for help. She asks him to make a sacrifice that only he can, on behalf of countless people that neither of them will see again. And then, she takes an even bigger risk, providing David with a chance to help her and offering to help him. It is at this point that she regains her cross, lost when she was first infected with the growing invader within her. She has begun to participate in a genuine dialogue with others, offering assistance that may not be reciprocated and making requests that may not be fulfilled. She trusts not just in her life's mission, but in others that she is not intimate with, others who have betrayed her before. She does this because it is the only way to allow for Earth to survive, and as it turns out, her bet pays off for herself and for Earth. Ironically, the purely survivalist Xenomorph Facehugger acts as the Deus Ex Machina, bringing the corrupted Engineer to his end in the same way he had denied Weyland further existence. But it acts in its singular minded way, as it has no empathic instincts.

In the end, Shaw's growth and reconnecting to her full human nature allows David to learn the benefit of an empathic sense. The Immortal Man made Invalid, he is now the homunculus with broken legs, dependent on another person to help him along. Without him, Shaw cannot achieve her more intellectual mission; without her, David has life without further experience. We have seen the theoretical dawn of human empathy reborn, its survival advantage spelled out for us. This recapitulates the pre-denouement of Blade Runner with Deckard and Batty, but with a happier resolution for both actors, and stands in contrast to Alien where Ripley is left alone. In the next diary, we will go back and review the unhappy family of Vickers, Weyland and David, and speak of narcissism and malignant narcissism in more detail. In the process, we will see how such persons (corporate and human) that lack a full capacity for a sense of the other loom large as chief antagonists in Prometheus and our own world.

By Ptolemy Thursday Jun 21, 2012 · 3:56 AM AUSEST

Part II

#prometheus #david 8 #meredith vickers #sir peter weyland #janek #ravel #chance #ford #elizabeth shaw #charlie holloway #alien prequel #alien movie #alien franchise #space horror #science fiction #scifi horror

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artificialqueens · 7 years

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Mesmerized (Biadore) - Miss Bianca

A/N: This is my first time submitting, even though I have experience with fanfic from other fandoms. I saw the requests for biadore in the asks, and I wanted some too, so I just…did it.

This is m/m (no smut though), and set in this universe. I just added Bianca to the 2016 BOTS Europe tour because I loved that cast and time period, so imagine that. I use both drag and non-drag names and male and female pronouns, depending on whether they’re in drag or not. Hope y'all like it, and I’d love feedback! Thanks guys. - Miss Bianca

Bianca isn’t a maid.

She repeats that to herself in her head, determined, even as she picks up Adore’s shoes and dresses from the floor of their shared hotel room. It’s a half hour before they’re supposed to be on the elevator heading to the van, and she’s already in full drag, minus her heels.

Danny, however, is not. He’s been awake for all of ten minutes, and has been showering for eight of those. Of course, he’d forgotten that they were performing in the hotel theater this time, and getting ready in their rooms beforehand.

With a long sigh, Bianca peers in the mirror, patting the side of her wig and hoping that there won’t be any loose hairs by the time she’s done cleaning. The makeup strewn over Adore’s side of the counter below the mirror is a mess, and after a moment Bianca starts organizing that too, her hands itching for activity.

The compulsive organizer in her is at her most active when she’s stressed, and everything about the BOTS tours is stressful, from the reckless behavior of her younger ‘sisters’ to the constant traveling and Danny’s unrealistic sleeping habits.

Basically, her past month or so has been a nearly nonstop buzz of anxiety and stress. It’s almost always there. And that’s why she’s cleaning compulsively.

“You’re not a maid,” she reminds herself firmly, out loud this time.

Perfectly on cue, the bathroom door cracks open and Danny’s head pokes out, hair wet, a grin on his face.

“Nah, you’re like a little housewife or something,” he comments, and Bianca glares at him. “What? It’s a great look on you.”

“Get dressed, bitch,” Bianca snaps, flipping him off. “You’re making me late.”

Danny laughs, his nose scrunching up, and then the bathroom door clicks closed. Bianca flips Adore’s eyeshadow cases shut, and sweeps all of the lipsticks into her hand before setting them neatly upright against the wall.

There’s no point to any of this, she realizes. In a few minutes, Danny’s going to paw through his shoes and makeup as he transforms into Adore for the night, and a mess is going to be left on the counter and the floor just like it was last night, and the night before.

And Bianca will come back to the room first, drunk, and look at the mess, and then fall asleep as soon as she’s de-dragged. And then, she’ll have unsettling dreams about the mess swallowing up the whole room, until she can’t find anything and she’s late to all of her shows.

Bianca figures Danny’s a great roommate other than the messiness, though.

Well, aside from the weird sleep habits and the faint but neverending smell of weed that hovers around him and the constant connection with his phone screen. And the pizza boxes that manage to show up in the room most nights, sometime between when Roy goes to sleep and Danny does.

So really, he’s not a great roommate at all.

But there’s something about him that calms her down, with the way he talks and touches her casually. At least, when he’s not too busy stressing her out by being late.

To be fair, there’s no one outside of the ABCDs of drag that Bianca would be able to tolerate sharing space with anyway. And Darienne’s not on the tour cast. And Bianca doesn’t trust Courtney not to bring men back to the room at night.

That leaves Danny, the most tolerable.

Also Bianca’s (and Roy’s) favorite, even though she’d never say it out loud. Mostly because Danny would probably tweet about it, or put something on snapchat, or bring it up in every single conversation for the rest of their lives.

She thinks Danny knows, though. Adore can get away with murder around Bianca, and she’s probably the only person in the world who can. Someone’s bound to notice sooner or later that she’s Bianca’s soft spot.

The bathroom door swings open, and Danny stumbles out sleepily, wearing a loose, low-cut dress that will inevitably make Michelle Visage fume all night.

“Hurry up,” Bianca says pointlessly, and Danny flips her off with a grin before sitting down in front of the mirror and knocking over all of his lipsticks as he reaches for foundation.

Shaking her head, Bianca perches on the edge of her bed, eyeing the uncomfortable heels that she’s going to be wearing all night. The whole room is neat, with nothing left for her to tidy, and her pulse is faster than it should be, body stiff with nerves and stress.

“I need a drink,” she mutters.

“No, you don’t,” Danny argues. “You need to stop drinking when you’re stressed.”

“You need to stop making me stressed, bitch.”

“It’s not my fault that you’re high strung,” Danny shrugs. “Anyways, I’m just trying to look out for you. You always do for me.”

“You left a half hour to get ready for a drag show, like a fucking idiot,” Bianca retorts instantly, the words coming out a bit harsher than she intends. Danny glances at her in the mirror, hurt showing in his eyes, and Bianca winces. “You don’t get to mother me, is what I meant,” she says, her voice quieter.

“Whatever.”

“I don’t wanna pay the minibar fees anyway,” Bianca adds.

Danny doesn’t reply, and Bianca’s heart rate jumps again as she inevitably starts to fret that she’s actually upset him. Danny is sensitive, even more so out of the armor that is Adore, and Bianca suspects that something in him really thinks that she means it whenever she insults him. It’s why she tries not to.

She clenches her hands into fists, her eyes closing for a moment. He was only trying to look out for her, and she’d had to go and snap at him. He wasn’t even wrong, which was the worst part. She did need to drink less.

“We can just get shots at the bar before the show,” she suggests, an attempt at a peace offering, but Danny only shrugs.

Swallowing, Bianca thinks for a moment. She slides off of her bed, walking over to where Adore’s wigs are laying in bags, and rifles through them for a moment with shaky, nervous hands, before one catches her eye.

In a few moments, the wig is set on her spare mannequin. It’s the blonde one with the dark roots that Adore had had since drag race, not even a lace-front, but still one of Bianca’s favorites. She grabs a comb and a can of hairspray, and starts fixing the wig as quickly as she can, teasing up the curls.

When she glances over at Danny, he’s been replaced almost entirely by Adore, staring at her own face in the mirror. Bianca watches as she sets the eyelashes in place, and reaches for a nude lipliner, leaning in close as she draws the familiar lines.

She goes to reach for a nude lipstick, but Bianca steps closer and grabs a lighter one instead. Adore frowns, confused.

“This’ll go better with the wig,” Bianca explains, and Adore peers past her, a small smile growing on her lips as she sees the wig that Bianca’s done for her on the dresser.

“Thanks,” Adore says, looking up at Bianca, eyes wide and surprised.

“No problem,” Bianca responds easily, her nerves calmed a bit as she sees the affection growing again in Adore’s eyes.

A few minutes later, Adore is securing her wig, tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth as she checks herself over one last time in the mirror.

“You’re gorgeous, come on,” Bianca says impatiently, hovering by the door with her bag over her shoulder.

“I know,” Adore drawls, turning to the side and checking out her own ass. “Let me feel my -”

“Don’t,” Bianca interrupts with a laugh. “Shut up and get over here.”

Rolling her eyes, Adore steps into her heels and follows Bianca out the door. As they walk towards the elevator, Adore takes her hand, squeezing, and Bianca knows she’s forgiven.

The warm weight of Adore’s hand in hers is calming, holding her steady and secure, soothing the fluttering of her heartbeat.

“Hey, Bea?”

“Hmm?”

“Why does it take you, like, forever to get in drag?”

“Bitch, how many times do I gotta tell you?” Bianca shakes her head, looking up at Adore incredulously. “I put my dick under the wig, that’s how I get the height. You think that shit happens quickly?”

Adore laughs, and Bianca rolls her eyes. She knows Adore’s heard that joke a hundred times by now, and it has to be some kind of miracle that she still thinks it’s funny.

“Okay, but, seriously. Why?”

“Are you calling me a liar, Adore Delano?’

“No, c’mon! I wanna know!” Adore’s half whining now, her eyes slightly squinted as she grins.

The elevator doors open, and Bianca pulls Adore inside.

“Listen,” Bianca says finally. “We can’t all roll out of bed fifteen minutes before call time and wobble around like the little mermaid right after she got her legs, okay? Some of us have to have their shit together.”

“That wasn’t supposed to be an insult, right?” Adore drawls. “Because I’m literally a mermaid.”

“Mmhm, yeah, yeah.”

“Straight from the ocean, bitch.”

“Shut it, fishtail.” Bianca rolls her eyes.

“You looooove me,” Adore teases in a low voice. She’s pressed herself closer to Bianca’s side, and her lips are right by her ear, the sensation raising goosebumps on Bianca’s chest.

“You’re a whore, get off me,” Bianca retorts halfheartedly, and Adore only laughs breathily before pressing her lips softly to Bianca’s cheek. Bianca’s eyes flutter shut.

The gentle kiss only lasts a moment, but it’s long enough that Bianca swears she can still feel the imprint of Adore’s lips burning on her skin after she pulls away. Bianca shivers, and Adore squeezes her hand again, pulling her back down to earth.

“You better not have gotten lipstick on me, queen,” Bianca warns after a moment.

“I didn’t!” Adore insists.

Bianca’s about to make a snarky comment, but the elevator comes to a stop, the doors opening to let in Violet and Katya.

“Vies!” Adore exclaims, and then her hand isn’t in Bianca’s anymore and she’s surging forwards to cling to Violet instead. And like clockwork, as soon as Adore and her attention are gone, Bianca starts to feel anxious again.

“Hey, babe,” Violet laughs, stumbling back a few steps and wrapping an arm tight around Adore’s waist. “Chill for a sec, I’m cinched really tight and I might fall over.”

Sighing, Bianca leans back against the wall of the elevator, pointedly looking away from the two younger queens. They’re always touchy with each other, in a way that’s close to being sexual, almost all of the time.

Bianca knows it probably doesn’t mean anything, but it pisses her off to no end regardless. Particularly when Violet pulls Adore away from her side, like now.

The elevator hits the ground floor, and Adore and Violet exit first, still tangled up. Bianca stalks out after them, wishing she could set Violet on fire with the force of her glares, her heels clicking angrily against the marble floor.

After a moment, a shoulder bumps against hers, pulling her out of her vengeful thoughts. She turns to see Katya next to her, wearing a dress printed with knives and smiling brightly, as always.

“Violet asks if I wanna fuck most nights, you know,” Katya says conversationally.

“Who would’ve thought,” Bianca deadpans, and Katya laughs, completely unfazed by her bitterness. They follow Adore and Violet through a door at the edge of the lobby, walking down the dimly lit corridor to backstage.

“I almost said yes one time, but I’m glad I didn’t,” Katya continues. “I think her hungry asshole might’ve swallowed me up. Fully.”

Bianca glances at her, and Katya only grins wider.

“You’re crazy,” Bianca says observationally.

“Certified psychopath, mama,” Katya agrees. “But listen.”

“I am listening, bitch.”

“The point is that Violet’s always like that,” Katya continues, more seriously. “It’s got nothing to do with Adore. Shit, if you didn’t act like you hated her, she’d probably be in your lap right now doing her best to pop your tuck.”

When Bianca looks at her again, Katya’s eyes are softer than usual. There’s something so infinitely wise about them that Bianca feels almost like a child throwing a tantrum next to her, instead of a forty year old man in a wig.

For a moment, she wonders if Katya’s somehow read her mind, and is trying to comfort her somehow with this bizarre bit of oversharing.

“So she’s a whore, is what you’re saying,” Bianca says after a moment to lighten the mood, raising an eyebrow as they come to a stop outside the green room.

“Absolutely. Straight up hooker, gila monster, herpes-ridden -”

“I get it,” Bianca cuts her off with a laugh. “Fuck, two hookers in one hotel room. Reception must be busy calling you about your customers all night.”

“Yes gawd!” The corners of Katya’s eyes crinkle with delight as Bianca joins in on her joke. “Don’t fret about it, Barbara. I know who Vi stalks on instagram at three AM, and it’s not Adore.”

Katya pats Bianca’s arm before heading down the hallway towards the stage.

“Wait, who is it?” Bianca calls after her, a moment too late, just as she rounds the corner and disappears from view. “Fuck you!”

With a sigh, Bianca steps into the green room, pushing past Sharon and Jinkx and quickly finding an empty seat in front of the mirror.

“Hey, pussyface,” Courtney chirps.

“Hey, Court.”

Bianca falls easily into mindless chatter with Courtney and Jinkx, eating up the time before the show.

They’ve been touring for awhile, and by now, the show is routine enough that Bianca hardly even has to think the whole way through. She watches from the wings and goes through the motions for her segments.

It’s not until Adore covers Purple Rain, near the end of the show, that Bianca actually starts paying attention. The performance pulls Bianca out of her bad mood, and she watches, mesmerized, the emotion in Adore’s voice moving enough to tug at even Bianca’s cold, dead heart.

When Adore leaves the stage, magnetic and burning with emotion, her gaze moves quickly over the collection of queens watching before fixing on Bianca.

She makes a beeline for her, brushing away the tears forming in her eyes from her performance before falling into Bianca’s open arms with a breathless laugh.

Bianca wraps her up in a hug, holding her tightly, sighing as she feels her body relax. Adore, on the other hand, is shaky in her arms, buzzing with energy from the electric crowd and her leftover high from smoking earlier.

“That was fucking incredible, Adore,” Bianca breathes.

“Best performance I’ve ever seen you do,” Courtney adds from next to them.

“Just Violet left, and then the finale,” Adore comments, still slightly out of breath. “Then we can go get drunk?”

“I’ll buy the shots,” Bianca confirms.

Adore doesn’t leave her side again for hours after that, hovering around her during the finale and following her like a puppy to the noisy bar across the street. Courtney and Violet and Sharon are there, too, but Bianca hardly notices them, too distracted by Adore’s constant closeness.

And once the alcohol starts to set in, Bianca stops trying to divide her attention among the other queens and focuses solely on Adore. The way that Adore looks at her when she’s listening to her talk makes Bianca want to tell her stories all night, and when Adore pulls her off of her stool and tries to dance with her, Bianca doesn’t resist.

At some point, Bianca can’t remember exactly when, Adore lets her go and leaves the group to dance with somebody else. That’s the last time Bianca sees her.

After that, Bianca’s priorities shift, and suddenly she needs to be blackout drunk, as if the alcohol can compensate for Adore while she’s gone.

And if she’s not blackout drunk, she knows she’ll start thinking about what Adore will probably be doing later tonight, and she’s determined to avoid that at all costs.

The last thing she remembers before everything goes dark is Katya out of drag with his arm around her waist in the elevator. He’s talking about wind-surfing on a beach, and then he’s gone and Michelle is looking concerned as she drags Bianca down a hotel hallway.

Then there’s nothing.

——

Roy isn’t worried.

Really. Worried isn’t even close to the right word for what he’s feeling right now. A more accurate one might be exasperated. Or infuriated, if he wants to get dramatic about it. There’s nothing about Bianca that isn’t extreme, so why not go there?

It’s two PM, and Adore is still passed out facedown on her bed in last night’s wig that Roy had picked out for her, ripped up tights and dress clinging to her sprawled form.

Roy has been up for hours, long enough to shower and eat and drink his killer hangover away (with water and coffee, not more alcohol, as a still worried-looking Michelle insisted) and even go out shopping with Courtney.

And after all that time Adore is still here, knocked out.

Roy isn’t really surprised by this, in any way. It’s normal behavior for Adore, in or out of drag. It’s more the unknown series of events that led to her collapsing in a heap on the messy hotel bed, without even taking off that wig, that bothers him.

The last time he remembers seeing her was through a low level haze of alcohol, when she was wrapped around Bianca’s back at the bar with her lips parted beside Bianca’s ear. Just before she’d left to go dance with somebody else.

Shaking off the memory, Roy glares at Adore. He’ll brush the wig later, he decides. There’s no way to trust that Danny’s going to, and he likes it too much on her to let her ruin it.

As Roy stares at Adore, wondering how she can manage to sleep like a starfish and a dead porcupine at the same time, he starts to wish he’d tried to keep an eye on her after she’d left them. He doesn’t like to think about what bullshit she gets up to, and he tries not to care, either, but he can’t help worrying sometimes.

After all, she’s his roommate. There’s a sense of responsibility in that, he figures. Like somehow, if she winds up dead in an alley somewhere, it’ll be his fault for not hauling her faded ass back to the hotel.

He’d blame himself forever if anything happened to her, even if nobody else did. He’s sure about that.

Roy’s not even sure he could lift her. Drag isn’t a career that requires upper body strength. But he’d definitely put in an effort to carry Adore, if he had to.

Sighing, Roy crosses his arms over his chest and glares at the back of Adore’s head.

They don’t have anything to do this morning, but Roy’s been awake for long enough to organize everything on his side of the room again.

But Adore’s side of the room, which Roy had just cleaned the day before, looks like the aftermath of a terrorist attack. Or like the site of an all-night orgy, which would explain the clothing that Roy doesn’t recognize.

He knows he’s not a heavy enough sleeper to have missed something like that, but he has to wonder why Adore never wears half of the shit that the floor is currently wearing.

There’s more pairs of shoes strewn on the floor than Roy’s ever seen on Danny or Adore. Clothes that she’s probably planning on performing in are in piles, and the makeup supplies in front of the mirror are in a messy heap again, as if Roy had never put in the effort to line them up so perfectly.

It’s at times like these, when he’s annoyed and worried and bored, that Roy wonders why exactly he’d asked to room with someone who lives in such a dramatically different way than him. It’s like she creates mess, wherever she goes, just by walking into the room.

With a sigh, Roy gives in to the urge to stress clean. He stands up briskly and strides across the room, crouching to start lining Adore’s shoes up against the wall. Again.

Adore’s shoes are organized by style in no time, and Roy promptly moves on to the suitcase worth of clothing that seems to have exploded onto the carpet.

Sighing, he crouches, shaking out a t-shirt and folding it quickly in the air before setting it beside him and moving on to another. The organizing is almost relaxing for him, the familiar movements and the way it occupies his brain just enough to keep him from going crazy from inactivity and stress.

Roy grabs the last item of clothing on the floor, a red bra. Turning his head to the side to crack his neck, he surveys the three stacks of clothing - shirts, pants, and the dresses and underclothes. Satisfied, he lifts them one by one into Adore’s open suitcase and pushes it back against the wall next to her shoes.

Another dramatic sigh later, he’s standing in front of the mirror, brushing loose eyeshadow off of the counter and picking up her lipstick tubes from where they’re scattered off to the side.

He sets the odd colors down first, and pauses on a bright red that he recognizes, smiling slightly. Twisting it up, he brushes a little onto the back of his thumb, and stares down at the red streak, feeling a tug in his chest.

Roy remembers this color.

It had been Adore’s favorite a couple of years back, when they’d been in the top three together. They’d spent hours at Adore’s apartment or Courtney’s in WeHo, the three of them on a couch or a bed, drinking and laughing and pointedly ignoring the fact that in just a few weeks, one of them would have a crown and a title and the other two wouldn’t.

Roy never spends time in drag when he doesn’t have to, but Adore likes it sometimes, keeping her girl face on for awhile longer. He remembers one night like that, when the three of them were lying close together in Courtney’s bed and laughing at her trade stories.

Roy didn’t know whether it was because of Courtney’s wine or the blunt Adore had smoked a few hours before, but with every few moments that passed, Adore had curled closer to him. Her cheek had moved from his bicep to his chest, a hand sliding slowly onto his stomach, her fingernails scratching at his skin through the insubstantial tank top he’d been wearing.

Every touch had made his body buzz, and somehow calmed his mind at the same time. He didn’t know how she did it, but over time he grew to crave it, almost like an addiction.

Adore probably doesn’t even remember the moment, but Roy thinks he must’ve burned all of it into his memory somehow. The heat of her pressed against his side, the light touches on his skin, the brush of her exhaled breaths across his chest.

She’d fallen asleep like that, snoring softly, Roy’s arm curled hesitantly around her. And when she’d finally woken up enough to let go of him the next morning, she’d left a smear of that bright red lipstick on his shirt.

Roy had complained halfheartedly, but Adore had only laughed, licked her thumb and tried in vain to wipe it away. Roy’s gaze had stayed caught on her parted lips, though, mesmerized by the way her tongue still poked out slightly.

Whenever he thinks about those weeks, Roy tries to block out how scared he was that whatever the three of them had might die out. That Courtney would win and leave Bianca and Adore for a life of glamour drag with more perfect queens behind her.

That Adore would win, and hit mainstream faster than any of them knew was possible, walk red carpets and live in a world that didn’t involve Roy. He could’ve lived with that, he thinks. She deserved it, and she had wanted it so badly that Roy had almost wished he could tell Ru to give her the crown instead.

His worst fear of all, though, had been that that he himself would win, and that Adore would resent him because of it. That she’d never get lipstick on his shirts, never make his chest ache when she laughed, never look at him in that special way that she did again.

Even though the crown had given him a ticket true success, Roy thinks he’d rather have Danny love him like he does than wear it even for a day.

And every time he sees him, or her, Roy is beyond grateful that having her and having success aren’t mutually exclusive.

The sound of a yawn behind him brings Roy back to the present, and he sets down the lipstick quickly.

Turning and stepping around to the side of her bed, Roy sees Adore’s head lifted slightly. Now that her face isn’t covered by her wig, Roy can see that her makeup is still partially intact, a bit smudged and melted but not awful.

“Bea?” she mumbles, eyes blinking open slowly.

“Good morning, asshole,” Roy replies, voice coming out softer and kinder than he intends. Trying to compensate for the lack of bite in his words, he crosses his arms and glares halfheartedly at Adore.

Her tongue darts out to run over her lips, still smudged with the remainders of her nude lipstick from the night before. One eye falls shut, her head turning to the side to rest on her arm as she looks up at Roy.

“What did I do?” she says after a moment. It comes out slow and sleepy and whiny, and Roy wants so badly to be annoyed by it, but he doesn’t have the heart.

His little trip down memory lane has made him weak for anything and everything Adore, and he can’t manage to deny how cute the whining is.

“It’s two thirty, Adore,” he replies, feeling the dimple in his cheek deepen as he half smiles at her despite himself. “You’re still in last night’s drag, you still smell a little like weed, and that poor wig looks like it was gang raped. So, I dunno, what did you do, exactly?”

There’s a pause, and Adore stares at him sleepily, tongue peeking out between her lips again. Then, she cracks a smile, bright eyes narrowing lazily.

“Aww, Bea, were you worried about me?” she teases. “You were, huh.”

“No, chola, not even a little,” Roy chuckles, smiling fully now. “I know you can take care of yourself.” He pauses, lips twitching, and Adore raises an eyebrow. “And at least five other fags, too,” Roy continues, grinning wider as Adore giggles sleepily. “Or was it six? I’d have to take a closer look at that wig.”

Adore’s nose scrunches up as she laughs, and Roy swallows hard as he watches her.

“Mmmm, I wanna nap,” she sighs once her giggles fade, cheek squished against her arm.

“Uh, no, bitch,” Roy argues. “You just woke up, get in the shower and get that shit off your face.”

Adore lifts her head again, and she’s pouting at him now.

“Don’t do that, you know puppy eyes don’t work on me,” Roy retorts.

He can’t help but notice her eyelash hanging partially off her lid as he looks at her, and he drops back down onto his knees next to the bed, scooting forward.

“Whatcha doing?”

“Hold still,” Roy says by way of reply, one hand coming up to hold her chin. Reaching up, he tugs her lashes off gently, folding them into his palm carefully to keep them intact.

Adore blinks rapidly a few times, and then shakes her head slightly. Roy pulls his hand back from her chin, where it had lingered a few moments longer than he intended. Without the lashes, Adore is more androgynous than ever, the lines between her and him growing blurred, like the edges of her eyeliner.

There’s a soft sigh, and Adore props her head up on her fist, blinking at up him with those gorgeous eyes.

They’re colored a sea glass green at first, but as Adore turns her chin slightly, the light hits them differently. Roy swears he sees blue tucked behind the green, hidden but bright enough to shine through in flecks, like gold dust in river water.

Roy doesn’t realize how close he’s gotten until Adore huffs out a quiet laugh, and he feels the air against his cheek. He pulls back a little then, catching the playful smile that curls on her lips.

Adore’s tongue pokes out slightly again, and a hand reaches up, fingertips brushing oh-so-gently over Roy’s cheekbone. Her eyes drop from her fingers to his mouth, and he can’t quite breathe. He’s not sure he remembers how.

She tugs her lower lip between her teeth, fingers running higher, up his temple to press lightly, dancing across his hairline.

There’s something mesmerizing in the way she touches him sometimes, Roy thinks. So hesitantly, softly, like he’s a wild animal, and if she’s not careful he might disappear and never get close enough to touch again.

Adore’s fingers drag back down, and her palm flattens gently against his cheek. Her grip hardens bit by bit, fingertips pressed into his skin, until she’s tugging him forwards slowly but surely, tongue sliding over her lower lip.

And maybe he is like a wild animal, Roy realizes. The instinct to bolt is there. He can feel it, tucked into his chest under the calm softness that Adore is pulling out of him like melting caramel with every tug of her fingers on his skin.

Adore’s eyes wander his face, her eyes dreamy but expression focused as she sighs warm air against his lips.

He’s so sure she’s going to kiss him, and he’s powerless to stop her, even if he wanted to.

And then, she doesn’t.

All of a sudden, her hand is moving away, and so is she, sliding back on the bed. Her head falls to rest on the pillow, and she looks at him, her eyes deep and soul-searching. He’s on the edge of panic, wondering if he’s fucked up, until she speaks.

“Come lay with me.”

She pats the spot where she’d been before. Roy opens his mouth to protest, but then she takes his hand and no sound comes out.

“I wanna look at you,” she adds, an adorable smile on her lips. “But I’m too sleepy to hold my head up.”

There’s a pause, and then Roy is smiling too as Adore tugs on his hand.

“C’mon, baby,” Adore urges.

Roy wants to come closer, of course he does, but it’s hard to move. How is he supposed to explain that when she looks at him like that, every muscle in his body forgets how to work?

Adore blinks slowly at him, and he forces himself to move, standing up unsteadily and toeing off his shoes. She won’t let go of his hand, his palm caught between her thumb and middle finger, and she tugs him forward again until he lays down next to her.

The space between them is small, and the closer he gets, the more Adore becomes just Danny with makeup. He supposes that’s all she is, though. She’s the only drag queen he’s ever been mesmerized by like this, and maybe it’s because she’s just the same with or without the face painted on.

Roy reaches up to slide his fingers along the hairline of her wig, tucking his thumb underneath to find the pins. Her hand comes up to join his, loosening the few that are still in place until the hair piece falls away behind her.

“There you are,” Roy murmurs, finally speaking, his voice a soft rasp.

Adore’s lips curl in a gentle smile, and he’s so, so beautiful.

“Bea,” he says, drawing out the syllable, moving Roy’s hand to rest on his waist.

“Yes, baby?”

“If I kissed you, would it mean anything?”

Roy swallows, searching Adore’s face slowly.

“Only if you want it to,” he says finally, and then Adore’s hand is cupping his jaw, thumb tucked gently into his dimple.

The tip of Adore’s tongue pokes out, his gaze falling slowly to Roy’s lips. Roy wants to move forwards and kiss him, but he’s useless under his touch, just waiting with his breath caught in his chest.

Adore’s fingers hook behind his jaw, and then he tugs Roy forwards, leaning in ever so slightly to press a feather-light kiss to his lower lip.

Roy’s lips part, a quick exhale flooding out of him at the spark of contact. His fingers dig into Adore’s side, and Adore gasps softly, catching his own lower lip between his teeth.

Adore’s beautiful eyes are narrowed slightly, and there’s a moment of complete stillness.

And then, he smiles slowly, his whole face shifting. It’s as if the sun’s finally coming out from behind the clouds, and Roy realizes in a second of breathless clarity that he’d do anything for him.

He opens his mouth slightly, about to put his thoughts into words, but Adore is leaning in again before he can, crushing their lips together and kissing him for real this time.

Roy’s kissed a lot of men in his lifetime, even men that he loved. Kissing everyone feels slightly different, he figures. But nothing has ever felt anything like this, like every press of Adore’s mouth breaks him wide open, like every inch of their bodies that touch double and triple in heat.

Like if Adore stops kissing him, he might pass out, crumpled on the bed as Adore breathes out the air he stole from Roy’s lungs like smoke.

And Adore does stop kissing him, too soon. He gasps in air, chest rising and falling quickly, and this feels better than being drunk, and he knows he’s hooked now.

Adore’s fingers brush over Roy’s cheek, then wander back to stroke gently through his hair, and Roy is useless again, immobilized and vulnerable under his touch.

“Did that mean something?” Roy manages to murmur once he’s caught his breath, his hand on Adore’s back now.

There’s a pause, as Adore’s fingers tease through his hair. The soothing touches ease the anxiety that was starting to build up in Roy’s chest, and his arm tightens around Adore, pulling him closer as if he might drift away.

Adore chuckles softly, his lips curling in a smile.

“Yeah,” he says finally, crossing the few inches between them to press another kiss to Roy’s lips. “Everything.”

#bianca del rio #adore delano #katya zamolodchikova #biadore #fluff #angst #tw anxiety #tw alcohol #mesmerized #miss bianca #rpdr fanfiction #submission #canon compliant

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wellthatjusthappend · 7 years

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He hadn’t known.

He hadn’t known. It wasn’t his fault. He’d have been more careful if he known. Jason had to keep telling himself that or he’d go crazy. But he hadn’t known and now….

Everything was the same as it had always been and at the same time changed forever.

Jason ground his teeth together. He was far too young to be getting back pain like this. Probably a product of his oh so healthy lifestyle or whatever but still… fuck that really hurt. He tried to shift conspicuously arch his back a bit and then hunch down again as he perched on the edge of a building and kept an eye on the weapons deal that was in process down below. Jeez there didn’t seem to be a comfortable position. His stomach was cramping too, he was used to ignoring that. Probably just his period deciding that it was going to start in the next couple days. Finally. Jason was starting to think maybe he should actually do that counting crap doctors always advised ‘cause guestimations got really old sometimes. He thought it was supposed to come a few weeks ago but with all the stress he was often under as well as the hormone altering substance he took to keep his low heats mild enough that he could keep working through them… well, it wasn’t that weird to miss it completely.

Omega’s went into a mild heat once every three months. These heats easy enough to ignore. In fact, Jason had traveled across the country and broken up a trafficking ring during the height of his last one before coming back when Dick called him about Tim not coping well with his break-up with Kon. Those heats weren’t a problem. He was a bit more aggressive in heat, a little more prone to be nauseated, ran warmer, got dehydrated a little easier, his sex drive a little heightened. It was only in the high heat called Aestus that came once a year that ever got in Jason’s way. Man, that one always took him down for the count pretty bad. He tended to get really sick. It was like an overdose of his hormones and a hyper fertility that actually just made him really sensitive and pretty much hate life.

Fortunately he still had, like, 4 months till his next Aestus… actually, maybe more like 3 ½? Whatever, it’d be 3 months from whenever his next heat showed up. His body wasn’t super consistent, as stated, so he didn’t see the point of keeping track. He could feel when it was coming and that’s all that mattered.

“You okay there Jaybird?” asked Roy shooting him a look. The other Omega was helping him with a case recently and Jason had to admit it was kinda nice sometimes to know someone had his back again. Even if he did spend a lot of time dragging Roy’s ass out of trouble.

“Don’t worry about it Harper, just that time of the month.” Jason waved him away.

“Ah, yeah, Aunt Flow is a bitch, ain’t she?” Roy commiserated making a face.

“Mmhmm,” hummed Jason checking his guns quickly before standing. He considered popping a painkiller, but those things made him groggy and he needed his wits about him, “Let’s do this.”

He didn’t wait to see if Roy was following him, just shot out a line and descended into the fray. The first 5 thugs went down without a problem. By the 6th the surprise had worn off and Jason actually had to grapple with a bit before he went down and 7th tried to jump him. That one went down with a shout and an arrow. Jason grinned and continued to deal with the punks in front of him while Roy took care of the couple of fucks stupid enough to try and run for it. Things seemed like they were going to wrap up very neatly… then the bulky muscle for hire he was fighting with got in a lucky hit to his abdomen. It wasn’t even that hard. It should have just knocked the wind out of him for a moment but instead-

Jason’s vision whited out with pain and he thought he might have screamed.

Distantly he was aware of Roy yelling and his opponents going down sharply with arrows. Unfamiliar constricting pain hitting him in waves. Jason realized his forehead was pressed into the gravel and that he was breathing wetly through his mouth. His hands were both clutched against his stomach clawing uselessly at the armor. He didn’t know where his guns were. Jason tried to move but that seemed to only make the pain intensify and… and there was something hot and wet on his thighs, pooling slowly on the ground between his knees. He curled up tighter as he caught the tang of blood in the air. Not just blood either, his terrified brain informed him as another wave of clawing pain hit his lower stomach making everything constrict and tense even further.

“Jay! Jay, where are you hurt? What happened?” Jason opened his eyes blurrily as Roy rolled him onto his back and pulled off his hood. If he had come here alone tonight he’d probably be dead by now. That didn’t make it any easier when Roy gave a sharp intake of breath when he realized where the blood was coming from, when his nostrils flared taking in the way this blood was different from regular blood, when he started putting together the pieces the way Jason was still refusing to because godgodgod that couldn’t be-

“Roy,” He croaked knowing his eyes must look fucked up right about then, knowing- “Roy- shit! Ah-! Fuck. Fuck! Why is there so much blood? There shouldn’t be-”

“God, Jaybird, we have to get you to a hospital-” Roy said starting to try and gather him up, not an easy task since Jason was hardly small and dainty.

“No! No hospitals!” Jason started struggling, “They’ll ask too many questions, I have too many scars-”

“Fuck, Jason I don’t know much about miscarriages but I know you need help if you bleeding this much and I don’t have the training to deal with this.” Roy said looking harassed and worried.

Jason went very still.

“I can’t be having a miscarriage.” Jason said clutching at his armor over his stomach so his hands wouldn’t shake, “I can’t. That’s impossible. You have to be pregnant to have a miscarriage.”

“Oh, Jay…”

“No! You don’t understand, I can’t have been pregnant! There would have been signs. I would have, I would have noticed.” He tried to explain. Except looking back there had been signs. Not anything as obvious as morning sickness, but he’s been kinda tired all the time lately, he'd gained weight, yet his favorite foods hadn’t been sounding good lately, his fucking period still not coming, and when Dick had been over last time he had mentioned that Jason was running a little warm…

God. Dick.

What was he supposed to tell him? How would he react? They weren’t even together together, though Jason had been thinking lately that maybe… maybe… but fuck! There was no way the baby had been Dick’s. The Beta had never topped him before. Which meant it was-had been Tim’s. And fuck if that didn't make everything feel worse.

Roy looked even more concerned as Jason started laughing slightly hysterically through the pain that was still wrecking him. It didn’t even matter though because he’d lost the baby. He’d… he’d lost… his baby… He’d…

The laughter petered out to be replace by one small hitch of breath. Then another. And another.

Jason’s communicator started

“Arsenal here,” Roy answered it sounding harassed.

“Someone called in that Red Hood collapsed in a fight near the Docks.” he could hear Batman growl dark and protective and straight to the point. He could see Roy struggle not to tilt his head submissively even the Alpha wasn’t even there.

Jason squeezed his eyes shut. That was fast. Of course it was Gotham so of course the Bat had ears everywhere. He was just lucky this area didn’t have any cameras for Oracle to see him or no doubt the whole pack would be converging on him and that was the last fucking thing he needed.

“I-” Roy began uncertainly.

“No. Please, Roy they can’t-” Jason began to implore.

“Jay, it is a better than the hospital.” Roy said holding away the comm.

“Oh yeah? And if you were in my position and it was Connor's baby and you had to choose between going to Ollie and-” Jason glared at him.

“Okay, okay, point.” Roy said wincing and raising the comm, “We’re fine Batman.”

“Let me speak to Jason.” Bruce growled.

“Erm…” Roy glanced at Jason.

“Give it.” Jason said through gritted teeth, he snatched the comm and quickly spat out, “I’m fine. Fuck off and mind your own business B.”

“Jas-” Jason crushed the comm and flopped back onto the gravel trying to breathe through the pain and not to think too much about what was happening because if he did he was going to start falling apart.

“That’s one way to end a conversation. But Jay,” Roy’s voice was worried, “You’re not fine.”

“I’ll- I’ll only need a hospital or something if I start losing too much blood.” Jason tried to tell him. He honestly was trying not to yell as each contraction peaked, and maybe that was a sign that he should be listening to Roy, but- if he went to a hospital the whole family would know about it in minutes.

“You’re already losing too much blood.” Roy said firmly, “It’s not like you’re losing it through natural means. Physical trauma is a whole other ballpark. I think? Fuck, Jaybird I don’t like having your health and wellbeing dependent on my sketchy knowledge on miscarriages.”

“Fine!” Jason gasped out, “Call someone, but no one that will tell my pack.”

“That really doesn’t leave us many options.” Roy said in frustration, “Do you- owowoOW! Hand! Hand! That’s my hand!”

“Fuck.” Jason choked clutching at the other Omega’s hand as he rode the next wave of pain out.

“Ok. Ok. What I’m gonna do is I’m gonna call Kori, ok? Then whatever the princess says you gotta do.” Roy said getting out his own comm. Jason nodded but he wasn’t sure if Roy was paying attention, just talking fast. In the meantime, Jason tried to do some of those deep meditative breathing things Bruce was always preaching about. Didn’t really seem to be doing anything, but Jason needed something to focus on while he waited.

“Who did this!?” heard Kori bellow when she arrived. Jason squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to listen as words like “baby” and “dead” and “leave before bats gets here” were quickly explained.

And then suddenly the solid ground was not below him.

“Fuck!” Jason winced as he was lifted into the air as Starfire flew off with him at high speed.

“Roy is staying to get rid of the evidence so your pack does not cause you trouble.” Kori informed him, “Meanwhile, we shall be safe on my Island. There is plenty of medical supplies and they know better than to bother us there.”

“Thanks.” Jason let his head sag on her shoulder and let her impressive heat sooth some of the pain. It seemed like no time before they were touching down between the tropical branches on Kori’s Island and she was walking into her ship and laying him down on a cot.

Letting her peel him out of his armor and weapons felt very… not great. Which it probably shouldn’t have. Like, they had slept together before and she’d seen him naked loads of times. It shouldn’t have been, but it still felt humiliating for her to see him like this.

Still, when he thought of some stranger or worse Alfred and/or Bruce seeing him like this… yeah, no Jason wasn’t complaining.

“Drink this,” Kori handed him a cup, “It should loosen your muscles to let pass what needs to pass.”

“Thanks.” Jason took it gratefully and drank.

“The amount you’re bleeding is a little concerning. But so long as it slows in the next hours or so then I don’t think we need to worry.” Kori informed him sliding up next him, warm and alien and fantastically Kori.

“That’s what I tried to tell Roy.” Jason mumbled. Before he could get too comfortable in the interesting blend of hard muscles and soft curves that made up Kori, the computer on the wall chimed.

“Ah, it’s Dick. He wishes to know if you are well, and if he should come.” Kori read. Because of course the bats knew he was here. Though, so long as they didn’t figure out why he was here he didn’t care. Still, Jason didn’t know what he was supposed to say to his Beta lover.

‘ Oh hey Dick, just hanging here bleeding while Tim and my baby dies. No worries though. How was your dinner today?’ didn’t seem like it’d be proper.

“Tell him I have the flu and I’ll see him when I’m better.” Jason told Kori instead. She nodded and typed quickly.

“He wants to know if ‘the flu’ is code word for dying.” Kori said after a moment.

“Well tell him that you and Roy would never let me get away with lying if that was the case.” Jason said grimacing as a set of milder yet still extraordinarily painful contractions set in.

“Of course we wouldn’t!” Kori huffed.

“I know, and so does Dick, so remind him.” Jason told her, closing his eyes and just… existing for a moment. He felt more than heard Kori drift back to his side. Felt the concern radiating from her. Felt the hot wet of blood and other things on his thighs...

“Oh.”

“What?” frowned Jason exhausted.

“You’ve passed the foetus.” Kori said cupping something from the sheets between his legs, “Would you like-”

“No.” Jason said panic rising, “No. Kori, I can’t.”

Kori looked at him steadily with her big alien green eyes before nodding slowly, “Very well. One moment please.”

She left the room with the- with his- Jason rolled to his side grabbed a trashcan and threw up. Bad idea. He’d never really thought much about how throwing up took abdominal muscles but boy was he thinking about it now. He let himself go limp, then tensed again as the pain came back.

“Fuck, fuck the baby is gone. It’s gone, okay? So you can fucking stop now.” Jason told his body angrily.

“It still has to pass the rest of the placenta.” Kori reminded him as she came back in.

“I guess.”

“And then we’ll have to monitor you to make sure you don’t keep bleeding and don’t get an infection.” Kori continued.

“Ok.”

“Jason…” Kori rubbed gentle circles into his shoulder, “When you can get better we’ll bury her. So you may have some closure.”

“Her? You could already already tell…?” Jason asked hollowly.

“Yes, she looked about 13-14 weeks from what the computer tells me about human biology. Of course no way to tell what her caste would have been though.” Kori told him turning him so she could tuck clean sheets under him and toss aside the soiled ones.

“Oh.” Jason said. A girl. He would’ve… and 13-14 weeks; that meant it was that first time with Tim after his heat… well, evidently not as after as he’d thought. Jason wasn’t sure what he felt about that. On the one hand, he was glad he had never let Dick top now even though he'd been thinking he might- but at least it wasn’t Dick’s because he already felt like he was in danger of being in love with him. And nearly having a family with him? That felt… it would have felt like the noose that choked him to death. He wasn’t ready for that. Dick would have wanted to keep it. Would have wanted to raise it… her, with him. Dick would have cried that he lost her. Heck, Dick would still cry even though it wasn’t even his. Jason didn’t plan to tell him. Tim… Tim probably would have panicked about this even more than Jason. After all, even though they’d brought Tim into their bed a number of times since that first test run, Tim was still- he was still struggling to put himself back together after his break-up. Dick and Jason were supposed to be helping with that. And even though Jason was no longer the love of Tim’s young life(or at least he was pretty sure he wasn’t?), he’d still wanted to offer… love, safety, acceptance, appreciation, all of it without a price tag. Or he’d thought there hadn’t been a price tag. The blood on Jason’s sheets suggested that there had been a cost.

He wouldn’t tell Tim either. He didn’t want to poison what the three of them had shared.

Jason would have figured out he was pregnant soon anyways when he missed his heat. And then he would have probably had to terminate the pregnancy anyway. He wasn’t ready to have a kid, no matter who it was with. He was a vigilante. An anti-hero. He had more enemies than he knew about. Enemies that would do terrible things to any child of his. That wasn’t even counting all of Tim and Dick’s. And Jason could never have given a baby of his up for adoption. He’d been in the foster system himself. He knew what a shit pile it was in Gotham. Not too much better outside either from what he’d heard. He wouldn’t condemn any kid of his to that.

He would have terminated the pregnancy anyway, so why now that it had just been taken away from him did he feel so much grief?

“Jason, breathe…” Kori reminded him. He refused to cry but he couldn’t stop himself from shaking. The princess laid next to him again and pulled him close to be tucked under her chin.

“You will get through this, Jason.” she said soothingly.

‘ That’s part of why it hurts. ’ Jason thought, and held his friend tighter.

#my writing #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #my bondless love series #miscarrige fic

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